whose compensation is limited to a salary of $25,000 a year, is considered by some to be due to a desire by those now in control to make things unpleasant for ex-Chamberlain Ivins.

Nor is Mr. Ivins by any means the only witness to the jobbery prevalent under municipal Home Rule in New York. The story is repeated in page after page of Mr. Tilden's pamphlet. He says that they stripped every legislative power and every executive power, and all the powers of government from us, and vested them in half-a-dozen men for a period of from four to eight years, who held, and were to hold, supreme dominion over the people of this city.' The New York Times' explains that the Ring can fight the tax-payers through officers paid out of the public Treasury, and can, at the people's expense, retain the services of thousands of men for the sole purpose of cheating the people out of their rights.'

But the Irish Home Rule government of New York is open not only to the imputation of jobbery and corruption, but to the charge of inefficiency; which is particularly noticeable in that most important and, at the same time, most self-asserting department, the cleaning and general care of the public streets. In a city where not even the commonest street-cleaner can be employed except as the result of a political job,' and in return for a consideration,' in the form of an assessment,' a promise of votes, or a 'pull,' Anglicè influence,'-it is hardly to be wondered at that day after day complaints appear in the papers concerning the fearful state of the streets. The Tribune' makes the reason sufficiently plain :

The difficulty in the Street Cleaning Department is political; the official charged with that duty is never allowed to hire men as he sees fit, or to discharge men who are not efficient, or to select the most competent men of either party for associates and subordinates, or to pay such wages as a free and open market may fix. He must listen to the whispers of political leaders and managers who want this or that man put on the pay-roll. He must select subordinates who will consent to sacrifice their own reputations by trying to clean streets with a political machine.' (March 2, 1890.)

In America,' says Mr. Bryce, 'in Canada as well as in the United States, people do not talk of "politicians," but "the politicians," because the word indicates a class with well-defined characteristics.' For the existence of such a class there must be valid and sufficient reasons. The principal of these are, first, the frequent elections for every kind of office, Federal, State, Judicial, and Municipal, with the consequent drudgery, almost continual, of electioneering labours; secondly, the utter indifference of the majority of the better classes and of the business

men

men to political questions, to say nothing of the immense difficulty, as Mr. Ivins shows, of contending against the professional politicians; thirdly, and perhaps principally, the presence in New York of immense masses of ignorant voters, immigrants, mostly Irish of the Home Rule' class and their immediate descendants, who have to be continually kept up to the mark' by the agents of the different political parties.

Such being the case, we naturally conclude that there must be some powerful inducement to account for the existence of a class of men who live by 'politics,' and by nothing else. These inducements are, as Mr. Bryce shows, only too adequate. 'Politics,' he tells us, has become a gainful profession,' so it is no wonder that men are always to be found willing to enter into it. There are, in New York City, 9,955 subordinate places on the pay rolls; every one of which is 'political.' Besides these there are the officers appointed by law for each election, of whom there are 4872, divided between the two parties, not including those employed by the parties themselves as watchers, ticket-distributors, and so forth. Altogether there are, says Mr. Ivins, on an average, 54 men in each of 812 election districts -over 20 per cent. of all the voters-who actually receive money in one form or other for their election day services-in a word, are under pay.'

'All this, however,' he adds, 'does not necessarily imply individual corruption on the part of the leaders. It makes corruption easy, but it does not necessitate it. The condition of the law presupposed some machinery or other not provided for by law, but the Machines (electoral associations) have grown stronger than the law. The ultimate result is, that one-fifth of our electors are under pay of parties or candidates on election-day; that offices are not unfrequently put up at auction to the highest bidder; that public spirit is rendered both hopeless and helpless; and that the members of the Machines alone, and not the people, truly enjoy the benefits of the electoral franchise.'

one.

A hopeful prospect for the Irish who anticipate Home Rule. The evolution' of the 'professional politician' is a curious New York City and State, in common with many other parts of the Union, have adopted Universal Suffrage, 'one man, one vote,' as the basis of the franchise. The only qualification required in New York City is registration in the district to which the voter belongs: the only legally disqualifying causes are failure to register, or the being an inmate of a prison or an almshouse. What sort of men are, on this principle, able to vote, and of what practical value the franchise is to them, the following may serve to show :

.

...

In one "2-cent (penny) Restaurant "-tramps' den-I once, on the occasion of a police raid, counted forty-two" customers." The room was hardly five steps across, and indescribably foul. . . . But if they have nothing else to call their own, even tramps have a "pull"-about election-time, at all events. They have votes, and votes that are for sale cheap for cash. The sergeant who locked the dreary crowd up predicted that the men at least would not stay long on the Island [meaning Blackwell's Island, where the Penitentiary is situated]. More than once-he said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world-he had sent up one tramp twice in twenty-four hours for six months at a time.' ('How the Other Half Lives,' by Jacob A. Riis; 'Scribner's Magazine,' December 1889.)

How characteristically Irish all this sounds!

.

In a matter of this sort, we cannot do better than let Americans speak for themselves; and James Parton, in a pamphlet, 'How New York is Governed,' says that in the wards and districts inhabited chiefly by ignorant foreigners and vicious natives, the case [of good government] is hopeless. Printed matter cannot reach them. They are untrained in the duties of citizenship. . . . What honest men print they will not read; what honest men say they will not hear.' And Mr. Bryce testifies to the same effect: The immigrants vote after three or four years' residence at most, and often less, but they are not fit for the suffrage . . . Incompetent to give an intelligent vote, but soon finding that their vote has a value, they fall into the hands of the party organizations, whose officers enrol them in their lists, and undertake to bring them to the polls.'

From this substratum of universal suffrage the ordinary 'politician' is evolved. The lowest grade is the 'ward-heeler,' or hanger-on of the political head of the city ward in which he resides. The Irish immigrant is content, at first, with such 'jobs' as street-cleaning, carting ashes, or working on public buildings. If he can control two carts, he becomes a 'contractor,' and a comparatively important person. If he collects enough money to open a liquor-saloon, he is a little great man, as we shall see later; if he gets an appointment in the Police Force, he becomes at once a highly useful election agent. Mr. Ivins says, on this subject:

'Not only does our army of policemen contribute to the election expenses of the several Machines, but they have it within their power to become the mightiest of electioneering agents, and to compel great classes into voting as they wish. . . . The community thought that the law entitling them to watchers at the canvass of the vote after the close of the polls would secure them an honest count, but the Board of Police appoint the canvassers and poll-clerks whom the machinists select, and the intelligent and ingenious policeman, if a partisan,

a partisan, need never long want an excuse for ejecting the official watchers from the room, as more than one reputable but misguided man who has volunteered to serve as such can testify.'

Some of the police are even said to possess interests in some branch or other of the liquor trade; which must render them unfit for their civic duties in inverse ratio to their efficiency as 'politicians' with a twofold 'pull.' To obviate this, a Bill has, while we are writing, almost unanimously passed the Legislature at Albany [March 13, 1890], prohibiting police officials from being engaged in any way in the liquor traffic. That it should have been found necessary to suggest such a law speaks volumes; whether it will be enforced is another question. Statesmen at Albany, and Aldermen in New York, are not eager to do anything which would offend powerful

voters.

From keeper of the liquor-saloon the future statesman develops into a 'ward politician.' Mr. Bryce has given us an excellent description of this particular class :

The humbler type is known as the "ward-politician," because the city ward is the chief sphere of its activity. . . . A statesman of this type usually begins as a saloon- or bar-keeper. They have no comprehension of political questions, or zeal for political principles; politics means to them merely a scramble for places. "Politician" is a term of reproach citizens over the whole Union.'

...

among the better class of

The summit of the ward-politician's ambition is to become an Alderman. That this is by no means impossible to a successful liquor-dealer is demonstrated by the fact that, in the present year out of a Board of twenty-six Aldermen, ten, or about forty per cent., are of that profession; the liquor dealers being generally Irish. And the New York World' speaks of 'only ten liquor dealers,' as if the number were remarkably small!

The Alderman's dream is to become a member of the State Legislature, either as Assemblyman or Senator; and by dint of politics' and 'assessments' he not infrequently succeeds in transforming his dream into a paying reality. But to effect this transformation, or evolution of the ward-heeler' into the Alderman or State Senator, a well-organized and a powerful agency is needed; and this is readily found in the aptly-named Machine.' In fact, without the Machine, such a process would be practically impossible. We have already alluded several times to the Machine; but a few words of explanation respecting its constitution are necessary for the English

English reader. There are as many Machines in the City as there are political parties; the present number consisting of the Tammany, which is Democratic, the County Democracy, and the Republicans.

"The Machine organization, then, takes some such form as this: a County Committee, consisting of so many members from each of the several Assembly Districts, who in their several localities make up the Assembly District Committees; an executive Committee of the County Committee, made up of the leaders of each Assembly District and a few of their most influential lieutenants and friends; a subcommittee of this executive committee, consisting of the Assembly District leaders, about twenty-four in number, who in their turn are governed by those who employ them for political service and pay them out of the public fund. By such a Machine the politicians really control the city, for they know that the very laws conspire in their favour. The politicians begin by making it impossible for any man who earns his living outside of politics to keep up with them; and then the law steps in and calls for the election of so many persons, that it is practically impossible for the voter to learn anything about the candidates, or to determine wisely for whom he should vote, much less to put any one in nomination with the hope of election. He usually falls back upon his party nominee, and so the Machine is justified and kept in power by the votes of the very people whom it has practically deprived of political equality.' (Ivins.)

New York City, and County-for the two are almost identical-are divided into twenty-four Assembly Districts, in which members of the Assembly are elected; and these Assembly Districts are again divided into 812 election districts, composed of some 300 voters each. No American would think of presenting himself for election without being 'nominated' by his party. This is done, in effect, by the party chiefs, though professedly by the primaries,' which are meetings of all the duly registered voters of each party in each election district. From the primaries, delegates are chosen to attend the Assembly District organizations; these again choose some of their number to attend the County Convention of their party; and these last are, in their turn, duly represented in the State Convention. There is throughout a perfect semblance of popular suffrage; of the reality Mr. Ivins tells us: The Machine is governed directly from the centre, and is a close corporation. The Assembly District organizations receive their policy, even in matters purely local, from the central authority. . . . All power actually rests with one or perhaps half-a-dozen individuals, who are absolute.'

Not only is the Machine a 'close corporation,' but it is one