A SUNDAY IN CHEYNE ROW 243 



man. The old world has passed away; the age 

 of the hero, of the strong leader, is gone. The 

 people have arrived, and sit in judgment upon all 

 who would rule or lead them. Science has arrived, 

 everything is upon trial; private judgment is su- 

 preme. Our only hope in this country, at least in 

 the sphere of governments, is in the collective wis- 

 dom of the people; and, as extremes so often meet, 

 perhaps this, if thoroughly realized, is as complete 

 and artistic a plan as the others. The "collective 

 folly " of the people, Carlyle would say, and per- 

 haps during his whole life he never for a moment 

 saw it otherwise; never saw that the wisdom of 

 the majority could be other than the no- wisdom 

 of blind masses of unguided men. He seemed to 

 forget, or else not to know, that universal suffrage, 

 as exemplified in America, was really a sorting and 

 sifting process, a search for the wise, the truly rep- 

 resentative man; that the vast masses were not 

 asked who should rule over them, but were asked 

 which of two candidates they preferred, in selecting 

 which candidates what of wisdom and leadership 

 there was available had had their due weight; in 

 short, that democracy alone makes way for and offers 

 a clear road to natural leadership. Under the pres- 

 sure of opposing parties, all the political wisdom and 

 integrity there is in the country stand between the 

 people, the masses, and the men of their choice. 



Undoubtedly popular government will, in the 

 main, be like any other popular thing, — it will 

 partake of the conditions of popularity; it will 



