_Politics.--Parties.--The Gentleman and the Politician.--"Honest
John" and "Jolly Roger."--The Irish in America.--Why the Americans
are in Favour of Home Rule.--The Mayor of New York and the Green
Flag.--The German Yankees.--The American Constitution and the
President.--Executive and Legislative Powers.--England is a
Freer Country than America.--The Elections.--An Anecdote of M.
Jules Grevy._
In America the pursuit of politics is a liberal profession--very liberal
for those who take it up.
In America, as in England, there are two great political parties;
instead of being called Conservatives and Liberals, they are called
Republicans and Democrats. The difference which exists between these
parties is this: One is in power, and tries to stay in; the other is
out, and tries to get in.
All that is done by the one is condemned in advance by the other,
whichever the other may be. It is _parti-otism_.
Good society keeps prudently aloof from politics and politicians. When a
servant announces a politician, his master whispers in his ear: "John,
lock up the plate, and take care there is nothing lying about."[12]
John, faithful to orders, stands sentinel in the hall, and, while he is
showing out the politician, keeps an eye on the umbrellas and overcoats.
[12] I once made this statement before a London audience. An
Englishman was heard to remark to his neighbour: "Is this
a fact I wonder?"
For that matter, the American democracy is no exception to the rule. To
become a chemist, you must study chemistry; to become a lawyer, you must
study law; but, in a democracy, to be a politician you need only study
your interests. Enlightened, educated, well-bred Americans have no
desire to be confounded with the heroes of the Stump, and stand back;
the rich financiers and merchants are too busy to take up politics; the
senators and congressmen are more or less the chosen of the common
people, and good society says: "No, thank you; I prefer to stay at
home." Thus it is that the ground remains clear for the noisy
mediocrities, and that a gentleman has only to mix himself up in
politics to become a _declasse_. He must reach the White House to
inspire a little respect. The American gentleman has not the least
ambition to see his fair name dragged in the mud; to hear himself called
"thief," or nicknamed "Honest John," "Jolly Roger," or what not. He
takes a joke as well as another; but if you were to call him "Senator"
or "Congressman," he would have you up for defamation of character. The
President himself, capable and upright as he is, does not altogether
escape the contempt which the politician inspires in the man of
refinement.
When I was asked, in America, what celebrities I had met, I generally
answered: "First of all, I have had the honour of paying my respects to
your President." I invariably missed my effect. "Ah, really!" people
would say--"but, there, you are a foreigner." This was an excuse, I
suppose; for the Americans did not shut their doors upon me.
* * * * *
Contemporary America is governed by the Irish.
The Germans, the Scandinavians, all those crowds of foreigners that,
year by year, flock to the New World to find a livelihood, and which
America gradually assimilates, go West to fell forests and reclaim the
land. But the Irish pitch their tents, for the most part, in the large
cities, where they congregate together and turn their attention to
politics. The city of New York, for instance, which has been
successively conquered by the Dutch, the English, and the Yankees, is
to-day in the hands of the Irish. New York is the real capital of
Ireland.
I was in America on the 17th of March, St. Patrick's Day. I remember
that the Irish demanded to have the day officially celebrated in New
York, and the Mayor was requested to hoist the green flag over the City
Hall. This gentleman, for refusing to comply, was next day pronounced a
"false patriot" and a "traitor."
The English are always wondering why Americans all seem to be in favour
of Home Rule, and ready to back up the cause with their dollars. Why? I
will tell you. Because they are in hopes that, when the Irish get
Ireland, they will all go home.
I, too, would like to see the Irish in possession of Ireland, but for
other reasons. First and chiefly, because they are good patriots, and,
though in a foreign land, even naturalized Americans, they do not forget
their beloved country. Americans though they be in their new home, they
yet remain Irish. They give their allegiance to America; but their
hearts remain true to Ireland.
What a contrast to the Germans whom you find in the United States! These
forget their mother-tongue, and their children do not speak it. They
abuse their country.
Wherever the German settles he becomes "native." He is not a colonizer:
he adopts at the outset the customs, creed, and language of his new
Fatherland: I believe he would become a nigger in Africa. But this has
always been his wont. When the Germanic hordes invaded Gaul in the fifth
century, they became Gauls in a very little time: spoke Latin, and,
thanks be, only left in our language about five hundred words of
Teutonic origin.
How can one help wishing that they may one day return to their country,
those Irish, who, a thousand leagues from Ireland, remain Irish still?
How can one help loving them, those brave sons of Erin, so amiable and
witty?
I have many times been asked why, having written on the subject of
England and Scotland, I had no intention of publishing my impressions of
the Irish.
My answer is this: in speaking of a people, I like to touch on their
pet transgressions, their faults and weaknesses, and I have never been
able to find any in the Irish.
You will understand now why I would not risk the little reputation I may
have made, and write of the Irish.
* * * * *
Upon the strength of a six months' sojourn in America, one would hardly
attempt to deliver a verdict on the political system of the country.
I think, however, that it may safely be affirmed that the English are a
freer people than the Americans; that the constitutional--I had almost
said republican--monarchy of England is preferable to the authoritative
democracy of America.
The American Constitution was copied from that of the England of 1776,
and the President of the United States was invested with a power about
equal to that of George III. Since that date the English have advanced,
but the Americans have not. Now, in these cases, not to advance is to go
back. The English of the year of grace 1888 would soon give their queen
notice to quit, if she took it into her head to ask for power equal to
that possessed by the President of the United States: it would take less
time, perhaps, than the Americans would need to get rid of a troublesome
President.
For four years the Americans are at the mercy of their chief
representatives. Scarcely have the latter gone through their
apprenticeship in the science of politics and government, when they have
to go home. The consequence is, that there are but novices:
politicians, but no statesmen. These small politicians excite the
interest of the public so little, that the American newspapers furnish
their readers with many more details about what is said at Westminster,
at the Palais Bourbon, and at the Reichstag, than about what is being
done at the Capitol in Washington.
Reforms are constantly talked of in America, but how obtain them? Public
opinion has but a secondary influence upon the Government. The English
would obtain a constitutional reform in much less time than the
Americans. In England, all officials are the servants of the public; in
America, they are their masters. The English Parliament is constantly
influenced by public opinion; the American Congress is not so influenced
at all, and the people's representatives rarely give account to their
electors of the way in which they have acquitted themselves of their
charge.
There is not one out of a thousand educated Americans, there is not one
honest newspaper, that does not demand the immediate passing of the
Copyright Bill; yet Congress turns a deaf ear to the wishes of the
people with perfect impunity. This is one example among a hundred.
During four years the President has almost _carte blanche_. He can
declare war and stop legislation. Mr. Glover Cleveland has already
vetoed 120 bills. An authoritative democracy like this seems to present
all the dangers of an absolute monarchy, without possessing, as a
compensation, the advantages of fixity.
The position of this President is very curious. Imagine to yourself a
king who, after four years' service, disappears into the obscurity of
private life, is no more heard of than a late Lord Mayor unless he has
been assassinated, and whose very features are forgotten, unless they
have been perpetuated upon dollar bills and postage stamps.
The Presidential election, which takes place every fourth year, is the
most feverish phase of the feverish American life. The whole nation
becomes delirious. Several months before the day fixed, every mind is
preoccupied with but one thing, the election. The newspapers are full of
it; conversation has no other subject. Passions are let loose; intrigues
are on foot; the most odious calumnies are circulated; men stop at
nothing that may give the victory to their party. For three or four
weeks prior to the election, the country is given over to processions,
meetings, banners, stump speeches, torch-light marches. As soon as Fate
has decided between the candidates, calm is restored, the fray ceases,
arms are extended only in hand-shakings, the vanquished accept their
defeat with as much bravery as they had displayed in the struggle, and
everyone goes once more about his business.
* * * * *
The United States well deserve their name. The Union is a true and firm
one. It reposes on contentment. It is composed of over thirty republics,
_republicae in Republica_. Each State has its governor and its two Houses
of Legislature; that is to say, each governs itself in its own fashion.
For instance, in certain States you cannot obtain a divorce except from
an unfaithful wife; in another, you can obtain it by proving that your
wife habitually has your chops served overdone. In one State, the law
does not punish drunkenness as an offence; in another, the sale of
alcoholic drinks is completely interdicted. The American States, all
managing their own local government as they each see fit, live in
perfect harmony one with another. That which makes the strength of
America is, that everyone seems satisfied with the form of government.
I said just now that America possessed no great political orator or
statesman, and that what went on at Washington scarcely awoke any
interest in the people; but are not great political orators generally
evoked by great public wrongs? Are not also sometimes great public
wrongs evoked by great political orators? And when a nation lives in
happiness and complete security, must not its politics necessarily be
uninteresting? Happy the nation whose politics do not furnish the
foreign press with sensational news!
* * * * *
I said also that I considered the people of England freer than the
people of America. This demands an explanation. In advancing such an
opinion, I mean to say that the English exercise more influence over the
Government than do the Americans, and that they invest the agents of
authority with much smaller powers. An American policeman, for in
stance, is endowed with an authority which he can with impunity use in
tyrannous fashion. The English policeman is the servant of the public;
is responsible before the public for his acts; may be given in charge on
the spot if he insults or roughly handles you; and may be prosecuted for
making a false accusation against you.
Bureaucracy is much more tyrannical in America than in England. You meet
at every turn with a man who lets you know that he has "certain
instructions to carry out." You soon know what that means in a country
where there are _avec le ciel des accommodements_. You get out of the
difficulty by the aid of that irresistible argument, named "the dollar."
In the trains, for instance, I have known the conductor refuse me
permission to occupy a vacant bed by the side of my own, and which
pleased me better than the one that had been assigned to me. "Your
ticket bears a certain number, and I can't change it; I must carry out
instructions." Useless to try and make him understand that the bed,
being disengaged, it matters little to the company whether you occupy it
or not. Orders must be obeyed. You pull a half-dollar piece out of your
pocket, and the difficulty is surmounted. Regulations only come into
existence to be trampled on as occasion requires.
The English have the habit of making themselves at home everywhere, but,
above all, in places where they pay. Nothing is so repugnant to them as
those thousand and one little tyrannies that go by the names of
regulations, restrictions, rules, by-laws, etc. If you would be
unhampered by such, if you would enjoy perfect freedom, live in England.
* * * * *
No one doubts that England is the freest country on earth, not even our
staunchest French republicans.
A few months before his election to the presidency of the French
Republic, M. Jules Grevy was present one evening at a political dinner
in the beautiful mansion of the Vicomtesse de Rainneville. At this
epoch, things scarcely seemed to point to the future elevation of M.
Grevy; and as M. de Grandlieu, who told the anecdote in the _Figaro_,
maliciously said, if the Orleans Princes had displayed a little more
resolution, M. Grevy would probably never have known any other palace
than the one in which his pleadings failed to awaken the judges.
After dinner, in the elegant smoking-room, one of the guests drew M.
Grevy aside, and said to him:
"Well, sir, seeing the turn things are taking, have you not enough of
the Republic?"
"On the contrary, I have just returned from a country where I have
learned to appreciate it more."
"Where is it you have been? to Switzerland?"
"No, a little further."
"Not America?"
"Oh, no."
"In what country can you have strengthened so much your Republican
ideas?"
"I have just returned from England!" replied M. Grevy.