TWO KINDS OF DEMOCRACY.
There is in the history of Europe one leading fact contained in all
its pages, and still visible in our days, viz. the parallel march of
two democracies, which, although sometimes apparently alike, are, in
reality, very different in their nature, origin, and aim. The one is
based upon the knowledge and dignity of man, and on the right which
he possesses of enjoying a certain amount of liberty conformable
to reason and justice. With ideas more or less clear, more or less
uniform, upon the real origin of society and of power, it entertains
at least very clear, precise, and fixed ones upon the real object and
aim of both. Whether the right of commanding proceeds directly and
immediately from God, or whether we suppose it communicated previously
to society, and transmitted afterwards to those who govern, it always
grants that power is for the common weal, and that, if it does not
direct its actions to this end, it falls into tyranny. To privileges,
honors, and distinctions of every kind, it applies its favorite
touchstone--the public good; whatever is opposed to this, is rejected
as noxious; whatever does not tend to promote it, is repudiated as
superfluous. Convinced that knowledge and virtue are the only things
of real worth, and deserving of consideration in the distribution
of the social functions, this democracy requires them to be sought
without ceasing, that they may be elevated to the summit of power and
of glory; it goes to seek them in the midst of the deepest obscurity.
A nobleman, proud of his titles and his heraldry, and boasting of the
glorious deeds of his ancestors, without being able to imitate them,
is, in its estimation, an object of ridicule; it will allow such a
man to enjoy his riches, that the sacred right of property may not be
violated; but it will remove from his grasp, by all lawful means, the
influence he might derive from the nobility of his blood. In fine, if
it takes nobility, birth or riches into consideration, it is not for
any intrinsic worth of these advantages, but because they are signs
which lead us to expect a more accomplished education, more knowledge
and probity.
Full of generous ideas, this democracy, placing the dignity of man
in the highest degree, reminding man of his rights, and also of his
duties, is indignant at the very name of tyranny. It hates tyranny,
condemns it, repels it, and is perpetually employed in discovering
the best means for preventing it. Wise and calm, as the inseparable
companion of reason and good sense must ever be, it agrees very well
with monarchy; but we may rest assured that its desires have generally
been, that the laws of the country should, in one way or another,
place a restraint upon the excesses of kings. Aware that the rock
against which they ran the risk of being wrecked, was the excess of
contributions levied upon the people, its favorite idea, which it has
never abandoned, even when it was impracticable, has been to restrain
the unlimited faculties of power with respect to contributions. Another
of its predominating ideas has been to prevent the will of man from
prevailing in the formation or application of the laws. It has ever
sought to guarantee and secure in some way, that the will should not
usurp the place of reason. Such has been the force of this universal
desire, that it has been indelibly stamped upon European manners, and
the most absolute monarchs have been compelled to gratify it. Hence
one thing very worthy of remark is, that the throne has ever been
surrounded by respectable counsellors, whose existence was insured
either by the laws or by the national customs. These counsellors
certainly could not preserve, in all circumstances, the independence
necessary for the accomplishment of their object, but they did not
fail to be of great service; for their mere existence was an eloquent
protest against unjust and arbitrary regulations; it was a noble
personification of reason and justice, pointing out the sacred limits
ever to be regarded as inviolable by the most powerful monarch. This
is also the reason why sovereigns in Europe never exercise themselves
the faculty of pronouncing judgment, differing in this respect from
the sultans. The laws and customs of Europe energetically repulse this
faculty, as fatal to the people as it is to the monarch; and the mere
recital of such an attempt would excite public indignation against its
author.
The meaning of all this is, that this principle, so much extolled, that
it is not the monarch but the law that commands, has been received in
Europe for many centuries; it was in full force in all the European
nations long before modern publicists emphatically enunciated it. It
will be said, perhaps, that if this was the case in theory, it was not
so in practice. I do not deny that there were reprehensible exceptions,
but the principle was generally respected. As a case in point, let us
take the most absolute reign of modern times, with the most unlimited
royal power in all its splendor, in its apogee,--the reign in which
the king could exclaim with too much pride, but yet with truth, "I am
the state"--that of Louis the Fourteenth. It lasted more than half a
century, with an astonishing variety and complication of events. How
many deaths, confiscations, and banishments took place in it, executed
by the royal command, without any judicial ordeal! Perhaps some
arbitrary acts of this time may be cited; but let them be compared with
what was passing under equivalent circumstances amongst the nations
out of Europe: let any one recall to mind what took place at the time
of the Roman empire, and the excesses of absolute royalty wherever
Christianity did not exist, and he will see that the excesses committed
in European monarchies are scarcely worthy of being mentioned. This
is a proof that the distinction made between monarchical governments,
whether absolute or despotic, is not arbitrary and fictitious. Any one
acquainted with the legislation and history of Europe must be well
aware that this distinction is correct, and he will be forced to smile
at those boisterous declamations in which malice or ignorance endeavors
to confound the two systems of government.
This limit imposed upon power, this circle of reason and justice which
we always find traced around it, derives its origin principally from
the ideas disseminated by Christianity, whether it have its guarantee
in ideas and manners or in political forms. It is Christianity that
has proclaimed, "Reason and justice, knowledge and virtue, are every
thing; the mere will of man, his birth, his titles, are of no intrinsic
value." These words have penetrated every where, from the palace of
kings to the poor man's cottage; and, from the moment that the mind
of an entire people became imbued with such ideas, Asiatic despotism
became impracticable. In fact, in the absence of every political form
limiting the power of the monarch, a voice resounds in his ears on
all sides, exclaiming, "We are not thy slaves, we are thy subjects;
thou art a king, but thou art a man, and a man who, like ourselves,
must appear one day before the Supreme Judge; thou hast the power of
making laws, but merely for our interests; thou canst exact tributes
from us, but only such as are necessary for the common weal; thou
canst not judge us according to thy caprice, but only conformably to
the laws; thou canst not seize our property without rendering thyself
more culpable than the common robber, nor make an attempt on our lives,
of thy own will, without becoming an assassin; the power thou hast
received is not for thy comfort or pleasure, nor for the gratification
of thy passions, but solely for our happiness; thou art a person
exclusively devoted to the public weal; if thou forgettest this, thou
art a tyrant."
Unfortunately, however, together with this spirit of lawful
independence, of rational liberty,--together with this just, noble, and
generous democracy, there has ever been another accompanying it, and
forming with it the most lively contrast. The latter has been extremely
injurious to the former, by preventing it from attaining the object of
its just pretensions; erroneous in its principles and perverse in its
intentions, violent and unjust in its mode of acting, its traces have
been everywhere marked by a stream of blood. Instead of obtaining true
liberty for the people, it has merely served to deprive them of that
which they already possessed; or if it actually found them groaning
under the yoke of slavery, it has only served to rivet their chains.
Allying itself on all occasions with the basest passions, it has
attracted to its standard all that was most vile and abject in society,
and gathered together the most turbulent and ill-disposed men. By
cheating its miserable followers with delusive promises, and exciting
them with the prospect of plunder and pillage, it has been a perpetual
source of commotions, scandals, and bitter animosities, that have at
length produced their natural results--persecutions, proscriptions, and
executions. Its fundamental dogma was the rejection of all authority of
every description, to overturn which was its constant aim; the reward
it expected for its labors was to seat itself upon a throne established
amidst universal ruin, to glut itself with the blood of thousands of
victims, and to revel in the grossest orgies during the distribution
of its blood-stained spoil. In all times, in all countries, riots,
popular insurrections, and revolutions have taken place; but,
for the last seven centuries, Europe presents these scenes in so
singular a character, that it forms a most fitting subject for the
reflection of philosophers. In fact, these tendencies towards social
dissolution--tendencies, the origin of which it is not difficult to
discover in the very heart of man--have not only existed in the bosom
of Europe, but have been formed into a theory; as ideas, they have
been defended with all the obstinacy and infatuation of a sectarian
spirit; and, wherever an opportunity occurred, reduced to practice
with unyielding pertinacity and unbridled fury. The system was made up
of folly and fanaticism, and carried out with obstinacy, a spirit of
proselytism, and monstrous crimes. In every page of its history this
truth is attested in characters of blood. Happy our nation, had she not
tried the experiment!
Europe may be compared to those men of great capacity and of active and
intrepid characters, who are either the very best or the very worst
of men. Scarcely can a single fact of any weight remain isolated in
Europe: there is not a truth that is not useful, nor an error that is
not fatal. Ideas have a tendency to become realized, and facts, in
their turn, incessantly call in the aid of ideas. If virtues exist,
they are explained, and their foundation is sought for in elevated
theories. If crimes are met with, their vindication is attempted on
the authority of perverse theories. Nations do not rest satisfied with
the practice either of good or evil--they strive to propagate it, and
are restless till they have induced their neighbors to imitate them.
Nay, there is something beyond a mere spirit of proselytism limited
to a few countries--ideas, in our times, aim at nothing short of
universal empire. The spirit of propagandism does not date from the
French Revolution, nor even from the sixteenth century; from the very
dawn of civilization, from the times when the minds of men began to
evince symptoms of activity, this phenomenon is apparent, and in a very
striking manner. In the agitated Europe of the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, we behold the Europe of the nineteenth century, just as the
imperfectly defined lineaments of the germ contain forms of the future
being.
A great part of the sects which assailed the Church, dating from the
tenth century, were decidedly revolutionary; they either proceeded
from the fatal democracy which I have just mentioned, or derived
their support from it. Unfortunately this democracy, restless, unjust
and turbulent, having compromised the tranquillity of Europe in the
centuries anterior to the sixteenth, found in Protestantism its most
fervent propagators. Among the numerous sects into which the pretended
reform was immediately divided, some opened the way for it, and others
adopted it as their standard. And what must have been the result
in the political organization of Europe? I will say it candidly:
the disappearance of those political institutions which enabled the
different classes of the state to take part in its affairs, was
inevitable. Now, as it was very difficult for the European people,
considering their character, ideas and customs, to submit for ever to
their new condition, as their predominant inclination must have urged
them to place bounds upon the extension of power, it was natural that
revolutions should ensue; it was natural that future generations should
have to witness great catastrophes, such as the English Revolution of
the seventeenth century and the French Revolution of the eighteenth.
There was a time when it might have been difficult to comprehend these
truths; that time is past. The revolutions in which for some centuries
the different nations of Europe have been successively involved, have
brought within the reach of the least intelligent that social law so
frequently realized, viz. that anarchy leads to despotism, and that
despotism begets anarchy. Never, at any time, in any nation (history
and experience prove the fact), have anti-social ideas been inculcated,
the minds of the people been imbued with the spirit of insubordination
and rebellion, without almost immediately provoking the application
of the only remedy at the command of nations in such conflicts, the
establishment of a very strong government, which justly or unjustly,
legally or not, lifts up its iron arm over every one, and makes all
heads bend under its yoke. To clamor and tumult succeeds the most
profound silence; the people then easily become resigned to their new
condition, for reflection and instinct teach them that although it is
well to possess a certain amount of liberty, the first want of society
is self-preservation.
What was the case in Germany, after the introduction of Protestantism
by a succession of religious revolutions? Maxims destructive of
all society were propagated, factions formed, insurrections took
place; upon the field of battle and upon the scaffolds blood flowed
in torrents; but no sooner did the instinct of social preservation
begin to operate, than, instead of popular forms being established
and taking root, every thing tended towards the opposite extreme.
And was not this the country in which the people had been flattered
by the prospect of unrestrained liberty, of a repartition and even a
community of property; in fine, by the promise of the most absolute
equality in every thing. Yet, in this same country, the most striking
inequality prevailed, and the feudal aristocracy preserved its full
force. In other countries, in which no such hopes of liberty and
equality had been held out, we can scarcely discover the limits which
separated the nobility from the people. In Germany, the nobility still
retained their wealth and their preponderance, were still surrounded by
titles, privileges, and distinctions of every description. In that very
country, in which there were such outcries against the power of kings,
in which the name of king was declared synonymous with tyrant, the most
absolute monarchy was established; and the apostate of the Teutonic
order founded that kingdom of Prussia, from which representative forms
are still excluded.[C] In Denmark, Protestantism was established, and
with it absolute power immediately took deep root; in Sweden we find,
at the very same time, the power of Gustavus established.
[C] When this was written.--Tr.
What was the case in England? Representative forms were not introduced
into that country by Protestantism; they existed centuries before,
as well as in other nations of Europe. But the monarch who founded
the Anglican Church was distinguished for his despotism, and the
Parliament, which ought to have restrained him, was most shamefully
degraded. What idea can we form of the liberty of a country whose
legislators and representatives debased themselves so far as to
declare, that any one obtaining a knowledge of the illicit amours of
the Queen is bound, under pain of high treason, to bring an accusation
against her? What can we think of the liberty of a country, in
which the very men who ought to defend that liberty, cringe with so
much baseness to the unruly passions of the monarch, that they are
not ashamed, in order to flatter the jealousy of the sovereign, to
establish that any young female who should marry a king of England,
should, under a pain of high treason, be compelled before her marriage
to reveal any stain there might be on her virtue? Such ignominious
enactments are certainly a stronger proof of abject servility than
the declaration of that same Parliament, establishing that the mere
will of the monarch should have the force of law. Representative forms
preserved in that country at a time when they had disappeared from
almost every other nation of Europe, were not, however, a guarantee
against tyranny; for the English cannot assuredly boast of the liberty
they enjoyed under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth. Perhaps in
no country in Europe was less liberty enjoyed, in no country were the
people more oppressed under popular forms, in no country did despotism
prevail to a greater extent. If there be anything which can convince
us of these truths, in case the facts already cited should be found
insufficient, it is undoubtedly the efforts made by the English to
acquire liberty. And if the efforts made to shake off the yoke of
oppression are to be regarded as a sure sign of its galling effects,
we are justified in thinking that the oppression under which England
was groaning must have been very severe, since that country has passed
through so long and terrible a revolution, in which so many tears and
so much blood has been shed.
When we consider what has taken place in France, we remark that
religious wars have always given an ascendency to royal power. After
such long agitations, so many troubles and civil wars, we see the reign
of Louis XIV., and we hear that proud monarch exclaim, "_I am the
state._" We have here the most complete personification of the absolute
power which always follows anarchy. Have the European nations had to
complain of the unlimited power exercised by monarchs? have they had
to regret that all the representative forms which could ensure their
liberties perished under the ascendency of the throne? Let them blame
Protestantism for it, which spreading the germs of anarchy all over
Europe, created an imperious, urgent, and inevitable necessity for
centralizing rule, for fortifying royal power: it was necessary to
stop up every source from which dissolvent principles might flow, and
to keep within narrow bounds all the elements which, by contact and
vicinity, were ready to ignite and produce a fatal conflagration.
Every reflecting man will agree with me on this point. Considering the
aggrandizement of absolute power, they will discover in it nothing
but the realization of a fact already long ago everywhere observed.
Assuredly, the monarchs of Europe cannot be compared, either by the
fact of their origin or the character of their measures, to those
despots who, under different titles, have usurped the command of
society at the critical moment when it was near its dissolution; but
it may be said with reason, that the unlimited extent of their power
has been caused by a great social necessity, viz. that of one sole and
forcible authority, without which the preservation of public order was
impossible. We cannot without dismay take a view of Europe after the
appearance of Protestantism. What frightful dissolution! What erroneous
ideas! What relaxation of morals! What a multitude of sects! What
animosity in men's minds! What rage, what ferocity! Violent disputes,
interminable debates, accusations, recriminations without end;
troubles, rebellion, intestine and foreign wars, sanguinary battles,
and atrocious punishments. Such is the picture that Europe presents;
such are the effects of this apple of discord thrown among men who are
brethren. And what was sure to be the result of this confusion, of
this retrograde movement, by which society seemed returning to violent
means, to the tyranny of might over right? The result was sure to be
what it has in fact been: the instinct of preservation, stronger than
the passions and the frenzy of man, was sure to prevail; it suggested
to Europe the only means of self-preservation; royal power, already in
the ascendant, and verging towards its highest point, was sure to end
by attaining it in reality; there to become isolated and completely
separated from the people, and to impose silence on popular passions.
What ought to have been effected by a wise direction of ideas, was
accomplished by the force of a very powerful institution; the vigor
of the sceptre had to neutralize the impulse given to society towards
its ruin. If we consider attentively, we shall find that such is the
meaning of the event of 1680 in Sweden, when that country was subjected
to the fierce will of Charles XI.; such the meaning of the event of
1669 in Denmark, when that nation, wearied with anarchy, supplicated
King Frederick III. to declare the monarchy hereditary and absolute,
which he in fact did; such, in fine, is the meaning of what took place
in Holland in 1747, and of the creation of an hereditary stadtholder.
If we require more convincing examples, we have the despotism of
Cromwell in England after such terrible revolutions, and that of
Napoleon in France after the republic.[37]