cently occurred in France. The difference between the revolutions of 1789 and 1848 is a subject of special wonder to those who do not look below the surface. The phenomenon of the day is that universal suffrage should result in the rejection of republicanism. "Who would have thought it!" is the universal exclamation, alike from those who hoped, and those who feared, every thing from the experiment. And what a triumphant answer is it supposed to afford to those who have all along maintained that universal suffrage could only end in social disorganization? Either the Frenchman must have changed his nature, and become the most orderly and law-abiding of the human race, or the experiment which resulted so admirably with the volatile and impulsive Celt, cannot fail of the most happy results among the sober-minded reflective Teutons, whether German or English.

So we generalize, and so we leap to conclusions. We overlook the fact that the repartition of lands in France, sixty years ago, and the singular law of inheritance peculiar to that country, have produced a greater equality in the distribution of real property, than can be found even in the United States. With us, indeed, every man might own some land; but the possession of that sort of property has never been regarded here as a privilege of rank. Men seek the most gainful occupations and investments, with, perhaps, a vague purpose of purchasing an estate in the end, and the absolute certainty of finding one to their mind, whenever they have money to buy it. But in countries full of population, originally parcelled out among the great, and held by them as the throne of their power, the eagerness to acquire real property becomes a passion. This is always found in countries where feudalism has prevailed. Every owner of land gave it a name, and with the prefix "de" or "von," assumed that name as his own-the preposition always marking him as a sort of gentilatre, or quasi noble. Hence the avidity with which the French peasant invested his handful of assignats in his rood of ground; and hence the remarkable fact that the land-holders of France are more in number than all that did actually vote in the late presidential election. Had they failed to seize the occasion. to discountenance the disorders of the capital, and to restore quiet to the nation, it would have shown the French people to be utterly unlike any other in the world, and differing

from none more than from the French of '89. Impulsive as they were, their impulses were all in accordance with real or fancied interests; and the recent conduct of those whose condition remains essentially the same, shows them to be unchanged. The difference in numbers made all the difference in results, and the œuvriers of June did all they could to show themselves the legitimate descendants of the Septembriques of old.

But was not the world in error in doubting whether the mass of any people possessed the intelligence necessary for a discreet use of the elective franchise. This word intelligence, used in this connection, embraces three distinct ideas.

1. The moral sense, whether innate or cultivated, which distinguishes and chooses between right and wrong. No man who ever looked on the face of a child uttering its first falsehood-no man who ever witnessed the feelings of the boy whose arrow has just brought down his first bird-will assign to the cultivation of this moral sense any higher office than that of preserving it from destruction.

2. An acquaintance with the particular interests of the individual man himself. May it not be doubted, whether, among men of equal native sagacity, this is not as great, in proportion to the extent and variety of his interests, in the most unlearned, as in the most cultivated? We deceive ourselves, and overrate the advantages of education, by overlooking the fact, that a great proportion of boys of good capacity are actually educated, while the great multitude of dunces are left in incurable ignorance. We give education, and it not only for the work it does, but for the quality of the material it works on.

3 An acquaintance with the interests of the community at large, and with the best means of promoting it. And who has this? Make this the test, and let us attend a session of our House of Representatives, listen to what they call their debates, and then decide how many of that body, tried by that criterion, are worthy to be entrusted with the elective franchise? Always strongly advocating the restriction of the right of suffrage to land-holders, we never stopped to consider, whether, in either of these three senses, the class admitted to the polls be more or less intelligent than that excluded. It was enough for us, (supposing the same measure of intelligence in both,) that, from the uature of the thing, the whole body of land-holders must contain a

decided majority of small land holders. Of these, taken collectively, it may be safely affirmed, "that freedom, justice, stability, and the general prosperity of the whole community, are more precious than any thing that prince, nabob or demagogue can offer."

But, when we come to the question of intelligence, there is no reason to suppose that the shoemaker, or the tailor, engaged in a social occupation, in which mind may act on mind, "as iron sharpeneth iron," should have less knowledge than the farmer between the handles of his plough. We should look for a difference the other way, and we are very sure we should find it. We should certainly find much more of that fragmentary acquaintance with public affairs, which qualifies a man to maintain discussions with men better informed, and even to be pronounced victor by his admiring companions. Others, indeed, listening to such flippant displays of perverse smartness, might come to a different conclusion, and suspect that, with less knowledge, the man might have had more sense. But these are oldfashioned thinkers, far behind the "march of mind," who, holding to the old adage, that "a little learning is a dangerous thing," have small faith in any education the day-laborer can find leisure to receive, as a remedy for the evils of the time. Indeed, there are some who think that there is less to be apprehended from the ignorant than from the more intelligent of that class, which, every where in Europe, until of late, has been kept in a state of political disfranchisement and subjection. There is, in that class, a great deal of talent, and there is a great deal, too, in the higher classes, always ready to become the champion of that class. During the present century, this has been the favorite road of ambition to reputation, wealth and power. But for the excitements administered by men of talent, the more ignorant portion of the lower classes would be always ready to cast their suffrages in favor of benevolent men-rich enough to make their wealth a blessing to the poor; prudent enough to preserve the means of doing good; quiet and domestic in their habits, and careful to manage their private affairs successfully. These are the marks by which the ignorant poor man chooses his representative, when left to himself, in his ignorance. What a blessing, were a legislative body composed of such men, with a few exceptions, which will always be made, in favor of talent of a high

order. When the night of ignorance is broken only by the blinding light of such information as flashes from the popular orator and demagogue, we see the result in our House of Representatives and State Legislatures, and in the instructious occasionally gotten up to embarrass what little wisdom may have found its way into those bodies. Men conscious of blindness submit to be led quietly by any known friend who has eyes. It is only when they say, "We see," that their guilt and danger commence. "When the light within them is darkness, how great is that darkness!"

It is not the want of intelligence, then, that of itself disqualifies any portion of the community for having a voice in the selection of rulers. Those thus selected will not always be the most brilliant men, but they will be safe men-they may not give a brilliant administration, but they will give a safe one. This is what the interests of the lower classes demand. All their miseries may everywhere be traced to the brilliant epochs in their country's history. The talents of Louvirs, Colbert, Turenne, Condé and Luxembourg prepared the miseries that drove the French people to madness. No! The want of what is commonly called "intelligence" is no disqualification, and he who is silly enough to think so should be the last to cherish the doctrine. The only disqualification is a want of that "permanent common interest" spoken of in that wise Statepaper, the Virginia Bill of Rights, which affords a pledge that the voter, according to such light as he has, will prefer the public good to the advancement of any separate particular interest of his own. In a country like this, where the distribution of property is yet incomplete, and where, under the existing institutions, everything is open to everybody, the mere fact of birth may be taken as a sufficient pledge, that the poorest man will prefer the permanency of those institutions and the prosperity of the country, to any thing he could hope from misrule. There will be exceptions, but not more in proportion in that class than in any other-perhaps not so many. Fat offices and fat contracts are not for them. Seats in the cabinet, seats on the bench and foreign embassies are not for them. Wo to the country, if corruption were as extensively diffused among that humble class as among the enlightened patriots who, as soon as a President is elected, flock to Washington to claim the wages of

prostitution. The government has nothing for the poor man but justice and security. These are all he can expect from that quarter, and he looks to himself for the rest.

Now France is, at this moment, the only country in Europe (perhaps in the world) where the small landholders constitute a decided majority of the whole. Were a well organized republican government actually established there, its powers would be in the hands of that class. This is the great object to be had in view in fixing the basis of representation. If that point be secured, the larger the base the better. While the line of direction falls within that the whole fabric will stand firm, even though it lean a little, as perhaps it sometimes must. This majority ought always to be in the condition to say, with Louis XIV., "L'etat c'est moi." Power, in the hands of that, is self-sustaining, needing no support from military force. Standing between the "vullus instantis tyranni" and the "civium ardor prava jubentium," it awes both into tranquillity. It has enough in common with both to be just to both and a safe arbiter between them. Its leaning, if it leans at all, will be in favor of the weaker side, for, "in the distribution of the burthens of the State the small landholder would be more interested to tax the luxuries of the rich, which he never tastes, than the necessaries of the poor, which are equally necessary for him. If a direct tax is to be laid, there is none of which he will pay so small a proportion as the tax on land, of which he who has no land pays nothing, while much the larger part is paid by a few great proprietors. The only tax by which a man without property can be directly reached is a poll-tax; and when a hundred small landholders reflect that, of that, each of them must pay as much as the large proprietor, who owns as much land as all of them together, interest will prompt them to add, in preference, something to the land tax, of which he is to pay as much as all of them together."

* We do not mean to say that none of these are poor. They are often worse than poor. But they are persons who, claiming no affinity with the poor, ruffle it in broadcloths, Burgundy and cigars, at other people's expense. It is the case of the ruined gambler, borrowing one more stake of the creditor, who lends only because he sees no other chance of being paid. "Did you ever,” said a friend, on Pennsylvania avenue, on the 5th of March last, "Did you ever see, at one view, so many coats that had not been paid for." Doubtless the tailor suffers greatly.