Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 3, March 1852

by Various

Are the facts questioned? In the Massachusetts legislature, we have had two hundred and sixty lawyers out of three hundred and fifty members; and in congress we had not long ago, the same number, two hundred and sixty lawyers out of two hundred and ninety-seven members—the balance being made up in this way. Manufacturers and farmers, fifteen: Merchants, one: Unknown, (being mechanics or preachers, or something of the sort,) twenty-one. Perhaps there may be some error here, as I find the only note I have upon the subject so blurred, that I am not sure of the figures; but the fact on which I rely is too notorious to be questioned. Every body knows that lawyers constitute a large majority in all our legislative bodies, and have done so for the last fifty years; and that they make about all the speeches that are made there, or supposed to be made there, and afterward reported by themselves for the newspapers. Can it be doubted therefore, that they as a body do in fact and in truth constitute our supreme legislative power—thereby absorbing to themselves just one third part, and by far the most important part of our whole sovereignty as a people.

As little can it be seriously questioned that, inasmuch as all our judges, from the highest to the lowest are lawyers; or ought to be, as they are always ready enough to acknowledge—they constitute the supreme judiciary; another third part of our whole sovereignty as a people.

And now let us see how the account stands with the Executive Power. Are not our presidents, and have they not been from the first—with only three exceptions out of twelve—lawyers? And our vice presidents; and all our secretaries of state; and most of our secretaries of war, and of the navy; and about all our foreign ministers; our chief clerks, our post-master generals; our collectors; our land agents; and even a large proportion of our foreign consuls—have they not always been, and are they not always with an ever increasing ratio—Lawyers? And if so, what becomes of the other third part of our whole sovereignty as a people—the Executive Power? It is in the hands of the lawyers; and as three thirds make a whole—out of the courts of law, I mean—does it not follow that the whole sovereign power of this mighty people—of this great commonwealth of republics—this last refuge of the nations is in the hands of our lawyers, hardly a fraction of the whole?

Oh! but we have nothing to fear. Lawyers are always at loggerheads. They are incapable of working together, even for mischief. Granted—and there, let me tell you is our only safety, and our only hope. But, suppose they should wake up to a knowledge of their own strength—and of our weakness—who shall say that they must always be incapable of conspiring together? And if they did—when should we begin to perceive our danger? Would they be likely to tell us before-hand? Or would they go on, year after year, quietly absorbing office, power, and prerogative, as all such bodies do; until they had become too strong for the great unreasoning multitude. With public opinion—with long established usage in their favor—with a sort of hallucination, hard to be accounted for in a jealous people; acquainted with history, what have they to fear? Neither overthrow nor disaster—till the people come to their senses and wake up, and harness themselves; and then, they are put upon trial, as with the voice of many thunders; and instantly and forever dethroned, as by an earthquake.

But you do not see the danger. Granted. And this very thing is what I complain of. Did you see the danger there would be some hope of you; and it would soon pass away forever.

But suppose we take another case for illustration. Suppose that three-fifths of all our law-makers were soldiers instead of lawyers. Suppose that all our judges from the highest to the lowest were soldiers; and that all our presidents, and secretaries, and foreign ministers, and collectors, and consuls—with here and there an exception—were all soldiers; most of them experienced soldiers—veterans; and the others, conscripts or new levies—what would be the consequences, think you? How long should we be at peace with the rest of the world? How long would Cuba, Mexico, or the rest of North and South America be unattempted? Would not our whole sea-coast, and all our lakes and rivers, and all our frontiers be fortified and garrisoned? Would there not be great armies constantly marching and counter-marching through our midst? Would not our very dwelling-houses and churches be wanted for barracks—and if wanted, would they not be taken by little and little?

Would not all our young men be mustering for the battle-field? Would not foolish mothers, and sisters, and sweet-hearts, be urging them to try for a shoulder-knot or a feather, as the only thing on earth to be cared for by a young man of spirit and enterprise?

Look at Russia. The military have dominion there—and all the rest of the world are slaves. The greatest men we have, not bearing a military title, would be overlooked by the emperor, while any thing in the shape of a general, though he never “set a squadron in the field,” and was never heard of beyond the neighborhood of a militia muster, would be fastened on horseback, and have thousands and tens of thousands, from the harnessed legions of the north, passed in review before him. What wonder that in such a country, the very nurses of the bed-chamber; yea, the very bishops of the land have military titles, and are regularly passed up through successive grades, from that of a platoon officer to that of a colonel, and perhaps to that of a field-marshall, by the emperor himself.

Yet soldiers are at least as trustworthy, are they not—as lawyers?

Take another case. It will not be denied, that physicians on the whole, are about as intelligent and trustworthy as lawyers. Now, let us suppose that, instead of being as in the Massachusetts legislature, eighteen to two hundred and sixty—in a body of two hundred and ninety-seven; they should happen to be two hundred and sixty physicians, to eighteen lawyers, and that in our other legislative bodies they should constitute a majority of the members: that all our presidents, and secretaries, and foreign ministers, and chief clerks, and post-masters, and collectors, and consuls, were physicians; or as many as are now lawyers: and that all the laws were made subject to the decision of a bench of doctors, eminent for the knowledge of medicine, and for nothing else—what, think you, would be the situation of our people under such an administration? Would any mortal man dare to refuse any pill the president might offer? Would not our dwellings and churches be converted—not into barracks, but hospitals? Would not millions be lavished upon theories, and experiments, and preparations for pestilence? Would not the whole country be divided into contagionists, and non-contagionists—parties for, and parties against the yellow fever and the cholera? Would not platforms be established, and pledges required, and offices filled—here by the believers in allopathy, and there by the disciples of homeopathy? To-day, by the rain-water, screw-auger, and vegetable doctors; and to-morrow, by the unbelievers in lobelia, bella-donna, and pulverized charcoal, or infinitesimal silex? In a word, if the government were allowed to have its own way—and after they were established as the lawyers are now, how could you help it?—would not the president, and all his secretaries be obliged to prescribe for the sovereign people—or suffering people—gratuitously; and would not the whole country be drugged, and physicked, and bled and blistered—samewhat as they are now—and would not all our finest young men be rushing into the apothecary shops, and lying-in hospitals, and clinical establishments for diplomas—to qualify them for the business of legislation, and for holding office?