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the host of her fashionable customers had been quite ready to take advantage of her friendless position, her poverty, and dependence, to pay her trifling sums for pictures which they could not have obtained from other artists at any cost, and for whose inferior equivalents they would gladly have paid five, ten, twenty times the amounts that she received. Adèle, upon her part, too faithfully conscientious in the discharge of her duty, labored to attain perfection in all that she did, neither for fame nor money, but because her artistic nature would not allow her to do otherwise. It was not ambition that she lacked, but the aggressive spirit of self-assertion, which her friend possessed-a most necessary quality in achieving success, but by no means an essential element of genius and a noble nature. Sympathy and appreciation would have aroused her to self-consciousness; but these she did not meet with, and, becoming timid and self-distrustful, allowed herself to be imposed upon. The natural consequences followed. Poorly paid, and eager to achieve the highest excellence, her utmost exertions scarcely enabled her to keep body and soul together. She was shut out as completely from the higher joys of an artist's life as from every other kind of happiness. She made no progress, or seemed to herself to make none, but declined into a routine of drudgery, from which she could not escape. Finally-the greatest misfortune of all!-her work became distasteful to her. She began to loathe the delicate bits of ivory, upon which bloomed, beneath her cunning fingers, so many fresh and smiling faces; and yet she could gain no reprieve from her pleasing but monotonous and wearing labor.

A joyous, healthful temperament had enabled Adèle to endure her trials for years-she began her career as an artist when a mere child of fifteen-with cheerfulness, and it was only within a short period that her peace of mind had been disturbed. For several weeks, or rather months, a restless, morbid melan

choly had been stealing over her. She felt a strange sense of dissatisfaction, a disgust of the present, and fear of the darkening future, which she vainly combated; and these emotions, her visit to Mrs. Vane, forcing her to contemplate an inner life so rich and varied, although far from being harmonious, had suddenly intensified, until it became difficult for her to refrain from giving them expression. Several times, while receiving her friend's confidence, she had been on the point of dropping the mask, throwing herself into her arms, and weeping forth the story of her despondency. She had resisted the impulse from a feeling that it would be ungenerous to cast her burden upon another who had sorrows enough of her own to bear. But now again the passion seized her, and she felt that she could no longer resist giving way to a burst of hysterical weeping.

Adèle was restrained by only one consideration. At this very moment she should have been in her studio preparing for a sitter. The habit of fulfilling her engagements punctually, a sort of incapacity of shrinking from a duty, however painful its performance might be, which had become her second nature, proved stronger than the impulse which was urging her to abandon herself to emotion. Her sense of duty enabled her to overcome her weakness, and lead her onward, to meet a very different destiny from the one that she had been contemplating.

She recalled her engagement, and determined to fulfil it. Repressing her sobs, and wiping away her tears, she drew her veil over her face, ran down the long flights of stairs leading to her friend's eyrie, and, hurrying into the street with a breathless speed, that was the result of agitation even more than of haste, struck directly against a gentleman who was walking by with almost equal rapidity.

Both started back in some confusion from the collision; and Adèle, looking up bewildered, beheld in amazementPrince Zariades !

(Conclusion in next Number.)

WHOM THE PEOPLE WILL ELECT, AND WHY.

WITH all the ardor, genius, and audacity of the American character, but with less, we trust, than its full candor and caution, our countrymen have plunged into the excitements of a political contest, scarcely exceeded in importance by those of 1860 and 1864. The hairsplitting platforms of the parties and the merits of the candidates only enter into the contest as chips and straws floating upon the surface, which indicate the drift, sweep, and movement of the tide that bears them along. While it is said that principles are more important than men, it is certain that platforms are less vital than candidates. The platform comes down when the campaign is over, but the successful candidate the coming man-has then only begun to prepare for the duties of his office. He it is, and not the platform, who is sworn and inaugurated, who makes appointments, recommends policies, receives ambassadors, negotiates treaties, commands the army and navy, and exercises a power equal, if prudently administered, to that of Congress, and constitutionally equal, whether used prudently or not, to two thirds of both houses. But even the candidate, important as his qualifications, availability, and views may be, is more the creature than the creator of the conditions which surround him. He cannot resist the sway of the great tide which gives him his promotion, which bears him onward from the position of a citizen to that of, for the time, the most powerful potentate in the world. As the platform sinks below the candidate, so the candidate is lost in the party. However trifling eddies on the shore may belie the general current, the essential drift and tendency of both parties are, at all times, unmistakable. On these, and not on the cunningly evasive resolutions, or the merits of candidates, the battle is really fought. In all earnest conflicts of men, parties, and

nations, their issues simplify as their passion deepens, until, in the heat of the struggle, all the elements of the contest are fused into one ruling idea that seems inscribed in the very heavens, in letters of light and glory, like the cross in the path of Constantine.

The triumphs of the Republican party have heretofore been won upon questions remarkable, like all moral issues, for their simplicity of statement, and for the vast consequences they involve. "Shall we extend slavery?" asked the Nation in 1856. The Republican party sprung into life to answer, "No." "Shall we subdue the rebellion?" asked the Nation in 1860. The Republican party, with the Bible in one hand and the sword in the other, replied, "With malice toward none, with charity for all, by God's help we will subdue the rebellion." "Shall we restore the nation on the basis of equal rights?" asked the Nation in 1866. For, more or less plainly, the platforms of both parties in that year anticipated the policies which were afterwards enacted into law. The Republican party carried every loyal State for equal rights. Having embodied in legislation the previously expressed will of the people, the same party now comes before the country in a spirit which its convention has expressed less happily than its candidate. Its platform declares that,

Reconstruction on the basis of equal rights for all men, shall be consummated and carried out; and that

The national faith towards its creditors shall be preserved.

But General Grant, in the closing sentiment of his brief letter of acceptance, has happily struck the keynote of the campaign, in the brief, terse, Saxon words

"LET US HAVE PEACE!"

The spirit of the Democratic party breathes in those words of their platform and letters of acceptance, which

denounce negro supremacy." Their bond of cohesion is the assertion that political rights shall be enjoyed by white men only, or, as they express it, under "a white man's government."

The Republican party therefore seeks peace on the present basis of reconstruction; while the Democratic party aims to overthrow that basis, in modes which, as we shall see, might easily involve war, and possibly are wholly impracticable without war.

The first issue, therefore, is whether it is more desirable to have a government wholly white, or one in which the political rights of the black and white races are equal; whether, if a white man's government were the more desirable, it is now practicable to obtain it by the election of Seymour and Blair, without or with a civil war; and whether, if it be desirable, but involve war, its attainment would justify the war it would involve.

To

The fact that the attainment of an object involves war, proves that the constitutional majority of the people oppose it. If they did not, the end could be obtained by legislation, without war. assert, in a republic, that civil war is necessary to attain any end, is to assert the right in the minority to rule the majority. To declare that it will avail, is to claim a power in the minority to conquer the majority in battle. As the criterion of wisdom, in republics, is the approval of the majority, nothing is wise until the majority approve it. When they approve it, civil war is unnecessary to carry it out. The threat of war is, therefore, in the strifes of a republic, a confession of weakness. It is evident that the election of a Democratic president, and his control of the constitutional powers of his office, would not overturn the congressional policy of reconstruction, and afford us, in the Democratic sense, a "white man's government." The Democracy controlled Andrew Johnson as fully as they possibly could Horatio Seymour. With an ability and sincerity equal to those of Seymour, and with an experience and energy far greater, the actual President

has fought, inch by inch, the battle for a white man's government, through four years of bold and audacious and commanding political warfare. He began, backed by an able and popular Cabinet, and a very strong party in Congress. He has been vanquished at all points, and at last stands indebted to the magnanimity of his ablest enemies for leave to serve to the end of his term. If the Democratic party, reinforced by the conservative wing of the Republicans, could not, with a President of their own heart already in the chair, prevent the adoption and enforcement of the present reconstruction laws, how will they, without any allies, be able, by the election of another Democratic President, to repeal or overthrow them? What with greater means they could not prevent, how shall they, with less, reverse? Mr. Seymour, if elected, would enter upon his office with a majority opposing him, in both Houses, of more than the two thirds or three fourths which have overwhelmed President Johnson. None of the existing reconstruction laws can be repealed while these majorities shall remain; and they must remain for at least two years in the House and four in the Senate. No reconstruction law could be repealed until Mr. Seymour's term would be about expiring. Meanwhile, seven of the ten States would have been in the Union five years, under constitutions which confer equal rights on both races. A much larger proportion of blacks each year would have voted with the Democrats, and more of the whites with the Republicans, until the lines dividing the races would have ceased to divide the two parties. The remaining three of the seceding States would also have been admitted, on the adoption of constitutions conferring equal political rights. There will be, for four years, a majority prepared to pass every law and constitutional amendment calculated to preserve, in each State, the enjoyment of equal political rights by both races. These laws, Mr. Seymour, as President, must enforce, or lay himself open to removal by impeachment. He would find himself in a di

lemma, like that which met him as Governor in 1863. Though opposed to the war, emancipation, and the draft, he was then compelled, by his manifest official duty, to forward troops and lend reluctant aid to the measures and principles he condemned. So as President, if he would not become a rebel, his political principles must "bide their time," while his official acts conform to the laws of Congress. Conscious of these facts, Mr. Blair, Governor Orr, and other Democratic advisers, have shown that by no constitutional exercise of his powers could a Democratic President reverse or overthrow the reconstruction policies of Congress. Governor Orr wisely infers that they are irreversible, and advises the Southern people to accept the political equality of the races as established; but to modify its evils by requiring property and educational qualifications of the voters of either race. Mr. Blair, however, declares that the President should promptly and boldly use the army to trample under foot the laws of Congress, abolish the existing Southern State governments, turn out their members of Congress, destroy their constitutions, and cause new ones to be adopted, based on the white vote only. This would be a coup d'état as dangerous, despotic, and, if successful, as brilliant as that of Napoleon III., in stepping from the presidency to the throne. Like that, it would require that the President should first remove the general-in-chief of the army, imprison or suborn his subordinates, and arrest and confine the leading Republican members of both Houses. Nothing less would prevent his own prompt removal by impeachment. Unfortunately for this little enterprise, America is wholly unprepared for a monarchy under any name; neither Mr. Seymour nor Mr. Blair is of the Napoleonic stock, or could pretend to revive the glory of a former and historic empire; and the trifling force which the President could command for such an undertaking, would be a mere corporal's guard compared with the millions whom the lawful general-in-chief of the

army could summon to his standard to resist the usurpation. It is needless to prove that Mr. Blair's proposed coup d'état would result in summary defeat and ignominious punishment. Of all the crimes the Democratic party could commit, this would be the most stupendous; of all its failures, the most humiliating. While its foreshadowing won for Mr. Blair his nomination, it sunk forever all the claims he may previously have had to be considered either an able or a patriotic politician. His reputation for military courage and gallantry, like that of Arnold after his unrivalled treachery, remains undimmed. But one who solicits promotion from those recently arrayed in rebellion, by promising to lead them in a new revolt, ceases to be a loyal citizen, far less a patriotic statesman.

Since it is not practicable to deprive the black race of political rights by electing Seymour, either without or with civil war, let us inquire whether a government by the white race only is intrinsically more desirable than one wherein all are equal before the law.

The exclusion of free black men from political rights was a later culmination of slavery. In other ages and countries, slavery had been an accident of condition, into which the noblest men of any race might fall. Here they sought to make it a taint in the blood, an indelible stain on the posterity and kindred of the enslaved. In ancient Rome or modern Brazil, in the republics of Greece or of Mexico and South America, the slave, when free, became not a freedman, but a freeman. No insuperable bar excluded him from the senate of Rome, none now excludes him from the imperial cabinet of Dom Pedro or the presidency of Chili. In Brazil, though African and Indian slavery still exist, no brand attaches to men of either race after emancipation. At all times some of the highest civil, military, and judicial officers have been persons of color. Free blacks and even slaves were allowed to fight in our War of Independence as well as that of 1812. A very common sense of justice associates the obligation

to defend a nation in war with a right to vote upon its policies in peace. By the national Constitution, and by twelve of those of the original thirteen States, no distinction of rights or privileges, on account of color, was made. South Carolina wrote the word "white" in her constitution as a limitation upon voting. In other States, free black citizens, possessing the requisite qualifications, voted. But by the excitements kindled by the slavery question, after 1820, State after State followed South Carolina in disfranchising its colored citizens, until only five of the New England States permitted the race, whose emblem was the hoe, to hold the ballot.

In the strict sense, therefore, we have never enjoyed the blessings of an unalloyed white man's government. It is impossible to judge by experience how great they might be. In the cup of our most sparkling political prosperity there have always been some dregs of "negro supremacy," of some nectar of equal rights, according as we may affect the "slogan" of Republicanism or Democracy. However slight the visible admixture of African blood in our bodypolitic may have been, it puts an end to all pretence that ours is, constitutionally, a white man's government. Our Constitution recognizes no race or color as entitled to monopolize citizenship, suffrage, or office.

Those who still claim that emancipation was a blunder, which ought to be atoned for by restoring the colored race to slavery, are consistent and logical in affirming that it should not be allowed to vote. But all Americans profess now to recognize the right of the freed race to be free. As the white man regards the ballot as the indispensable weapon to preserve his own freedom, it devolves on every advocate of partial suffrage to show how black men can maintain their freedom with any fewer weapons than white men require. What ever the argument, it involves the superiority of the black race over the white.

It may be answered that the white race will preserve the freedom of the black. The freedom which depends on

the will of another to give or withhold, to maintain or destroy, is slavery. In this instance the abstract principle comes reinforced by palpable illustration. Under President Johnson's plan of reconstruction, the white race of the South enjoyed for three years a magnificent opportunity to preserve and maintain the freedom of the black. They responded by enacting codes which subjected the negro to all the hardships of slavery, with none of its protection. They forbade him to keep arms for the defence of his home, though, by the common law, every American's house is his castle. They denied him the right to own or lease land, or to hire a house, thereby preventing him by law from gathering his family into a household, and compelling its members to go out as servants into the families of others. They required him to hire his services for the year during the first weeks of January, in order to confine him to agricultural labor, and compel him to accept such compensations as might be offered in that period. For idleness, and other petty offences, they condemned him to be sold into slavery, so as to revive that odious institution. They denied him the right to sue, or testify, or sit on juries. Under these and other similar laws, which the white race, if not prevented by the military power of the United States, would have enforced, the blacks would, long ere this, have been restored to the most abject and absolute slavery. These facts show that the freedom of black men at the South is not safe where none but white men vote. It therefore devolves on those who accept emancipation, but would withhold the suffrage, to point out by what means the freedom of the black race can be maintained without the suffrage. The Freedman's Bureau and military law were tried for a while. But these are despotic, and temporary makeshifts, mere jury-masts to get into port after a storm. To make them permanent, would be to abolish Republican government at the South. Ponder the problem as we will, there remains no alternative but to allow slavery to be

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