country has gone out of the hands of the people into the hands of organized and corrupt political parties; and that these parties are managed by bad men who make politics a trade, and by political "bosses" who use them to keep themselves in power.

I have thus fully set forth what I deem to be the true province of political parties, and have alluded, in terms that may have seemed heated, to the evils which have been engrafted upon them by the "spoils" system-a system of conducting our civil service which is recognized by all thoughtful men as the greatest peril to the existence of this Government, and the most difficult question with which the future statesmen must deal. It will thus be seen that it is not so much the Government that needs reforming as the political parties that control the Govern

ment.

To reform a government is one thing; to reform a political party is quite another. We may reform the Government by the use of a party, but how can we reform a party? A party is presumed to be a mere temporary organization of people who think alike on some question of government policy, which will, if let alone, reform itself. As a matter of fact, however, it is quite a different thing. As now organized, it has all the strength and permanence of a government within a government. It is supported and maintained by a species of tax, in the form of assessments upon the salaries of the officers of the Government, the salaries being voted by the party managers who have control of the Government. It, therefore, draws its support almost directly from the Government, and has all the strength, and many of the functions, of a government. It is in no sense, however, democratic in its methods. It does not condescend to consult its members on matters of great party concern. All its important measures are concocted in secret party caucus. It is, in short, a tyrant of tyrants. It regards as the basest treason any attempt to reform its party methods, and deals with traitors in a far more effectual and terrible manner than our Government dealt with those who rebelled against it; for our Southern traitors, even the "Brigadiers,” have been proudly elected, and have been honorably permitted to participate in the councils of the nation. But the party traitor, "sorehead," or "bolter," does not get off so easily. He is condemned to perpetual and ignominious banishment from party councils, to be scorned and sneered at by all good, well disciplined politicians. If, therefore, there is any one person in the world that the modern political party heartily hates, it is a "reformer." It never loses an opportunity to show its con

tempt for him, and for all reformers as a class. It is peculiarly fond of "practical" men, who have come up from the party ranks well schooled in all the cunning and craft of political wirepulling, but has a mortal dread of scholarly men, who have been to college, or men who are suspected of having "theories." It has thus so fortified and entrenched itself behind party customs, usages, prejudices, and traditions, and has so perfected its machinery in all its endless detail of methods, that any attempt to attack or overthrow it is almost certain defeat.

Nor is there any inducement for these parties to reform themselves by giving up the control of the offices, for by so doing they would fall to pieces at once. There would be nothing to "rally" around. Take away the "spoils,” and these high-sounding platitudes which are now marshaled in such formidable array as political platforms would sink into insignificance, and we should be surpised to find how little real difference there is between us.

The most tremendous evil of the "spoils" system is that it has so corrupted the parties that they do not reflect the opinions or sentiments of their constituents, but are constantly presenting to us false and fictitious issues, and not the real issues between the people. They deceive us, and lie to us, and make us think there are great differences, and that our opponents have committed, or are about to commit, some great political crime, which we must immediately prevent by voting the party ticket, when, in truth and in fact, there is no real difference between us at all, and our opponents are honorable gentlemen, but mere dupes like ourselves. These grave charges and counter-charges are made purely for effect, in order that our attention may be kept away from the real questions at issue, and from the specific details of corruption and bad government by which these parties are kept alive and permitted to thrive. Our voices are thus drowned by the loud noise which is constantly kept up about some imaginary danger from our opponents, if they should get into power. If we mildly remonstrate against these evils in national convention, we are sneeringly asked by some incipient statesman from Texas, "What are we here for, if it is not for the offices?" If we revolt against the tyranny of party management, and declare ourselves in favor of a reform in our civil service system, we are turned upon by the imperious Senator from New York with an allusion to Dr. Johnson's definition of patriotism, as "the last resource of a scoundrel."

Occasionally we are met by a condescending suggestion that the hope and reward of office form a sound basis of party strength and cohe

I presume it is not the province of this magazine, and I know it is not the purpose of this article, to trespass too broadly upon the debatable ground of party politics; but I cannot close this discussion without at least tracing the evils to which I have alluded to their true source. The responsibility of their continuance may be said to be in part common to all existing political parties. The responsibility of their adoption by the Federal Government rests alone with the Democratic party. To Andrew Jackson, the founder of the Democratic party,* must be awarded the unenviable, if not execrable, distinction of accomplishing at once the ruin and prostitution of American politics. It was he, who, under the advice and tutelage of Martin Van Buren, his Secretary of State, summarily ejected five hundred postmasters the first year of his administration; and it may, therefore, be truthfully said that the Democratic party was born and nursed into life by means of this most foul crime against purity, virtue, and good government. The celebrated maxim which I have quoted ("the spoils of the enemy belong to the victors") was formulated by Mr. Marcy, a noted New York Democratic politician of the Van Buren school; and it is, and has been, one of the "traditions" of the Democratic party. Never, in a single instance, in a Federal, State, county, or city election has it been departed from by the members of that party. Its adoption constituted, in a certain sense, an unpardonable sin, for it was one of those peculiar sins which its contemporaries and opponents were forced to adopt in self-defense. No party could afford to fight the Democratic party without offering its constituents, at least, as flattering inducements as those offered by the Democratic party to those who should vote and work for its party ticket. It

* Democrats were called "Jackson men" before they were called Democrats.

The Republican party came into power thirty years after the "spoils" system had been in vogue, and the political thought, habits, and morals of the American people had become fixed. In the magnitude of the impending peril to our national existence all lesser evils were forgotten. It found Democratic office-holders tainted with disloyalty, and many of them in open treason against the Government. It was, therefore, but natural that it should, at least, follow the usual custom, and make a “clean sweep" of all party opponents, especially in view of the fact that the great Democratic strict-construction doctrine of "State rights" had logically led a portion of the Democratic party into treason against the Federal Government, and had prevented a Democratic President from crushing it. Wars have ever been fruitful of corruption, and our war of the rebellion was no exception. The civil service became deeply tainted with corruption. Since peace has (fifteen years after the war closed) been finally declared, the Republican, and not the Democratic, party has shown symptoms of a genuine desire to divest itself of party patronage. It has twice, in national convention, rebuked the Conklings, the Camerons, and the Logans, who became identified with the "stalwart" school of "machine" politicians, and has chosen from among its ranks Presidential candidates, one of whom has shown a virtuous desire to improve the civil service, and has made his administration eminently a "clean" one; and the other of whom it is believed has the strength to combat and the wisdom to defeat any "Senatorial ring" that may be formed to crush him. To permit the Democratic party, therefore, to bring forth its ancient Jackson broom, with which to sweep out Republican office-holders, would subserve no possible good, but would, on the contrary, constitute the unjust pardon of a foul crime against the purity of American politics, for which the Democratic party deserves to die.

H. N. CLEMENT.

Over twenty years ago, during a visit to Damascus, I enjoyed the privilege of a personal interview with Abd-el-Kader. Although well advanced in years, he was still in the fullness of his powers, mental and physical. His form was as erect, his step as elastic, his eye as piercing, as when, twenty-five years earlier, he defied the military power of France. The following winter I spent in Algeria. I passed over most of the ground made memorable by the heroic struggle of the Algerian chieftain and his faithful followers against the invader. Everywhere I found the name of Abd-el-Kader spoken with admiration and reverence. He was regarded as the beau ideal of the hero, patriot, statesman. Even Frenchmen admitted that he was the bravest of men, fought nobly against fearful odds, and deserved a kindlier fate. Having seen the man, and heard something of his story from his own lips, I was anxious to know more of the cause he represented, the origin of the struggle, and the motive and methods of the French invasion. From copious notes taken

at the time, but afterward consigned to the limbo of neglected papers, I give the following narrative:

A stirring story is that of the French conquest of Algeria-a story strangely checkered with glory and disgrace. We shall never have it told in all of its terrible fullness, since almost the only witnesses who can speak to us are Frenchmen, who would not willingly let the world know what atrocities have been committed in the name of military ambition. Some of the chief actors are still living, having achieved honorable fame in other fields; others, like Boyer, have gone down to dishonored graves, covered with undying infamy.

There had been long standing disputes between the Algerian Government and the "African Company," a half legitimate, half piratical concern, not unlike the East India and Hudson Bay monopolies. Nobody knew which was right, and nobody except the Dey and the Directors particularly cared. The one made large demands, which the other refused to pay. In 1817, one M. Duval was appointed Consul-General to Algiers, and began his administration by becoming the creature of the African Company, and ended by becoming the creature of the Dey. One sunny morning the Consul went to pay his respects to his turbaned Highness,

and becoming either tedious, or impudent, or both, the latter, who might have had a quarrel with his favorite wife, or slept badly the night before, slapped him in the face with his fan. This was an insult not to be meekly borne. The indignant Consul struck his flag, and retired from a post which he had disgraced by his pusillanimity. France took fire at the insult of fered to her representative, and a fleet sailed for Algiers. Certain demands made by the French Admiral were scornfully refused. A blockade ensued; it was raised; other insults were offered to the French flag; and, finally, Charles IX., who wished to divert attention from his tottering government at home, resolved upon the conquest of Algeria.

A force of sixty thousand men, commanded by General Bourment, sailed from Toulon, and landed fifteen miles west of Algiers, on the 14th of June, 1830. They were received by the Algerines, and a skirmish ensued, but without much loss on either side. In the meantime, the Dey of Constantine, with several thousand Kabyles, had arrived to aid the latter, and on the 19th a decisive battle ensued. The Arabs were defeated with terrible slaughter, and retreated to Algiers. The French, elated with success, followed close upon their heels. The city, strongly walled and defended by enormous fortifications, promised a sturdy resistance. The besiegers commenced operations under the Emperor's castle by erecting batteries and springing mines. Several spirited sorties were made, but with no considerable success. the 4th of July the bombardment commenced in earnest; on the evening of the same day a breach was made, and on the 5th the French entered the city. The Arabs and Kabyles fought with great bravery, but the Turks fled in the thickest of the fight. The treasures of the citadel and the palace, to the value of many millions, were seized; the few fanatics who still resisted were put to the sword; the chief officers of the government were arrested; the Turks were ordered to depart forever; and the Dey, nearly ninety years of age, was sent a prisoner to France.

On

Algiers reduced, the French commander prepared to extend his conquests. Oran, and other seaport towns, speedily succumbed. Many of the petty chiefs of the vast interior gave in their adhesion without striking a blow, and the tri

color waved over the fortresses of Bougie and Bona. The conquest promised to be too tame for glory. But it is one thing to batter down the walls of cities, and quite another to conquer a people. The coast was subdued, but the vast interior was rebellious still. The Kabyles of the Atlas browbeat the garrison at Bougie under the very range of its cannon. The wild tribes of the Aures harassed their conquered brethren. The Dey of Constantine hurled insulting messages in the teeth of the French general. A large army was sent to chastise the insolence of the latter. Marshal St. Arnaud scoured the Grand Kabyle, pillaging, burning, and putting to the sword for a period of eighty days. The famous Boyer, whom the French soldiers themselves have surnamed "the cruel," ravaged Oran like a destroying angel. Constantine surrendered after two sieges, and the most frightful slaughter. The Kabyles became, for the moment, quiet; and the wholesome terror of Boyer effected its mission in the west.

But the conquest was not yet complete. There was one tribe which French craft could not wheedle and French bullets could not reach. These were the Riahs of the Auld, a hardy and defiant band who dwelt in inaccessible caverns. They had long harassed the conquerors, and Colonel Pélissier, afterward Duc de Malakoff, was dispatched to bring them under the common yoke. Being pursued, they fled to their caverns. Pélissier ordered faggots to be lighted and thrown into the mouth of their rocky retreats. He then caused a letter to be thrown in, offering them life if they would surrender. They answered that they would, provided the French troops should withdraw. This was refused, and more faggots were thrown in. Another offer of life by the French commander, which was disdainfully rejected. Fire was renewed and rendered intense. I leave a French historian to tell the rest of the dreadful story: "During this time the shrieks of the unhappy wretches who were being suffocated were fearful; and then nothing was heard but the crackling of the faggots. The silence spoke volumes. The troops entered and found five hundred dead bodies. About one hundred and fifty who still breathed were brought out, but most of them expired shortly after." The chronicles of the time inform us that this terrible fire was kept up for two whole days and nights, and that the rocks were cleft with the heat.

While French bombshells were exploding in the streets of Algiers, and French bayonets were cutting a bloody path to the citadel, a young poet was studying at one of the sacred schools. His name was Abd-el-Kader. He was an Arab by birth, and a Musselman by faith. Endowed

with the enthusiasm of the child of genuis and the hardy energy of the patriot, he resolved, young as he was, and dreamer as he had been reputed, to rid his country of the invader or perish in her cause. He had been an eye-witness of the downfall of the beautiful city, and had breathed his mingled rage and sorrow in lines of which the following is but a feeble translation:

"Oh! lament over Algiers, over its palaces, Over its forts, which were so stately!

Oh! lament over its mosques, over the prayers which were said therein,

And over the seats of marble

From whence gleamed the rays of Faith!
Oh! lament over its minarets, over the
Chants which were chanted from them.
Over the Talbas and the schools, and those
Who read the Koran!

Oh! lament over the Zaantas, whose doors have been closed,

And over the teachers who have become wanderers !
Oh! lament over its Kaidis and its wise Muftis,
The pride of the city who made the Religion to pros-
per!

They are gone, forlorn and sad hearted;
They are dispersed among the people-the unfortu-
nate!"

He left Algiers, and went among the tribes of Mascara, by whom he was appointed Emir. His illustrious origin, his eloquence, his magnetic influence, soon gathered hosts around him. He inflamed the minds of his rude followers by his impassioned appeals, his poems, and his citations from the Sacred Books. He claimed descent from Fatima, beloved of the Prophet, assumed the gift of divination, and pretended to hold converse with Saints and the Father of the Faith. He soon became an oracle-was looked upon as one anointed from on high, who was to exterminate the infidels and restore the tarnished glory of Islam. Putting himself at the head of a force of twelve thousand warriors, he marched boldy against the enemy, with all the zeal of a fanatic and all the faith of a devotee. He laid waste their possessions; ravaged with fire and sword the country of the subject tribes; reduced in turn Arzew, Mostoganem and other important posts; drove the French garrison within the walls of Oran, and by a decisive battle on the banks of the Tafna, extorted a treaty investing him with the title of Sultan, and ceding to him the whole of the immense country between the mouth of the Chelef and the frontier of Morocco. This treaty, the concession of despair, the French perfidiously violated a few months after. Abd-el-Kader then literally "carried the war into Africa," by seizing important points, and pushing his conquests to the walls of Algiers. The tide of fortune which

had borne him to the eminence of one of the most successful generals of modern times now deserted him. He was overcome by superior numbers, and sought refuge in Morocco. But it was a dangerous vicinity for so hardy a foe, and the French demanded, at the cannon's mouth, that the shelter he sought should be denied. He then fled to the desert, armed the rude tribes of the Sahara in defense of the True Faith, descended like a thunderbolt upon the French possessions, carried terror and carnage into the tents of the conquered tribes, and extorted another treaty, which his enemies broke on the childish plea that he oppressed the Arabs. Again he met reverses. His fortunes becoming desperate, he penetrated, in the capacity of a pilgrim, accompanied by a few followers, into the heart of the Grand Kabyle, and sought the alliance of those hardy mountaineers, traditional enemies of the Arabs, against a common foe. The words he addressed to those stiff necked patriots are worthy of our own Washington:

"Know well," said he, "that if I had not opposed myself to the French they would, long ere this, have thrown themselves like a raging sea upon you. You would have seen what neither the times past nor the time present have witnessed. They have not left their country but to make yours enslaved. I am the thorn which God has placed in their side, and if you will aid me, I will cast them into the sea. But if you will not listen to my words, you will one day repent; but your repentance will be in vain."

They did not listen to his words; but the invader came ere they were aware, and the ruins of a hundred villages attested the truth of the warning.

There was nothing more to hope. What could mere eloquence and undisciplined courage effect against a hundred thousand bayonets?

His strong points seized, his followers cut to pieces, his attendants bribed, hunted from village to village, from mountain to mountain, his retreat cut off, every hope of succor gone, the quarry fell at last; but it was not until he extorted, as a condition of surrender, permission to reside at Mecca or Alexandria—conditions which were granted in the letter and broken in the deed. After a treacherous confinement of some years, he was finally released, with permission to reside in Damascus.

And even yet Algeria was not entirely conquered. More than once since the downfall of Abd-el-Kader has the French power tottered, though sustained by a force three times as great as the standing army of the United States. The Arabs of the plains had succumbed, but the Kabyles of the mountains—a distinct and sturdy race, to whom war was a pastime and peace a drudgery-had not yet learned to bend their necks to the yoke. It took France twenty years to subdue them, while even yet outbreaks are not infrequent. Less than two years ago a serious insurrection broke out, which it took much treasure and blood to put down.

Injustice brings its own punishment. Rapine, spoliation, unholy conquest, sooner or later react upon the evil doer. Algeria, rich in resources, blessed with a genial climate and a fertile soil, has been a curse to France. It is a drain of many millions annually upon its treasury. It has required a large standing army to keep the conquered tribes in subjection. The colonists are neither contented nor prosperous; the natives have acquired many of the vices, with none of the virtues, of civilization. There is a blight upon the land. The iron has entered its soul. The Frenchman has established peace, but it is the peace of decay.

SAMUEL WILLIAMS.

INA D. COOLBRITH.