 CHAPTER 18. FUTURE CONDITION OF THREE RACES, PART 9. In the meantime, South Carolina armed her militia and prepared for war. But Congress, which had slighted its suppliant subjects, listened to their complaints as soon as they were found to have taken up arms. A law was passed by which the tariff duties were to be progressively reduced for ten years until they were brought so low as to not exceed the amount of supplies necessary to the government. Thus, Congress completely abandoned the principle of the tariff and substituted a mere fiscal impulse to a system of protective duties. The government of the Union, in order to conceal its defeat, had recourse to an expedient which is very much in vogue with feeble governments. It yielded the point de facto, but it remained inflexible upon the principles in question, and whilst Congress was altering the tariff law, it passed another bill, by which the President was invested with extraordinary powers, enabling him to overcome by force a resistance which was then no longer to be apprehended. But South Carolina did not consent to leave the Union in the enjoyment of these scanty trophies of success. The same national convention which had annulled the tariff bill met again and accepted the proffered concession, but at the same time it declared it unabated perseverance in the doctrine of nullification, and to prove what it said it annulled the law investing the President with extraordinary powers, although it was very certain that the clauses of that law would never be carried into effect. Almost all the controversies of which I have been speaking have taken place under the presidency of General Jackson, and it cannot be denied that in the question of the tariff he has supported the claims of the Union with vigor and with skill. I am, however, of the opinion that the conduct of the individual who now represents the federal government may be reckoned as one of the dangers which threaten its continuance. Some persons in Europe have formed an opinion of the possible influence of General Jackson upon the affairs of his country, which appears highly extravagant to those who have seen more of the subject. We have been told that General Jackson has won sundry battles that he is an energetic man, prone by nature and by habit to the use of force, covetous of power, and a despot by taste. All this may perhaps be true, but the inferences which have been drawn from these truths are exceedingly erroneous. It has been imagined that General Jackson is bent on establishing a dictatorship in America, on introducing a military spirit, and on giving a degree of influence to the central authority which cannot but be dangerous to provincial liberties. But in America the time for similar undertakings and the age for men of this kind is not yet come. If General Jackson had entertained a hope of exercising his authority in this matter, he would infallibly have forfeited his political station and compromised his life. Accordingly he has not been so imprudent as to make any such attempt. Far from wishing to extend the federal power, the president belongs to the party which is desirous of limiting that power to the bare and precise letter of the Constitution, and which never puts a construction upon that act favorable to the government of the union. Far from standing forth as the champion of centralization, General Jackson is the agent of all the jealousies of the states, and he was placed in the lofty station he occupies by the passions of the people which are most opposed to the central government. It is by perpetually flattering these passions that he maintains his station and his popularity. General Jackson is the slave of the majority. He yields to its wishes, its propensities, and its demands. Say rather that he anticipates and forestalls them. Whenever the governments of the states come into collision with that of the union, the president is generally the first to question his own rights. He almost always outstrips the legislature, and when the extent of the federal power is controverted, he takes part as it were against himself. He conceals his official interests and extinguishes his own natural inclinations. Not indeed that he is naturally weaker hostile to the union, for when the majority decided against the claims of the partisans of nullification, he put himself at its head, asserted the doctrines which the nation held distinctly and energetically, and was the first to recommend forcible measures. But General Jackson appears to me, if I may use the American expression, to be a Federalist by taste and a Republican by calculation. General Jackson stoopes to gain the favor of the majority, but when he feels that his popularity is secure, he overthrows all obstacles in pursuit of the objects which the community approves, or of those which it does not look upon with a jealous eye. He is supported by a power with which his predecessors were unacquainted, and he tramples on his personal enemies whenever they cross his path with a faculty which no former president ever enjoyed. He takes upon himself the responsibility of measures which no one before him would have ventured to attempt. He even treats the national representatives with disdain approaching to insult. He puts his veto upon the laws of Congress and frequently neglects to reply to that powerful body. He is a favorite who sometimes treats his master roughly. The power of General Jackson perpetually increases, but that of the president declines. In his hands the Federal Government is strong, but it will pass enfeebled into the hands of his successor. I am strangely mistaken if the Federal Government of the United States be not constantly losing strength, retiring gradually from public affairs and narrowing its circle of action more and more. It is naturally feeble, but it now abandons even its pretensions to strength. On the other hand, I thought that I remarked a more lively sense of independence and a more decided attachment to provincial government in the States. The Union is to subsist, but to subsist is a shadow. It is to be strong in certain cases and weak in all others. In time of warfare it is to be able to concentrate all the forces of the nation and all the resources of the country in its hands, and in time of peace its existence is to be scarcely perceptible, as if this alternate debility and vigor were natural or possible. I do not foresee anything for the present which may be able to check this general impulse of public opinion, the causes in which it originated do not cease to operate with the same effect. The change will therefore go on, and it may be predicted that, unless some extraordinary event occurs, the Government of the Union will grow weaker and weaker every day. I think, however, that the period is still remote at which the Federal power will be entirely extinguished by its inability to protect itself and to maintain peace in the country. The Union is sanctioned by the manners and desires of the people. Its results are palpable, its benefits visible. And it is perceived that the weakness of the Federal Government compromises the existence of the Union. I do not doubt that a reaction will take place with a view to increase its strength. The Government of the United States is, of all the Federal Governments which have hitherto been established, the one which is most naturally destined to act. As long as it is only indirectly assailed by the interpretation of its laws, and as long as its substance is not seriously altered, a change of opinion and internal crisis, or a war, may restore all the vigor which it requires. The point which I have been most anxious to put in a clear light is simply this. Many people, especially in France, imagine that a change in opinion is going on in the United States, which is favorable to a centralization of power in the hands of the President and the Congress. I hold that a contrary tendency may distinctly be observed. So far is the Federal Government from acquiring strength, and from threatening the sovereignty of the States as it grows older, that I maintain it to be growing weaker and weaker, and that the sovereignty of the Union alone is in danger. Such are the facts which the present time discloses. The future conceals the final result of this tendency, and the events which may check, retard, or accelerate the changes I have described, but I do not effect to be able to remove the veil which hides them from our sight. Of the Republican institutions of the United States, and what their chances of duration are. The dismemberment of the Union by the introduction of war into the heart of those States which are now Confederate, withstanding armies, a dictatorship, and the heavy taxation, might eventually compromise the fate of the Republican institutions. But we ought not to confound the future prospects of the Republic with those of the Union. The Union is an accident which will only last as long as circumstances are favorable to its existence. But a Republican form of government seems to me to be the natural state of the Americans which nothing but the continued action of hostile causes, always acting in the same direction, could change into a monarchy. The Union exists principally in the law which formed it. One revolution, one change in public opinion, might destroy it forever. But the Republic has a much deeper foundation to rest upon. What is understood by a Republican government in the United States is the slow and quiet action of society upon itself. It is a regular state of things really founded upon the enlightened will of the people. It is a conciliatory government under which resolutions are allowed time to ripen, and in which they are deliberately discussed and executed with mature judgment. The Republicans in the United States set a high value upon morality, respect religious belief, and acknowledge the existence of rights. They profess to think that a people ought to be moral, religious, and temperate in proportion as it is free. What is called the Republic in the United States is the tranquil rule of the majority, which after having had time to examine itself and to give proof of its existence is the common source of all the powers of the state. But the power of the majority is not of itself unlimited. In the moral world humanity, justice, and reason enjoy an undisputed supremacy. In the political world vested rights are treated with no less deference. The majority recognizes these two barriers, and if it now and then overstep them it is because like individuals it has passions, and like them it is prone to do what is wrong whilst it discerns what is right. But the demagogues of Europe have made strange discoveries. A republic is not, according to them, the rule of the majority, as has hitherto been thought, but the rule of those who are strenuous partisans of the majority. It is not the people who preponderates in this kind of government, but those who are best first in the good qualities of the people. A happy distinction which allows men to act in the name of nations without consulting them and to claim their gratitude whilst their rights are spurned. A Republican government, moreover, is the only one which claims the right of doing whatever it chooses, and despising what men have hitherto respected, from the highest moral obligations to the vulgar rules of common sense. It had been supposed until our time that despotism was odious, under whatever form it appeared, but it is a discovery of modern days that there are such things as legitimate tyranny and holy injustice, provided they are exercised in the name of the people. The ideas which the Americans have adopted respecting the Republican form of government render it easy for them to live under it and ensure its duration. If in their country this form be often practically bad, at least it is theoretically good, and in the end the people always act in conformity to it. It was impossible at the foundation of the states, and it would still be difficult to establish a central administration in America. The inhabitants are dispersed over too great a space and separated by too many natural obstacles, for one man to undertake to direct the details of their existence. America is therefore preeminently the country of provincial and municipal government. To this cause, which was plainly felt by all the Europeans of the New World, the Anglo-Americans added several others peculiar to themselves. At the time of the settlement of the North American colonies, municipal liberty had already penetrated into the laws as well as the manners of the English, and the immigrants adopted it not only as a necessary thing, but as a benefit which they knew how to appreciate. We have already seen the manner in which the colonies were founded. Every province and almost every district was peopled separately by men who were strangers to each other, or who associated with very different purposes. The English settlers in the United States therefore early perceived that they were divided into a great number of small and distinct communities, which belonged to no common center, and that it was needful for each of these little communities to take care of its own affairs, since there did not appear to be any central authority which was naturally bound and easily enabled to provide for them. Thus, the nature of the country, the manner in which the British colonies were founded, the habits of the first immigrants, in short everything united to promote, in an extraordinary degree, municipal and provincial liberties. In the United States therefore the mass of the institutions of the country is essentially Republican, and in order permanently to destroy the laws which form the basis of the Republic, it would be necessary to abolish all the laws at once. At the present day it would be even more difficult for a party to succeed in founding a monarchy in the United States than for a set of men to proclaim that France should hence forward be a Republic. Royalty would not find a system of legislation prepared for it beforehand, and a monarchy would then exist really surrounded by Republican institutions. The monarchical principle would likewise have great difficulty in penetrating into the manners of the Americans. In the United States the sovereignty of the people is not an isolated doctrine bearing no relation to the prevailing manners and ideas of the people. It may, on the contrary, be regarded as the last link of a chain of opinions which binds the whole Anglo-American world. That providence has given to every human being the degree of reason necessary to direct himself in the affairs which interest him exclusively, such as the grand maxim upon which civil and political society rests in the United States. The father of a family applies it to his children, the master to his servants, the township to its officers, the province to its townships, the state to its provinces, the union to the states, and when extended to the nation it becomes the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people. Thus in the United States the fundamental principle of the Republic is the same which governs the greater part of human actions. The Republican notions insinuate themselves into all the ideas, opinions, and habits of the Americans, whilst they are formally recognized by the legislation. And before this legislation can be altered the whole community must undergo very serious changes. In the United States even the religion of most of the citizens is Republican, since it submits the truths of the other world to private judgment. As in politics the care of its temporal interests is abandoned to the good sense of the people. Thus every man is allowed freely to take that road which he thinks will lead him to heaven just as the law permits every citizen to have the right of choosing his government. It is evident that nothing but a long series of events, all having the same tendency, can substitute for this combination of laws, opinions, and manners, a mass of opposite opinions, manners, and laws. If Republican principles are to perish in America they can only yield after a laborious social process, often interrupted and as often resumed. They will have many apparent revivals and will not become totally extinct until an entirely new people shall have succeeded to that which now exists. Now it must be admitted that there is no symptom or presage of the approach of such a revolution. There is nothing more striking to a person newly arrived in the United States than the kind of tumultuous agitation in which he finds political society. The laws are incessantly changing, and at first sight it seems impossible that a people so variable in its desires should avoid adopting, within a short space of time, a completely new form of government. Such apprehensions are, however, premature. The instability which affects political institutions is of two kinds, which ought not to be confounded. The first, which modifies secondary laws, is not incompatible with a very settled state of society. The other shakes the very foundations of the Constitution and attacks the fundamental principles of legislation. This species of instability is always followed by troubles and revolutions, and the nation which suffers under it is in a state of violent transition. Experience shows that these two kinds of legislative instability have no necessary connection. For they have been found united or separate according to times and circumstances. The first is common in the United States, but not the second. The Americans often change their laws, but the foundation of the Constitution is respected. In our days the Republican principle rules in America, as the monarchical principle did in France under Louis XIV. The French of that period were not only friends of the monarchy, but they thought it wasn't impossible to put anything in its place. They received it as we received the rays of the sun and the return of the seasons. Amongst them the royal power had neither advocates nor opponents. In like manner does the Republican government exist in America, without contention or opposition, without proofs and arguments by a tacit agreement, a sort of consensus universalis. It is, however, my opinion that by changing their administrative forms as often as they do, the inhabitants of the United States compromise the future stability of their government. It may be apprehended that men, perpetually thwarted in their designs by the mutability of the legislation, will learn to look upon Republican institutions as an inconvenient form of society. The evil resulting from the instability of the secondary enactments might then raise a doubt as to the nature of the fundamental principles of the revolution, and indirectly bring about a revolution, but this epic is still very remote. It may, however, be foreseen even now that when the Americans lose their Republican institutions they will speedily arrive at a despotic government without a long interval of limited monarchy. Montesquieu remarked that nothing is more absolute than the authority of a prince who immediately succeeds a republic, since the powers which had fearlessly been entrusted to an elected magistrate are then transferred to a hereditary sovereign. This is true in general, but it is more peculiarly applicable to a democratic republic. In the United States the magistrates are not elected by a particular class of citizens, but by the majority of the nation. They are the immediate representatives of the passions of the multitude, and as they are wholly dependent upon its pleasure they excite neither hatred nor fear. Hence as I have already shown very little care has been taken to limit their influence, and they are left in possession of a vast deal of arbitrary power. This state of things has engendered habits which would outlive itself. The American magistrate would retain his power, but he would cease to be responsible for the exercise of it, and it is impossible to say what bounds would then be set to tyranny. Some of our European politicians expect to see an aristocracy arise in America, and they already predict the exact period at which it would be able to assume the reins of government. I have previously observed, and I repeat my assertion, that the present tendency of American society appears to me to be more and more democratic. Nevertheless, I do not assert that the Americans will not, at some future time, restrict the circle of political rights in their country, or confiscate those rights to the advantage of a single individual. But I cannot imagine that they will ever bestow the exclusive exercise of them upon a privileged class of citizens, or in other words that they will ever found an aristocracy. An aristocratic body is composed of a certain number of citizens who, without being very far removed from the mass of the people, are nevertheless permanently stationed above it, a body with which it is easy to touch and difficult to strike, with which the people are in daily contact, but with which they can never combine. Nothing can be imagined more contrary to nature and to the secret propensities of the human heart than a subjection of this kind, and men who are left to follow their own bent will always prefer the arbitrary power of a king to the regular administration of an aristocracy. Aristocratic institutions cannot subsist without laying down the inequality of men as a fundamental principle, as a part and parcel of the legislation affecting the condition of the human family as much as it affects that of society. But these are things so repugnant to natural equity that they can only be extorted from men by constraint. I do not think a single people can be quoted since human society began to exist, which has, by its own free will and by its own exertions, created an aristocracy within its own bosom. All the aristocracies of the Middle Ages were founded by military conquest. The conqueror was the noble, the vanquished became the serf. Inequality was then imposed by force, and after it had been introduced into the manners of the country, it maintained its own authority and was sanctioned by the legislation. Communities have existed which were aristocratic from their earliest origin, owing to circumstances anterior to that event, and which became more democratic in each succeeding age. Such was the destiny of the Romans and of the barbarians after them. But a people having taken its rise in civilization and democracy, which should gradually establish an inequality of conditions until it arrived at invaluable privileges and exclusive case, would be a novelty in the world, and nothing intimates that America is likely to furnish so singular an example. Reflection on the Causes of the Commercial Prosperity of the United States The coast of the United States, from the Bay of Fundy to the Sabine River in the Gulf of Mexico, is more than 2,000 miles in extent. These shores form an unbroken line, and they are all subject to the same government. No nation in the world possesses vaster, deeper, or more secure ports for shipping than the Americas. The inhabitants of the United States constitute a great civilized people, which fortune has placed in the midst of an uncultivated country at a distance of 3,000 miles from the central point of civilization. America consequently stands in daily need of European trade. The Americans will, no doubt, ultimately succeed in producing or manufacturing at home most of the articles which they require. But the two continents can never be independent of each other. So numerous are the natural ties which exist between their wants, their ideas, their habits, and their manners. The Union produces peculiar commodities which are now become necessary to us, but which cannot be cultivated or can only be raised at enormous expense upon the soils of Europe. The Americans only consume a small portion of this produce, and they are willing to sell us the rest. Europe is therefore the market of America as America is the market of Europe, and maritime commerce is no less necessary to enable the inhabitants of the United States to transport their raw materials to the ports of Europe than it is to enable us to supply them with our manufactured produce. The United States were therefore necessarily reduced to the alternative of increasing the business of other maritime nations to a great extent if they had themselves declined to enter into trade at commerce, as the Spaniards of Mexico have either to done, or in the second place of becoming one of the first trading powers of the globe. The Anglo-Americans have always displayed a very decided taste for the sea. The Declaration of Independence broke the commercial restrictions which united them to England, and gave a fresh and powerful stimulus to their maritime genius. Ever since that time the shipping of the Union has increased in almost the same rapid proportion as the number of its inhabitants. The Americans themselves now transport to their own shores nine-tenths of the European produce which they consume, and they also bring three-quarters of the exports of the New World to the European consumer. The ships of the United States fill the docks of Havre and of Liverpool, whilst the number of English and French vessels which are to be seen at New York is comparatively small. Thus not only does the American merchant face the competition of his own countrymen, but he even supports that of foreign nations in their own ports with success. This is readily explained by the fact that the vessels of the United States can cross the seas at a cheaper rate than any other vessels in the world. As long as the mercantile shipping of the United States preserves this superiority, it will not only retain what it has acquired, but it will constantly increase in prosperity. End of Section 41, Democracy in America, Chapter 18, Part 10. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. It is difficult to say for what reason the Americans can trade at a lower rate than other nations, and one is at first led to attribute the circumstance to the physical or natural advantages which are within their reach. But this supposition is erroneous. The American vessels cost almost as much to build as our own. They are not better built, and they generally last for a shorter time. The pay of the American sailor is more considerable than the pay on board European ships, which is proved by the great number of Europeans who are to be met with in the merchant vessels of the United States. But I am of opinion that the true cause of their superiority must not be sought for in physical advantages, but that it is wholly attributable to their moral and intellectual qualities. The following comparison will illustrate my meaning. During the campaigns of the Revolution the French introduced a new system of tactics into the art of war, which perplexed the oldest generals and very nearly destroyed the most ancient monarchies in Europe. They undertook what had never before been attempted to make shift without a number of things which had always been held to be indispensable and worth. They required novel exertions on the part of their troops which no civilized nations had ever thought of. They achieved great actions in an incredibly short space of time, and they risked human life without hesitation to obtain the object in view. The French had less money and fewer men than their enemies. Their resources were infinitely inferior. Nevertheless they were constantly victorious until their adversaries chose to imitate their example. The Americans have introduced a similar system into their commercial speculations, and they do for cheapness what the French did for conquest. The European sailor navigates with prudence. He only sets sail when the weather is favorable. If an unforeseen accident befalls him, he puts into port. At night he furls a portion of his canvas, and when the lightning billows intimate the vicinity of the land he checks his way and takes an observation of the sun. But the American neglects these precautions and braves the dangers. He weighs anchor in the midst of tempestuous scales. By night and by day he spreads his sheets to the wind. He repairs as he goes along such damage as his vessel may have sustained from the storm, and when he at last approaches the term of his voyage he darts onward to the shore as if he had already described a port. The Americans are often shipwrecked, but no trader crosses the seas so rapidly, and as they perform the same distance in a shorter time they can perform it at a cheaper rate. The European touches several times at different ports in the course of a long voyage. He loses a good deal of precious time in making the harbor, or in waiting for a favorable wind to leave it, and he pays daily dues to be allowed to remain there. The American starts from Boston to go to purchase tea in China. He arrives at Canton, stays there a few days, and then returns. In less than two years he has sailed as far as the entire circumference of the globe, and he has seen land but once. It is true that during a voyage of eight or ten months he has drunk brackish water and lived upon salt-meat, that he has been in a continual contest with the sea, with disease, and with a tedious existence, but upon his return he can sell a pound of his tea for half a penny less than the English merchant, and his purpose is accomplished. I cannot better explain my meaning than by saying that the Americans affect a sort of heroism in their manner of training. But the European merchant will always find it very difficult to imitate his American competitor, who, in adopting the system which I have just described, follows not only a calculation of his gain, but an impulse of his nature. The inhabitants of the United States are subject to all the wants and all the desires which result from an advanced stage of civilization. But as they are not surrounded by a community admirably adapted, like that of Europe, to satisfy their wants, they are often obliged to procure for themselves the various articles which education and habit have rendered necessary. In America it sometimes happens that the same individual tills his fields, builds his building, contrives his tools, makes his shoes, and weaves the coarse stuff of which his dress is composed. This circumstance is presiditial to the excellence of the work, but it powerfully contributes to awaken the intelligence of the workmen. Nothing tends to materialize man and to deprive his work of the faintest traces of mind, more than extreme division of labor. In a country like America where men devoted to special occupations are rare, a long apprenticeship cannot be required from anyone who embraces the profession. The Americans therefore change their means of gaining a livelihood very readily, and they suit their occupations to the exigencies of the moment, in the manner most profitable to themselves. Men are to be met with who have successfully been barristers, farmers, merchants, ministers of the gospel, and physicians. If the American be less perfect in each craft than the European, at least there is scarcely any trade with which he is utterly unacquainted. His capacity is more general, and the circle of his intelligence is enlarged. The inhabitants of the United States are never fettered by the axioms of their profession. They escape from all the prejudices of their present station. They are not more attached to one line of operation than to another. They are not more prone to employ an old method than a new one. They have no rooted habits, and they easily shake off the influence which the habits of other nations might exercise upon their minds from a conviction that their country is unlike any other, and that its situation is without a precedent in the world. America is a land of wonders in which everything is in constant motion, and every movement seems an improvement. The idea of novelty is there indissolubly connected with the idea of amelioration. No natural boundary seems to be set to the efforts of man, and what is not yet done is only what he has not yet attempted to do. This perpetual change which goes on in the United States, these frequent vicitudes of fortune, accompanied by such unforeseen fluctuations in private and in public wealth, serve to keep the minds of the citizens in a perpetual state of feverish agitation, which admirably invigorates their exertions and keeps them in a state of excitement above the ordinary level of mankind. The whole life of an American is passed like a game of chance, a revolutionary crisis or a battle. As the same causes are continually in operation throughout the country, they ultimately impart an irresistible impulse to the national character. The American, taken as a chance specimen of his countrymen, must then be a man of singular warmth in his desires, enterprising, fond of adventure, and above all of innovation. The same bent is manifest in all that he does. He introduces it into his political laws, his religious doctrines, his theories of social economy, and his domestic occupations. He bears it with him in the depths of the backwoods as well as in the business of the city. It is this same passion applied to maritime commerce which makes him the cheapest and quickest trader in the world. As long as the sailors of the United States retain these inspiring advantages, the practical superiority which they derive from them, they will not only continue to supply the wants of the producers and consumers of their own country, but they will tend more and more to become, like the English, the factors of all other peoples. This prediction has already begun to be realized. We perceive that the American traders are introducing themselves as intermediate agents in the commerce of several European nations, and America will offer a still wider field to their enterprise. The great colonies which were founded in South America by the Spaniards and the Portuguese have since become empires. Civil war and oppression now lay waste those extensive regions. Population does not increase, and the thinly scattered inhabitants are too much absorbed in the cares of self-defense to even attempt any amelioration of their condition. Such, however, will not always be the case. Europe has succeeded by her own efforts in piercing the gloom of the Middle Ages. South America has the same Christian laws and Christian manners as we have. She contains all the germs of civilization which have grown amidst the nations of Europe or their offsets. It is clear that the question is simply one of time. At some future period, which may be more or less remote, the inhabitants of South America will constitute flourishing and enlightened nations. But when the Spaniards and Portuguese of South America begin to feel the wants common to all civilized nations, they will still be unable to satisfy those wants for themselves, as the youngest children of civilization, they must, per force, admit the superiority of their elder brethren. They will be agriculturalists long before they succeed in manufacturers or commerce, and they will require the mediation of strangers to exchange their produce beyond seas for those articles for which a demand will begin to be felt. It is unquestionable that the Americans of the North will one day supply the wants of the Americans of the South. Nature has placed them in contiguity and has furnished the former with every means of knowing and appreciating those demands, of establishing a permanent connection with those states, and of gradually filling their markets. The merchants of the United States could only forfeit these natural advantages if he were very inferior to the merchant of Europe, to whom he is, on the contrary, superior in several respects. The Americans of the United States already exercise a very considerable moral influence upon all the peoples of the new world. They are the source of intelligence, and all the nations which inhabit the same continent are already accustomed to consider them as the most enlightened, the most powerful, and the most wealthy members of the great American family. All eyes are therefore turned towards the Union, and the states of which that body is composed are the models which the other communities try to imitate to the best of their power. It is from the United States that they borrow their political principles and their laws. The Americans of the United States stand in precisely the same position with regard to the peoples of South America, as their fathers the English occupy with regards to the Italians, the Spaniards, the Portuguese, and all those nations of Europe which receive their articles of daily consumption from England, because they are less advanced in civilization and in trade. England is, at this time, the natural emporium of almost all the nations which are within its reach. The American Union will perform the same part in the other hemisphere, and every community which is founded, or which prospers in the new world, is founded and prospers to the advantage of the Anglo-Americans. If the Union were to be dissolved, the commerce of the states which now compose it would undoubtedly be checked for a time. But this consequence would be less perceptible than is generally supposed. It is evident that, whatever may happen, the commercial states will remain united. They are all contiguous to each other, they have identically the same opinions, interests, and manners, and they are alone competent to form a very great maritime power. Even if the South of the Union were to become independent of the North, it would still require the services of those states. I have already observed that the South is not a commercial country, and nothing intimates that it is likely to become so. The Americans of the South of the United States will therefore be obliged for a long time to come to have recourse to strangers to export their produce, and to supply them with the commodities which are requisite to satisfy their wants. But the Northern states are undoubtedly able to act as their intermediate agents cheaper than any other merchants. They will therefore retain that employment, for cheapness is the sovereign law of commerce. National claims and national prejudices cannot resist the influence of cheapness. Nothing can be more virulent than the hatred which exists between the Americans of the United States and the English. But notwithstanding these inimical feelings, the Americans derive the greater part of their manufactured commodities from England, because England supplies them at a cheaper rate than any other nation. Thus the increasing prosperity of America turns notwithstanding the grudges of the Americans to the advantage of British manufacturers. Reason shows and experience proves that no commercial prosperity can be durable if it cannot be united in case of need to naval force. This truth is as well understood in the United States as it can be anywhere else. The Americans are already able to make their flag respected. In a few years they will be able to make it feared. I am convinced that the dismemberment of the union would not have the effect of diminishing the naval power of the Americans, but that it would powerfully contribute to increase it. At the present time the commercial states are connected with others which have not the same interests and which frequently yield an unwilling consent to the increase of a maritime power by which they are only indirectly benefited. If on the contrary the commercial states of the union formed one independent nation, commerce would become the foremost of their national interests. They would consequently be willing to make very great sacrifices to protect their shipping, and nothing would prevent them from pursuing their designs upon this point. Nations as well as men almost always betray the most prominent features of their future destiny in their earliest years. When I contemplate the ardor with which the Anglo-Americans prosecute commercial enterprises, the advantages which befriend them and the success of their undertakings, I cannot refrain from believing that they will one day become the first maritime power of the globe. They are born to rule the seas as the Romans were to conquer the world. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by George de Prey. Democracy in America, Volume 1. By Alexis de Tocqueville. Translated by Henry Reeve. Conclusion I have now nearly reached the close of my inquiry, neither to in speaking of the future destiny of the United States. I have endeavored to divide my subject into distinct portions in order to study each of them with more attention. My present object is to embrace the whole from one single point. The remarks I shall make will be less detailed, but they will be more sure. I shall perceive each object less distinctly, but I shall describe the principal facts with more certainty. A traveler who has just left the walls of an immense city climbs the neighboring hills. As he goes farther off, he loses sight of the men whom he has so recently quitted. Their dwellings are confused in a dense mass. He can no longer distinguish the public squares, and he can scarcely trace out the great thoroughfares. But his eye has less difficulty in following the boundaries of the city, and for the first time he sees the shape of the vast whole. Such is the future destiny of the British race in North America to my eye. The details of the stupendous picture are overhung with shade, but I conceive a clear idea of the entire subject. The territory now occupied or possessed by the United States of America forms about one twentieth part of the habitable earth. But extensive as these confines are, it must not be supposed that the Anglo-American race will always remain within them. Indeed, it has already far overstepped them. There was once a time at which we also might have created a great French nation in the American wilds to counterbalance the influence of the English upon the destinies of the new world. France formally possessed a territory in North America scarcely less extensive than the whole of Europe. The three greatest rivers of that continent then flowed within their dominions. The Indian tribes, which dwelt between the mouth of the Saint-Laurents and the Delta of the Mississippi, were unaccustomed to any other tongue but ours, and all the European settlements scattered over the immense region recalled the traditions of our country. Louisburg, Montmorency, Duquesne, St. Louis, Vincennes, New Orleans, for such were the names they bore, or words dear to France and familiar to our ears. But a concourse of circumstances which it would be tedious to enumerate have deprived us of this magnificent inheritance. Wherever the French settlers were numerically weak and partially established, they have disappeared. Those who remain are collected on a small extent of country and are now subject to other laws. The 400,000 French inhabitants of lower Canada constitute at the present time the remnant of an old nation lost in the midst of a new people. A foreign population is increasing around them unceasingly and on all sides, which already penetrates among the ancient masters of the country, predominates in their cities and corrupts their language. This population is identical with that of the United States. It is therefore with truth that I asserted that the British race is not confined within the frontiers of the Union since it already extends to the Northeast. It cannot be denied that the British race has acquired an amazing preponderance over all the other European races in the New World, and that it is very superior to them in civilization, in industry, and in power. As long as it is only surrounded by desert or thinly peopled countries, as long as it encounters no dense populations upon its routes, through which it cannot work its way, it will assuredly continue to spread. The lines marked out by treaties will not stop it, but it will everywhere transgress these imaginary barriers. The geographic position of the British race in the New World is peculiarly favorable to its rapid increase. Above its northern frontiers, the icy region of the pole extend, and a few degrees below its southern confines lies the burning climate of the equator. The Anglo-Americans are therefore placed in the most temperate and habitable zone of the continent. The British subjects in Canada, who are dependent on a king, augment and spread almost as rapidly as the British settlers of the United States, who live under a Republican government. During the War of Independence, which lasted eight years, the population continued to increase without intermission in the same ratio. Although powerful Indian nations allied with the English existed at that time upon the Western frontiers, the emigration westward was never checked. Whilst the enemy laid waste the shores of the Atlantic, Kentucky, the western parts of Pennsylvania and the states of Vermont, and of Maine were filling with inhabitants. Nor did the unsettled state of the Constitution, which succeeded the war, prevent the increase of the population or stop its progress across the wilds. Thus the difference of laws, the various conditions of peace and war, of order and of anarchy have exercised no perceptible influence upon the gradual development of the Anglo-Americans. This may be readily understood, for the fact is that no causes are sufficiently general to exercise a simultaneous influence over the whole of so extensive a territory. One portion of the country always offers a sure retreat from the calamities which afflict another part, and however great may be the evil, the remedy which is at hand is greater still. The British subjects in Canada, who are dependent on a king, augment and spread almost as rapidly as the British settlers of the United States, who live under a Republican government. During the War of Independence, which lasted eight years, the population continued to increase without intermission in the same ratio. Although powerful Indian nations allied with the English existed at that time upon the western frontiers, the emigration westward was never checked. Whilst the enemy laid waste the shores of the Atlantic, Kentucky, the western parts of Pennsylvania and the states of Vermont and of Maine were filling with inhabitants. Nor did the unsettled state of the Constitution, which succeeded the war, prevent the increase of the population or stop its progress across the wilds. Thus the difference of laws, the various conditions of peace and war, of order and of anarchy have exercised no perceptible influence upon the gradual development of the Anglo-Americans. This may be readily understood, for the fact is that no causes are sufficiently general to exercise a simultaneous influence over the whole of so extensive a territory. One portion of the country always offers a sure retreat from the calamities which afflict another part, and however great may be the evil, the remedy which is at hand is greater still. Thus in the midst of the uncertain future, one event at least is sure. At a period which may be said to be near, for we are speaking of the life of a nation, the Anglo-Americans will alone cover the immense space contained between the polar regions and the tropics, extending from the coast of the Atlantic to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. The territory which will probably be occupied by the Anglo-Americans at some future time may be computed to equal three quarters of Europe in extent. The climate of the Union is upon the whole preferable to that of Europe, and its natural advantages are not less great. It is therefore evident that its population will at some future time be proportionate to our own. Europe, divided as it is between so many different nations, and torn as it has been by incessant wars and the barbarous manners of the Middle Ages, has not withstanding attained a population of 410 inhabitants to the Square League. What cause can prevent the United States from having as numerous a population in time? Many ages must elapse before the diverse offsets of the British race in America cease to present the same homogenous characteristics, and the time cannot be foreseen at which a permanent inequality of conditions will be established in the New World. Whatever differences may arise from peace or from war, from freedom or oppression, from prosperity or want. Between the destinies of the different descendants of the great Anglo-American family, they will at least preserve an analogous social condition, and they will hold in common the customs and the opinions to which that social condition has given birth. In the Middle Ages, the tie of religion was sufficiently powerful to imbue all the different populations of Europe with the same civilization. The British of the New World have a thousand other reciprocal ties, and they live at a time when the tendency to equality is general amongst mankind. The Middle Ages were a period when everything was broken up, when each people, each province, each city, and each family had a strong tendency to maintain its distinct individuality. At the present time, an opposite tendency seems to prevail, and the nation seems to be advancing to unity. Our means of intellectual intercourse unite the most remote parts of the earth, and it is impossible for men to remain strangers to each other, or to be ignorant of the events which are taking place in any corner of the globe. The consequence is that there is less difference at the present day between the Europeans and their descendants in the New World than there was between certain towns in the 13th century which were only separated by a river. If this tendency to assimilation brings foreign nations closer to each other, it must, a forti or I, prevent the descendants of the same people from becoming aliens to each other. The time will therefore come when one hundred and fifty millions of men will be living in North America, equal in condition the progeny of one race owing their origin to the same cause and preserving the same civilization, the same language, the same religion, the same habits, the same manners, and imbued with the same opinions propagated under the same forms. The rest is uncertain, but this is certain, and it is a fact new to the world, a fact fraught with such pretentious consequences as to baffle the efforts even of the imagination. There are at the present time two great nations in the world which seem to tend towards the same end. Although they started from different points, I allude to the Russians and the Americans. Both of them have grown up unnoticed, and whilst the attention of mankind was directed elsewhere, they have suddenly assumed a most prominent place amongst the nations, and the world learned their existence and their greatness at almost the same time. All other nations seem to have nearly reached their natural limits and only to be charged with the maintenance of their power, but these are still in the act of growth. All the others are stopped or continue to advance with extreme difficulty. These are proceeding with ease and with celerity along a path to which the human eye can assign no term. The American struggles against the natural obstacles which oppose him. The adversaries of the Russian are men, the former combats, the wilderness and savage life, the latter civilization with all its weapons and its arts. The conquests of the one are therefore gained by the plowshare, those of the other by the sword. The Anglo-American relies upon personal interest to accomplish his ends and gives free scope to the unguided exertions and common sense of the citizens. The Russian centers all the authority of society in a single arm. The principle instrument of the former is freedom, of the latter servitude. Their starting point is different, and their courses are not the same. Yet each of them seems to be marked out by the will of heaven to sway the destinies of half the globe. End of CONCLUSION This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. De la Démocratie en Amérique, par Alexis de Tocqueville, Tom Premier, Deuxième Partie, Chapitre 3, De la liberté de la presse aux États-Unis. Résumé du chapitre, Difficulté de restreindre la liberté de la presse. Raison particulière qu'on sert un peuple de tenir à cette liberté. La liberté de la presse est une conséquence nécessaire de la souveraineté du peuple comme en longtemps en Amérique. Violence du langage de la presse périodique aux États-Unis. La presse périodique a des instincts qui lui sont propres. L'exemple des États-Unis le prouve. Opinion des Américains sur la répression judiciaire des délits de la presse. Pourquoi la presse est moins puissante aux États-Unis qu'en France? Fin du résumé. La liberté de la presse ne fait pas seulement sentir son pouvoir sur les opinions politiques, mais encore sur toutes les opinions des hommes. Elle ne modifie pas seulement les lois, mais les meurs. Dans une autre partie de cet ouvrage, je chercherai à déterminer le degré d'influence qu'a exercé la liberté de la presse sur la société civile aux États-Unis. Je tâcherai de discerner la direction qu'elle a donné aux idées, les habitudes qu'elle a fait prendre à l'esprit et au sentiment des Américains. En ce moment, je ne veux examiner que les effets produits par la liberté de la presse dans le monde politique. J'avoue que je ne porte pointe à la liberté de la presse cet amour complet et instantané qu'on accorde aux choses souverainement bonnes de leur nature. Je l'aime par la considération des mots qu'elle empêche, bien plus que pour les biens qu'elle fait. Si quelqu'un me montrait, entre l'indépendance complète et l'asservissement entier de la pensée, une position intermédiaire où je puisse espérer me tenir, je m'y établirai peut-être. Mais qui découvrira cette position intermédiaire ? Vous partez de la licence de la presse et vous marchez dans l'ordre. Que faites-vous ? Vous soumettez d'abord les écrivains aux jurés, mais les jurés acquittent. Et ce qui n'était que l'opinion d'un homme isolé devient l'opinion du pays. Vous avez donc fait trop et trop peu. Il faut encore marcher. Vous livrez les auteurs à des magistrats permanents. Mais les juges sont obligés d'entendre avant que de condamner. Ce qu'on eut craint d'avouer dans le livre, on le proclame impunément dans le plaidoyer. Ce qu'on eut dit obscurément dans un récit, se trouve ainsi répété dans mille autres. L'expression est la forme extérieure, et si je puis m'exprimer ainsi, le corps de la pensée. Mais elle n'est pas la pensée elle-même. Vos tribunaux arrêtent le corps, mais l'âme leur échappe et glisse subtilement entre leurs mains. Vous avez donc fait trop et trop peu. Il faut continuer à marcher. Vous abandonnez enfin les écrivains à des senseurs. Fort bien, nous approchons. Mais la tribune politique n'est-elle pas libre ? Vous n'avez donc encore rien fait. Je me trompe, vous avez accru le mal. Prendriez-vous par hasard la pensée pour une de ces puissances matérielles qui s'accroissent par le nombre de leurs agents ? Conterez-vous les écrivains comme les soldats d'une armée ? Au rebours de toutes les puissances matérielles, le pouvoir de la pensée s'augmente souvent par le petit nombre même de ceux qu'il exprime. La parole d'un homme puissant, qui pénètre seul au milieu des passions d'une assemblée muette, a plus de pouvoir que l'écrit confus de mille orateurs. Et pour peu qu'on puisse parler librement dans un seul lieu public, c'est comme si on parlait publiquement dans chaque village. Il vous faut donc détruire la liberté de parler comme celle d'écrire. Cette fois, vous voici dans le port, chacun se tait. Mais où êtes-vous arrivé ? Vous étiez partis des abus de la liberté et je vous retrouve sous les pieds d'un des spots. Vous avez été de l'extrême indépendance à l'extrême servitude, sans rencontrer, sur un si long espace, un seul lieu où vous puissiez vous poser. Il y a des peuples qui indépendamment des raisons générales que je viens dénoncer en nom de particulières qui doivent les attacher à la liberté de la presse. Chez certaines nations qui se prétendent de libre, chacun des agents du pouvoir peut impunément violer la loi, sans que la Constitution du pays donne aux opprimés le droit de se plaindre devant la justice. Chez ces peuples, il ne faut plus considérer l'indépendance de la presse comme l'une des garanties, mais comme la seule garantie qui reste de la liberté et de la sécurité des citoyens. Si donc les hommes qui gouvernent ces nations parlaient d'enlever son indépendance à la presse, le peuple entier pourrait leur répondre. Laissez-nous poursuivre vos crimes devant les juges ordinaires et peut-être que nous consentirons alors à ne pointe en appelé au tribunal de l'opinion. Dans un pays où règne ostensiblement le dogme de la souveraineté du peuple, la censure n'est pas seulement un danger, mais encore une grande absurdité. Lorsqu'on accorde à chacun un droit à gouverner la société, il faut bien lui reconnaître la capacité de choisir entre les différentes opinions qui agitent ces contemporains et d'apprécier les différents faits dont la connaissance peut le guider. La souveraineté du peuple et la liberté de la presse sont donc deux choses entièrement correlatives. La censure et le vote universel sont au contraire deux choses qui se contredisent et ne peuvent se rencontrer longtemps dans les institutions politiques d'un même peuple. Parmi les 12 millions d'hommes qui vivent sur le territoire des États-Unis, il n'en est pas un seul qui est encore osé proposé de restreindre la liberté de la presse. Le premier journal qui tomba sous mes yeux, en arrivant en Amérique, contenait l'article suivant que je traduis fidèlement. Dans toute cette affaire, le langage tenu par Jackson, le président, a été celui d'un des spots sans cœur, occupé uniquement à conserver son pouvoir. L'ambition est son crime et il y trouvera sa peine. Il a pour vocation l'intrigue et l'intrigue confondra ses dessins et lui arrachera sa puissance. Il gouverne par la corruption et ses manœuvres coupables tourneront à sa confusion et à sa honte. Il s'est montré dans l'arène politique comme un joueur sans pudeur et sans frein. Il a réussi, mais l'heure de la justice approche. Bientôt, il lui faudra rendre ce qu'il a gagné, jeter loin de lui son détrompeur et finir dans quelques retraites où il puisse blasphémer en liberté contre sa folie. Car le repentir n'est point une vertu qu'il était donné à son cœur de jamais connaître. Vincent Gazette Bien des gens en France imaginent que la violence de la presse tient parmi nous à l'instabilité de l'état social, à nos passions politiques et aux malaises générales qui en est la suite. Ils attendent donc sans cesse une époque où la société reprenante une assiette tranquille, la presse à son tour deviendra calme. Pour moi, j'attribuerai volontiers aux causes indiquées plus hautes l'extrême ascendant qu'elle a sur nous. Mais je ne pense point que ces causes influent beaucoup sur son langage. La presse périodique me paraît avoir des instants et des passions à elle, indépendamment des circonstances au milieu desquelles elle agit. Ceux qui se passent en Amérique achèvent de me le prouver. L'Amérique est peut-être en ce moment le pays du monde qui renferme dans son sein le moin de germes de révolution. En Amérique, cependant, la presse a les mêmes goûts destructeurs qu'en France et la même violence sans les mêmes causes de colère. En Amérique, comme en France, elle est cette puissance extraordinaire, si étrangement mélangée de biens et de mots que sans elle, la liberté ne saurait vivre et qu'avec elle, l'ordre peut à peine se maintenir. Ce qu'il faut dire, c'est que la presse a beaucoup moins de pouvoir aux États-Unis que parmi nous. Rien pourtant n'est plus rare dans ce pays que de voir une poursuite judiciaire dirigée contre elle. La raison en est simple. Les Américains, en admettant parmi eux le dogme de la souveraineté du peuple, en ont fait l'application sincère. Ils n'ont pointu l'idée de fonder, avec des éléments qui changent tous les jours, des constitutions dont la durée fut éternelle. Attaquer les lois existantes n'est donc pas criminel pourvu qu'on ne veuille point si soustraire par la violence. Ils croient d'ailleurs que les tribunaux sont impuissants pour modérer la presse et que la souplesse des langages humains échappant sans cesse à l'analyse judiciaire, les délits de cette nature se déropent en quelque sorte devant la main qui s'étend pour les saisir. Ils pensent qu'à fin de pouvoir agir efficacement sur la presse, il faudrait trouver un tribunal qui non seulement fut dévoué à l'ordre existant mais encore pu se placer au-dessus de l'opinion publique qui s'agit autour de lui. Un tribunal qui juja sans admettre la publicité prononça sans motiver ses arrêts et punit l'intention plus encore que les paroles. Qui concorait le pouvoir de créer et de maintenir un semblable tribunal perdrait son temps à poursuivre la liberté de la presse car alors il serait maître absolu de la société elle-même et pourrait se débarrasser des écrivains en même temps que de leurs écrits. En matière de presse, il n'y a donc réellement pas de milieu entre la servitude et la licence. Pour recueillir les biens inestimables qu'assure la liberté de la presse, ils font savoir se soumettre aux mots inévitables qu'elle fait naître. Vouloir obtenir les uns en échappant aux autres c'est se livrer à l'une de ces illusions dont se berce d'ordinaire les nations malades alors que, fatigué de lutte et épuisé d'efforts, elles cherchent les moyens de faire coexister à la fois sur le même sol des opinions ennemies et des principes contraires. Le peu de puissance des journaux en Amérique tient à plusieurs causes, dont voici les principales. La liberté d'écrire, comme toutes les autres, est d'autant plus redoutable qu'elle est plus nouvelle. Un peuple qui n'a jamais entendu traiter devant lui les affaires de l'État croit le premier tribun qui se présente. Parmi les anglos américains, cette liberté est aussi ancienne que la fondation des colonies. La presse, d'ailleurs, qui sait si bien enflammer les passions humaines, ne peut cependant les créer à elle toute seule. Or, en Amérique, la vie politique est active, variée, agitée même, mais elle est rarement troublée par des passions profondes. Il est rare que celles-ci se soulèvent quand les intérêts matériels ne sont pas compromis et aux États-Unis, ses intérêts prospèrent. Pour juger de la différence qui existe sur ce point entre les anglos américains et nous, je n'ai qu'à jeter les yeux sur les journaux des deux peuples. En France, les annonces commerciales ne tiennent qu'un espace fort restreint. Les nouvelles, même, sont peu nombreuses. La partie vitale d'un journal, c'est celle où se trouvent les discussions politiques. En Amérique, les trois quarts de l'immense journal qui est placée sous vos yeux sont remplies par des annonces. Le reste est occupé le plus souvent par des nouvelles politiques ou de simples anecdotes. De loin en loin, seulement on aperçoit dans un coin ignoré l'une de ces discussions brûlantes qui sont parmi nous la pâtur journalière des lecteurs. Toute puissance augmente l'action de ces forces à mesure qu'elle en centralise la direction. C'est là une loi générale de la nature que l'examen démontre à l'observateur et qu'un instinct plus sûr encore a toujours fait connaître au moindre des spots. En France, la presse réunit deux espèces de centralisation distinctes. Presque tout son pouvoir est concentré dans un même lieu et pour ainsi dire dans les mêmes mains car ses organes sont en très petit nombre. Ainsi constitué au milieu d'une nation sceptique, le pouvoir de la presse doit être presque sans borne. C'est un ennemi avec qui un gouvernement peut faire des trèves plus ou moins longs mais en face duquel il lui est difficile de vivre longtemps. Ni l'une ni l'autre des deux espèces de centralisation dont je viens de parler n'existent en Amérique. Les États-Unis n'ont point de capital. Les lumières comme la puissance sont disséminées dans toutes les parties de cette vaste contrée. Les rayons de l'intelligence humaine au lieu de partir d'un centre commun s'y croisent donc en tout sens. Les Américains n'ont placé nulle part la direction générale de la pensée, non plus que celle des affaires. Ceci tient à des circonstances locales qui ne dépendent point des hommes mais voici qui viennent des lois. Aux États-Unis, il n'y a pas de patente pour les imprimeurs, de timbre ni d'enregistrement pour les journaux. Enfin, la règle des cautionnements est inconnue. Il résulte là que la création d'un journal est une entreprise simple et facile. Peu d'abonnés suffisent pour que le journaliste puisse couvrir ses frais. Aussi, le nombre des écrits périodiques ou semi-périodiques aux États-Unis dépasse-t-il toute croyance. Les Américains les plus éclairés attribuent à cette incroyable dissémination des forces de la presse son peu de puissance. C'est un axiom de la science politique aux États-Unis que le seul moyen de neutraliser les effets des journaux est d'en multiplier le nombre. Je ne saurais me figurer qu'une vérité aussi évidente ne soit pas encore devenue chez nous plus vulgaire. Que ceux qui veulent faire des révolutions à l'aide de la presse cherchent à ne lui donner que quelques puissances organes, je le comprends sans peine, mais que les partisans officiels de l'ordre établi et les soutiens naturels des lois existantes croient atténuer l'action de la presse en la concentrant, voilà ce que je ne saurais absolument concevoir. Les gouvernements d'Europe me semblent agir vis-à-vis de la presse de la même façon qu'agissaient jadis les chevaliers envers leurs adversaires. Ils ont remarqué par leur propre usage que la centralisation était une arme puissante et ils veulent en pourvoir leur ennemi afin sans doute d'avoir plus de gloire à lui résister. Aux États-Unis, il n'y a presque pas de bourgade qui naît son journal. On conçoit sans peine que parmi tant de combattants, on ne peut établir ni discipline, ni unité d'action. Aussi voient-on chacun lever sa baguière. Ce n'est pas que tous les journaux politiques de l'Union se soient rangés pour ou contre l'administration, mais ils l'attaquent et la défendent par 100 moyens divers. Les journaux ne peuvent donc pas établir aux États-Unis de ces grands courants d'opinion qui soulèvent ou débordent les plus puissants digues. Cette division des forces de la presse produit encore d'autres effets non moins remarquables. La création d'un journal est en chose facile, tout le monde peut s'en occuper. D'un autre côté, la concurrence fait qu'un journal ne peut espérer de très grands profits, ce qui empêche les hautes capacités industrielles de se meuler de ces sortes entreprises. Les journaux fustillent d'ailleurs la source des richesses, comme ils sont excessivement nombreux, les écrivains de talent ne pourraient suffire à les diriger. Les journalistes aux États-Unis ont donc en général une position peu élevée, leur éducation n'est qu'ébaucher, et la tournure de leurs idées est souvent vulgaire. Or, en toute chose, la majorité fait loi. Elle établit de certaines allures auxquelles chacun ensuite se conforme. L'ensemble de ces habitudes communes s'appelle un esprit. Il y a l'esprit du barreau, l'esprit de cours. L'esprit du journaliste en France est de discuter d'une manière violente, mais élevée et souvent éloquante les grands intérêts de l'État. S'il n'en est pas toujours ainsi, c'est que toute règle à ses exceptions. L'esprit du journaliste en Amérique est de s'attaquer grossièrement, sans après et sans art, aux passions de ceux auxquels il s'adresse, de laisser là les principes pour saisir les hommes, de suivre ceux-ci dans leur vie privée et de mettre à nu leur faiblesse et leur vice. Il faut déplorer un pareil abus de la pensée. Plus tard, j'aurai occasion de rechercher quelles influences exercent des journaux sur le goût et la moralité du peuple américain. Mais je le répète, je ne m'occupe en ce moment que du monde politique. On ne peut se dissimuler que les effets politiques de cette licence de la presse ne contribuent indirectement au maintien de la tranquillité publique. Il en résulte que les hommes qui ont déjà une position élevée dans l'opinion de leurs concitoyens n'osent point écrire dans les journaux et perd ainsi l'arme la plus redoutable dont ils puissent se servir pour remuer à leur profit les passions populaires. Il en résulte surtout que les vues personnelles exprimées par les journalistes ne sont pour ainsi dire d'aucun poids aux yeux des lecteurs. Ceux qui le cherchent dans un journal c'est la connaissance des faits. Ce n'est qu'en altérant ou en dénaturant ces faits que le journaliste peut acquérir à son opinion quelle qu'influence. Réduit à ces seules ressources, la presse exerce encore un immense pouvoir en Amérique. Elle fait circuler la vie politique dans toutes les portions de ce vaste territoire. C'est elle dont l'œil toujours ouvert met sans cesse à nu les secrets ressorts de la politique et force les hommes publics à venir tout à tour comparètre devant le tribunal de l'opinion. C'est elle qui rallie les intérêts autour de certaines doctrines et formule le symbole des partis. C'est par elle que ceci se parle sans se voir sans temps de sans être mis en contact. Lorsqu'un grand nombre des organes de la presse parvient à marcher dans la même voie, leur influence à la longue devient presque irrésistible et l'opinion publique frappée toujours du même côté finit par céder sous leurs coups. Aux États-Unis, chaque journal a individuellement peu de pouvoir, mais la presse périodique est encore après le peuple, la première des puissances. Que les opinions qui s'établissent sous l'Empire de la liberté de la presse aux États-Unis sont souvent plus tenaces que celles qui se forment ailleurs sous l'Empire de la censure. Aux États-Unis, la démocratie amène sans cesse des hommes nouveaux à la direction des affaires. Le gouvernement met donc peu de suite et d'ordre dans ses mesures. Mais les principes généraux du gouvernement y sont plus stables que dans beaucoup d'autres pays et les opinions principales qui règlent la société s'y montrent plus durables. Quand une idée a pris possession de l'esprit du peuple américain, qu'elle soit juste ou déraisonnable, rien n'est plus difficile que de l'en extirper. Le même fait a été observé en Angleterre, le pays de l'Europe où l'on a vu pendant un siècle la liberté la plus grande de penser et les préjuger les plus invincible. J'attribue cet effet à la cause même qui, au premier abord, semblerait devoir l'empêcher de se produire, à la liberté de la presse. Les peuples chez lesquels existe cette liberté s'attachent à leurs opinions par orgueil autant que par conviction. Ils les aiment parce qu'elles leur semblent juste et aussi parce qu'elles sont de leur choix. Et ils y tiennent, non seulement comme à une chose vraie, mais encore comme à une chose qui l'aurait propre. Il y a plusieurs autres raisons encore. Un grand homme a dit que l'ignorance était au debout de la science. Peut-être utile était plus vrai de dire que les convictions profondes ne se trouvent qu'au debout et qu'au milieu est le doute. On peut considérer en effet l'intelligence humaine dans trois états distincts et souvent successifs. L'homme croit fermement parce qu'il adopte sans approfondir. Il doute quand les objections se présentent. Souvent, il parvient à résoudre tous ses doutes et alors il recommence à croire. Cette fois, il ne saisit plus la vérité au hasard et dans les ténèbres, mais il la voit face à face et marche directement à ses lumières. Lorsque la liberté de la presse trouve les hommes dans le premier état, elle leur laisse pendant longtemps encore cette habitude de croire fermement sans réfléchir. Seulement, elle change chaque jour l'objet de leur croyance irréfléchie. Sur tout l'horizon intellectuelle, l'esprit de l'homme continue donc à ne voir qu'un point à la fois. Mais ce point varie sans cesse. C'est le temps des révolutions subites, malheur aux générations qui les premières admettent tout à coup la liberté de la presse. Bientôt cependant, le cercle des idées nouvelles est à peu près parcouru. L'expérience arrive et l'homme se plonge dans un doute et dans une méfiance universelle. On peut compter que la majorité des hommes s'arrêtera toujours dans l'un de ces deux états. Elle croira sans savoir pourquoi ou ne saura pas précisément ce qu'il faut croire. Quant à cette autre espèce de conviction réfléchie et maîtresse d'elle-même qui naît de la science et s'élève du milieu même des agitations du doute, il ne sera jamais donné qu'au effort d'un très petit nombre d'hommes de l'atteindre. Or on a remarqué que dans les siècles de ferveurs religieuses, les hommes changeaient quelquefois de croyance tandis que dans les siècles de doute, chacun gardait obstinément la sienne. Il en arrive ainsi dans la politique sous le règne de la liberté de la presse. Toutes les théories sociales ayant été contestées et combattues tout à tour, ceux qui se sont fixés à l'une d'elles la gardent, non pas tant parce qu'ils sont sûrs qu'elle est bonne que parce qu'ils ne sont pas sûrs qu'il y en est une meilleure. Dans ces siècles, on ne se fait pas tuer si aisément pour ses opinions, mais on ne les change point et ils s'y rencontrent tout à la fois moins de martyrs et d'apostas. Ajoutez à cette raison cet autre plus puissant encore. Dans le doute des opinions, les hommes finissent par s'attacher uniquement aux instincts et aux intérêts matériels qui sont bien plus visibles, plus saisissables et plus permanents de leur nature que les opinions. C'est une question très difficile à décider que celle de savoir qui gouverne le mieux de la démocratie ou de l'aristocratie. Mais il est clair que la démocratie gêne l'un et que l'aristocratie opprime l'autre. C'est là une vérité qui s'établit d'elle-même et qu'on n'a pas besoin de discuter. Vous êtes riches et je suis pauvre.