sion for honors, but we have not been able to gain any particular details, from the general descriptions. The num ber of mandarins is said to be immense, and their authority with the people almost unbounded.

To turn to the philosophy of our subject, and leave curious facts. Modern titles, or rather modern aristocracy, a relic of feudalism, arose out of a military aristocracy. Originally, they were the natural offspring of despotism and conquest. They were intended to dazzle only to enslave, or to quote the gist of the whole matter, as it is admirably summed up in the Rights of Man (Vol. II., p. 86). The writer has been dilating upon the law of primogeniture, and thus proceeds to describe the character of the aristocracy growing out of it. The passage is remarkable for condensed thought and terse expression. "The nature and character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. It is a law against every law of nature, and nature herself calls for its destruction. Establish family justice, and aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of primogeniture, in a family of six, five are exposed. Aristocracy never has but one child. The rest are begotten to be devoured. They are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the unnatural repast. As everything which is out of nature in man affects, more or less, the interest of society, so does this. All the children which the aristocracy disowns [which are all except the oldest], are, in general, cast like orphans on a parish, to be provided for by the public, but at a greater charge. Unnecessary offices and places in governments and courts are created at the expense of the public to maintain them. With what kind of parental reflections can the father or mother contemplate their younger offspring? By nature

they are children, and by marriage they are heirs; but by aristocracy they are bastards and orphans. They are the flesh and blood of their parents in one line, and akin to them in the other. To restore, therefore, parents to their children, and children to their parents, relations to each other, and man to society, and to exterminate the monster aristocracy, root and branch, the French constitution has destroyed the line of primogeniture. Here, then, lies the monster, and Mr. Burke, if he pleases, may write its epitaph."

Yet arbitrary and intolerant as Aristocracy is too apt to be and has generally been found-too often an overbearing despotism, still we, sometimes, in our visions of the future, imagine a possible Aristocracy, composed purely of the wisest and most virtuous, those intended by Nature and Nature's God to direct their fellows and ani. mate their generous aspirations into manly action. This is, however, a state to be hoped for rather than expected with confidence. The Aristocracy of the present is too much the creature of circumstance to deserve our regard. It is not a self-dependent, bold and intelligent rule. It looks here at wealth, and inquires not if a man is worthy, but how much he is worth. The best men are they who are good for the greatest amount. Their maxim is, "wealth makes the MAN, the want of it, the FELLOW." If the aristocracy of birth be considered, it looks not to the excellent qualities of a man's own parents or immediate family (as an ordinary thing), it rather investigates the antiquity of his house (the character of his immediate predecessors does not avail so much), and the long line of descent from a famous original.. Its glory is retrospective and traditional; and noble as that may be as an incentive to indi

vidual performance, it can notwithstanding never claim the force of a substitute for them. True democracy may, however, consist, and ought to be accompanied by true gentlemanliness. That they thus always do not agree is no argument against the possible union. Democracy is a principle (political, not social), and does not depend upon the dress or pursuits or accomplishments of the individnal professing it. It is a philanthropic and philosophic system of polity, wholly irrespective of personal habits or prejudices. It is the government of the people by themselves. Of this great body, the leaders (for the mass cannot act as one man, and must delegate duties and assign powers) are expected to be in advance, socially and intellectually, if not also morally and politically of their fellows, else why leaders? And we find as matter of history, the staunchest advocates of liberal views and free government at all times, and especially in the most excited times, to have been able men, good patriots and gentlemen-to look at Lafayette in France; Sidney and Russell and Hampden in England; and all of our own great Revolutionary characters without exception. Not to dilate upon obvious truths, we shall conclude this sketch with an extract from the Rights of Man on the abolition of titles in France, at the framing of their new constitution—a masterly passage, equal to certain of Burke's noblest efforts, and which contains the spirit of the whole matter. “Titles are but a nickname, and every nickname is a title. The thing is perfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a certain foppery in the human character that degrades it. It renders man diminutive in things which are little. It talks about its fine riband like a girl, and shows its garters like a child. A certain writer of some

antiquity, says, ' when I was a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.' "It is properly from the elevated mind of France that the folly of titles has been abolished. It has outgrown the baby-clothes of Count and Duke, and breeched itself into manhood. France has not levelled, it has exalted. It has put down the dwarf to set up the man. The insignificance of a senseless and noble Duke, Count or Earl has ceased to please. Even those who possessed them have disowned the gibberish, and as they outgrow the rickets have despised the rattle. The genuine mind of man thirsting for its native home, society, contemns the gewgaws that separate him from it. Titles are like circles drawn by the magician's wand, to contract the sphere of man's felicity. He lives immortal within the Bastille of a name, and surveys at a distance the envied life of man.

"Is it then any wonder that titles should fall in France? Is it not a great wonder that they should be kept up anywhere ? What are they? What is their worth, nay, what is their amount? When we think or speak of a judge or general, we associate with it the ideas of office and character; we think of purity in the one and bravery in the other; but when we use a word merely as a title, no ideas associate with it. Through all the vocabulary of names, there is not such an animal as a Duke or a Count; neither can we connect any certain idea to the word. Whether they mean strength or weakness, wisdom or folly, a child or a man, or a rider or a horse, is all equivocal. What respect, then, can be paid to that which describes nothing and means nothing? Imagination has given figure and character to centaurs, satyrs, and down

to all the fairy tribe; but titles baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a chimerical nondescript."

Acute sense, enlivened by antithesis, and condensed into the form of pointed maxims, cannot in pungency and effect transcend this spirited tirade. Indeed, there are not many passages, even in Burke's celebrated Reflections, which called forth this reply, that surpass the above episode, in compressed power and epigrammatic point. We have looked in vain into the journals of the first Congress and the secret debates, lately printed, for a discussion on the proper title by which to address the President of the United States-whether His Excellency, or by what other designation.* We looked into this matter at the suggestion of one far better fitted than ourselves, from his political studies, to resolve this problem. Yet it may be allowed to the generous advocate of the poor criminal, the humane legislator, to be slightly acquainted with what, at present, is no more than a piece of antiquarian curiosity. Human life and human improvement is of more consequence than titles of honor, and the abolition of capital punishment than a matter of form or of courtly address.

It is to be hoped that beyond the necessary terms of official appellation, titles will never be employed in this country, purely as stereotyped honorary epithets or unmeaning honors. We want men, not a nobility. We would honor greatness and goodness, virtue and talent untitled, far rather than title without either of these claims to attention and respect. We require the thing, and not the name. If we must have superfluous titles, let them be badges of dishonor, and to be avoided by every good man, good citizen and true American.

*NOTE.-Since writing the above we have been kindly