and distance abolished by steam, nations were comparatively isolated;
and the American most of all. Europe was three thousand miles away.
Now-a-days, the old world is next-door neighbor to the new. Saint
John's apocalyptic vision is realized; there is "no more sea." It is
bridged by steamers, and flashed out of existence by the electric
cable. What is the consequence? The consequence is that while Europe
borrows many of our ideas, America borrows more of hers. With the
increase of travel, the growth of wealth, the enlargement of our
leisurely class, there is an aping of English and German habits of
thought and modes of life which are utterly repugnant to republican
institutions. While Europe should seem to be almost ready to discard
baby-house distinctions and the embroidered rags of aristocracy,
America, strange to say, appears willing to put on and wear the
disreputable finery. We are becoming disagreeably familiar with what
Mr. Gladstone characterizes in an inspired phrase, as the _classes_ in
contrast with the _masses_.
This interchange of national customs comes inevitably from the
facilitated intercourse of our day, from the intimacy begotten by
inter-marriage, by commerce, by travel. But it is sad if we are to
borrow more than we lend, and if the balance of trade is to be
perpetually against us. We must find or invent a remedy if
republicanism is to survive. The widespread alarm felt among our
humbler citizens shows how real the danger is. Take, for instance, the
growing distrust of universal suffrage manifested by our cultivated
classes. Certain journals, the organs of wealth and monopoly;
social-science conventions, composed of pert specialists poisoned by
caste feeling; even pulpits, which should be the guardians and
exponents of democracy,--cautiously, tentatively, but as positively as
they dare, discuss the propriety of restraining the ballot, and sigh
for a property or an educational qualification.
Now, if there be one feature of American republicanism which is
supremely characteristic, it is universal suffrage. This
interpenetrates our political system as veins run through a block of
marble. The patriots and sages who framed our Constitution grouted it
with this principle. They believed and declared that it was safe to
trust men with self-government. They recognized, of course, the fact
that in every community there would be an element of ignorance and
inefficiency. But by putting the ballot in every hand they
deliberately took bonds of wealth and culture to enlighten this
ignorance and train this inefficiency. They enlisted the self-interest
of the Commonwealth on the side of popular education. They said,
practically, to the well-to-do and to those who had interests at
stake: See to it, if you would save your possessions, that you share
them with the poorest and the lowest, at least to the extent of
lifting them to the level of self-control and self-respect. In fact,
this is the meaning of our free schools, of trial by jury, and of the
ballot-box. Tocqueville, whose insight into republican institutions
was marvellous, distinctly traces our prosperity, in his survey of
American democracy, to universal suffrage, with all that it
necessitates. So on the other side of the water, when, in 1867,
Parliament doubled the English franchise, Robert Lowe leaped to his
feet and cried, amid the cheers of the House of Commons: "_Now_ the
first interest and duty of every Englishman is to educate the masses."
Previously, if the Court of St. James stooped to put intelligence on
one side and morality on the other side of the cradle rocked by
poverty and vice, it was pity that dictated the gracious act. Now it
is self-preservation. Who does not know how much stronger
self-interest is than pity as a motive? Who cannot see the far-sighted
wisdom of our fathers in thus ingrafting this powerful motive upon the
fundamental law?
Moreover, universal suffrage is educational in itself. Responsibility
educates. Nothing else does. By throwing the responsibility upon the
people they are necessarily lifted, sobered, broadened. Our women do
not vote. What is the result? Not one woman in a thousand has any
interest in, and not one in two thousand has any acquaintance with,
political affairs. Their ignorance would be laughable were it not sad.
Every father, husband, brother, can testify to the impenetrable
ignorance of his feminine belongings concerning matters of public
moment. It forms the topic of universal comment in male circles. It is
not because women are naturally incapable. It is because having no
responsibility they naturally have no interest. Why should a woman
inform herself of what does not concern her? Occasionally, some woman,
exceptionally placed, or born with a genius for politics, studies and
masters state-craft. But exceptions do not invalidate, they prove
rules. Women, like men, cannot be expected to take any intelligent
interest in affairs that lie outside of their life.
Our men, on the contrary, are politicians down to the infant in the
cradle. A boy baby cries, "Mr. Chairman!" as soon as he can talk, and
calls the next crib to order. Men know that the maturing of politics,
the selection of administrations, the distribution of offices, the
adjustment of taxes, are their function. This knowledge whets the edge
of interest. The significant fact is that it is not the people who are
indifferent to politics. This indifference is found among merchants
who are too busy making money to attend to the public weal; among
scholars buried alive in their books, with no interest in any question
that is not musty; among men of leisure, aping old world aristocracy,
and out of touch with democracy; among those who _say_ that all men
are equal and are afraid they _will_ be,--never among the people.
The plainer men are the greater is their political interest. Our
naturalized citizens, shut out in their native land from all
participation in government, and hence appreciating citizenship here,
are among the most alert. These are they who crowd the halls during
the recurring canvasses, and who are always early at the polls. And is
it possible to overrate the instruction they get at meetings where
they hear great questions discussed by master minds, when issues are
torn open and riddled with light? Thus universal suffrage is itself a
normal school, the people's college.
It is often said that, judged by its power to govern great cities,
universal suffrage is a failure. This is true. The failure, however,
is due to local causes. It does not come from the inherent incapacity
of the masses, but is the spawn of accidental and removable evils.
Chief among these is the corner grog-shop. This is the blazing
lighthouse of hell. Here it is that morals and manners are debauched.
It is over this counter that what an old poet calls "liquid damnation"
is dealt out. If the _quid-nuncs_, instead of railing at universal
suffrage, would combine to help shut that door, republicanism would
speedily lose its reproach. The constituency of the grog seller is the
ready made tool of the demagogue. A true democracy can only exist on
the basis of sobriety. A drunken people cannot be trusted with the
dearest rights and most vital possessions of freemen. Better the
merciless tyranny of the Czar, or the military despotism of the
Kaiser, far better the class rule of England, than the staggering,
hiccoughing, bedevilled government of the groggery!
Aside from the great centres of population, the common people are more
trustworthy than the corporations, the colleges, or the newspapers.
The selfishness, the preoccupation, the anti-republicanism of these,
are proverbial. We know that editors are echoes, not leaders, printing
what will sell, not what is true. Landor declared that there is a
spice of the scoundrel in most literary men. Everybody understands
that a corporation's gospel is a good fat dividend. Who would exchange
universal suffrage for college suffrage, or corporation suffrage, or
newspaper suffrage?
Our danger to-day does not lie in universal suffrage. It lies in the
steady encroachments of wealth, in the multiplication of monopolies,
in the too rapid growth of fungus millionnaires, in the increasing
number of well educated idlers, in the sinister prominence of the
saloon in politics, in the tendency of the country to submit to
bureaucracy, in the transformation of the national Senate into a club
of rich men, housed and fed at the national expense, in the change of
the House of Representatives into a huddle of clerks to register the
decrees of greedy capital, in the chronic distrust of the people felt
among book-educated and professional men; in one word, in the
appalling gravitation towards government by "boodle" in the hands of
unscrupulous minorities.
The only hope of deliverance lies in the people,--in their honesty,
fair play, and decision, No; it is not universal suffrage that has
brought disgrace on the country. If the rancor of party spirit, if the
dry-rot of legislative corruption, if the tyranny of incorporated
wealth, if the diabolism of intemperance are to be curbed, it is
universal suffrage which must hold the reins. Talk of taking the
ballot out of the hand of the poor citizen! As well fling the revolver
out of window when the burglar is in the house. One of the keenest
critics of American life has said: "Corruption does not so much rot
the masses; it poisons Congress. Credit mobilier and money rings are
not housed under thatched roofs; they flaunt at the capital." The real
scum is the so-called better class. If anybody is to be deprived of a
vote, it should be the railroad king, the mill owner, the indifferent
trader, and the Europeanized Yankee who spends abroad what his father
earned at home, and mistakes Paris for Paradise.
As another illustration of the un-republican trend, observe the
obsequious attitude of our government towards monarchs and monarchies.
We are to-day cheek by jowl with the despots of Europe. Instead of
being the torch bearer of freedom we occupy a position of apology for
what we are and of gaping admiration for what they are. When an
opportunity offered the other day to recognize the new Republic of
Brazil, the toadies at Washington equivocated and postponed. One would
suppose that the disappearance of the last monarchy from the new world
would have been greeted in the great Republic with the ringing of
bells and the blaze of bonfires--would have been answered by a regular
Fourth of July outburst. Bless you, no! The Czar was displeased. The
Emperor of Germany was in the sulks. Queen Victoria put on mourning.
Why should the Dons at Washington be out of fashion?
On the other hand, when Carlos I. was crowned at Lisbon last December,
the American Squadron of Evolution was in the harbor, and behold! the
officers of the Republic's war-ships paraded side by side with the
other flunkies of royalty in honor of the coronation--thus showing
that they belonged to the Squadron of Reaction. For so misrepresenting
their country they ought to be cashiered. Republicans refusing to
recognize a new republic, but hastening to recognize a new king! What
a spectacle! Spirits of Otis and Franklin, of Jefferson and Hamilton,
what think ye of such democracy as this?
No one would have the United States play the role of a bully, or enact
the demagogue. But surely there is a medium between that and the
despicable inconsistency of unfriendliness towards those of our own
political faith, and of lackey serviceableness towards a crowned head.
Kings do not hesitate to discourage republicanism everywhere. A
republic should not hesitate to encourage it anywhere. Self-respect in
such a matter would win the respect of the world by deserving it. But
when Americans sell their daughters to European profligates for a
title, and pay millions to boot; when republicans in profession become
tuft-hunters in practice, and haunt the back stairs of palaces; when
the United States government, the eldest born and guardian of
democracy, decredits its own political creed and parades in royal
processions,--is it not time to cry a halt?
We need in this country a revival of republicanism. There is a
tendency to flunkeyism at the bottom of human nature. Most men "dearly
love a lord," as Burns affirmed. Hence, a full-fledged aristocrat
attracts flunkies as a magnet draws iron filings. Lucian tells of an
exhibition in Rome in which monkeys had been trained to play a human
part; which they did perfectly, before the beauty and fashion of the
city--until a wag, in the midst of the performance, flung a handful of
nuts upon the stage, and straightway the actors were monkeys again.
Some of our republicans are monkeys in human attire. They get on well
enough until the nuts of class distinction are flung among them,--then
they are on all fours.
Let us make democracy the fashion. Send devitalized Americans to
Coventry. Make an unrepublican word or deed the unpardonable political
sin. Do this: or else ship the statue of Liberty Enlightening the
World back to France, and ask her to set it in the harbor of
Marseilles.
Another of these un-republican tendencies is the current movement for
civil service reform. Every thoughtful citizen perceives and laments
the evils attendant on the present spoils system. It is the quartering
of the conquerors upon the conquered. It makes public office the
reward of party service. It loads half a dozen men (the President and
his Secretaries) with the responsible but impossible duty of filling
hundreds of thousands of offices, on the grab-bag principle.
With the best intentions, the civil service reformers would make a bad
matter worse. On their plan, the un-American method of fixed tenure by
competitive examination and appointment by irresponsible cabals would
replace the method of political appointment for party service. Thus
they would fasten upon the country a great army of permanent
officials. It is out of harmony with our whole system. Every other
officer is elected, and for a specified term. Why, even in the
ministry, the tendency is to break up the life-pastorate. The largest
of our religious denominations has deliberately adopted the principle
of rotation. And the other bodies, while nominally retaining the life
theory, have practically borrowed the Methodist plan.
No wonder civil service reform is unpopular. It goes to work at the
wrong end--works away from instead of towards republicanism. In
England, in Germany, where families reign, and where governmental
servants might consistently hold office for life, such a system has a
warrant--though even there it is found to be obstructive and
reactionary. But in a republic, where universal suffrage is the law,
nothing more intolerable could be conceived. The idea of creating a
class distinct from all other classes, independent of the
administration and unaccountable to the voters, fixed and immovable
save for causes proven--why, it is, not a _step_, it is a _stride_
towards absolutism. Such a proposition, like "Hamlet's" case,
"----makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of."
That the civil service needs reform goes without the saying. But the
reform should be pushed along consistently republican lines. The
proper, the democratic method would be a further and broader
application of universal suffrage. Make _all_ the offices elective.
Instead of _appointing_ Custom-House officials and postmasters,
_elect_ them. Put the responsibility where it belongs upon the
respective communities they serve. Then, men that are locally known
and respected would be selected. If the people are capable of electing
their own presidents, governors, representatives and judges, surely
they might be trusted to elect Custom-House officers and postmasters!
Otherwise, our republicanism is a humbug. This would abolish the
Washington grab-bag. It would also avoid the creation of a class of
life-officials than which nothing could be more dangerous and
unsavory.
If our fathers, with no precedents on the file, could announce their
sublime faith that all men are endowed by their Creator with the right
to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; if they could discard
the probate-court idea, and adopt universal suffrage; if, in spite of
inconsistencies and imperfections, their conception has flowered in
the best, and happiest, and most prosperous nation on the
globe,--cannot their children show a faith as serene, a courage as
brave? One thing is certain, the European experiment has failed, while
ours is a miracle of success--and most successful when most
consistently worked out. In such circumstances, shall we exchange this
for that, and go back from the nineteenth century to the fourteenth?
When Hume derided his mother's faith, and exhorted her to get rid of
her Christian prejudices, she answered: "My son, can you show me
anything better?"
EXTRINSIC SIGNIFICANCE OF CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT IN JAPAN.
BY KUMA OISHI, A. M.
All students of history are aware that the revolution of 1688
succeeded in consolidating constitutional government in England; that,
though toward the middle of the last century it had not yet assumed
its present admirable aspect, the English idea of political liberty
and religious toleration attracted the attention of Montesquieu and
Voltaire, who introduced it to their country; and that, since then,
accelerated by the establishment of the federal government in America,
and the triumph of the revolutionary principle in France, the theory
has spread over the continent with astonishing rapidity.
Now that constitutional government is established in Japan, will she
not exercise the same influence over the Asiatic continent as that
which England has exercised over the European? To this, three great
objections may be raised. I. The pervading conservatism of Asia. II.
The prevailing ignorance among the Asiatic nations. III. The
doubtfulness as to their adaptability to the representative form of
government. We shall try to answer these objections in the above
order.
I. If it be argued that the Asiatic people are conspicuously
characterized by the conservative spirit, that they seem well
satisfied with their present social and political organizations, such
as they are, it must be remembered at the same time, that this was
also the appearance which the French people presented, before their
attention was called to the political superiority of England. "In
general," says Lecky, "there runs through the great French literature
of the seventeenth century a profound content with the existing order
in Church and State, an entire absence of the spirit of disquiet,
scepticism, and innovation that leads to organic change."[7]
[7] Lecky's History of England, Vol. V., p. 301.
[Illustration: Kuma Oishi (signed "Cordially yours, Kuma Oishi")]
That the conservative spirit and the seeming contentment of some of
the Asiatic nations are not in themselves forces strong enough,
when the time comes, to dispel the charm, as it were, possessed by the
theory of representative government, that in short, conservatism is no
match for "progress," as such a movement is popularly called, can be
illustrated by the history, not of the European nations alone, but of
some Asiatic nations themselves. To the general conservative tendency
of Asia, Japan was no exception until about twenty-five years ago. No
rational being would have then believed that in the course of a few
years, Japan would become one of the most progressive nations on the
face of the earth. The revolution of 1867, from which the birth of New
Japan is dated, was originally a dispute between the Mikado and the
Shogun for the _de facto_ sovereignty, and not the struggle of the
lower classes to rise to political eminence. The tottering dynasty of
the Shoguns came to an end, not because they were tyrannical, not
because the people felt the special need of social amelioration, but
because they saw that the Shogunate had been the instrumentality of
usurping the imperial authority, while the nominal Emperor was shut up
in his palace, and closely watched by the agents of the Shogun. In
Japan loyalty and patriotism meant one and the same thing; therefore
the people could not long tolerate this state of affairs. They needed
only an occasion to deprive the Shogun of his political power, and to
restore it to the Emperor. At last the occasion came. The demand of
the Western nations to open certain seaports of the country,
accompanied by the threats of armed force, compelled the Shogun to
yield. But this step proved fatal to him. If the people were opposed
to the Shogun's usurpation, they were still more opposed to his new
policy, simply because it was new. They were blind to the innumerable
advantages that could be derived from international commerce and
communication. As a hermit nation, the people looked down upon the
foreigners with mingled distrust and disdain. Knowing nothing of the
Western civilization they were determined that no "savage strangers"
should step upon the "sacred land of gods." To them the admission of
the foreigners signified nothing less than unprecedented disgrace and
possibly more--a prey to the ambition and treachery of the "foreign
devils." The conservative spirit of the people carried them to a pitch
of excitement as high as the exactly opposite principle carried the
French people during the revolution. The Emperor became doubly dear
to them, because he was a sovereign _de jure_, and because he was
opposed to the new policy. Thus the revolution which followed owes its
triumph to the conservatism of the people. Even with their zealous
attachment to the Emperor, and their deep hatred of the Shogun, it is
an open question whether events would have taken the same course, if
the Mikado had advocated and the Shogun opposed the new policy, so
strong was prejudice of the people. No more unfavorable condition and
time could have been chosen for the introduction of the European
civilization. However, in spite of their abhorrence of the Western
people, the Western ideas and customs, in spite of all their efforts
to shut them out, the appearance of some formidable men-of-war,
floating the flags of different nations, compelled Japan to enter into
the terms of treaty with them. Twenty years have passed since then,
and within that short period, the nation has undergone a marvellous
transformation under the magic touch of progress. It would be telling
an old story to enumerate the series of innovations that have been
written socially and politically, until the promulgation of the new
constitution, in which culminated the national pride of the people.
The matter to be noted here is that the European civilization
encountered but a few obstacles, notwithstanding its inopportune
introduction, and was soon adopted with determined zeal. The like
progressive phenomenon on a smaller scale is also recurring in Korea,
but of this later.
II. Having thus seen from well known historical examples in Europe and
Asia that the conservatism is not in itself a force strong enough to
resist progress, which leads to the establishment of constitutional
government, let us proceed to meet the second objection, namely: the
prevailing ignorance among the Asiatic nations. Here the nature of our
inquiry involves three distinct topics. 1. Was the general
intelligence of the Japanese people, before they came into contact
with the Western civilization, higher than that of the other Asiatic
nations? 2. Is there not a peculiar characteristic among the Japanese
which impels them to progress? 3. Consequent upon the exposition of
these two topics, investigation must also be made as to why the
Chinese Empire does not show a similar progressive tendency.