a lower house, which have different ways of procedure and different
prerogatives. One might similarly say that the parties with all their
paraphernalia are merely the lower house of the nation, while Public
Opinion is the upper house; and only the two houses together constitute
the entire national political life. The nation is represented in each
branch, but in different senses. In a way the parties express
quantitatively the will of the nation, and public opinion does it
qualitatively. Whenever a quantitative expression is wanted, the issues
must be sharply contrasted in order to separate clearly the adherents of
each; all fine shades and distinctions have to be sacrificed to an
artificial clearness of definition, much as is done in mechanics, when
any motion is schematically represented, as the diagonal in a
parallelogram of two other forces. As a quantity any yea or nay is as
good as any other, and the intensity of any party movement is due to the
accumulation of small increments. The great advantage of this lower
house is, as of every lower house, that its deliberations can be brought
to an end and its debates concluded. Every political election is such a
provisional result.
It is very different in the upper house. Public opinion accepts no
abstract schematizations, but considers the reality in all its
complication, and in its debates no weight is given to any show of hands
or other demonstration of mere numbers. Crass contrasts do not exist
here, but only subtle shadings; men are not grouped as friends and foe,
but they are seen to differ merely in their breadth of outlook, their
knowledge, their energy, and in their singleness of heart. The end in
view is not to rush politics, but to reform politics and in all matters
to shape public events to national ideals. Here one vote is not like
another, but a single word wisely and conscientiously spoken is heard
above the babel of thousands. And here the best men of the nation have
to show themselves, not with programmes nor harangues, but with a quiet
force which shapes and unites public opinion and eventually carries all
parties before it.
Public opinion may be responsible now for a presidential veto on a bill
of Congress, now for the sudden eclipse of a party leader, or the
dropping of a list of candidates, or again it may divide a party in the
legislature. Public opinion forces the parties, in spite of themselves,
to make mere party advantage secondary to a maturer statesmanship.
Germans will not readily appreciate this double expression of the
popular will; they would find it more natural if party life and public
opinion were one. For in Germany the conditions are quite different. In
the first place there are a dozen parties, which express the finer
shades of public opinion more adequately than the two parties can in
America. And this division into many small parties prevents the
development of any real party organization such as would be needed by a
party assuming entire responsibility for the affairs of the nation. The
nearest approach to two great parties is the opposition between all the
“bürgerliche” parties on the one hand and the social democrats on the
other. But the development of really responsible parties is hardly to be
expected, since the German party is allowed only a small degree of
initiative. The representatives of the people have the right to accept
or reject or to suggest improvements in the proposals of the government;
but with the government rest the initiative and the responsibility. The
government stands above the parties, and is not elected by the people
nor immediately dependent on them. It originates most of the legislative
and executive movements, and therewith represents exactly that moral
unity of the nation which is above all parties, and which is represented
in America by public opinion; while in America the government is the
creature of the parties.
One should not draw the conclusion that the public opinion of America is
the quintessence of pure goodness. Public opinion in the United States
would be no true indication of the forces at work in the nation if it
did not represent all the essentials of the typical American. In order
to find this typical man, it would be misleading simply to take the
average of the millions; one leaves out of account the great herd of
colourless characters, and selects the man who harmoniously combines in
himself, without exaggeration, the most striking peculiarities of his
countrymen. He is not easy to find, since eccentricity is frequent; one
man is grotesquely patriotic, another moral to intolerance, another
insipidly complacent, and another too optimistic to be earnest or too
acquisitive to be just.
And yet if one goes about much in American society, one finds oneself
now and then, not only in New York or Boston or Washington, but quite as
well in some small city of the West, in a little circle of congenial men
who are talking eagerly, perhaps over their cigars after dinner; and one
has the feeling that the typical American is there. His conversation is
not learned nor his rhetoric high-flown; but one has the feeling that he
is alive and worth listening to, that he sees things in sharp
perspective, is sincerely moral, and has something of his own to say.
Party politics do not interest him specially, although as citizen he
goes to a few meetings, contributes to the party funds, and votes on
election day if the weather permits. But he speaks of politics generally
with a half-smile, and laughs outright at the thought of himself running
for the legislature. He sees the evil about him, but is confident that
everything will come around all right; the nation is young, strong, and
possessed of boundless resources for the future. Of course he
understands the prejudices of the masses, and knows that mere slap and
dash will not take the place of real application in solving the problems
which confront the nation; he knows, too, that technical proficiency,
wealth, and luxury alone do not constitute true culture. And herewith
his best energies are enlisted; he contributes generously to libraries
and universities, and very likely devotes much of his time to the city
schools. But he is frank to confess, as well, that he has a weakness for
good-fellowship and superficiality, preferring operetta to tragedy every
time. He is not niggardly in anything; to be so is too unæsthetic. At
first one is astonished by his insouciance and the optimism with which
he makes the best of everything. One feels at once his good nature and
readiness to help, and finds him almost preternaturally ready to be just
to his opponents and overlook small failings. He envelops everything
with his irrepressible sense of humour, and is always reminded of a good
story, which he recounts so drolly and felicitously that one is ready to
believe that he never could be angry. But this all changes the instant
the talk turns from amusing stupidities or little weaknesses and goes
over to indecency or corruption or any baseness of character. Then the
typical American is quite changed; his genuine nobility of soul comes
out and he gives his unvarnished opinion, not blusteringly, but with
self-controlled indignation. One feels that here is the real secret of
his character; and one is surprised to see how little he cares for
political parties or social classes. He will fiercely condemn the
delinquencies of his own party or the unfair dealings of his own social
set. It now appears how honestly religious he is, and how far the inner
meaning of his life lies beyond the merely material.
Such a good fellow it is, with all his greater and lesser traits, who
may at any time voice undiluted public opinion. Thousands who are
better, wiser, more learned, or less the spendthrift and high-liver, and
the millions of inferior natures, will show one trait or another of the
national character in higher relief. And yet the type is well marked; it
is always optimistic and confident in the future of America, indifferent
to party tactics, but enthusiastically patriotic. It is anxious to be
not merely prosperous but just and enlightened as well; it is almost
hilariously full of life, and yet benevolent and friendly; conservative
although sensitive, without respect for conventions and yet religious,
sanguine but thoughtful, scrupulously just to an opponent but
unrelenting toward any mean intent. Probably the most characteristic
traits of public opinion are a patient oversight of mistakes and
weaknesses, but relentless contempt and indignation for meanness and
lack of honour. This is in both respects the very reverse of the party
spirit, which is too apt to hinge its most boasted reforms on trivial
evils, and pass over the greatest sins in silence.
One element of public opinion should be suggested in even the briefest
sketch—its never-failing humour. It is the antiseptic of American
politics, although it would be better, to be sure, if political doings
could be aseptic from the outset. But probably dirty ambition and
selfishness are harder to keep down in a democracy than anywhere else.
The humour of public opinion stands in striking contrast, moreover, to
party life; as one cannot fail to discover on looking closely. Party
tactics demand that the masses have hammered into them the notion that
the sacred honour of the nation lies with their party, but that on the
other side there lies hopeless ruin. The man who urges this dogma must
keep a very solemn face, for if he were to bring it out with a twinkle
in his eye, he would destroy the force of his suggestion. The voter,
too, is serious in his duties as a citizen, and demands of the
candidates this extremely practical mien and solemn party arrogance. But
when the same citizen talks the matter over with his friends, he is no
longer a stickler for party, but a voicer of public opinion, and he sees
at once the humour of the situation. He punctures the party bubbles with
well-aimed ridicule. So it happens that the population is more ruled by
humour here than anywhere else, while the party leaders stand up, at
least before the public, in the most solemn guise. Just as in some
American states the men drink wine at home, but at official banquets
call for mineral water; so out of the political harness one may commit
excesses of humour, but in it one must be strictly temperate. This is,
of course, the reverse of the well-known English method, where the
masses are rather dull, while the leaders are famous wits and cynics.
America would never allow this. When one meets leading politicians or
members of the Cabinet in a social way, one is often amazed at their
ready wit, and feels that these men have decidedly the capacity to shine
as do their English colleagues. But that would wreck the party service.
The people are sovereign; public opinion has, therefore, the right to
ironical humour, and can smilingly look down on the parties from a
superior height; while those who play the party game of government have
still to keep demure and sober. In England it is the Cabinet, in America
public opinion, which assumes the gentle rôle of wit. Hardly could the
contrast between aristocracy and democracy be more clearly exemplified.
If some one should ask who makes public opinion, he might well be
referred at first to that class which at present does not enjoy the
suffrage, and presumably will not for some time to come—the women. The
American woman cares little enough for party politics, and this is not
so much because she has no rights. If she had the interest she probably
would have the rights. But while the best people have no wish to see the
women mix in with the routine of party machinery, this is not at all in
order that they may not concern themselves with the public problems of
the day. On the contrary, women exert a marked influence on public
opinion; and here, as might be expected, it is not the organized
crusades, like the temperance movement, which count, but rather their
less noisy demonstrations, their influence in the home and their general
rightness of feeling. Every reform movement which appeals to moral
motives is advanced by the public influence of women, and many a bad
piece of jobbery is defeated by their instrumentality.
If the boundaries between the sexes are forgotten in the matter of
public opinion, so even more are those between the various classes.
Public opinion is not weakened by any class antipathies. To be sure,
every profession and occupation has its peculiar interests, and in
different quarters the public opinion takes on somewhat different hues;
the agricultural states have other problems than the industrial; the
South others than the North; and the mining districts still others of
their own. But these are really not differences of public opinion, but
different sectors of the one great circle. In spite of the diverse
elements and the prejudices which go to make up public opinion, it is
everywhere remarkably self-consistent. This is because it is the voice
of insight, conscience, and brotherly feeling, as against that of
carelessness, self-interest, and exclusiveness. The particular interests
of capital and labour, of university and primary school, of city and
country, have not their special representatives at the court of public
opinion. And least in evidence of all, of course, are the officials and
professional politicians. These men are busy in strictly party affairs,
and have no time to dabble in the clear stream of public opinion. At
best, a few distinguished senators or governors, together with the
President and an occasional member of the Cabinet, come to have an
immediate influence on public opinion.
The springs of public opinion flow from the educated and substantial
members of the commonwealth, and are often tinged at first with a very
personal colouring; but the streamlets gather and flow far from their
sources and every vestige of the personal is lost. Ideas go from man to
man, and those which are typically American find as ready lodgment with
the banker, the manufacturer, or the scholar as with the artisan or the
farm-hand. Any man who appeals to the conscience, morality, patriotism,
or brotherly feeling of the American, or to his love of progress and
order, appeals to no special parties or classes, but to the one public
opinion, the community of high-minded citizens to the extent of their
disinterestedness.
Yet even such a public opinion requires some organization and support.
Bold as the statement may sound, the American newspaper is the main ally
of public opinion, serving that opinion more loyally than it serves
either official politics or the party spirit. The literary significance
of the newspaper we shall consider in another connection, but here only
its public influence. An American philosophizing on the newspapers takes
it as a matter of course that they serve the ends of party politics; and
it is true enough that party life as it is would not be possible without
the highly disseminated influence of the newspaper. A German coming to
the country is apt to deny it even this useful function. He is
acquainted in Europe with those newspapers which commence on the first
page with serious leading articles, and relegate the items of the day to
a back page along with the advertisements. But here he finds newspapers
which have on the first pages not a word of editorial comment and hardly
even a serious piece of politics—nothing, in fact, but an unspeakable
muddle of undigested news items; and as his eye rests involuntarily on
the front page, with its screaming headlines in huge type, he will find
nothing but crimes, sensational casualties, and other horrors. He will
not before have realized that the devouring hunger of the American
populace for the daily news, has brought into existence sheets of large
circulation adapted to the vulgar instincts of the millions, the giant
headlines of which warn off the educated reader from as far as he can
see them; that paper is not for him. But a foreigner does not realize
the injustice of estimating the political influence of the press from a
glance at these monstrosities, which could not thrive abroad, not so
much because the masses are better and more enlightened as because they
care less about reading. Moreover, he will come slowly to realize that
what he missed from the front page is somewhere in the middle of the
paper; that the street-selling makes it necessary to make the most of
sensations on the outside, and to put the better things where they are
better protected. And so he learns that the American newspaper does
express opinions, although its looks belie it.
The better sort of American newspaper is neither a party publication nor
yet merely a news-sheet, but the conscious exponent of public opinion.
Its columns contain a tiresome amount of party information, it is true;
but a part of this is directly in the interests of an intelligent public
opinion, since every citizen needs to be instructed in all the phases of
party life, of political and congressional doings, and in regard to the
candidates who are up for office. It is to be admitted, moreover, that
some of the better newspapers, although not the very best, are
unreservedly committed to the leaders of some party—in short, are party
organs. In the same way several newspapers are under the domination of
certain industrial interests and cater to the wishes of a group of
capitalists. But any such policy has to be managed with the utmost
discretion, for the American newspaper reader is far too experienced to
buy a sheet day after day which he sees to be falsified; and he has
enough others to resort to, since the competition is always keen, and
even middle-sized cities have three or four large daily papers.
It is perhaps fortunate that any such extreme one-sidedness is not to
the commercial advantage of the newspapers, for in America they are
preëminently business enterprises. Their financial success depends in
the first place on advertisements, and only secondarily on their sales
in the streets. The advertising firm does not care whether the
editorials and news items are Republican or Democratic, but it cares
very much about the number of copies which are circulated; and this
depends on the meritorious features which the paper has over competing
sheets. Newspapers like the German, which count on only a small circle
of readers, and these assured, at least for the time being, by
subscriptions, can far more readily treat their readers cavalierly and
constrain their attention for a while to a certain party point of view.
In an American city the daily sales are much greater than the
subscriptions, and the sheets which get the most trade are those which
habitually treat matters from all sides, and voice opinions which fall
in with every point of view. Of course, this circumstance cannot prevent
every paper from having its special political friends and foes, its
special hobbies, its own style, and, above all, its peculiar material
interests. But, on the whole, the American newspaper is extraordinarily
non-partisan on public questions, notwithstanding the statements in many
German books to the contrary; and the ordinary reader might peruse a
given paper for weeks, except just on the eve of an election, without
really knowing whether it was Republican or Democratic. Now one party
and now the other is brought up for criticism, and even when the sheet
is distinctly in favour of a certain side, it will print extracts from
the leading articles of opposing journals, and so well depict the entire
situation that the reader can form an opinion for himself.
While the newspapers are in this way largely emancipated from the yoke
of parties, they are the exponents of a general set of tendencies which,
in opposition to party politics, we have called public opinion. In other
words, the papers stand above the parties with their crudely schematic
programmes and issues, and aspire to measure men and things according to
their true worth. Though ostensibly of one party, a journal will treat
men of its own side to biting sarcasm, and magnanimously extol certain
of its opponents. The better political instincts, progress and reform,
are appealed to; and if doubtful innovations are often brought in and
praised as reforms, this is not because the newspaper is the organ of a
party, but rather of public sentiment, as it really is or is supposed to
be. The newspaper reflects in its own way all the peculiarities of
public opinion—its light-heartedness and its often nervous restlessness,
its conservative and prudent traits, its optimism, and its ethical
earnestness; above all, its humour and drastic ridicule. It is well
known that the American newspaper has brought the art of political
caricature to perfection. The satirical cartoon of the daily paper is of
course much more effective than that of the regular comic papers. And
these pictures, although directed at a political opponent, are generally
conceived in a broader spirit than that of any party. The cap and bells
are everywhere in evidence, and there is nothing dry or pedantic. From
the dexterous and incisive leading article to the briefest jottings, one
notes the same good humour and playful satire which are so
characteristic of public opinion. This general humorous turn makes it
possible to give an individual flavour to the most ordinary pieces of
daily news, so that they have a bearing considerably broader than the
bare facts of the case, and may conceivably add their mite to public
opinion. And herewith a special newspaper style has come in, a
combination of a photographically accurate report and the whimsical
feuilleton. Thus it happens that the best papers editorially persuade
where they cannot dictate to their readers, and so, apart from party
politics, nourish public opinion and create sentiment for or against
persons, and legislative and other measures, while ostensibly they are
merely giving the news of the last twelve hours.
There is another distinctly American invention—the interview. Doubtless
it was first designed to whet the reader’s curiosity with the piquant
suggestion of something personal or even indiscreet. In Europe, where
this form of reporting is decidedly rudimentary, it usually evinces
neither tact nor taste; whereas in America it is really a literary form,
and so familiar now as to excite no remark. It has come to be peculiarly
the vehicle of public opinion, as opposed to party politics. The person
interviewed is supposed to give his personal opinions, and it is his
authority as a human personality which attracts the reader. A similar
function is served by the carefully selected letters to the editor,
which take up a considerable space in the most serious sheets.
The outer form of the newspaper is a matter really of the technical
ability of the American, rather than of his political tastes; and it is
to be observed at once that the general appearance, and above all, the
whole system of getting and printing news rapidly, is astonishing. Every
one has heard of the intrepid and fertile reporters, and how on
important occasions they leave no stone unturned to obtain the latest
intelligence for their papers. But the persistence of these men is less
worthy of note than the regular system by which the daily news is
gathered and transmitted to every paper in the land. With an infallible
scent, a pack of reporters follows in the trail of the least event which
may have significance for the general public. A good deal of gossip and
scandal is intermingled, to be sure, and much that is trivial served up
to the readers; but granted for once, that millions in the lower
classes, as members of the American democracy, wish, and ought to wish,
to carry home every night a newspaper as big as a book, then, of course,
such a hunger for fresh printed matter can be satisfied only by mental
pabulum adapted to the vulgar mind. The New York _Evening Post_ will
have nothing of this sort; it appeals more to bank directors and
professors; but shop-hands prefer the _World_. It is the same as with
the theatres; if the ordinary citizen is prosperous enough to indulge
frequently in an evening at the theatre, then, of course, melodrama and
farce will become the regular thing, since the common man must always
either laugh or cry.