The authority of the Federal government cannot oblige the provincial

governments to throw any light upon this point; and even if these

governments were inclined to afford their simultaneous co-operation, it

may be doubted whether they possess the means of procuring a

satisfactory answer. Independently of the natural difficulties of the

task, the political organization of the country would act as a

hindrance to the success of their efforts. The county and town

magistrates are not appointed by the authorities of the State, and they

are not subjected to their control. It is therefore very allowable to

suppose that, if the State was desirous of obtaining the returns which

we require, its design would be counteracted by the neglect of those

subordinate officers whom it would be obliged to employ. *l It is, in

point of fact, useless to inquire what the Americans might do to

forward this inquiry, since it is certain that they have hitherto done

nothing at all. There does not exist a single individual at the present

day, in America or in Europe, who can inform us what each citizen of

the Union annually contributes to the public charges of the nation. *m

[Footnote l: Those who have attempted to draw a comparison between the

expenses of France and America have at once perceived that no such

comparison could be drawn between the total expenditure of the two

countries; but they have endeavored to contrast detached portions of

this expenditure. It may readily be shown that this second system is

not at all less defective than the first. If I attempt to compare the

French budget with the budget of the Union, it must be remembered that

the latter embraces much fewer objects than then central Government of

the former country, and that the expenditure must consequently be much

smaller. If I contrast the budgets of the Departments with those of the

States which constitute the Union, it must be observed that, as the

power and control exercised by the States is much greater than that

which is exercised by the Departments, their expenditure is also more

considerable. As for the budgets of the counties, nothing of the kind

occurs in the French system of finances; and it is, again, doubtful

whether the corresponding expenses should be referred to the budget of

the State or to those of the municipal divisions. Municipal expenses

exist in both countries, but they are not always analogous. In America

the townships discharge a variety of offices which are reserved in

France to the Departments or to the State. It may, moreover, be asked

what is to be understood by the municipal expenses of America. The

organization of the municipal bodies or townships differs in the

several States. Are we to be guided by what occurs in New England or in

Georgia, in Pennsylvania or in the State of Illinois? A kind of analogy

may very readily be perceived between certain budgets in the two

countries; but as the elements of which they are composed always differ

more or less, no fair comparison can be instituted between them. [The

same difficulty exists, perhaps to a greater degree at the present

time, when the taxation of America has largely increased.—1874.]]

m

[ Even if we knew the exact pecuniary contributions of every French and

American citizen to the coffers of the State, we should only come at a

portion of the truth. Governments do not only demand supplies of money,

but they call for personal services, which may be looked upon as

equivalent to a given sum. When a State raises an army, besides the pay

of the troops, which is furnished by the entire nation, each soldier

must give up his time, the value of which depends on the use he might

make of it if he were not in the service. The same remark applies to

the militia; the citizen who is in the militia devotes a certain

portion of valuable time to the maintenance of the public peace, and he

does in reality surrender to the State those earnings which he is

prevented from gaining. Many other instances might be cited in addition

to these. The governments of France and of America both levy taxes of

this kind, which weigh upon the citizens; but who can estimate with

accuracy their relative amount in the two countries?

This, however, is not the last of the difficulties which prevent us

from comparing the expenditure of the Union with that of France. The

French Government contracts certain obligations which do not exist in

America, and vice versa. The French Government pays the clergy; in

America the voluntary principle prevails. In America there is a legal

provision for the poor; in France they are abandoned to the charity of

the public. The French public officers are paid by a fixed salary; in

America they are allowed certain perquisites. In France contributions

in kind take place on very few roads; in America upon almost all the

thoroughfares: in the former country the roads are free to all

travellers; in the latter turnpikes abound. All these differences in

the manner in which contributions are levied in the two countries

enhance the difficulty of comparing their expenditure; for there are

certain expenses which the citizens would not be subject to, or which

would at any rate be much less considerable, if the State did not take

upon itself to act in the name of the public.]

Hence we must conclude that it is no less difficult to compare the

social expenditure than it is to estimate the relative wealth of France

and America. I will even add that it would be dangerous to attempt this

comparison; for when statistics are not based upon computations which

are strictly accurate, they mislead instead of guiding aright. The mind

is easily imposed upon by the false affectation of exactness, which

prevails even in the misstatements of science, and it adopts with

confidence errors which are dressed in the forms of mathematical truth.

We abandon, therefore, our numerical investigation, with the hope of

meeting with data of another kind. In the absence of positive

documents, we may form an opinion as to the proportion which the

taxation of a people bears to its real prosperity, by observing whether

its external appearance is flourishing; whether, after having

discharged the calls of the State, the poor man retains the means of

subsistence, and the rich the means of enjoyment; and whether both

classes are contented with their position, seeking, however, to

ameliorate it by perpetual exertions, so that industry is never in want

of capital, nor capital unemployed by industry. The observer who draws

his inferences from these signs will, undoubtedly, be led to the

conclusion that the American of the United States contributes a much

smaller portion of his income to the State than the citizen of France.

Nor, indeed, can the result be otherwise.

A portion of the French debt is the consequence of two successive

invasions; and the Union has no similar calamity to fear. A nation

placed upon the continent of Europe is obliged to maintain a large

standing army; the isolated position of the Union enables it to have

only 6,000 soldiers. The French have a fleet of 300 sail; the Americans

have 52 vessels. *n How, then, can the inhabitants of the Union be

called upon to contribute as largely as the inhabitants of France? No

parallel can be drawn between the finances of two countries so

differently situated.

n

[ See the details in the Budget of the French Minister of Marine; and

for America, the National Calendar of 1833, p. 228. [But the public

debt of the United States in 1870, caused by the Civil War, amounted to

$2,480,672,427; that of France was more than doubled by the

extravagance of the Second Empire and by the war of 1870.]]

It is by examining what actually takes place in the Union, and not by

comparing the Union with France, that we may discover whether the

American Government is really economical. On casting my eyes over the

different republics which form the confederation, I perceive that their

Governments lack perseverance in their undertakings, and that they

exercise no steady control over the men whom they employ. Whence I

naturally infer that they must often spend the money of the people to

no purpose, or consume more of it than is really necessary to their

undertakings. Great efforts are made, in accordance with the democratic

origin of society, to satisfy the exigencies of the lower orders, to

open the career of power to their endeavors, and to diffuse knowledge

and comfort amongst them. The poor are maintained, immense sums are

annually devoted to public instruction, all services whatsoever are

remunerated, and the most subordinate agents are liberally paid. If

this kind of government appears to me to be useful and rational, I am

nevertheless constrained to admit that it is expensive.

Wherever the poor direct public affairs and dispose of the national

resources, it appears certain that, as they profit by the expenditure

of the State, they are apt to augment that expenditure.

I conclude, therefore, without having recourse to inaccurate

computations, and without hazarding a comparison which might prove

incorrect, that the democratic government of the Americans is not a

cheap government, as is sometimes asserted; and I have no hesitation in

predicting that, if the people of the United States is ever involved in

serious difficulties, its taxation will speedily be increased to the

rate of that which prevails in the greater part of the aristocracies

and the monarchies of Europe. *o

o

[ [That is precisely what has since occurred.]]

Chapter XIII: Government Of The Democracy In America—Part III

Corruption And Vices Of The Rulers In A Democracy, And Consequent

Effects Upon Public Morality

In aristocracies rulers sometimes endeavor to corrupt the people—In

democracies rulers frequently show themselves to be corrupt—In the

former their vices are directly prejudicial to the morality of the

people—In the latter their indirect influence is still more pernicious.

A distinction must be made, when the aristocratic and the democratic

principles mutually inveigh against each other, as tending to

facilitate corruption. In aristocratic governments the individuals who

are placed at the head of affairs are rich men, who are solely desirous

of power. In democracies statesmen are poor, and they have their

fortunes to make. The consequence is that in aristocratic States the

rulers are rarely accessible to corruption, and have very little

craving for money; whilst the reverse is the case in democratic

nations.

But in aristocracies, as those who are desirous of arriving at the head

of affairs are possessed of considerable wealth, and as the number of

persons by whose assistance they may rise is comparatively small, the

government is, if I may use the expression, put up to a sort of

auction. In democracies, on the contrary, those who are covetous of

power are very seldom wealthy, and the number of citizens who confer

that power is extremely great. Perhaps in democracies the number of men

who might be bought is by no means smaller, but buyers are rarely to be

met with; and, besides, it would be necessary to buy so many persons at

once that the attempt is rendered nugatory.

Many of the men who have been in the administration in France during

the last forty years have been accused of making their fortunes at the

expense of the State or of its allies; a reproach which was rarely

addressed to the public characters of the ancient monarchy. But in

France the practice of bribing electors is almost unknown, whilst it is

notoriously and publicly carried on in England. In the United States I

never heard a man accused of spending his wealth in corrupting the

populace; but I have often heard the probity of public officers

questioned; still more frequently have I heard their success attributed

to low intrigues and immoral practices.

If, then, the men who conduct the government of an aristocracy

sometimes endeavor to corrupt the people, the heads of a democracy are

themselves corrupt. In the former case the morality of the people is

directly assailed; in the latter an indirect influence is exercised

upon the people which is still more to be dreaded.

As the rulers of democratic nations are almost always exposed to the

suspicion of dishonorable conduct, they in some measure lend the

authority of the Government to the base practices of which they are

accused. They thus afford an example which must prove discouraging to

the struggles of virtuous independence, and must foster the secret

calculations of a vicious ambition. If it be asserted that evil

passions are displayed in all ranks of society, that they ascend the

throne by hereditary right, and that despicable characters are to be

met with at the head of aristocratic nations as well as in the sphere

of a democracy, this objection has but little weight in my estimation.

The corruption of men who have casually risen to power has a coarse and

vulgar infection in it which renders it contagious to the multitude. On

the contrary, there is a kind of aristocratic refinement and an air of

grandeur in the depravity of the great, which frequently prevent it

from spreading abroad.

The people can never penetrate into the perplexing labyrinth of court

intrigue, and it will always have difficulty in detecting the turpitude

which lurks under elegant manners, refined tastes, and graceful

language. But to pillage the public purse, and to vend the favors of

the State, are arts which the meanest villain may comprehend, and hope

to practice in his turn.

In reality it is far less prejudicial to witness the immorality of the

great than to witness that immorality which leads to greatness. In a

democracy private citizens see a man of their own rank in life, who

rises from that obscure position, and who becomes possessed of riches

and of power in a few years; the spectacle excites their surprise and

their envy, and they are led to inquire how the person who was

yesterday their equal is to-day their ruler. To attribute his rise to

his talents or his virtues is unpleasant; for it is tacitly to

acknowledge that they are themselves less virtuous and less talented

than he was. They are therefore led (and not unfrequently their

conjecture is a correct one) to impute his success mainly to some one

of his defects; and an odious mixture is thus formed of the ideas of

turpitude and power, unworthiness and success, utility and dishonor.

Efforts Of Which A Democracy Is Capable

The Union has only had one struggle hitherto for its

existence—Enthusiasm at the commencement of the war—Indifference

towards its close—Difficulty of establishing military conscription or

impressment of seamen in America—Why a democratic people is less

capable of sustained effort than another.

I here warn the reader that I speak of a government which implicitly

follows the real desires of a people, and not of a government which

simply commands in its name. Nothing is so irresistible as a tyrannical

power commanding in the name of the people, because, whilst it

exercises that moral influence which belongs to the decision of the

majority, it acts at the same time with the promptitude and the

tenacity of a single man.

It is difficult to say what degree of exertion a democratic government

may be capable of making a crisis in the history of the nation. But no

great democratic republic has hitherto existed in the world. To style

the oligarchy which ruled over France in 1793 by that name would be to

offer an insult to the republican form of government. The United States

afford the first example of the kind.

The American Union has now subsisted for half a century, in the course

of which time its existence has only once been attacked, namely, during

the War of Independence. At the commencement of that long war, various

occurrences took place which betokened an extraordinary zeal for the

service of the country. *p But as the contest was prolonged, symptoms

of private egotism began to show themselves. No money was poured into

the public treasury; few recruits could be raised to join the army; the

people wished to acquire independence, but was very ill-disposed to

undergo the privations by which alone it could be obtained. “Tax laws,”

says Hamilton in the “Federalist” (No. 12), “have in vain been

multiplied; new methods to enforce the collection have in vain been

tried; the public expectation has been uniformly disappointed and the

treasuries of the States have remained empty. The popular system of

administration inherent in the nature of popular government, coinciding

with the real scarcity of money incident to a languid and mutilated

state of trade, has hitherto defeated every experiment for extensive

collections, and has at length taught the different legislatures the

folly of attempting them.”

p

[ One of the most singular of these occurrences was the resolution

which the Americans took of temporarily abandoning the use of tea.

Those who know that men usually cling more to their habits than to

their life will doubtless admire this great though obscure sacrifice

which was made by a whole people.]

The United States have not had any serious war to carry on ever since

that period. In order, therefore, to appreciate the sacrifices which

democratic nations may impose upon themselves, we must wait until the

American people is obliged to put half its entire income at the

disposal of the Government, as was done by the English; or until it

sends forth a twentieth part of its population to the field of battle,

as was done by France. *q

q

[ [The Civil War showed that when the necessity arose the American

people, both in the North and in the South, are capable of making the

most enormous sacrifices, both in money and in men.]]

In America the use of conscription is unknown, and men are induced to

enlist by bounties. The notions and habits of the people of the United

States are so opposed to compulsory enlistment that I do not imagine it

can ever be sanctioned by the laws. What is termed the conscription in

France is assuredly the heaviest tax upon the population of that

country; yet how could a great continental war be carried on without

it? The Americans have not adopted the British impressment of seamen,

and they have nothing which corresponds to the French system of

maritime conscription; the navy, as well as the merchant service, is

supplied by voluntary service. But it is not easy to conceive how a

people can sustain a great maritime war without having recourse to one

or the other of these two systems. Indeed, the Union, which has fought

with some honor upon the seas, has never possessed a very numerous

fleet, and the equipment of the small number of American vessels has

always been excessively expensive.

I have heard American statesmen confess that the Union will have great

difficulty in maintaining its rank on the seas without adopting the

system of impressment or of maritime conscription; but the difficulty

is to induce the people, which exercises the supreme authority, to

submit to impressment or any compulsory system.

It is incontestable that in times of danger a free people displays far

more energy than one which is not so. But I incline to believe that

this is more especially the case in those free nations in which the

democratic element preponderates. Democracy appears to me to be much

better adapted for the peaceful conduct of society, or for an

occasional effort of remarkable vigor, than for the hardy and prolonged

endurance of the storms which beset the political existence of nations.

The reason is very evident; it is enthusiasm which prompts men to

expose themselves to dangers and privations, but they will not support

them long without reflection. There is more calculation, even in the

impulses of bravery, than is generally attributed to them; and although

the first efforts are suggested by passion, perseverance is maintained

by a distinct regard of the purpose in view. A portion of what we value

is exposed, in order to save the remainder.

But it is this distinct perception of the future, founded upon a sound

judgment and an enlightened experience, which is most frequently

wanting in democracies. The populace is more apt to feel than to

reason; and if its present sufferings are great, it is to be feared

that the still greater sufferings attendant upon defeat will be

forgotten.

Another cause tends to render the efforts of a democratic government

less persevering than those of an aristocracy. Not only are the lower

classes less awakened than the higher orders to the good or evil

chances of the future, but they are liable to suffer far more acutely

from present privations. The noble exposes his life, indeed, but the

chance of glory is equal to the chance of harm. If he sacrifices a

large portion of his income to the State, he deprives himself for a

time of the pleasures of affluence; but to the poor man death is

embellished by no pomp or renown, and the imposts which are irksome to

the rich are fatal to him.

This relative impotence of democratic republics is, perhaps, the

greatest obstacle to the foundation of a republic of this kind in

Europe. In order that such a State should subsist in one country of the

Old World, it would be necessary that similar institutions should be

introduced into all the other nations.

I am of opinion that a democratic government tends in the end to

increase the real strength of society; but it can never combine, upon a

single point and at a given time, so much power as an aristocracy or a

monarchy. If a democratic country remained during a whole century

subject to a republican government, it would probably at the end of

that period be more populous and more prosperous than the neighboring

despotic States. But it would have incurred the risk of being conquered

much oftener than they would in that lapse of years.

Self-Control Of The American Democracy

The American people acquiesces slowly, or frequently does not

acquiesce, in what is beneficial to its interests—The faults of the

American democracy are for the most part reparable.

The difficulty which a democracy has in conquering the passions and in

subduing the exigencies of the moment, with a view to the future, is

conspicuous in the most trivial occurrences of the United States. The

people, which is surrounded by flatterers, has great difficulty in

surmounting its inclinations, and whenever it is solicited to undergo a

privation or any kind of inconvenience, even to attain an end which is

sanctioned by its own rational conviction, it almost always refuses to

comply at first. The deference of the Americans to the laws has been

very justly applauded; but it must be added that in America the

legislation is made by the people and for the people. Consequently, in

the United States the law favors those classes which are most

interested in evading it elsewhere. It may therefore be supposed that

an offensive law, which should not be acknowledged to be one of

immediate utility, would either not be enacted or would not be obeyed.

In America there is no law against fraudulent bankruptcies; not because

they are few, but because there are a great number of bankruptcies. The

dread of being prosecuted as a bankrupt acts with more intensity upon

the mind of the majority of the people than the fear of being involved

in losses or ruin by the failure of other parties, and a sort of guilty

tolerance is extended by the public conscience to an offence which

everyone condemns in his individual capacity. In the new States of the

Southwest the citizens generally take justice into their own hands, and

murders are of very frequent occurrence. This arises from the rude

manners and the ignorance of the inhabitants of those deserts, who do

not perceive the utility of investing the law with adequate force, and

who prefer duels to prosecutions.

Someone observed to me one day, in Philadelphia, that almost all crimes

in America are caused by the abuse of intoxicating liquors, which the

lower classes can procure in great abundance, from their excessive

cheapness. “How comes it,” said I, “that you do not put a duty upon

brandy?” “Our legislators,” rejoined my informant, “have frequently

thought of this expedient; but the task of putting it in operation is a

difficult one; a revolt might be apprehended, and the members who

should vote for a law of this kind would be sure of losing their

seats.” “Whence I am to infer,” replied I, “that the drinking

population constitutes the majority in your country, and that

temperance is somewhat unpopular.”

When these things are pointed out to the American statesmen, they

content themselves with assuring you that time will operate the

necessary change, and that the experience of evil will teach the people

its true interests. This is frequently true, although a democracy is

more liable to error than a monarch or a body of nobles; the chances of

its regaining the right path when once it has acknowledged its mistake,

are greater also; because it is rarely embarrassed by internal

interests, which conflict with those of the majority, and resist the

authority of reason. But a democracy can only obtain truth as the

result of experience, and many nations may forfeit their existence

whilst they are awaiting the consequences of their errors.

The great privilege of the Americans does not simply consist in their

being more enlightened than other nations, but in their being able to

repair the faults they may commit. To which it must be added, that a

democracy cannot derive substantial benefit from past experience,

unless it be arrived at a certain pitch of knowledge and civilization.

There are tribes and peoples whose education has been so vicious, and

whose character presents so strange a mixture of passion, of ignorance,

and of erroneous notions upon all subjects, that they are unable to

discern the causes of their own wretchedness, and they fall a sacrifice

to ills with which they are unacquainted.

I have crossed vast tracts of country that were formerly inhabited by

powerful Indian nations which are now extinct; I have myself passed

some time in the midst of mutilated tribes, which witness the daily

decline of their numerical strength and of the glory of their

independence; and I have heard these Indians themselves anticipate the

impending doom of their race. Every European can perceive means which

would rescue these unfortunate beings from inevitable destruction. They

alone are insensible to the expedient; they feel the woe which year

after year heaps upon their heads, but they will perish to a man

without accepting the remedy. It would be necessary to employ force to

induce them to submit to the protection and the constraint of

civilization.

The incessant revolutions which have convulsed the South American

provinces for the last quarter of a century have frequently been

adverted to with astonishment, and expectations have been expressed

that those nations would speedily return to their natural state. But

can it be affirmed that the turmoil of revolution is not actually the

most natural state of the South American Spaniards at the present time?

In that country society is plunged into difficulties from which all its

efforts are insufficient to rescue it. The inhabitants of that fair

portion of the Western Hemisphere seem obstinately bent on pursuing the

work of inward havoc. If they fall into a momentary repose from the

effects of exhaustion, that repose prepares them for a fresh state of

frenzy. When I consider their condition, which alternates between

misery and crime, I should be inclined to believe that despotism itself

would be a benefit to them, if it were possible that the words

despotism and benefit could ever be united in my mind.

Conduct Of Foreign Affairs By The American Democracy

Direction given to the foreign policy of the United States by

Washington and Jefferson—Almost all the defects inherent in democratic

institutions are brought to light in the conduct of foreign

affairs—Their advantages are less perceptible.

We have seen that the Federal Constitution entrusts the permanent

direction of the external interests of the nation to the President and

the Senate, *r which tends in some degree to detach the general foreign

policy of the Union from the control of the people. It cannot therefore

be asserted with truth that the external affairs of State are conducted

by the democracy.

r

[ “The President,” says the Constitution, Art. II, sect. 2, Section 2,

“shall have power, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, to

make treaties, provided two-thirds of the senators present concur.” The

reader is reminded that the senators are returned for a term of six

years, and that they are chosen by the legislature of each State.]

The policy of America owes its rise to Washington, and after him to

Jefferson, who established those principles which it observes at the

present day. Washington said in the admirable letter which he addressed

to his fellow-citizens, and which may be looked upon as his political

bequest to the country: “The great rule of conduct for us in regard to

foreign nations is, in extending our commercial relations, to have with

them as little political connection as possible. So far as we have

already formed engagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good

faith. Here let us stop. Europe has a set of primary interests which to

us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence, she must be engaged in

frequent controversies, the causes of which are essentially foreign to

our concerns. Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate

ourselves, by artificial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes of her

politics, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her

friendships or enmities. Our detached and distant situation invites and

enables us to pursue a different course. If we remain one people, under

an efficient government, the period is not far off when we may defy

material injury from external annoyance; when we may take such an

attitude as will cause the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon

to be scrupulously respected; when belligerent nations, under the

impossibility of making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly hazard

the giving us provocation; when we may choose peace or war, as our

interest, guided by justice, shall counsel. Why forego the advantages

of so peculiar a situation? Why quit our own to stand upon foreign

ground? Why, by interweaving our destiny with that of any part of

Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of European

ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or caprice? It is our true policy

to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign

world; so far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me

not be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to existing

engagements. I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to

private affairs, that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat it;

therefore, let those engagements be observed in their genuine sense;

but in my opinion it is unnecessary, and would be unwise, to extend

them. Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable establishments,

in a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary

alliances for extraordinary emergencies.” In a previous part of the

same letter Washington makes the following admirable and just remark:

“The nation which indulges towards another an habitual hatred or an

habitual fondness is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its

animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it

astray from its duty and its interest.”

The political conduct of Washington was always guided by these maxims.

He succeeded in maintaining his country in a state of peace whilst all

the other nations of the globe were at war; and he laid it down as a

fundamental doctrine, that the true interest of the Americans consisted

in a perfect neutrality with regard to the internal dissensions of the

European Powers.

Jefferson went still further, and he introduced a maxim into the policy

of the Union, which affirms that “the Americans ought never to solicit

any privileges from foreign nations, in order not to be obliged to

grant similar privileges themselves.”

These two principles, which were so plain and so just as to be adapted

to the capacity of the populace, have greatly simplified the foreign

policy of the United States. As the Union takes no part in the affairs

of Europe, it has, properly speaking, no foreign interests to discuss,

since it has at present no powerful neighbors on the American

continent. The country is as much removed from the passions of the Old

World by its position as by the line of policy which it has chosen, and

it is neither called upon to repudiate nor to espouse the conflicting

interests of Europe; whilst the dissensions of the New World are still

concealed within the bosom of the future.

The Union is free from all pre-existing obligations, and it is

consequently enabled to profit by the experience of the old nations of

Europe, without being obliged, as they are, to make the best of the

past, and to adapt it to their present circumstances; or to accept that

immense inheritance which they derive from their forefathers—an

inheritance of glory mingled with calamities, and of alliances

conflicting with national antipathies. The foreign policy of the United

States is reduced by its very nature to await the chances of the future

history of the nation, and for the present it consists more in

abstaining from interference than in exerting its activity.

It is therefore very difficult to ascertain, at present, what degree of

sagacity the American democracy will display in the conduct of the

foreign policy of the country; and upon this point its adversaries, as

well as its advocates, must suspend their judgment. As for myself I

have no hesitation in avowing my conviction, that it is most especially

in the conduct of foreign relations that democratic governments appear

to me to be decidedly inferior to governments carried on upon different

principles. Experience, instruction, and habit may almost always

succeed in creating a species of practical discretion in democracies,

and that science of the daily occurrences of life which is called good

sense. Good sense may suffice to direct the ordinary course of society;

and amongst a people whose education has been provided for, the

advantages of democratic liberty in the internal affairs of the country

may more than compensate for the evils inherent in a democratic

government. But such is not always the case in the mutual relations of

foreign nations.

Foreign politics demand scarcely any of those qualities which a

democracy possesses; and they require, on the contrary, the perfect use

of almost all those faculties in which it is deficient. Democracy is

favorable to the increase of the internal resources of the State; it

tends to diffuse a moderate independence; it promotes the growth of

public spirit, and fortifies the respect which is entertained for law

in all classes of society; and these are advantages which only exercise

an indirect influence over the relations which one people bears to

another. But a democracy is unable to regulate the details of an

important undertaking, to persevere in a design, and to work out its

execution in the presence of serious obstacles. It cannot combine its

measures with secrecy, and it will not await their consequences with

patience. These are qualities which more especially belong to an

individual or to an aristocracy; and they are precisely the means by

which an individual people attains to a predominant position.

If, on the contrary, we observe the natural defects of aristocracy, we

shall find that their influence is comparatively innoxious in the

direction of the external affairs of a State. The capital fault of

which aristocratic bodies may be accused is that they are more apt to

contrive their own advantage than that of the mass of the people. In

foreign politics it is rare for the interest of the aristocracy to be

in any way distinct from that of the people.

The propensity which democracies have to obey the impulse of passion

rather than the suggestions of prudence, and to abandon a mature design

for the gratification of a momentary caprice, was very clearly seen in

America on the breaking out of the French Revolution. It was then as

evident to the simplest capacity as it is at the present time that the

interest of the Americans forbade them to take any part in the contest

which was about to deluge Europe with blood, but which could by no

means injure the welfare of their own country. Nevertheless the

sympathies of the people declared themselves with so much violence in

behalf of France that nothing but the inflexible character of

Washington, and the immense popularity which he enjoyed, could have

prevented the Americans from declaring war against England. And even

then, the exertions which the austere reason of that great man made to

repress the generous but imprudent passions of his fellow-citizens,

very nearly deprived him of the sole recompense which he had ever

claimed—that of his country’s love. The majority then reprobated the

line of policy which he adopted, and which has since been unanimously

approved by the nation. *s If the Constitution and the favor of the

public had not entrusted the direction of the foreign affairs of the

country to Washington, it is certain that the American nation would at

that time have taken the very measures which it now condemns.

s

[ See the fifth volume of Marshall’s “Life of Washington.” In a

government constituted like that of the United States, he says, “it is

impossible for the chief magistrate, however firm he may be, to oppose

for any length of time the torrent of popular opinion; and the

prevalent opinion of that day seemed to incline to war. In fact, in the

session of Congress held at the time, it was frequently seen that

Washington had lost the majority in the House of Representatives.” The

violence of the language used against him in public was extreme, and in

a political meeting they did not scruple to compare him indirectly to

the treacherous Arnold. “By the opposition,” says Marshall, “the

friends of the administration were declared to be an aristocratic and

corrupt faction, who, from a desire to introduce monarchy, were hostile

to France and under the influence of Britain; that they were a paper

nobility, whose extreme sensibility at every measure which threatened

the funds, induced a tame submission to injuries and insults, which the

interests and honor of the nation required them to resist.”]

Almost all the nations which have ever exercised a powerful influence

upon the destinies of the world by conceiving, following up, and

executing vast designs—from the Romans to the English—have been

governed by aristocratic institutions. Nor will this be a subject of

wonder when we recollect that nothing in the world has so absolute a

fixity of purpose as an aristocracy. The mass of the people may be led

astray by ignorance or passion; the mind of a king may be biased, and

his perseverance in his designs may be shaken—besides which a king is

not immortal—but an aristocratic body is too numerous to be led astray

by the blandishments of intrigue, and yet not numerous enough to yield

readily to the intoxicating influence of unreflecting passion: it has

the energy of a firm and enlightened individual, added to the power

which it derives from perpetuity.

Chapter XIV: Advantages American Society Derive From Democracy—Part I

What The Real Advantages Are Which American Society Derives From The

Government Of The Democracy

Before I enter upon the subject of the present chapter I am induced to

remind the reader of what I have more than once adverted to in the

course of this book. The political institutions of the United States

appear to me to be one of the forms of government which a democracy may

adopt; but I do not regard the American Constitution as the best, or as

the only one, which a democratic people may establish. In showing the

advantages which the Americans derive from the government of democracy,

I am therefore very far from meaning, or from believing, that similar

advantages can only be obtained from the same laws.

General Tendency Of The Laws Under The Rule Of The American Democracy,

And Habits Of Those Who Apply Them

Defects of a democratic government easy to be discovered—Its advantages

only to be discerned by long observation—Democracy in America often

inexpert, but the general tendency of the laws advantageous—In the

American democracy public officers have no permanent interests distinct

from those of the majority—Result of this state of things.

The defects and the weaknesses of a democratic government may very

readily be discovered; they are demonstrated by the most flagrant

instances, whilst its beneficial influence is less perceptibly

exercised. A single glance suffices to detect its evil consequences,

but its good qualities can only be discerned by long observation. The

laws of the American democracy are frequently defective or incomplete;

they sometimes attack vested rights, or give a sanction to others which

are dangerous to the community; but even if they were good, the

frequent changes which they undergo would be an evil. How comes it,

then, that the American republics prosper and maintain their position?

In the consideration of laws a distinction must be carefully observed

between the end at which they aim and the means by which they are

directed to that end, between their absolute and their relative

excellence. If it be the intention of the legislator to favor the

interests of the minority at the expense of the majority, and if the

measures he takes are so combined as to accomplish the object he has in

view with the least possible expense of time and exertion, the law may

be well drawn up, although its purpose be bad; and the more efficacious

it is, the greater is the mischief which it causes.

Democratic laws generally tend to promote the welfare of the greatest

possible number; for they emanate from the majority of the citizens,

who are subject to error, but who cannot have an interest opposed to

their own advantage. The laws of an aristocracy tend, on the contrary,

to concentrate wealth and power in the hands of the minority, because

an aristocracy, by its very nature, constitutes a minority. It may

therefore be asserted, as a general proposition, that the purpose of a

democracy in the conduct of its legislation is useful to a greater

number of citizens than that of an aristocracy. This is, however, the

sum total of its advantages.

Aristocracies are infinitely more expert in the science of legislation

than democracies ever can be. They are possessed of a self-control

which protects them from the errors of temporary excitement, and they

form lasting designs which they mature with the assistance of favorable

opportunities. Aristocratic government proceeds with the dexterity of

art; it understands how to make the collective force of all its laws

converge at the same time to a given point. Such is not the case with

democracies, whose laws are almost always ineffective or inopportune.

The means of democracy are therefore more imperfect than those of

aristocracy, and the measures which it unwittingly adopts are

frequently opposed to its own cause; but the object it has in view is

more useful.

Let us now imagine a community so organized by nature, or by its

constitution, that it can support the transitory action of bad laws,

and that it can await, without destruction, the general tendency of the

legislation: we shall then be able to conceive that a democratic

government, notwithstanding its defects, will be most fitted to conduce

to the prosperity of this community. This is precisely what has

occurred in the United States; and I repeat, what I have before

remarked, that the great advantage of the Americans consists in their

being able to commit faults which they may afterward repair.

An analogous observation may be made respecting public officers. It is

easy to perceive that the American democracy frequently errs in the

choice of the individuals to whom it entrusts the power of the

administration; but it is more difficult to say why the State prospers

under their rule. In the first place it is to be remarked, that if in a

democratic State the governors have less honesty and less capacity than

elsewhere, the governed, on the other hand, are more enlightened and

more attentive to their interests. As the people in democracies is more

incessantly vigilant in its affairs and more jealous of its rights, it

prevents its representatives from abandoning that general line of

conduct which its own interest prescribes. In the second place, it must

be remembered that if the democratic magistrate is more apt to misuse

his power, he possesses it for a shorter period of time. But there is

yet another reason which is still more general and conclusive. It is no

doubt of importance to the welfare of nations that they should be

governed by men of talents and virtue; but it is perhaps still more

important that the interests of those men should not differ from the

interests of the community at large; for, if such were the case,

virtues of a high order might become useless, and talents might be

turned to a bad account. I say that it is important that the interests

of the persons in authority should not conflict with or oppose the

interests of the community at large; but I do not insist upon their

having the same interests as the whole population, because I am not

aware that such a state of things ever existed in any country.

No political form has hitherto been discovered which is equally

favorable to the prosperity and the development of all the classes into

which society is divided. These classes continue to form, as it were, a

certain number of distinct nations in the same nation; and experience

has shown that it is no less dangerous to place the fate of these

classes exclusively in the hands of any one of them than it is to make

one people the arbiter of the destiny of another. When the rich alone

govern, the interest of the poor is always endangered; and when the

poor make the laws, that of the rich incurs very serious risks. The

advantage of democracy does not consist, therefore, as has sometimes

been asserted, in favoring the prosperity of all, but simply in

contributing to the well-being of the greatest possible number.

The men who are entrusted with the direction of public affairs in the

United States are frequently inferior, both in point of capacity and of

morality, to those whom aristocratic institutions would raise to power.

But their interest is identified and confounded with that of the

majority of their fellow-citizens. They may frequently be faithless and

frequently mistaken, but they will never systematically adopt a line of

conduct opposed to the will of the majority; and it is impossible that

they should give a dangerous or an exclusive tendency to the

government.

The mal-administration of a democratic magistrate is a mere isolated

fact, which only occurs during the short period for which he is

elected. Corruption and incapacity do not act as common interests,

which may connect men permanently with one another. A corrupt or an

incapable magistrate will not concert his measures with another

magistrate, simply because that individual is as corrupt and as

incapable as himself; and these two men will never unite their

endeavors to promote the corruption and inaptitude of their remote

posterity. The ambition and the manoeuvres of the one will serve, on

the contrary, to unmask the other. The vices of a magistrate, in

democratic states, are usually peculiar to his own person.

But under aristocratic governments public men are swayed by the

interest of their order, which, if it is sometimes confounded with the

interests of the majority, is very frequently distinct from them. This

interest is the common and lasting bond which unites them together; it

induces them to coalesce, and to combine their efforts in order to

attain an end which does not always ensure the greatest happiness of

the greatest number; and it serves not only to connect the persons in

authority, but to unite them to a considerable portion of the

community, since a numerous body of citizens belongs to the

aristocracy, without being invested with official functions. The

aristocratic magistrate is therefore constantly supported by a portion

of the community, as well as by the Government of which he is a member.

The common purpose which connects the interest of the magistrates in

aristocracies with that of a portion of their contemporaries identifies

it with that of future generations; their influence belongs to the

future as much as to the present. The aristocratic magistrate is urged

at the same time toward the same point by the passions of the

community, by his own, and I may almost add by those of his posterity.

Is it, then, wonderful that he does not resist such repeated impulses?

And indeed aristocracies are often carried away by the spirit of their

order without being corrupted by it; and they unconsciously fashion

society to their own ends, and prepare it for their own descendants.

The English aristocracy is perhaps the most liberal which ever existed,

and no body of men has ever, uninterruptedly, furnished so many

honorable and enlightened individuals to the government of a country.

It cannot, however, escape observation that in the legislation of

England the good of the poor has been sacrificed to the advantage of

the rich, and the rights of the majority to the privileges of the few.

The consequence is, that England, at the present day, combines the

extremes of fortune in the bosom of her society, and her perils and

calamities are almost equal to her power and her renown. *a

a

[ [The legislation of England for the forty years is certainly not

fairly open to this criticism, which was written before the Reform Bill

of 1832, and accordingly Great Britain has thus far escaped and

surmounted the perils and calamities to which she seemed to be

exposed.]]

In the United States, where the public officers have no interests to

promote connected with their caste, the general and constant influence

of the Government is beneficial, although the individuals who conduct

it are frequently unskilful and sometimes contemptible. There is indeed

a secret tendency in democratic institutions to render the exertions of

the citizens subservient to the prosperity of the community,

notwithstanding their private vices and mistakes; whilst in

aristocratic institutions there is a secret propensity which,

notwithstanding the talents and the virtues of those who conduct the

government, leads them to contribute to the evils which oppress their

fellow-creatures. In aristocratic governments public men may frequently

do injuries which they do not intend, and in democratic states they

produce advantages which they never thought of.

Public Spirit In The United States

Patriotism of instinct—Patriotism of reflection—Their different

characteristics—Nations ought to strive to acquire the second when the

first has disappeared—Efforts of the Americans to it—Interest of the

individual intimately connected with that of the country.

There is one sort of patriotic attachment which principally arises from

that instinctive, disinterested, and undefinable feeling which connects

the affections of man with his birthplace. This natural fondness is

united to a taste for ancient customs, and to a reverence for ancestral

traditions of the past; those who cherish it love their country as they

love the mansions of their fathers. They enjoy the tranquillity which

it affords them; they cling to the peaceful habits which they have

contracted within its bosom; they are attached to the reminiscences

which it awakens, and they are even pleased by the state of obedience

in which they are placed. This patriotism is sometimes stimulated by

religious enthusiasm, and then it is capable of making the most

prodigious efforts. It is in itself a kind of religion; it does not

reason, but it acts from the impulse of faith and of sentiment. By some

nations the monarch has been regarded as a personification of the

country; and the fervor of patriotism being converted into the fervor

of loyalty, they took a sympathetic pride in his conquests, and gloried

in his power. At one time, under the ancient monarchy, the French felt

a sort of satisfaction in the sense of their dependence upon the

arbitrary pleasure of their king, and they were wont to say with pride,

“We are the subjects of the most powerful king in the world.”

But, like all instinctive passions, this kind of patriotism is more apt

to prompt transient exertion than to supply the motives of continuous

endeavor. It may save the State in critical circumstances, but it will

not unfrequently allow the nation to decline in the midst of peace.

Whilst the manners of a people are simple and its faith unshaken,

whilst society is steadily based upon traditional institutions whose

legitimacy has never been contested, this instinctive patriotism is

wont to endure.

But there is another species of attachment to a country which is more

rational than the one we have been describing. It is perhaps less

generous and less ardent, but it is more fruitful and more lasting; it

is coeval with the spread of knowledge, it is nurtured by the laws, it

grows by the exercise of civil rights, and, in the end, it is

confounded with the personal interest of the citizen. A man comprehends

the influence which the prosperity of his country has upon his own

welfare; he is aware that the laws authorize him to contribute his

assistance to that prosperity, and he labors to promote it as a portion

of his interest in the first place, and as a portion of his right in

the second.

But epochs sometimes occur, in the course of the existence of a nation,

at which the ancient customs of a people are changed, public morality

destroyed, religious belief disturbed, and the spell of tradition

broken, whilst the diffusion of knowledge is yet imperfect, and the

civil rights of the community are ill secured, or confined within very

narrow limits. The country then assumes a dim and dubious shape in the

eyes of the citizens; they no longer behold it in the soil which they

inhabit, for that soil is to them a dull inanimate clod; nor in the

usages of their forefathers, which they have been taught to look upon

as a debasing yoke; nor in religion, for of that they doubt; nor in the

laws, which do not originate in their own authority; nor in the

legislator, whom they fear and despise. The country is lost to their

senses, they can neither discover it under its own nor under borrowed

features, and they entrench themselves within the dull precincts of a

narrow egotism. They are emancipated from prejudice without having

acknowledged the empire of reason; they are neither animated by the

instinctive patriotism of monarchical subjects nor by the thinking

patriotism of republican citizens; but they have stopped halfway

between the two, in the midst of confusion and of distress.

In this predicament, to retreat is impossible; for a people cannot

restore the vivacity of its earlier times, any more than a man can

return to the innocence and the bloom of childhood; such things may be

regretted, but they cannot be renewed. The only thing, then, which

remains to be done is to proceed, and to accelerate the union of

private with public interests, since the period of disinterested

patriotism is gone by forever.

I am certainly very far from averring that, in order to obtain this

result, the exercise of political rights should be immediately granted

to all the members of the community. But I maintain that the most

powerful, and perhaps the only, means of interesting men in the welfare

of their country which we still possess is to make them partakers in

the Government. At the present time civic zeal seems to me to be

inseparable from the exercise of political rights; and I hold that the

number of citizens will be found to augment or to decrease in Europe in

proportion as those rights are extended.

In the United States the inhabitants were thrown but as yesterday upon

the soil which they now occupy, and they brought neither customs nor

traditions with them there; they meet each other for the first time

with no previous acquaintance; in short, the instinctive love of their

country can scarcely exist in their minds; but everyone takes as

zealous an interest in the affairs of his township, his county, and of

the whole State, as if they were his own, because everyone, in his

sphere, takes an active part in the government of society.

The lower orders in the United States are alive to the perception of

the influence exercised by the general prosperity upon their own

welfare; and simple as this observation is, it is one which is but too

rarely made by the people. But in America the people regards this

prosperity as the result of its own exertions; the citizen looks upon

the fortune of the public as his private interest, and he co-operates

in its success, not so much from a sense of pride or of duty, as from

what I shall venture to term cupidity.

It is unnecessary to study the institutions and the history of the

Americans in order to discover the truth of this remark, for their

manners render it sufficiently evident. As the American participates in

all that is done in his country, he thinks himself obliged to defend

whatever may be censured; for it is not only his country which is

attacked upon these occasions, but it is himself. The consequence is,

that his national pride resorts to a thousand artifices, and to all the

petty tricks of individual vanity.

Nothing is more embarrassing in the ordinary intercourse of life than

this irritable patriotism of the Americans. A stranger may be very well

inclined to praise many of the institutions of their country, but he

begs permission to blame some of the peculiarities which he observes—a

permission which is, however, inexorably refused. America is therefore

a free country, in which, lest anybody should be hurt by your remarks,

you are not allowed to speak freely of private individuals, or of the

State, of the citizens or of the authorities, of public or of private

undertakings, or, in short, of anything at all, except it be of the

climate and the soil; and even then Americans will be found ready to

defend either the one or the other, as if they had been contrived by

the inhabitants of the country.

In our times option must be made between the patriotism of all and the

government of a few; for the force and activity which the first confers

are irreconcilable with the guarantees of tranquillity which the second

furnishes.

Notion Of Rights In The United States

No great people without a notion of rights—How the notion of rights can

be given to people—Respect of rights in the United States—Whence it

arises.

After the idea of virtue, I know no higher principle than that of

right; or, to speak more accurately, these two ideas are commingled in

one. The idea of right is simply that of virtue introduced into the

political world. It is the idea of right which enabled men to define

anarchy and tyranny; and which taught them to remain independent

without arrogance, as well as to obey without servility. The man who

submits to violence is debased by his compliance; but when he obeys the

mandate of one who possesses that right of authority which he

acknowledges in a fellow-creature, he rises in some measure above the

person who delivers the command. There are no great men without virtue,

and there are no great nations—it may almost be added that there would

be no society—without the notion of rights; for what is the condition

of a mass of rational and intelligent beings who are only united

together by the bond of force?

I am persuaded that the only means which we possess at the present time

of inculcating the notion of rights, and of rendering it, as it were,

palpable to the senses, is to invest all the members of the community

with the peaceful exercise of certain rights: this is very clearly seen

in children, who are men without the strength and the experience of

manhood. When a child begins to move in the midst of the objects which

surround him, he is instinctively led to turn everything which he can

lay his hands upon to his own purposes; he has no notion of the

property of others; but as he gradually learns the value of things, and

begins to perceive that he may in his turn be deprived of his

possessions, he becomes more circumspect, and he observes those rights

in others which he wishes to have respected in himself. The principle

which the child derives from the possession of his toys is taught to

the man by the objects which he may call his own. In America those

complaints against property in general which are so frequent in Europe

are never heard, because in America there are no paupers; and as

everyone has property of his own to defend, everyone recognizes the

principle upon which he holds it.

The same thing occurs in the political world. In America the lowest

classes have conceived a very high notion of political rights, because

they exercise those rights; and they refrain from attacking those of

other people, in order to ensure their own from attack. Whilst in

Europe the same classes sometimes recalcitrate even against the supreme

power, the American submits without a murmur to the authority of the

pettiest magistrate.

This truth is exemplified by the most trivial details of national

peculiarities. In France very few pleasures are exclusively reserved

for the higher classes; the poor are admitted wherever the rich are

received, and they consequently behave with propriety, and respect

whatever contributes to the enjoyments in which they themselves

participate. In England, where wealth has a monopoly of amusement as

well as of power, complaints are made that whenever the poor happen to

steal into the enclosures which are reserved for the pleasures of the

rich, they commit acts of wanton mischief: can this be wondered at,

since care has been taken that they should have nothing to lose? *b

b

[ [This, too, has been amended by much larger provisions for the

amusements of the people in public parks, gardens, museums, etc.; and

the conduct of the people in these places of amusement has improved in

the same proportion.]]

The government of democracy brings the notion of political rights to

the level of the humblest citizens, just as the dissemination of wealth

brings the notion of property within the reach of all the members of

the community; and I confess that, to my mind, this is one of its

greatest advantages. I do not assert that it is easy to teach men to

exercise political rights; but I maintain that, when it is possible,

the effects which result from it are highly important; and I add that,

if there ever was a time at which such an attempt ought to be made,

that time is our own. It is clear that the influence of religious

belief is shaken, and that the notion of divine rights is declining; it

is evident that public morality is vitiated, and the notion of moral

rights is also disappearing: these are general symptoms of the

substitution of argument for faith, and of calculation for the impulses

of sentiment. If, in the midst of this general disruption, you do not

succeed in connecting the notion of rights with that of personal

interest, which is the only immutable point in the human heart, what

means will you have of governing the world except by fear? When I am

told that, since the laws are weak and the populace is wild, since

passions are excited and the authority of virtue is paralyzed, no

measures must be taken to increase the rights of the democracy, I

reply, that it is for these very reasons that some measures of the kind

must be taken; and I am persuaded that governments are still more

interested in taking them than society at large, because governments

are liable to be destroyed and society cannot perish.

I am not, however, inclined to exaggerate the example which America

furnishes. In those States the people are invested with political

rights at a time when they could scarcely be abused, for the citizens

were few in number and simple in their manners. As they have increased,

the Americans have not augmented the power of the democracy, but they

have, if I may use the expression, extended its dominions. It cannot be

doubted that the moment at which political rights are granted to a

people that had before been without them is a very critical, though it

be a necessary one. A child may kill before he is aware of the value of

life; and he may deprive another person of his property before he is

aware that his own may be taken away from him. The lower orders, when

first they are invested with political rights, stand, in relation to

those rights, in the same position as the child does to the whole of

nature, and the celebrated adage may then be applied to them, Homo puer

robustus. This truth may even be perceived in America. The States in

which the citizens have enjoyed their rights longest are those in which

they make the best use of them.

It cannot be repeated too often that nothing is more fertile in

prodigies than the art of being free; but there is nothing more arduous

than the apprenticeship of liberty. Such is not the case with despotic

institutions: despotism often promises to make amends for a thousand

previous ills; it supports the right, it protects the oppressed, and it

maintains public order. The nation is lulled by the temporary

prosperity which accrues to it, until it is roused to a sense of its

own misery. Liberty, on the contrary, is generally established in the

midst of agitation, it is perfected by civil discord, and its benefits

cannot be appreciated until it is already old.

Chapter XIV: Advantages American Society Derive From Democracy—Part II

Respect For The Law In The United States

Respect of the Americans for the law—Parental affection which they

entertain for it—Personal interest of everyone to increase the

authority of the law.

It is not always feasible to consult the whole people, either directly

or indirectly, in the formation of the law; but it cannot be denied

that, when such a measure is possible the authority of the law is very

much augmented. This popular origin, which impairs the excellence and

the wisdom of legislation, contributes prodigiously to increase its

power. There is an amazing strength in the expression of the

determination of a whole people, and when it declares itself the

imagination of those who are most inclined to contest it is overawed by

its authority. The truth of this fact is very well known by parties,

and they consequently strive to make out a majority whenever they can.

If they have not the greater number of voters on their side, they

assert that the true majority abstained from voting; and if they are

foiled even there, they have recourse to the body of those persons who

had no votes to give.

In the United States, except slaves, servants, and paupers in the

receipt of relief from the townships, there is no class of persons who

do not exercise the elective franchise, and who do not indirectly

contribute to make the laws. Those who design to attack the laws must

consequently either modify the opinion of the nation or trample upon

its decision.

A second reason, which is still more weighty, may be further adduced;

in the United States everyone is personally interested in enforcing the

obedience of the whole community to the law; for as the minority may

shortly rally the majority to its principles, it is interested in

professing that respect for the decrees of the legislator which it may

soon have occasion to claim for its own. However irksome an enactment

may be, the citizen of the United States complies with it, not only

because it is the work of the majority, but because it originates in

his own authority, and he regards it as a contract to which he is

himself a party.

In the United States, then, that numerous and turbulent multitude does

not exist which always looks upon the law as its natural enemy, and

accordingly surveys it with fear and with fear and with distrust. It is

impossible, on the other hand, not to perceive that all classes display

the utmost reliance upon the legislation of their country, and that

they are attached to it by a kind of parental affection.

I am wrong, however, in saying all classes; for as in America the

European scale of authority is inverted, the wealthy are there placed

in a position analogous to that of the poor in the Old World, and it is

the opulent classes which frequently look upon the law with suspicion.

I have already observed that the advantage of democracy is not, as has

been sometimes asserted, that it protects the interests of the whole

community, but simply that it protects those of the majority. In the

United States, where the poor rule, the rich have always some reason to

dread the abuses of their power. This natural anxiety of the rich may

produce a sullen dissatisfaction, but society is not disturbed by it;

for the same reason which induces the rich to withhold their confidence

in the legislative authority makes them obey its mandates; their

wealth, which prevents them from making the law, prevents them from

withstanding it. Amongst civilized nations revolts are rarely excited,

except by such persons as have nothing to lose by them; and if the laws

of a democracy are not always worthy of respect, at least they always

obtain it; for those who usually infringe the laws have no excuse for

not complying with the enactments they have themselves made, and by

which they are themselves benefited, whilst the citizens whose

interests might be promoted by the infraction of them are induced, by

their character and their stations, to submit to the decisions of the

legislature, whatever they may be. Besides which, the people in America

obeys the law not only because it emanates from the popular authority,

but because that authority may modify it in any points which may prove

vexatory; a law is observed because it is a self-imposed evil in the

first place, and an evil of transient duration in the second.

Activity Which Pervades All The Branches Of The Body Politic In The

United States; Influence Which It Exercises Upon Society

More difficult to conceive the political activity which pervades the

United States than the freedom and equality which reign there—The great

activity which perpetually agitates the legislative bodies is only an

episode to the general activity—Difficult for an American to confine

himself to his own business—Political agitation extends to all social

intercourse—Commercial activity of the Americans partly attributable to

this cause—Indirect advantages which society derives from a democratic

government.

On passing from a country in which free institutions are established to

one where they do not exist, the traveller is struck by the change; in

the former all is bustle and activity, in the latter everything is calm

and motionless. In the one, amelioration and progress are the general

topics of inquiry; in the other, it seems as if the community only

aspired to repose in the enjoyment of the advantages which it has

acquired. Nevertheless, the country which exerts itself so strenuously

to promote its welfare is generally more wealthy and more prosperous

than that which appears to be so contented with its lot; and when we

compare them together, we can scarcely conceive how so many new wants

are daily felt in the former, whilst so few seem to occur in the

latter.

If this remark is applicable to those free countries in which

monarchical and aristocratic institutions subsist, it is still more

striking with regard to democratic republics. In these States it is not

only a portion of the people which is busied with the amelioration of

its social condition, but the whole community is engaged in the task;

and it is not the exigencies and the convenience of a single class for

which a provision is to be made, but the exigencies and the convenience

of all ranks of life.

It is not impossible to conceive the surpassing liberty which the

Americans enjoy; some idea may likewise be formed of the extreme

equality which subsists amongst them, but the political activity which

pervades the United States must be seen in order to be understood. No

sooner do you set foot upon the American soil than you are stunned by a

kind of tumult; a confused clamor is heard on every side; and a

thousand simultaneous voices demand the immediate satisfaction of their

social wants. Everything is in motion around you; here, the people of

one quarter of a town are met to decide upon the building of a church;

there, the election of a representative is going on; a little further

the delegates of a district are posting to the town in order to consult

upon some local improvements; or in another place the laborers of a

village quit their ploughs to deliberate upon the project of a road or

a public school. Meetings are called for the sole purpose of declaring

their disapprobation of the line of conduct pursued by the Government;

whilst in other assemblies the citizens salute the authorities of the

day as the fathers of their country. Societies are formed which regard

drunkenness as the principal cause of the evils under which the State

labors, and which solemnly bind themselves to give a constant example

of temperance. *c

c

[ At the time of my stay in the United States the temperance societies

already consisted of more than 270,000 members, and their effect had

been to diminish the consumption of fermented liquors by 500,000

gallons per annum in the State of Pennsylvania alone.]

The great political agitation of the American legislative bodies, which

is the only kind of excitement that attracts the attention of foreign

countries, is a mere episode or a sort of continuation of that

universal movement which originates in the lowest classes of the people

and extends successively to all the ranks of society. It is impossible

to spend more efforts in the pursuit of enjoyment.

The cares of political life engross a most prominent place in the

occupation of a citizen in the United States, and almost the only

pleasure of which an American has any idea is to take a part in the

Government, and to discuss the part he has taken. This feeling pervades

the most trifling habits of life; even the women frequently attend

public meetings and listen to political harangues as a recreation after

their household labors. Debating clubs are to a certain extent a

substitute for theatrical entertainments: an American cannot converse,

but he can discuss; and when he attempts to talk he falls into a

dissertation. He speaks to you as if he was addressing a meeting; and

if he should chance to warm in the course of the discussion, he will

infallibly say, “Gentlemen,” to the person with whom he is conversing.

In some countries the inhabitants display a certain repugnance to avail

themselves of the political privileges with which the law invests them;

it would seem that they set too high a value upon their time to spend

it on the interests of the community; and they prefer to withdraw

within the exact limits of a wholesome egotism, marked out by four sunk

fences and a quickset hedge. But if an American were condemned to

confine his activity to his own affairs, he would be robbed of one half

of his existence; he would feel an immense void in the life which he is

accustomed to lead, and his wretchedness would be unbearable. *d I am

persuaded that, if ever a despotic government is established in

America, it will find it more difficult to surmount the habits which

free institutions have engendered than to conquer the attachment of the

citizens to freedom.

d

[ The same remark was made at Rome under the first Caesars. Montesquieu

somewhere alludes to the excessive despondency of certain Roman

citizens who, after the excitement of political life, were all at once

flung back into the stagnation of private life.]

This ceaseless agitation which democratic government has introduced

into the political world influences all social intercourse. I am not

sure that upon the whole this is not the greatest advantage of

democracy. And I am much less inclined to applaud it for what it does

than for what it causes to be done. It is incontestable that the people

frequently conducts public business very ill; but it is impossible that

the lower orders should take a part in public business without

extending the circle of their ideas, and without quitting the ordinary

routine of their mental acquirements. The humblest individual who is

called upon to co-operate in the government of society acquires a

certain degree of self-respect; and as he possesses authority, he can

command the services of minds much more enlightened than his own. He is

canvassed by a multitude of applicants, who seek to deceive him in a

thousand different ways, but who instruct him by their deceit. He takes

a part in political undertakings which did not originate in his own

conception, but which give him a taste for undertakings of the kind.

New ameliorations are daily pointed out in the property which he holds

in common with others, and this gives him the desire of improving that

property which is more peculiarly his own. He is perhaps neither

happier nor better than those who came before him, but he is better

informed and more active. I have no doubt that the democratic

institutions of the United States, joined to the physical constitution

of the country, are the cause (not the direct, as is so often asserted,

but the indirect cause) of the prodigious commercial activity of the

inhabitants. It is not engendered by the laws, but the people learns

how to promote it by the experience derived from legislation.

When the opponents of democracy assert that a single individual

performs the duties which he undertakes much better than the government

of the community, it appears to me that they are perfectly right. The

government of an individual, supposing an equality of instruction on

either side, is more consistent, more persevering, and more accurate

than that of a multitude, and it is much better qualified judiciously

to discriminate the characters of the men it employs. If any deny what

I advance, they have certainly never seen a democratic government, or

have formed their opinion upon very partial evidence. It is true that

even when local circumstances and the disposition of the people allow

democratic institutions to subsist, they never display a regular and

methodical system of government. Democratic liberty is far from

accomplishing all the projects it undertakes, with the skill of an

adroit despotism. It frequently abandons them before they have borne

their fruits, or risks them when the consequences may prove dangerous;

but in the end it produces more than any absolute government, and if it

do fewer things well, it does a greater number of things. Under its

sway the transactions of the public administration are not nearly so

important as what is done by private exertion. Democracy does not

confer the most skilful kind of government upon the people, but it

produces that which the most skilful governments are frequently unable

to awaken, namely, an all-pervading and restless activity, a

superabundant force, and an energy which is inseparable from it, and

which may, under favorable circumstances, beget the most amazing

benefits. These are the true advantages of democracy.

In the present age, when the destinies of Christendom seem to be in

suspense, some hasten to assail democracy as its foe whilst it is yet

in its early growth; and others are ready with their vows of adoration

for this new deity which is springing forth from chaos: but both

parties are very imperfectly acquainted with the object of their hatred

or of their desires; they strike in the dark, and distribute their

blows by mere chance.

We must first understand what the purport of society and the aim of

government is held to be. If it be your intention to confer a certain

elevation upon the human mind, and to teach it to regard the things of

this world with generous feelings, to inspire men with a scorn of mere

temporal advantage, to give birth to living convictions, and to keep

alive the spirit of honorable devotedness; if you hold it to be a good

thing to refine the habits, to embellish the manners, to cultivate the

arts of a nation, and to promote the love of poetry, of beauty, and of

renown; if you would constitute a people not unfitted to act with power

upon all other nations, nor unprepared for those high enterprises

which, whatever be the result of its efforts, will leave a name forever

famous in time—if you believe such to be the principal object of

society, you must avoid the government of democracy, which would be a

very uncertain guide to the end you have in view.

But if you hold it to be expedient to divert the moral and intellectual

activity of man to the production of comfort, and to the acquirement of

the necessaries of life; if a clear understanding be more profitable to

man than genius; if your object be not to stimulate the virtues of

heroism, but to create habits of peace; if you had rather witness vices

than crimes and are content to meet with fewer noble deeds, provided

offences be diminished in the same proportion; if, instead of living in

the midst of a brilliant state of society, you are contented to have

prosperity around you; if, in short, you are of opinion that the

principal object of a Government is not to confer the greatest possible

share of power and of glory upon the body of the nation, but to ensure

the greatest degree of enjoyment and the least degree of misery to each

of the individuals who compose it—if such be your desires, you can have

no surer means of satisfying them than by equalizing the conditions of

men, and establishing democratic institutions.

But if the time be passed at which such a choice was possible, and if

some superhuman power impel us towards one or the other of these two

governments without consulting our wishes, let us at least endeavor to

make the best of that which is allotted to us; and let us so inquire

into its good and its evil propensities as to be able to foster the

former and repress the latter to the utmost.

Chapter XV: Unlimited Power Of Majority, And Its Consequences—Part I

Chapter Summary

Natural strength of the majority in democracies—Most of the American

Constitutions have increased this strength by artificial means—How this

has been done—Pledged delegates—Moral power of the majority—Opinion as

to its infallibility—Respect for its rights, how augmented in the

United States.

Unlimited Power Of The Majority In The United States, And Its

Consequences

The very essence of democratic government consists in the absolute

sovereignty of the majority; for there is nothing in democratic States

which is capable of resisting it. Most of the American Constitutions

have sought to increase this natural strength of the majority by

artificial means. *a

a

[ We observed, in examining the Federal Constitution, that the efforts

of the legislators of the Union had been diametrically opposed to the

present tendency. The consequence has been that the Federal Government

is more independent in its sphere than that of the States. But the

Federal Government scarcely ever interferes in any but external

affairs; and the governments of the State are in the governments of the

States are in reality the authorities which direct society in America.]