CHAPTER IV.

CHARACTER AND OPERATION OF ELECTIVE GOVERNMENTS.

Ir the extreme rigor of the rule, that the majority is entitled to govern, is thus tempered in practice, by the intervention of so many and such powerful restraints, imposed by the majority, it may be affirmed that the country which denotes such a condition of society, or anything which makes a near approach to it, is ripe for the establishment of free institutions. The right of the majority to govern, depends simply upon its capacity for self government.

But the inquisitive observer, fearful of the fate of free institutions in proportion to the interest he takes in them, may inquire whether the unbounded freedom of thought and action, which they engender, is not absolutely incompatible with the firm authority which government should possess; and whether they must not eventually perish, from the unceasing action of the very element in which they are destined to live. But it is that very freedom of thought and action, unbounded as it may be supposed to be, which gives being to public opinion; and without the influence of public opinion, society would be a mere waste. Although Europeans look with so much distrust upon the American commonwealth; yet it is remarkable that everything which is valuable in their own societies, has been brought about by the communication of a greater degree of liberty to the people. So far from weakening the bond which holds seciety together, the effect has been to render it stronger. In Great Britain, and France, in Prussia, and Belgium, it is in exact proportion to the power which public opinion has acquired, that the administration of government has become mild and enlightened, and that a character of firmness and durability has been imparted to the institutions. It was at one time believed that public tranquility could not be even tolerably preserved, without the constant presence of a military force. The people were terrified into submission to the government, rather than won over to obedience to the laws.

It may be laid down as a maxim in politics, that the employment of physical force is rendered necessary, by the absence, or deficiency, of moral force. If there is a happy distribution of the last through society, there will be less occasion to resort to the former. If, on the other hand, the distribution is very unequal, the discontent will be great because the amount of liberty is small, and hence as a natural consequence, inordinate authority will be condensed in the hands of the government. Now, it is public opinion, above all other agents, which contributes to produce a just equalization of the moral power of the community; and it is the freedom of thought and action which gives birth to public opinion. It was on the first dawn of a public opinion in England, or rather I should say in Europe, that Pym, and Selden, Coke, and Hampden, were roused to make such bold and intrepid exertions in behalf of popular freedom. Man feels strong when he is conscious that he is surrounded by a power, which represents not his feelings merely, but the feelings of mankind. Abundant compensation is thus made for that state of feebleness and isolation in which individuals, who cherish noble ideas, would otherwise find themselves placed in the midst of society.

It is not surprising that the freedom of the press has met with so much resistance in monarchial and aristocratical governments. The tribunal of public opinion, when fairly erected, is so formidable an adversary to the exercise of every species of arbitrary authority, that it invariably succeeds first in subduing the tone and temper of the public administration, and ultimately the form of the political institutions. Chateaubriand declared to the ministers of Louis Philippe, " on the day you decree the liberty of the press, you die." And if this audacious speech was not verified, it is plainly because the elements of public opinion are now everywhere visible throughout France.

In a country where a fixed aristocracy exists, some men are necessarily endowed with a much larger share of influence than others. A body of nobility and gentry have sometimes possessed more weight than all the rest of the community. This unequal distribution of power is a great hindrance to the formation of a public opinion which shall rule over all; but it is highly favorable to the creation of a particular or sectarian opinion within the class itself. When, however, the dispersion of knowledge and property has elevated that multitude of men who occupied the inferior ranks of society, public opinion rises up, and threatens to beat down the narrow and exclusive opinions which before existed. The array of physical force, which was before necessary, sometimes to quell insubordination among the masses, sometimes to curb the turbulence of the nobles, and at others to restrain the usurpations of the prince, gradually disappears. All orders of men begin to find their true relative position in society, and public order and tranquility are preserved with remarkable regularity. From whence it is very easy to understand why it is, that a just distribution of the moral power of the community, supercedes, to so great an extent, the use of mere physical force. The old ranks may continue to stand, but they will stand like broken and defaced columns amid the new structure which is reared around them.

One striking property of free institutions is, that they present fewer subjects of contention between the government and the people, than any other scheme of civil polity. I have already pointed to two characteristic features of a democratic republic: a written constitution, and the establishment of local jurisdictions, contrivances of great wisdom and utility. For by the first, the principal controversies which have shaken other communities are struck out of being; and by the last, a very large proportion of what may be described as the secondary interests of society are withdrawn from the arena of national contention, and are deposited with domestic governments, by which they will be managed in the most skillful and unobtrusive manner possible. Under such a system men are able to find very few subjects to quarrel about; and even if government has less ability to resist encroachments, there is also infinitely less temptation and opportunity to assail its rightful authority.

Not only however are the most dangerous controversies diminished; those which remain assume an entirely different character. They are unfit to be decided by force. The prerogatives of an hereditary monarch are so incapable of exact limitation, that he may often attempt to push them to the uttermost; or the strictly egitimate exercise of them may be productive of infinite mischief to society. The single power of declaring war may occasion the imposition of taxes insupportably burthensome to the community. The legislature may be a close body, in no way entitled to the appellation of representative of the people, and much more disposed to favor the projects of the prince, than to consult the solid welfare of the state. The questions which grow out of such a condition of things immediately suggest the idea of an appeal to force. But whether the legislature shall make internal improvements, charter banks, or encourage manufactures, however interesting and exciting they may be, are still questions which belong to a totally different sphere. They could not ever grow up in any other society than one which had been trained to the arts of peace, and where men had been habitually given to reflection. Such questions recommend themselves to the understanding alone, and it will be an exceedingly rare occurrence if one drop of blood is ever shed in deciding them.

This explains why it is that in modern societies men are so much addicted to reflection. It is not because they are by nature superior to the men of former times. It is simply in consequence of the independent condition to which they have risen. The cares and anxieties of life are multipled even more than its enjoyments. A vastly greater proportion of the people than at any former period are engaged in industrial pursuits. These demand the constant exercise of judgment, prudence and discretion, and being accustomed to calculate the consequences of their actions on a small scale, they are enabled to transfer the same habit to a larger theater of action, and thus to render the exercise of their political principles not merely harmless, but essentially beneficial to the community. At one time no one could practice a trade in a city unless he belonged to the guild: and hardly any one out of the ranks of the nobility and clergy was the proprietor of land. There was no school for reflection among the people, because there was no opportunity for its application, either in the walks of private or public life. It follows that in a democratic republic, where there is a more equal distribution of property, and where industry, whether in town or country, is unfettered, the mass of the population must be more distinguished for reflection than anywhere else. Thus, in that form of government where this invaluable quality is most in demand it is freely supplied, and where it is least wanted it is sparingly produced.

If it were possible so to construct government as invariably to connect the interests of individuals with those of the public, we should form a system which would bid fair to endure forever. I speak now of the interests of individuals, as seen and understood by themselves; for the real interests of private persons never can be inconsistent with the general weal. Now although it is impossible to realize this idea, in consequence of the great diversity in the faculties and propensities of different men, and the different manner in which these are combined in individuals; yet experience demonstrates that it is easy to carry it a great deal further than was once believed practicable. Philosophers who have sketched ideal plans of a republic, have failed, not so much because they have placed too high an estimate on human nature, as because they have not allowed room for the operation of some very homely qualities, out of which spring what we term patriotism and public spirit. If what makes the artificial forms of government so dear to the select few who participate in their administration, is that their whole interests are wrapped up in the preservation of them, there seems to be no reason why we may not imitate the scheme on a still larger scale, and cause the great body of the people to be deeply interested in upholding free institutions. There is no necessity for imagining the existence of any higher qualities than before, in order to pro. duce this effect. For admitting that we cannot render the motives of human conduct more general in the one case than in the other, yet by giving to them an infinitely wider scope in the last instance, we found ourselves upon the same principle of interest, and thus communicate both more freedom, and more prosperity, to a greater number of people. If the superstition inspired by the artificial form of government is a prodigious support to their authority, there is a very similar but a still stronger feeling at work among the people who live under free government. They are alive to every attempt to impair it, not merely because they believe their institutions to be the best, but because they are the workmanship of their own hands.

In whatever light we may cast the subject, it seems evident that representative government is the only one which is fitted to fulfill all the great ends for which society was established. Not only is the general condition of the population greatly elevated, so as to render the care of its interests the chief aim of government, but a multitude of persons are actually employed in the public admistra