THE HORRORS OF DEMOCRACY.

Colonist, Volume IV, Issue 426, 22 November 1861, Page 3

THE HORRORS OF DEMOCRACY.

We have political hypochondriacs who see nothing in the future but disorder, ruin, and degradation. They scarcely ever speak but to utter lamentation or dismay. Haunted by a phantom which they call democracy, and which continually confronts and confounds them, they have no smiles for the present, no hopes for the future. Everything good and great, is either gone or going; everything bad and despisable has come, or it is coming as fast as possible. Not only the people of this colony, but the peoples of the whole world, ate more or less vexed or threatened, polluted, or vanquished, by this inexorable minister of mischief. In every event, however remote, there is, or there is made, a chance for another groan and another shiver, chargeable of course against democracy, although democracy had no more hand in it than the King of the Cannibal Islands. A little of this sort of thing is rather amusing. But we have had enough of it, and too much. To dwell so repeatedly upon the horrors of democracy, without at least suggesting some remedy, is futile— and worse, for it irritates and disorders people to no purpose. We cannot get rid of democracy without getting rid of the people, and a riddance so comprehensive is out of the question. Those who fancy that the world ought to contain none but worshipful masters, and their humble slaves, may be very excellent aristocrats, but they are sorry teachers and miserable rulers. The progress of democracy cannot be arrested by abusing it. If it were possible to extinguish literatu c, or if the multitude could be prevented from learning to read and write, democracy might become, and be for ever, nothing but a name, a philosophic dream, a hopeless aspiration. But so long as there are books and multitudes to read them, to sift and to act, so long will there be a tendency io make governments, what they ought to be, tho servants of the people. Democracy aims at nothing more. The governing classes everywhere know well that the powers which they exercise and abuse are sure to be contested if not resisted, the moment multitudes become sufficiently enlightened to appreciate the blessings ot freedom, of justice, or of good government. Hence their solicitude to keep the education of the people in their own hands—to proscribe knowledge—to gag tha press—to keep the people ignorant, frivolous, superstitious, and servile. Their schools are sustained, not to enlighten people, but to train them up to dependence upon, and obedience to their superiors. A people thus kept in the dark may be very .unfit to govern themselves wisely or discreetly. In their ignorance they may trust fools who vex, or roguei who plunder, them. To such a people democracy may be anything but a blessing. But the fact is that such a people do not demand democratic institutions, do not care for them, and do not get them. It is not till considerable numbers become pretty well educated and learn more than their ruler* are willing to teach them, that democracy is understood, and becomes a neccessity. Democracy is truly the result of superior intelligenc.3; and to lament its progress is to lament the decay of ignorance. It may not always be easy to know when a people are ripe for self-government. But so far as this colony is concerned, that question i 3 settled. Whether we are fit or unfit to elect proper persons to repiesent us, is a needless inquiry. We have the power, and nothing but a revolution can Uke it from us. The electoral act cannot be recalled, nor should it, if it could; although it can and should be modified. Whatever be our errors, faults, and follies, they may be fairly attributed, not to want of capacity, but to want of experience. Once, at least, in every five years, we have a chance of changing our representatives, and they must behave themselves properly if they mean us to retain their services. That consideration alone, ought to be a consolation to those who are so dissatisfied with the result of the last elections.

After all, we have as yet very little democracy in the colony. We have the name more than the substance. We have manhood suffrage, which is certainly a most, perhaps the most, important element in democracy ; but we do not use it. At the last general elections only about forty-five out of every hundred ol the whole electoral body took the trouble to record their votes one way or another. The result is that our members of parliament represent only onefourth, or a little over one-fourth, of the people. If these members represent anybody but themselves, it is only, or but a fraction more than one man out of every four, feo far therefore as the Assembly is concerned, our Government is not democratic. Whatever it be, it is not government by the people. Moreover, we have one House of Parliament with which the people have no business. The Council, nominated by the Government, and virtually members so long as they live, cannot be considered as representatives of any but the Government and they are responsible to none. All things considered, we think the tories have reason to be thankful that democracy bas hitherto been so moderate and so merciful, Thoy ought to be thankful that so

many of these favorite institutions are still safe, still unmolested. But they err greatly if they expect to hold them for ever and they err most especially if they expect to arrest the progress of democracy by wild acclamation. Soon or late the time will come when Government must govern for the people, and for the people only.—Mawarm Mercury.