Chapter VI: Part 6

“Take an object of any kind,” was the answer. “Of what is it composed? You call it a solid, but I have lingered long enough in this Man’s brain to catch glimmers of what he calls the atomic theory. This doctrine is, that all matter is composed of ultra-microscopic particles known as molecules. These molecules are not stationary; they revolve; they have orbits; in everything you think solid and dead, tiny specks of itself are floating and are never still. A myriad worlds like the Earth, are only molecules floating in ether, forming a solid, just as the molecules of any substance you are familiar with form a solid. Only comparatively are they far apart, as to a creature microscopic enough, the molecules of a bit of bone would seem far apart and not forming a solid, at all. To the molecules nearest to him he would give names, such as Neptune or Mars; like Men, he would call them planets; remoter molecules would be stars.”

“Wretched nonsense!” cried the other philosopher-corpuscle. For he had no argument left. “Subversive of all modern thought! You ought to be locked up for promulgating your wild views! I’ll be the first to hang you, if someone will bring a rope! You have it that all existence is a solid, then? That a myriad worlds like your fancied Earth are molecules to an ultimate creature? But there can, then, be no ultimate creature; he, in turn is but a microscopic part of— Beware of him and don’t listen to him, my friends!”

Suddenly a number of rough-looking corpuscles began to circulate through the crowd, paid in typhoid germs by the wrathful financier-corpuscle, who, standing farther down the artery, could not control his excitement, as he cried:

“Vile agitator! Already there is too much murmuring against my invested rights!”

“You tell us,” shouted a rough-looking corpuscle, “that we, the conquering inhabitants of this Man, fresh from a war in which we were gloriously victorious, are placed in this Man only for his welfare?”

The crowd muttered indignantly.

“Fellow leucocytes,” said the old philosopher, earnestly, “I do tell you that! Through our own selfish motives we do our best to benefit him, but each one of us for himself only, haphazard and without system. Then never mind what Man’s relation to his Earth may be, and never mind what his Earth’s relation to its Universe may be; let us think only of our relation to this Man. Let us have done with our grabbing and monopolizing, and study and find out just what is best for us to do in our appointed task of taking care of this Man. With that view, let us all work together and overcome that egotism that makes the thought of our own true humble sphere so repellent——”

But, excited by the defeated philosopher-corpuscle and the emissaries of the financier-corpuscle, the crowd had become a mob. Angrily it shouted:

“And he says that we, with our great warriors and leaders, our marvellous enterprises, our wondrous inventions, are only insignificant scavengers of this Man we inhabit? Down with him! Or, if we’re too civilized to tear him apart, put him away where he belongs!”

And the fate of the wise old corpuscle would have been the fate common enough in the tragedies of philosophy, were it not that a few disciples hurried him away, seeking refuge in a tiny vein far from battle, struggle, and selfishness.

“He says we were made for the Man!” jeered the few leucocytes who gave the distasteful doctrine another thought. “But we know, and have every reason to know, that this Man was made for us!”

_Election Reforms_

THE TREND TOWARD DEMOCRACY

BY J. C. RUPPENTHAL

Broadly speaking, election is simply choice. In a narrower sense the term is limited to the choice of persons for political offices, or for nomination to such offices, by the people, or by a somewhat numerous body, as distinguished from appointment by a single person; or the determination of other questions submitted by law to popular vote.

This paper seeks to present the general features of American laws in the nature of election reform, in the narrower sense, with especial reference to the decisions of the highest courts thereon.

When the thirteen original American Colonies revolted against the mother country, their government was essentially that which had been evolved in a thousand years of struggle and conflict in England. But in details, there was as wide divergence as could well be imagined among people of practically common origin, race, religion and language. With the more permanent union under the Federal Constitution came an impulse to conform much governmental procedure to a common standard. Especially was this true in the matter of elections.

After 130 years of trial and change, nearly all of the States vote on the same day, choose representatives in Congress and Presidential electors, as well as most other officers in the same manner, and do not differ very widely in methods of voting. The qualifications of Electors are somewhat diverse, though probably less so than at the beginning, and everywhere the right of suffrage has been widely extended. The period of active assimilation to common standards lasted to the time of the Civil War. Then the universal, extended and heated discussion of human rights, the fury of partisanship, the passions engendered in the great internecine conflict, the adoption of the 13th, 14th and 15th amendments, and following all this, the expansion of the nation in wealth and power, together with the accumulation of colossal fortunes, and the growth of corporate importance and influence, all these led to the trial and testing of the most fundamental and long-established rights of man, while every new measure in law, has had to run the gantlet from the preliminary proposal in caucus, convention, primary, or elsewhere, to the final decision thereon in the highest judicial tribunal. There was no final judicial inquiry into the right of suffrage until in 1857 in New York and in 1859 in North Carolina; but such became numerous in the reconstruction period. From questioning new rights of black men, it was a short step to attacking old rights of white men.

How the matter of popular elections has grown in importance may in a degree be illustrated by the court decisions. The syllabi up to September 1, 1896, in all State and Federal cases affecting elections, occupy 553 columns of a digest; for the eight and one-half years immediately following, up to April 1, 1905, 396 columns are so filled. Seemingly nearly four-fifths as many points relative to the elective franchise have been passed on in less than a decade, as in the earlier 120 years of free government. Except in the instance of Kentucky, 1889, on the Australian ballot for the city of Louisville, no question reached a court of last resort prior to 1890 on such matters as the Australian ballot, factional nominations, and nomination papers, while in that year four such cases were decided in the New York Court of Appeals alone, and others in Montana and Missouri.

In the earlier, simpler, primitive days an important aim was the securing to each State its rights, real or fancied; latterly more attention has been given to the rights of the individual to an effective share in Government from its beginning in primary election, caucus, convention, or otherwise, within a party or without it, and continuing until his wishes are at last crystallized in the form of laws, and to protection against fraud, violence and intimidation while exercising the prerogatives of an enfranchised citizen. Not unknown are instances of denying rights already possessed and restricting privileges long exercised. There has been tyrannical suppression of individuals and classes. But the sweep of the years, though slow-moving, has been in consonance with the Declaration of Independence—“to secure these rights, to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, governments are instituted among men deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

Yet I doubt not, through the ages,
One increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of man are widened
With the process of the suns.

In the recent movement for election reforms, four lines of advance are marked: (1)—To secure the voter, by protecting him from evil influences, as is the object of the various “corrupt practices acts” and kindred laws; by guarding him against fraud, intimidation and overawing, by means of an absolutely secret ballot, as under the Australian system; and by preventing, as with voting-machines, any manipulation of ballots or count. (2)—To extend the franchise by reducing the qualifications of Electors, and so making suffrage more nearly universal, as in the 15th Amendment, and the laws enabling women to vote. (3)—To increase popular control over officials and their acts, over law-making, and over the initial steps in making nominations, as in making offices elective instead of appointive, in adopting the initiative, the referendum, and the recall, and in prescribing legal forms for primary elections and making nominations. (4)—To secure more equitable representation of every individual, class, party or interest; to avoid the despotism of a majority, or worse yet, a plurality; and to prevent the practical effacement of minorities.

(1) To preserve the purity of elections, many states have “Corrupt Practices acts” forbidding the purchase of votes, directly or indirectly, by candidates, committees or others, with money, intoxicating liquors, cigars, promise of office, or otherwise. Some limit the amount of expenditures of candidates; others require detailed sworn statements of campaign outlays to be publicly filed. President Roosevelt in at least his last two messages urged Congress to enact stringent laws to prevent bribery and corruption in Federal elections, and to secure publicity of the expenses of candidates, parties and committees, and of the source of contributions.

Voting was doubtless at first _viva voce_. In some States, particularly in the South, elections were so conducted for many years, and in Kentucky this was in accordance with a constitutional provision. For a number of reasons, however, voting by ballot was adopted in all the States, either originally, or superseding the _viva voce_ method.

The written or printed ballot was gradually perverted to such degree that in 1857 the legislature of South Australia adopted an official secret ballot, printed and paid for by the public, and wholly controlled and handled by public officers. The idea was speedily carried to England, spread over Continental Europe, and at a somewhat later date reached the United States, where in some form, almost everywhere modified, it has become part of the electoral machinery in every State, under the name of Australian ballot. On first test in American courts, the system was held to be unconstitutional, but it has later been sustained almost everywhere as being merely regulative. The tendency of these laws has been to make elections more formal, and less flexible. Changes on the ballot and “scratching” are no longer possible with the ease of the old private ballot system. But in general the voter’s choice is not restricted to the names printed on the ballot. Constitutional guarantees of secrecy are not impaired by those clauses which permit aid by election officers, to the disabled or illiterate, in marking the ballot. In some States, as Tennessee and Maryland, illiterates are indirectly or partially disfranchised by laws which permit aid only to persons “that by reason of blindness or other physical disability” are unable to mark their ballots.

These laws have been sustained in the highest courts. Regulations, if not too difficult in the opinion of the court, are upheld, and likewise provisions that require a party to have cast a certain percentage of the vote at the last preceding election, before it may be entitled to an official ballot. Even forcing a citizen to choose between voting under an obnoxious party heading, or not at all, is, at least in New Jersey, viewed as no deprivation of his rights.

In a number of States, voting machines which automatically register the voter’s choice have been authorized, and to some extent used.

At this point mention may be made of compulsory voting, which has been seriously discussed as advisable to bring out otherwise good citizens who are apathetic as to their civic responsibilities. In 1898 the people of North Dakota adopted a constitutional amendment, permitting the Legislature to impose a penalty for failure to vote.

(2) Although the theory of the Declaration of Independence is broad, the practice as to the “consent of the governed” was decidedly limited at the time of the Revolution, and the ruling power in at least some of the States was vested in so few persons as to be oligarchic rather than popular. Property qualifications were often essential to the right of suffrage. These no longer exist in any State. Also age, race, sex, citizenship, residence and payment of taxes determined a person’s eligibility either to vote, or to hold office, or both. A higher age is set generally in Europe, but in America twenty-one years is universally accepted as marking maturity for voting purposes. Race distinctions were wiped out by the fifteenth amendment to the Constitution of the United States. Religious tests were always few, and are probably wholly abolished—the last effort being to bar Mormons in Nevada about twenty years ago, but held unconstitutional. Sex is no longer considered in Wyoming, Idaho, Utah and Colorado. While only males are fully enfranchised in the other States, suffrage has been given to females in many matters, particularly municipal and school. Only American citizens may vote in a large number of States, but in others aliens also, who have declared their intentions to become citizens by naturalization, have full rights. In an anomalous position are Porto Ricans and Filipinos, who are neither citizens nor aliens. Residence where the elector offers to vote is always required, usually a year or more in the State, but sometimes less; and a shorter time in the county and voting precinct, or city and ward.

The extreme mobility of our population, so different from conditions in the Old World, or even earlier America, has led to a feeling that, in some way, the good citizen should be enabled to express his choice in National elections, though for any reason he may have moved from one State to another shortly before election; likewise that he save his vote for State and district officers and measures, though crossing county lines; and on county matters, though removing from precinct to precinct. An effort to avert this temporary disfranchisement was made in Kansas, by a law permitting railroad employees to vote where their occupation happens to take them on election day. The payment of taxes has long been a pre-requisite to casting a ballot in Pennsylvania and other Eastern States. In the South, this requirement, as well as educational qualifications, appears to gain ground.

(3) The extension of the subjects of popular decision has been most marked, and the drift is increasingly in that direction. A further innovation, rapidly growing, is the expression of a wish or preference by the electorate where such vote is merely advisory and not binding. Office after office, once appointive, is made elective, and when so gained by the people is never surrendered again. In 1776-1783 only Georgia, among the Colonies elected judges. Today thirty-one States elect them. Then scarcely a governor was chosen by the people. At first presidential electors were named in a variety of ways. But by 1832, the right had everywhere been yielded to the people. The very many resolutions of amendment offered in Congress, providing for the election of United States Senators by direct vote, the passage of such measures repeatedly by the House, and the persistent, reiterated requests for this reform by various Legislatures, all show a deep-seated popular desire.

Scarcely had America copied from Australia her ballot system, when, becoming adept as Rome in absorbing from surrounding nations, she borrowed from the Swiss the Latin terms _referendum_ and _initiative_, although the principles thereby expressed are as long established on this continent as English settlements. For centuries among Germanic peoples, there has been a steady transition of power. The right to petition the crown grew into legislation. Final power was transferred from king to parliament, and now in turn it is passing from the legislative branch directly to the electorate.

None of the colonial charters, except those of Pennsylvania, had any provision for amendment, and of the original States, only Massachusetts and New Hampshire submitted their constitutions to the people for ratification. By 1787, provision for amendment, thitherto wholly lacking in all State constitutions, unless Pennsylvania’s, was added to eight of them. The custom of amending constitutions by popular vote arose, and is now established in every State except Delaware. Thus, changing the organic law, upon legislative initiative, has become commonplace. The next step—to permit the people themselves to initiate the change and finally for them to ratify or reject and even to propose important laws,—was slower of acceptance. Switzerland began this revolution in free government in 1830 and by 1848 had the principle embedded in its federal constitution. About 1886 discussions of the Swiss institutions, and especially the initiative and referendum, as seen by American students abroad, began to appear in leading American journals and magazines. In 1898 South Dakota amended its constitution by adopting a provision for initiative and referendum. In 1900 Utah followed this example. In 1902 Oregon by the decisive ratio of eleven to one in the popular vote, adopted the most clearly expressed section yet developed in our country. In 1904 Nevada added a similar feature to the organic law.

In April, 1901, the matter of an initiative and referendum amendment first reached a supreme court, coming up in South Dakota, regarding acts to take immediate effect, passed under the emergency clause of the amendment. The court held that the Legislature is sole judge as to what laws are “necessary for the immediate preservation of the public peace, health or safety, or support of the State government and its existing institutions.” The fundamental principles involved were not questioned on either side. But in December, 1903, the initiative and referendum amendment was directly attacked in the Supreme Court of Oregon, and unanimously sustained. The Court, per Bean, J., said: “Nor do we think the amendment void because in conflict with Sec. 4, of Art. 4, of the Constitution of the United States, guaranteeing to every State a republican form of government. Now the initiative and referendum amendment does not abolish or destroy the republican form of government, or substitute another in its place. The representative character of the government still remains. The people have simply reserved to themselves a larger share of legislative power, but they have not overthrown the republican form of government, or substituted another in its place. The Government is still divided into legislative, executive and judicial departments, the duties of which are discharged by representatives selected by the people. Under this amendment, it is true, the people may exercise a legislative power, and may effect veto or defeat bills passed and approved by the Legislature and governor but the legislative and executive departments are not destroyed, nor are their powers or authority materially curtailed.” Although the question of the nature of laws initiated, or otherwise adopted by the people, upon reference to them, was not directly before the court, it said: “Laws proposed and enacted by the people under the initiative clause of the amendment are subject to the same constitutional limitations as other statutes and may be amended or repealed by the Legislature at will.”

Concerning that clause in the amendment which says: “the veto power of the governor shall not extend to measures referred to the people,” the court held that this applies to bills actually referred to the people, and not to all that might be referred, and that all acts not submitted to a referendum may be vetoed. The Utah and Nevada amendments have not been tested in court. Indeed, that of Utah is not self-executing, and the Legislature has not yet enacted a method of procedure to give it effect. The South Dakota amendment specifically applies to municipalities as well as the State. Nebraska in 1898 enacted a general initiative and referendum statute for counties, townships, cities, villages and school districts.

Since the time when “popular sovereignty” was a party shibboleth in the free or slave-State controversy, so many matters are frequently, if not habitually, submitted to a vote that such course no longer excites comment. The charter of Greater New York was adopted upon a referendum, which method has become the rule rather than the exception in giving charters effect. Within the charters themselves, the Initiative and Referendum appears with increasing frequency.

Many of the earlier acts referring matters to the people were assailed as unconstitutional on the ground of delegating legislative power to the people. The diverse decisions on the subject cannot be reconciled. Beginning with Delaware in 1847 and continuing to as late date as 1902 (in Ohio), various courts have pronounced such laws invalid. On the other hand, the Supreme Court of Louisiana decided flatly in 1853 and again in 1854 that conditional legislation, to take effect upon popular approval, is not unconstitutional. Then began some subtle and attenuated “distinguishing” among decisions. Many courts came round to the position that “while the Legislature cannot delegate its power to enact laws, it may provide that whether or not a law enacted shall be operative, may be made to depend upon the popular will.” An interesting fact is that the courts in the Southern States invariably upheld reference to the people, and that adverse decisions are very numerous in the North. A peculiar referendum was attempted in Massachusetts, but was declared unconstitutional. The act provided for submitting the question of extending municipal suffrage to women, but by a special section allowed the women to vote on the proposition of their own enfranchisement. Where there are constitutional clauses requiring some matters to be referred to the people, the rule of _expressio unius est exclusio alterius_ has been invoked in opposing the submission of other laws to the people, but in vain. The failure of the proper officers to provide for taking a vote at the first election after the passage of a referendum law, cannot defeat the will of the people, or deprive them of the option of acceptance or rejection. Until accepted by popular vote, the law takes effect only for the purpose of submission, and at a later election mandamus will lie to require the officials to hold the election properly. In 1900 a movement began in Australia to make it obligatory to refer the matter to the people in case of a deadlock between the two houses on any bill or resolution.

The latest development of the principle is the advisory referendum, and advisory initiative. As the name indicates, these simply show to the legislative and executive departments the will of their constituents, and no legal obligation rests upon the officials to give form to the popular expression. In 1901 Illinois enacted a “public opinion law.” Delaware has pending a constitutional amendment to establish the advisory initiative and referendum. In 1905 Texas enacted a very interesting experiment in the way of a primary election law, which not only provides for nomination of candidates by direct vote, but contains provision for the use of the initiative and referendum within party lines to direct party policy, and determine what principles shall be promulgated in the party platform. Many city councils have voluntarily resorted to this method of learning the people’s will. In Buffalo in the fall of 1905 three questions were to be submitted. But the commissioner failed or refused to put the questions upon the voting machines at the proper time. Mandamus was brought in the Supreme Court. Thereupon Justice Krause granted the writ on one question, that relating to public ownership of a light and power plant by the city, but denied it on the other two, saying as to these: “They involve questions of legislation over which the city council manifestly has no power. Indeed, their very purpose is not to furnish information for the guidance of the local authorities; but they are peculiarly matters for the Legislature.”

When the Federal Constitution was submitted for ratification, many of the conventions in the several States, dissatisfied with certain features and more often with omissions in, the new instrument, offered amendments. These were numerous and varied, and some were later adopted. In New York and Rhode Island the conventions offered an amendment for the recall of United States Senators at the will of the Legislature, and the substitution of others. In 1803 and again in 1806, the Virginia Legislature passed resolutions in support of such amendment for recall. A revival and much broader application of the principle has lately been seen. In 1903 the city of Los Angeles, California, amended its charter by popular vote, and in addition to the initiative and referendum, it placed in the people’s arsenal another powerful weapon—the recall. A few words in the charter clearly define the recall. In the special election in September 1904, the councilman whose course in voting for two certain ordinances was not approved by his ward, was defeated by another candidate. The incumbent then petitioned the Supreme Court for a writ of mandamus to compel the rest of the council and city government generally to recognize him for the remainder of his term. Without deciding the point, the court assumed the validity of the recall amendment, but sustained the petitioner on the ground that the procedure in calling the special election was not quite regular. Even on this point, Chief Justice Beatty dissented. In an inferior court, the matter had come up in another form, and Judge Ostler decided against the incumbent, holding that the recall amendment is not obnoxious to either the State or Federal constitution, that it was not necessary to make charges in the petition for election, but simply to make statements of reasons to enlighten the public; that the officer had no property in the office nor vested right to hold to the end of his term; that it was no contract, but a mere agency, terminable at any time by the principal, the sovereign people.

With the general adoption of the Australian ballot, whether pure or modified, a certain rigidity and official formality was introduced, which makes independent action, or the rejection of “regular” party candidates, however unworthy they be, increasingly difficult. This put a premium upon the control of conventions and party machinery, and the naming of party candidates by whatever means. To secure a fair, untrammeled expression of popular will in the initiatory step of making nominations, a system of primary election laws has been evolved, and now exists in almost every State. The early forms applied where parties voluntarily, in primary elections, made nominations, sometimes of candidates by direct vote, but more often only of delegates to conventions, all under party management and control, subject to such public laws; the later forms are mandatory, requiring all parties to nominate candidates, or delegates, at an official primary election, under public control. The usual course of evolution has been to hold primaries for naming delegates, and then to assume the nomination of all candidates without the intervention of delegates.

About 1879 or 1880 a primary election law was enacted in Kentucky, but no obligation was imposed on any party or persons to nominate candidates by primary election. In 1895, almost simultaneously, several States adopted compulsory primary laws, limiting their operation at first to one or several large cities, and later extending them over the State in either a mandatory or an optional form. So widely do these enactments differ, that it is hard to deduce general statements of their features. Many have been upheld, and not a few overthrown. There has been a general tendency to substitute mandatory for optional laws. After a bitter fight, extending over a series of years, Wisconsin by a majority of over 50,000 adopted a mandatory primary election law in 1904, that provides for nomination by direct vote, of almost all officers from the smallest up to candidates for United States Senators, by all parties upon the same day at the same polling places and with the same election officers, who are publicly chosen from the two leading parties in the State. In 1900 California expressly recognized the primary election by a Constitutional provision, and empowered the Legislature to prescribe conditions on which voters may participate in such elections. The Constitution of Mississippi, Section 247, declares that the Legislature shall enact laws to secure fairness in primary elections. Where the primaries are official and mandatory, all expenses are paid by the public; where they are voluntary, the cost falls on the party holding them. Myriads of questions have arisen out of these elections, and Legislatures have sought in a variety of ways, to solve them. The proclivity of some voters to take part in all primaries has been an ever-present problem in those States that permit the several parties to hold their primaries at different times and places.

Where it is entirely optional with a party, whether or not to nominate by primaries, having decided affirmatively the party must conduct such election strictly in accordance with the statutes. The first primary laws made past acts the test of qualification to take part in a party primary election. But later laws incline to accept future intentions instead, while New Jersey, at least, requires both faith and works. Kentucky’s court has held that the Constitutional provisions relating to elections, do not apply to primary elections, but most courts that have considered the subject, take the opposite view. Massachusetts holds that a primary law is not unconstitutional in authorizing printing on the ballots, the names of candidates presented by a certain number of voters, if blanks are left for the insertion of the names of other candidates not so presented. But Minnesota denies this poor boon to voter and candidate, and says that no blanks need be left in which to write a name.

In many instances, only parties casting a certain percentage of the total vote are privileged to avail themselves of the mandatory laws, and such limitation has been upheld where ample provision is made for nominations in other ways, by the minor parties. In some of the laws, the procedure is minutely detailed; others are very brief and general. Some leave much to the party rules and machinery already in existence, or that may be provided, and even expressly declare that the party’s rules shall govern in matters not provided for in the law. While the provisions of a primary law may apply only to general elections, seemingly to the exclusion of special elections, it is not therefore a special law, within the Constitutional meaning of the term, and in all elections to which the act does not apply, the old statutes will govern as before the passing of a primary law. Nor is a law rendered special by requiring direct choice of the candidates in a single ward or township, while for larger divisions, delegates are selected to hold nominating conventions. A New York statute distinguishes between municipal and other elections in determining party affiliations, so that a man may claim party regularity, though voting differently at will in city affairs. The inalienable right of the people to call Cincinnatus and Putnam from their plows, when the office seeks the man has been vindicated by the Supreme Court of Michigan.

(4) Ever since man first espoused the doctrine of majority rule in popular Government, students have been perplexed by the problems presented when three or more candidates for one office, or three or more solutions of one question, have been before the people. Likewise, the utter elimination of the minority from a voice in affairs, and its treatment as a wholly negligible factor, has troubled philosophers and statesmen who desire justice and truly representative government. In the early history of this nation, five or more of the original commonwealths chose their representatives in Congress on a general ticket; five chose by districts, and this system gradually spread, until in 1842 it was made mandatory. Numerous constitutional amendments were offered, especially in the early days, to elect Presidential Electors by districts, and Representatives by districts. In 1877 and again in 1888, Maish of Pennsylvania presented resolutions of amendment dividing the electoral votes of each State in proportion to the popular vote for the several candidates. Many States provide for the distribution of election boards, and some few other offices among political parties, usually between the two leading parties. In 1870 Illinois adopted a constitution with a section to secure proportional representation, or more properly, minority representation, in the legislature. Quite a number of proportional measures have been passed in the different States, but most of them have been pronounced to be unconstitutional. In March 1889, the Michigan Legislature enacted a law embodying the “cumulative” plan to represent the minority. It was held unconstitutional. In the opinion, Chief Justice Champlin discusses the matter philosophically and historically, and describes the four plans known as the “restrictive” or “limited vote,” the “Cumulative,” the “Geneva,” “free vote,” or “Gilpin” plan, and the “Hare” or “single vote” system. To this there has since been added perhaps as, fifth—the “Gove” plan.

The “restrictive” or “limited vote” plan has been used in American elections more than any other method designed to assure representation of a minority. The Pennsylvania Constitution prescribed the limited vote for Judges of the Supreme Court, County Commissioners and some other officers. The principle has been extended by simple statutory enactment, in the Keystone State, and upheld there. But similar laws in Ohio, New Jersey and Rhode Island, have been repeatedly pronounced unconstitutional. In foreign countries, the system is much used. The “cumulative” plan is much used in corporations, and some attempt has been made to apply it in general elections, the Illinois selection of its lower house, being the most prominent example. Beginning in 1874, Ohio, too, used this method for a while in selecting Legislators. In 1889 it was applied in Boston to choosing Aldermen. In Michigan the attempt so to elect the lower house was held void, as has been stated. The “free vote” has gained no foothold in our land, but is much used in Europe. The Hare-Spence plan has been in use in some parts of Denmark since 1856, also in Tasmania, parts of Australia and New Zealand.

The “preferential ballot,” which is a prominent feature of the Hare-Spence method of securing proportional representation, has also been used where single candidates are to be chosen to office, in order to assure a majority choice among three or more candidates.

Even this simple survey of events shows strongly the steady advance of the electorate in taking power into their own hands. If any mistrust the people, if any have any misgivings lest the masses be incapable of using wisely the powers they have assumed, he may find relief in the thought that whereas the average mature American of the year 1800 had enjoyed but 82 days of schooling in his life, his descendant of today receives 1,034 days’ public instruction. The trend toward democracy may be the result of men’s conscious deliberate design; it may be unconscious destiny.

States are not great,
Except as men may make them.
Men are not great, except they do and dare;
But States, like men,
Have destinies that take them.
That bear them on, not knowing how or where.

_Warren, in Boston Herald_]

_Wilder, in Chicago Record-Herald_]

_Cory, in N. Y. World_]

BY LA SALLE CORBELL PICKETT.]

You wonder why the world should be so fair to me today—to me, Pierre of the People, the poor oppressed people, whose heart’s blood has been crushed out until it rushed forth in floods that cover the streets of Paris with a crimson stain?

Even for me the sun shines today and the flowers bloom with a fragrance they never breathed before—the red stains that clot the dust in the street are great crimson roses blossoming with a glory never before worn by flowers.

“Pierre,” said Monsieur le Géneral, “you are not a traitor to France, are you?”

“No, Monsieur,” I said sturdily, setting my teeth and giving him as steady a look as he was bending upon me.

I told the truth. We who would free France from the rule of the aristocrats are not traitors. Rather are they traitors who would make of our nation a stagnant pool of slavery and corruption.

Monsieur le Géneral looked at me again, keenly.

“We may not agree upon definitions.”

“My definitions are from the book of real life, Monsieur le Géneral. They are always in agreement with the truth. Monsieur knows, though, that he may trust me for himself, however my definitions may differ from his own. He has not forgotten that I saved his life once from an English sword. I know the memory is graven upon the mind of Monsieur le Géneral as deeply as the scar is cut in my arm.”

“I think you love me, Pierre,” he replied.

I laid my hand on my heart, bowing till my head almost touched one of the crimson roses in the velvet of Monsieur’s carpet.

“More than my life, Monsieur.”

What could I say fairer than that, for was not life the dearest thing to me then?

So matters stood with my lord and me on that morning when he sent me with a missive to Mademoiselle Denise. To her or to another, what mattered it to me? They were all young demoiselles and, as such, of far less consequence than the silver mounting of my lord’s pistols or the flash of his gold-sheathed sword.

As I crossed the courtyard a dark-eyed page, idling by the fountain that sparkled in the sun, was singing:

“By the garden-wall the rose blooms red,
And lifts to the sun its royal head;
There’s never a flower of such sweet grace
As the blossoming rose on my lady’s face—
Rose-red, flower grace,
Never a rose like my lady’s face.”

With that refrain ringing in my ears, “Never a rose like my lady’s face,” I went from the shining flood of sunshine into a hall that seemed like dusky twilight after the outside brilliance. But in the centre was a space where the sunlight drifted down through an open window into a circle of radiance and in the middle of it stood Mademoiselle, a shining figure that dimmed all other light. She was clad in white and gold, and the long folds of her robe lay in shimmering snow along the marble floor. Her amber hair was like a river that the morning sun-rays cross. Her eyes shone like great sapphires set under long lashes of gold and arched over by golden brows. It was as if the light of a thousand suns had centered in one fair woman.

The scar, once a proud and happy place upon my arm, burned as if a coal of fire had been dropped upon it and for one wild moment I could have cut from me the arm that had interposed to save the life of my master. Then I knelt before her, when she had waved her hand for my approach, and presented the letter. She looked at it carelessly and turned her eyes from it to me where I knelt and beckoned me to rise.

“Tell me of yourself,” she said in a voice that was like the softest strain of a lute. “Who are you?”

Who was I? Yesterday I would have said a man. Had I not done a man’s part in battle? Was it not a man’s right arm that had stretched itself forth to save a great life? Now I was—nothing. There was not a grain of dust in the streets of Paris smaller than I.

“Nothing, my lady,” I said, not daring to lift my eyes to her face, nor scarcely to look at her hand lying like a white lily on the snow of her gown.

“That proves you very much,” she said, “for a man never thinks himself nothing till he has a standard of merit with which to compare himself and the possession of such a standard is a proof of worth.”

“I am only Pierre—the servant of Monsieur le Géneral.”

With what pride I should yesterday have avowed myself the servant of so brave a soldier and so grand a gentleman. With what hatred of him and what contempt for myself did I make that statement today. Did not the great gulf between the gold and white Queen of the World deepen and widen infinitely with the significance of my words?

“Monsieur le Géneral is fortunate.”

She wrote a line on a leaf from a gold and white tablet and gave it to me, sealed with a golden seal.

I bowed low and went out from her presence with my face toward her. At the entrance I lifted my eyes and looked dazzled at the spot of light in the centre of the great hall. Thus I passed out into the courtyard flooded with sunlight which seemed dim in comparison with that supernal radiance.

The dark-eyed page had seated himself on the rim of the basin into which the fountain fell with a tinkling music that kept rhythm with the song he was still singing. With the refrain yet ringing in my ears, “Never a rose like my lady’s face,” I went back to Monsieur le Géneral with the missive she had given me.

A little later the blood of the Paris streets spattered to the gold robes of the court. I saw the head of Monsieur le Géneral carried by me on a spike and the dark-faced, ragged man who bore it sang a ribald song as he looked mockingly up into the face, one word of which would have been his death-warrant had it been uttered when that head yet sat upon the stately shoulders. For a moment a sorrowful thought of the days when I loved him lay like a cloud upon my mind, but what time was there then for thinking of love—at least of that love.

I left the crowd of raging demons and ran across the courtyard where the fountain yet tinkled merrily down into the basin. No dark-eyed page loitered there and sang of the red rose and his lady’s face to the music of the falling water. I dashed past the fountain and ran into the great hall. It was empty and there was the print of muddy feet trampled over the marble floor. I went to the Leader of the People.

“Where is Mademoiselle Denise?”

His wicked eyes flashed vindictively.

“Ah, Pierre, if you owe a grudge to the aristocracy of France you can feed to it now the most luxurious viands of earth. Even she is offered to the vengeance of justice and her head will grace a pike as none other has ever done.”

I threw myself down before him.

“Citizen, what has she done to you or to France?”

“Done? She has done nothing. She is. That is the crime of an aristocrat.”

I pleaded with him for the life of that woman whose gold and white beauty was the fairest thing I had ever gazed upon and whose beautiful heart looked out from eyes that showed all its goodness and truth. Citizen Beauget had received many services at my hands in the days when I was near the powers of the court because the favorite of the king had owed his life to me.

“Eh!” he cried. “A citizen of France seeking to save the life of one of the oppressors of France? Ah, I have it. If she will marry you, good Pierre, her life is yours. Ha, the white and gold lily of the court marry Pierre, the Sansculotte! Beautiful thought! Perhaps she will wish to save her life.”

Then I stood up before him and looked at him with a scorn before which he dropped his gaze.

“Citizen Beauget, Mademoiselle will marry where she loves or kiss the cruel ‘Maiden of Liberty’ with pure lips and a brave heart.”

But I took the paper he gave me and went straight to the prison where she stood, and even there space was bright because of her. She turned and looked at me and the glow that comes once to a woman’s face was in hers when her eyes fell on me.

“You have come to help me die,” she said reaching out her hand.

I took the hand and fell upon my knees and pressed it to my lips.

“Nay, not so, Mademoiselle. I come to bid you live, if I read truly what is written on your face.”

Hand in hand we went out into the night and neither the terror of the living nor the faces of the dead staring up into the moon-lit sky marred the peace that filled our hearts.

_The New Party_

_What Shall It Be Named?_

BY CHARLES Q. DE FRANCE

_Secretary People’s Party National Committee_

There are phenomena a-plenty, said the _New York World_ editorially (December 31), “which unmistakably foretell a new party and a new issue in American affairs. It comes in a multitude of shapes and clothed in a multitude of garments.”

Coming from the source it does, this utterance is significant. There is no doubt about the existence of the phenomena, but your conservative usually delights in playing ostrich. Personally I would like to question the accuracy of the _World’s_ forecast—for I contend that we have now more political parties than economic conditions warrant—but regard for truth requires affirmation instead of denial. The new party is bound to come.

“Mr. Bryan,” the _World_ continued, “has already defined it (the new party) in terms of triple state socialism—city ownership, State ownership and national ownership of all public utilities.”

Granting that this is correct, it is not hard to see that a new party is superfluous, for the People’s Party now covers this ground; and the Democratic Party has in places adopted a portion of the program.

The public mind, however, is thinking of a new party—and that settles it. The arguments of a few feeble individuals cannot change public opinion. So let us accept the inevitable and try to make the best of it.

The new party, it is safe to say, will pre-empt a large portion of the ground now occupied by the People’s Party. It will declare for true democracy. It will adopt one of two methods in making its declarations. It may, in a few well worded paragraphs, state fundamental principles of democracy, avoiding the peculiar isms of the various factions which will be brought together in the new organization; or it may attempt to frame a plank acceptable to each of the factions. It is needless to say that the former will lay the foundation for success, while the latter will give rise to dissensions and result, finally, in disintegration.

But I do not wish to suggest a platform for the new party. Able men will be present at its birth, and they will know what to do. I do wish to be heard, however, on the question of name for the infant party.

Populists well know that for the past four years I have fought persistently against changing the People’s Party name. I have freely admitted its faults, but have insisted that a faulty name is less dangerous than a change. The organization of a new party presents a different problem. A new name is necessary.

What shall it be?

Viewed superficially there are many good names which might be adopted; but when subjected to careful analysis, the number dwindles down to a very few. I take it that the name should indicate the predominant feature of the party; that it should be but one word, and that word short, preferably of three syllables, not explosive or difficult to pronounce, but capable of being uttered easily; that whether used as noun or adjective no change is necessary; that it should not be an unusual or a newly coined word, but one the meaning of which, in its generic sense, is now well understood by, or at least familiar to the public.

A year or so ago a writer in _The Public_ (Chicago) suggested Isocrat, one who believes in equal rule; and Orthocrat, one who believes in good rule—both charming names but violating what I believe to be very important: that the name should not be unusual, newly coined, or unfamiliar to the public. Isocrat, isocratic, isocracy; orthocrat, orthocratic, orthocracy. Ingenious inventions, but hardly suited to our purpose.

Several persons in the past few years, notably Rev. John V. Potts, of Ohio, have made good arguments in favor of “The People’s Democratic-Republican Party.” I shall not discuss this further than to suggest that a 27-letter name is too long; and that to designate a member of the party would require a hopeless amount of circumlocution.

“Home Rule,” “American,” etc., have been suggested; but a little thought will disclose their weak points.

I suggest the good, old word RADICAL.

Nine men out of every ten today—who would likely become affiliated with the new party—will, when questioned as to their political belief, generally preface their remarks by declaring, “I am a radical.” Why not give them an opportunity to say it with a capital R?

The Radical Party; a Radical; Radical measures; Radicalism.

Not so many years ago the suggestion of this name would have aroused a storm of protest—but it is different today. Then a radical was looked upon as a rash man, if not, indeed, a revolutionist. Men coveted the distinction of being regarded as conservative. To put a radical in an important public office, as Governor, for instance, would “drive capital out of the State.” Only a “con-ser-r-va-tive” (how they did roll that r) could prevent things from going to the demnition bow-wows.

Today it is almost criminally libelous to call a man “safe and sane,” so great a change has come over the public mind. The words “radical” and “conservative” have come to be understood in a new light. The new meanings have quite obscured the old. A “conservative” is looked upon today as the beneficiary, as principal or agent, of some special privilege—franchise, tariff tax and the like—which gives him the power to absorb wealth produced by others, without rendering an equivalent therefor. Naturally, he desires to “conserve” this unfair advantage—for civilization has by no means eliminated the wolf in man—and is, therefore, opposed to radical change. He is a conservative, a stand-patter, a let-well-enough-aloner.

I make no claim of altruism for the radical, and am inclined to look with suspicion upon the man who prates overmuch about doing everything for others and nothing for himself. Self-preservation is the first law of Nature, and man hasn’t learned how to repeal it. Besides, it isn’t necessary, even if we knew how. But there is selfishness and selfishness. Conservative selfishness means to build up one’s self at the expense of others; radical selfishness has for its motto, “Live and let live.” In other words, by promoting the general welfare, I can best advance my own interests.

But, for the sake of argument, let us admit that men are alike in their selfishness; that all are wolfish, whether conservative or radical. Common sense teaches us that only a comparative few can be the beneficiaries of special privileges. If we all possessed equal powers to rob, conferred by legislation, the result would be about the same as though none of us possessed such powers. The former alternative is, of course, impossible; for a special privilege would cease to be such if made general. But the latter is possible. Let us frankly confess that the radical would be a conservative if he could become the beneficiary of a special privilege. Given the opportunity, I feel sure he would act much as other legalized robbers do.

I believe we have indulged in too much denunciation of the beneficiaries of special privileges, the legalized plunderers, and paid too little attention to the criminal ignorance of the great majority who permit themselves to be robbed. I believe we should admit that the masses have acted as “them asses”—and resolve to quit playing the fool. That’s why I suggest the name Radical for the new party. It means a going to the root of the trouble and uprooting it. It means a change which will hurt the pride of a few, because they can no longer hoodwink and rob their tens of thousands under guise of law—a change which will benefit the pockets of the many, because they will no longer be picked by legal enactment.

And this would be a radical change. Let it be made by a Radical party.

_A Wild Enthusiast_

“He——?”

“Oh, he is the kind of a chap that would try to blow up a balloon with baking-powder.”

_Unfinished_

Johnny—Mamma, I was having such a nice dream when I woke up.

MAMMA—Were you?

Johnny—Yes. I wish there was some way I could go ahead with that dream.

_The Municipal Boss_

By W. D. Wattles

The present revolt against bossism and the recent destruction of several of the strongest and best constructed machines, naturally suggest the question as to the permanence of the results. The vital problem now is whether the boss will rise again, or whether a new one will come in his stead. To know the answer we must understand the causes and conditions which bring the boss into existence.