There is a large amount of well-founded distrust of the tendencies of
our public life. It is not a distrust of Republican principles, or of
universal suffrage, or of popular influence on government. It centers
in our public service, and relates exclusively to the political paths
to office, the uncertain or inadequate rewards for service, and the
speculative element in the tenure of office. Are we not on a road which
leads to demoralization in the civil service? The civil service law
applies only to a small part of the public field. Cabinet officers, heads
of departments, custom house and internal revenue officers, and all
judicial officers, are outside of that law, not to forget the entire body
of law makers. If we ask ourselves what first-class ability is worth,
we find the railroads, banks and other corporations paying an average
of twice (or more) as much as the government pays legislators, judges,
cabinet officers, and heads of departments. If we compare what is needed
by corporations with what is needed by the government, we shall be slow
to admit that the public service can be satisfied with inferior ability.
If we look at the cost of holding an office, we discover that a bank
president may live where and in such style as he pleases, but a cabinet
officer must live in Washington, and _ought_ to spend more than we pay
him in acquitting himself of social obligations.
The editor of THE CHAUTAUQUAN recently attended a party in the house
of Secretary Chandler, the cost of which could not have been less than
a thousand dollars; and there was no ostentation; only the reasonable
social demand was met. Of course Secretary Chandler can not give such
parties out of his salary, and could not meet the social demand upon his
official position, if he had not a private fortune. The incident points
to the suspicion that we are rapidly advancing to a condition of things
under which poor men can not hold high offices. Everywhere the public
officers of the classes which we have named are under special social
obligations which exceed in money-cost the amount of their salaries.
There is a double tendency—on two parallel lines—to exclude honest poor
men, and to take in an inferior class of men who are either rich or
unscrupulous. There is no reasonable doubt that the United States Senate
has seriously deteriorated through the tendencies just mentioned. Every
one knows that so many members of the other House are habitually absent,
that a political battle has to be advertised to collect the members of
the majority for the time being. The men in this case may or may not be
inferior, but they are certainly rendering an inferior service—doing
their own work while in the pay of the people. The other work is a
growing factor. Senators live by their practice in the Supreme Court or
by their services to corporations in which they hold office; this private
work too often coming into collision with public interests.
The subject is so large that we can barely hint at points. Here is a man
climbing to public place through a political combination which taxes him
at every step. He must have money, or borrow or steal money, to make the
ascent. When he reaches the place, he is paid a salary so far below the
demands of his office that if he is to meet his social obligations he
must have an income beyond his salary, and this income he must earn as he
can if he is not wealthy. And the real evil is still farther on: if he
wishes to stay in public life he must pay tribute to political sponges;
for the tenure of his office is so short that he must begin to provide
for the next election as soon as the first is over. If he wishes to
rise, he must pay, and keep on paying to the invisible army of political
tax-collectors which lines, many ranks deep, every road that leads to
an office. Rare and favored men escape these evils; but the majority of
public men encounter them. To crown the edifice of bad policy, partisan
rules are set up which limit time of service. Two terms, for example, is
the limit for service in the lower House of Congress, in many districts.
That is to say, your Congressman is advised at the outset that he must
retire in four years. What motive has he for qualifying himself to be a
good legislator? He naturally seeks an office under the government, and
gives his brain power to that pursuit. But wherever he is—unless he hold
a judicial office—he is menaced by the rule of rotation in office. We
have been remarkably fortunate in the judicial service through the fact
that, though the salaries are niggardly, the terms of service are long,
and safe from partisan influences.
We might profitably reflect on foreign comparisons. In Italy men
receiving from $300 to $600 in bureaus serve for life, and have certain
promotion. It is not a perfect method, but under it the government
service is honorable to an extent which amazes an American. The honor is
the largest item of the pay. We pay a less and less measure of honor.
The path to our service grows more filthy, and the man who has reached
the goal is often soiled with the filth through which he has waded—often
enough to discredit, insensibly but surely, the class which he has
joined. We pay too little in money; we pay too little in honor; we cheat
ourselves and demoralize our public servants by befouling the ladders
on which they climb, and by making their ascent as uncertain, and their
hold on any round of the ladder as precarious, as possible. A large moral
lies in the contrast that a bank cashier is discriminatingly chosen for
ability, has no election expenses, is secure in his office, owes no
social duties to the bank, and may rise to the presidency of it. It is
the same in other corporations. As employers, the corporations have more
soul and more sense than the people of the United States.