Chapter
XIII: Government Of The Democracy In America--Part III
Corruption
And Vices Of The Rulers In A Democracy, And Consequent
Effects
Upon Public Morality
In aristocracies rulers sometimes endeavor to
corrupt the people--In democracies rulers frequently show themselves to
be corrupt--In the former their vices are directly prejudicial to
the morality of the people--In the latter their indirect influence is
still more pernicious.
A distinction must be made, when the aristocratic
and the democratic principles mutually inveigh against each other,
as tending to facilitate corruption. In aristocratic governments the
individuals who are placed at the head of affairs are rich men, who are solely
desirous of power. In democracies
statesmen are poor, and they have their fortunes to make. The consequence is that in aristocratic
States the rulers are rarely accessible to corruption, and have very little
craving for money; whilst the reverse is the case in democratic nations.
But in aristocracies, as those who are desirous
of arriving at the head of affairs are possessed of considerable wealth, and as
the number of persons by whose assistance they may rise is comparatively small,
the government is, if I may use the expression, put up to a sort of auction. In democracies, on the contrary, those
who are covetous of power are very seldom wealthy, and the number of citizens
who confer that power is extremely great. Perhaps in democracies the number of
men who might be bought is by no means smaller, but buyers are rarely to be met
with; and, besides, it would be necessary to buy so many persons at once that the
attempt is rendered nugatory.
Many of the men who have been in the
administration in France during the last forty years have been accused of making
their fortunes at the expense of the State or of its allies; a
reproach which was rarely addressed to the public characters of the ancient
monarchy. But in France the practice of bribing electors is almost
unknown, whilst it is notoriously and publicly carried on in England. In the
United States I never heard a man accused of spending his wealth in corrupting the
populace; but I have often heard the probity of public officers questioned;
still more frequently have I heard their success attributed to low intrigues
and immoral practices.
If, then, the men who conduct the government of
an aristocracy sometimes endeavor to corrupt the people, the heads of a
democracy are themselves corrupt. In the former case the morality of the people
is directly assailed; in the latter an indirect influence is exercised upon the
people which is still more to be dreaded.
As the rulers of democratic nations are almost
always exposed to
the suspicion of dishonorable conduct, they in
some measure lend the authority of the Government to the base practices
of which they are accused. They thus afford an example which must
prove discouraging to the struggles of virtuous independence, and
must foster the secret calculations of a vicious ambition. If it be
asserted that evil passions are displayed in all ranks of society, that they
ascend the throne by hereditary right, and that despicable characters are to be
met with at the head of aristocratic nations as well as in the sphere of a democracy,
this objection has but little weight in my estimation. The corruption of men
who have casually risen to power has a coarse and vulgar infection in it which
renders it contagious to the multitude. On the contrary, there is a kind of
aristocratic refinement and an air of grandeur in the depravity of the great,
which frequently prevent it from spreading abroad.
The people can never penetrate into the
perplexing labyrinth of court intrigue, and it will always have difficulty in
detecting the turpitude which lurks under elegant manners, refined tastes, and
graceful language. But to pillage the public purse, and to vend the favors of
the State, are arts which the meanest villain may comprehend, and hope to practice
in his turn.
In reality it is far less prejudicial to witness
the immorality of the great than to witness that immorality which leads
to greatness. In a democracy private citizens see a man of their own
rank in life, who rises from that obscure position, and who becomes
possessed of riches and of power in a few years; the spectacle
excites their surprise and their envy, and they are led to inquire how the
person who was yesterday their equal is to-day their ruler. To attribute his
rise to his talents or his virtues is unpleasant; for it is tacitly to
acknowledge that they are themselves less virtuous and less talented than he
was. They are therefore led (and not unfrequently their conjecture is a correct
one) to impute his success mainly to some one of his defects; and an odious mixture
is thus formed of the ideas of turpitude and power, unworthiness and success,
utility and dishonor.
Efforts Of Which A Democracy Is Capable
The Union has only had one struggle hitherto for
its
existence--Enthusiasm at the commencement of the
war--Indifference towards its close--Difficulty of establishing
military conscription or impressment of seamen in America--Why a
democratic people is less capable of sustained effort than another.
I here warn the reader that I speak of a
government which implicitly follows the real desires of a people, and not of
a government which simply commands in its name. Nothing is so
irresistible as a tyrannical power commanding in the name of the people,
because, whilst it exercises that moral influence which belongs to the decision
of the majority, it acts at the same time with the promptitude and the tenacity
of a single
man.
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