CHAPTER III.

INFLUENCE OF GOVERNMENT UPON THE LONGEVITY OF NATIONS.

Misgovernment defined--Athens, China, Spain, Germany, Italy, etc.--Is

not in itself a sufficient cause for the ruin of nations.

I am aware of the difficulty of the task I have undertaken in attempting

to establish a truth, which by many of my readers will be regarded as a

mere paradox. That good laws and good government exert a direct and

powerful influence upon the well-being and prosperity of a nation, is an

indisputable fact, of which I am fully convinced; but I think that

history proves that they are not absolute conditions of the existence of

a community; or, in other words, that their absence is not necessarily

productive of ruin. Nations, like individuals, are often preyed upon by

fearful diseases, which show no outward traces of the ravages within,

and which, though dangerous, are not always fatal. Indeed, if they

were, few communities would survive the first few years of their

formation, for it is precisely during that period that the government is

worst, the laws most imperfect, and least observed. But here the

comparison between the body political and the human organization ceases,

for while the latter dreads most the attack of disease during infancy,

the former easily overcomes it at that period. History furnishes

innumerable examples of successful contest on the part of young

communities with the most formidable and most devastating political

evils, of which none can be worse than ill-conceived laws, administered

in an oppressive or negligent manner.[48]

Let us first define what we understand by bad government. The varieties

of this evil are as various as nations, countries, and epochs. It were

impossible to enumerate them all. Yet, by classing them under four

principal categories, few varieties will be omitted.

A government is bad, when imposed by foreign influence. Athens

experienced this evil under the thirty tyrants. Yet she shook off the

odious yoke, and patriotism, far from expiring, gained renewed vigor by

the oppression.

A government is bad, when based upon absolute and unconditional

conquest. Almost the whole extent of France in the fourteenth century,

groaned under the dominion of England. The ordeal was passed, and the

nation rose from it more powerful and brilliant than before. China was

overrun and conquered by the Mongol hordes. They were ejected from its

territories, after having previously undergone a singular

transformation. It next fell into the hands of the Mantchoo conquerors,

but though they already count the years of their reign by centuries,

they are now at the eve of experiencing the same fate as their Mongol

predecessors.

A government is especially bad, when the principles upon which it was

based are disregarded or forgotten. This was the fate of the Spanish

monarchy. It was based upon the military spirit of the nation, and upon

its municipal freedom, and declined soon after these principles came to

be forgotten. It is impossible to imagine greater political

disorganization than this country represented. Nowhere was the authority

of the sovereign more nominal and despised; nowhere did the clergy lay

themselves more open to censure. Agriculture and industry, following the

same downward impulse, were also involved in the national marasmus. Yet

Spain, of whom so many despaired, at a moment when her star seemed

setting forever, gave the glorious example of heroic and successful

resistance to the arms of one who had hitherto experienced no check in

his career of conquest. Since that, the better spirit of the nation has

been roused, and there is, probably, at this time, no European state

with more promising prospects, and stronger vitality.[49]

A government is also very bad, when, by its institutions, it authorizes

an antagonism either between the supreme power and the nation, or among

the different classes of which it is composed. This was the case in the

Middle Ages, when the kings of France and England were at war with their

great vassals, and the peasants in perpetual feud with the lords. In

Germany, the first effects of the liberty of thought, were the civil

wars of the Hussites, Anabaptists, and other sectaries. Italy, at a

more remote period, was so distracted by the division of the supreme

authority for which emperor, pope, nobles, and municipalities contended,

that the masses, not knowing whom to obey, in many instances finished by

obeying neither. Yet in the midst of all these troubles, Italian

nationality did not perish. On the contrary, its civilization was at no

time more brilliant, its industry never more productive, its foreign

influence never greater.

If communities have survived such fearful political tempests, it cannot

well be said that national ruin is a necessary cause of misgovernment.

Besides, wise and happy reigns are few and far between, in the history

of every nation; and these few are not considered such by all.

Historians are not unanimous in their praise of Elizabeth, nor do they

all consider the reign of William and Mary as an epoch of prosperity for

England. Truly this science of statesmanship, the highest and most

complicated of all, is so disproportionate to the capacity of man,[50]

and so various are the opinions concerning it, that nations have early

and frequent opportunities of learning to accommodate themselves to

misgovernment, which, in its worst forms, is still preferable to

anarchy. It is a well-proved fact, which even a superficial study of

history will clearly demonstrate, that communities often perish under

the best government of a long series that came before.[51]

FOOTNOTES:

[48] It will be understood that I speak here, not of the political

existence of a centre of sovereignty, but of the life of an entire

nation, the prosperity of a civilization. Here is the place to apply the

definition given above, page 114.

[49] This assertion will appear paradoxical to those who are in the

habit of looking upon Spain as the type of hopeless national

degradation. But whoever studies the history of the last thirty years,

which is but a series of struggles to rise from this position, will

probably arrive at the same conclusions as the author. The revolution of

1820 redeems the character of the nation. "The Spanish Constitution"

became the watchword of the friends of constitutional liberty in the

South of Europe, and ere thirteen months had fully passed, it had become

the fundamental law of three other countries--Portugal, Naples, and

Sardinia. At the mere sound of those words, two kings had resigned their

crowns. These revolutions were not characterized by excesses. They were,

for the most part, accomplished peacefully, quietly, and orderly. They

were not the result of the temporary passions of an excited mob. The

most singular feature of these countries is that the lowest dregs of the

population are the most zealous adherents of absolutism. No, these

revolutions were the work of the best elements in the population, the

most intelligent classes, of people who knew what they wanted, and how

to get it. And then, when Spain had set that ever glorious example to

her neighbors, the great powers, with England at the head, concluded to

re-establish the former state of things. In those memorable congresses

of plenipotentiaries, the most influential was the representative of

England, the Duke of Wellington. And by his advice, or, at least, with

his sanction, an Austrian army entered Sardinia, and abolished the new

constitution; an Austrian army entered Naples and abolished the new

constitution; English vessels of war threatened Lisbon, and Portugal

abolished her new constitution; and finally a French army entered Spain,

and abolished the new constitution. So Naples and Portugal regained

their tyrants, and Spain her imbecile dynasty. For years the Spaniards

have tried to shake it off, and English influence alone has maintained

on a great nation's throne, a wretch that would have disgraced the

lowest walks of private life. But the day of Spanish liberty and Spanish

_independence_ will dawn, and perhaps already has dawned. The efforts of

the last Cortes were wisely directed, and their proceedings marked with

a manliness, a moderation, and a firmness that augur well for the future

weal of Spain.--H.

[50] Who is not reminded of Oxenstierna's famous saying to his son: "Cum

parva sapientiâ mundus gubernatur."--H.

[51] It is obvious that so long as the vitality of a nation remains

unimpaired, misgovernment can be but a temporary ill. The regenerative

principle will be at work to remove the evil and heal the wounds it has

inflicted; and though the remedy be sometimes violent, and throw the

state into fearful convulsions, it will seldom be found ineffectual. So

long as the spirit of liberty prevailed among the Romans, the

Tarquiniuses and Appiuses were as a straw before the storm of popular

indignation; but the death of Cæsar could but substitute a despot in the

stead of a mild and generous usurper. The first Brutus might save the

nation, because he was the expression of the national sentiment; the

second could not, because he was one man opposed to millions. It is a

common error to ascribe too much to individual exertions, and whimsical

philosophers have amused themselves to trace great events to petty

causes; but a deeper inquiry will demonstrate that the great

catastrophes which arrest our attention and form the landmarks of

history, are but the inevitable result of all the whole chain of

antecedent events. Julius Cæsar and Napoleon Bonaparte were, indeed,

especially gifted for their great destinies, but the same gifts could

not have raised them to their exalted positions at any other epoch than

the one in which each lived. Those petty causes are but the drop which

causes the measure to overflow, the pretext of the moment; or as the

small fissure in the dyke which produces the _crevasse_: the wall of

waters stood behind. No man can usurp supreme power, unless the

prevailing tendency of the nation favors it; no man can long persist in

hurrying a nation along in a course repulsive to it; and in this sense,

therefore, not with regard to its abstract justness, it is undoubtedly

true, that the voice of the nation is the voice of God. It is the

expression of what shall and must be.--H.

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