family, and another by the civil magistrate to satisfy the requirements of the municipal law.

Another source of discontent was the system of public instruction by the state. The new constitution provided for the establishment of public schools in which the teaching of all forms of religious faith was practically prohibited. Very soon the clergy, backed by a latent public sentiment, began to denounce these schools as "nurseries of infidelity" and "seminaries of the devil"; and finally attendance was forbidden on pain of excommunication. When it became manifest to the politicians that some compromise would have to be made with the Church, it was agreed that the public schools should be open one hour daily for religious instruction, to be conducted by some accredited priest. This arrangement worked very well for a while, but other and more serious demands soon followed. The clergy, who had been steadily regaining influence, now objected to a certain class of text-books which had been introduced into the schools, and to the generally irreligious character of the teachers. They complained, besides, that the one hour daily set aside for religious instruction was wholly insufficient. Finally, some of the bishops boldly demanded that all public schools in their respective dioceses be placed under the general supervision of the Church. This demand was refused, and the general revolt of 1876 followed.

In that short but destructive civil war the government won, but it was a physical triumph only. It lacked the support of a vigorous and healthy public sentiment. Peace had hardly been declared before factions began to arise among the victors; and these soon developed into well-organized political parties. The Church party were shrewd enough to make a show of disbanding as a political organization, but held themselves in readiness

to affiliate with whatever faction might be in a position to offer the best terms. Their opportunity soon came. The federal Congress passed a law, of very doubtful constitutionality, authorizing the President to interpose the authority of the federal government "for the conservation of public order" in certain states or provinces; and when, in accordance with this provision, the President sent some troops to quell a riot in the state of Santander, the whole state rose in revolt. In the civil war which followed, the Church party affiliated with the national government. The result was a signal triumph by the government party. Then came the era of reconstruction. A new constitution was adopted, which abolished the dogma of "state sovereignity," restored the clergy to their former privileges of the ballot, lengthened official tenures, restricted the suffrage, made the judiciary permanent, and converted a loose confederation of "sovereign states" into a consolidated Republic.

The

The Revolution of 1870, in Venezuela, had a similar origin, and, in some respects, a similar outcome. It originated in mere personal ambition but ended in a change of constitution, and practically in a new form of government, though still republican in name. President, though nominally an elective chief magistrate responsible to the people, was in reality an autocrat with more power than an Eastern despot. The federal Congress was composed of two Senators from each of the nine constituent states, and one delegate for every 30,000 inhabitants, supposed to have been elected by the people; but no Senator or Delegate ever took his seat or long retained his place, who was not agreeable to the Dictator-President or a willing instrument in his hands.

CHAPTER XIII

RIGHTS OF FOREIGNERS IN SOUTH AMERICA

A

MIDST the oft-recurring scenes of disorder and violence such as described in the preceding chapter, it is sometimes difficult to determine how far a friendly government is justified in interposing its authority for the protection of the persons and property of its citizens transient or domiciled in those countries. Hitherto the government of the United States has been seldom able to fully satisfy its citizens on this point, even when those who invoked its protection were legally entitled to it; and it has been still less able to satisfy a hysterical public sentiment stimulated by a class of so-called "citizens" whose right to invoke its power in their behalf is, to say the least, extremely doubtful.

When a person presents himself at one of our legations or consulates and claims protection as an American citizen, the first thing to be determined is whether he is really a citizen; and this is often a much more difficult problem than is generally supposed. Of course I employ the term "citizen" in its generally accepted sense as describing a person of either sex, and of whatever condition, who owes allegiance to our government, and is entitled to its protection abroad.

By the old English common law, the basis of our jurisprudence, a native-born subject or citizen, of whatever class, owed an allegiance that was intrinsic, per