“These sentiments will not surprise any one who has heard ‘the most influential citizens’ assert that the republic has secured no great and signal benefit to the United States; that they were just as free, and certain classes even freer, under the British Government; that there can be nothing worse than the present mob-government, &c. These sentiments, I say, had ceased to astonish me; they only served to convince me of the necessity of trusting to institutions, not to men, the welfare of the state.”
In the present struggle for power, ambitious men may yet hope to arrive at honourable distinction through legitimate means—through the suffrages of the people; and hence the decision of every great question is still referred to the latter, although in a manner so distorted by cunning and sophistry that the people can scarcely see the true point at issue. For this reason the United States are, as yet, free from secret societies, private meetings and assemblies for political purposes, and leagues of powerful families for the furtherance of treasonable objects. Neither of the two parties, the would-be-aristocratic or the democratic, is as yet firmly established in power, or can hope to acquire and retain it for any length of time; but it is even this unsettled state which, by some, is taken for a surety of the continuance of the republican government.
Every institution, democratic, aristocratic, or monarchical, was originally good, and remained so as long as it answered the purpose for which it was first established. For this reason it is absurd to praise or censure, in the abstract, either of these forms of society. The elements of each of them probably co-existed at all times, even under governments the most republican or despotic: all calamities which ever befel mankind arose from their misapplication, or from the disproportion between the progress of society (no matter in what direction) and the relative preponderance of one or the other of these three principles.
If any of the two great parties which divide the United States, as they do the rest of the world, should ever succeed in breaking up and destroying the other; if any one of them were to establish itself so firmly in power, as to make its political antagonists wholly despair of overthrowing it by constitutional means; then one of two great evils would necessarily ensue,—political indifference on the part of a great number of industrious and wealthy citizens; or a lawless opposition, not to the party in power, but to the institutions under which they hold it. Something of the kind—at least the former of the two cases—actually occurred during the latter part of the administration of General Jackson; at which time a large portion of wealthy, and formerly influential citizens, believing it in vain to make any farther resistance to the sway of democracy, entirely withdrew from politics, and frankly expressed, at home and abroad, in conversation and in public prints, their contempt for the government and institutions of America. Now that, by a series of changes which it is not here the place to explain, political influence and power seem to be once more within their reach, they begin again to take an active part in public affairs, recommencing their opposition to democracy with renewed vigour.
The government of the United States requires, more than any other, a strong opposition, in order to prevent a powerful faction from assuming a monarchical sway through one or more of its leaders. Democracies and aristocracies may eventually terminate in monarchies; their most critical moment being always that in which one of two great parties has gained some signal victory over the other. The power obtained by the conquerors is necessarily concentrated in the hands of a few political champions; who, being on such occasions, for a time at least, independent of public opinion, or having that opinion in their favour, may dictate law. Such a moment is fraught with dangers, even if the democratic party be the conqueror; the transition from democracy to monarchy being far more easy than that from aristocracy to the government of a single individual. The latter is, indeed, impossible until the aristocracy is completely absorbed by the democratic element, and by degrees spoliated of its prerogatives.
For this reason a powerful aristocracy of family has always been the strongest bulwark against arbitrary power, and the preserver of liberty in the middle ages. But, in order that the aristocratic element shall fulfil its high destination, it must have an historical basis;—it must date from the origin of the country, and, like the aristocracy of England, have contributed to the foundation of the state. A mere mushroom aristocracy of money, taken yesterday from behind the counter, possesses none of these essential qualities; and is on that account neither capable of protecting the lower classes, nor of forming by itself a powerful political party. What a commercial aristocracy may do for the happiness of a people, even when reflecting on its historical grandeur, we have seen in the example of Venice, from the time the signory elected the chief magistrate, in 1173, to that in which she stooped
“—————————— to be
A province for an empire, petty town
In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,
Beggars for nobles, panders for a people.”
The establishment of a purely democratic government—that is, of one in which the democratic prevails over the aristocratic and monarchical principles,—is an historical problem which, under the most favourable circumstances ever combined, was intrusted to the American people. These circumstances will continue to act for centuries in their favour; and suppose the government finally to become modified, could such an event disprove the fact that, as long as the republic did last, the people were prosperous and happy, the nation respected abroad, and its domestic affairs managed with skill and integrity? Is it an argument against democratic institutions that they cannot last for ever? Might you not just as well despise youth and vigour, because they are doomed to old age and decrepitude? If it be true that all republics finally changed into aristocracies or monarchies, it ought to make the Americans only the more jealous of preserving the purity of their institutions, in order that, if an aristocracy must come, it may not be one of mere wealthy stock-jobbers.
“Come,” said my cicerone, “let us take a walk over to Charlestown, ‘the mob quarter,’ as our enlightened citizens call that independent suburb of Boston. We shall have a fine view of the city and the harbour from Bunker’s Hill monument, the most classical object in this neighbourhood.”