ch has inflicted on
us, and threatens to inflict on all Europe, the worst of all
Governments--democratic despotism. A Government in which two wills only
prevail--that of the ignorant, envious, ambitious, aggressive multitude,
and that of the despot who, whatever be his natural disposition, is soon
turned, by the intoxication of flattery and of universal power, into a
capricious, fantastic, selfish participator in the worst passions of the
worst portion of his subjects.'

'Such a Government,' I said, 'may be called an anti-aristocracy. It
excludes from power all those who are fit to exercise it.'

'The consequence,' said Beaumont, 'is, that the qualities which fit men
for power not being demanded, are not supplied. Our young men have no
political knowledge or public spirit. Those who have a taste for the
sciences cultivated in the military schools enter the army. The rest
learn nothing.'

'What do they do?' I asked.

'How they pass their time,' said Madame de Beaumont, 'is a puzzle to me.
They do not read, they do not go into society--I believe that they smoke
and play at dominos, and ride and bet at steeple-chases.

'Those who are on home service in the army are not much better. The time
not spent in the routine of their profession is sluggishly and viciously
wasted. Algeria has been a God-send to us. There our young men have real
duties to perform, and real dangers to provide against and to encounter.
My son, who left St. Cyr only eighteen months ago, is stationed at
Thebessa, 300 miles in the interior. He belongs to a _bureau arabe_,
consisting of a captain, a lieutenant, and himself, and about forty
spahis. He has to act as a judge, as an engineer, to settle the frontier
between the province of Constantine and Tunis--in short, to be one of a
small ruling aristocracy. This is the school which has furnished, and is
furnishing, our best generals and administrators.'

We talked of the interior of French families.

'The ties of relationship,' I said, 'seem to be stronger with you than
they are with us. Cousinship with you is a strong bond, with us it is a
weak one.'

'The habit of living together,' said Beaumont, 'has perhaps much to do
with the strength of our feelings of consanguinity. Our life is
patriarchal. Grandfather, father, and grandson are often under the same
roof. At the Grange[3] thirty of the family were sometimes assembled at
dinner. With you, the sons go off, form separate establishments, see
lit