American Institutions And Their Influence

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Not far from this class is another party, whose object is to
materialise mankind, to hit upon what is expedient without
heeding what is just; to acquire knowledge without faith, and
prosperity apart from virtue; assuming the title of the champions
of modern civilisation, and placing themselves in a station which
they usurp with insolence, and from which they are driven by
their own unworthiness.

Where are we then?

The religionists are the enemies of liberty, and the friends of
liberty attack religion; the high-minded and the noble advocate
subjection, and the meanest and most servile minds preach
independence; honest and enlightened citizens are opposed to all
progress, while men without patriotism and without principles,
are the apostles of civilisation and of intelligence.

Has such been the fate of the centuries which have preceded our
own? and has man always inhabited a world, like the present,
where nothing is linked together, where virtue is without genius,
and genius without honor; where the love of order is confounded
with a taste for oppression, and the holy rites of freedom with a
contempt of law; where the light thrown by conscience on human
actions is dim, and where nothing seems to be any longer
forbidden or allowed, honorable or shameful, false or true?

I cannot, however, believe that the Creator made man to leave him
in an endless struggle with the intellectual miseries which
surround us: God destines a calmer and a more certain future to
the communities of Europe; I am unacquainted with his designs,
but I shall not cease to believe in them because I cannot fathom
them, and I had rather mistrust my own capacity than his justice.

There is a country in the world where the great revolution which
I am speaking of seems nearly to have reached its natural limits;
it has been effected with ease and simplicity, say rather that
this country has attained the consequences of the democratic
revolution which we are undergoing, without having experienced
the revolution itself.

The emigrants who fixed themselves on the shores of America in
the beginning of the seventeenth century, severed the democratic
principle from all the principles which repressed it in the old
communities of Europe, and transplanted it unalloyed to the New
World. It has there been allowed to spread in perfect freedom,
and to put forth its consequences in the laws by influencing the
manners of the country.

It appears to me beyond a doubt, that sooner or later we shall
arrive, like the Americans, at an almost complete equality of
conditions. But I do not conclude from this, that we shall ever
be necessarily led to draw the same political consequences which
the Americans have derived from a similar social organization. I
am far from supposing that they have chosen the only form of
government which a democracy may adopt; but the identity of the
efficient cause of laws and manners in the two countries is
sufficient to account for the immense interest we have in
becoming acquainted with its effects in each of them.

It is not, then, merely to satisfy a legitimate curiosity that I
have examined America; my wish has been to find instruction by
which we may ourselves profit. Whoever should imagine that I
have intended to write a panegyric would be strangely mistaken,
and on reading this book, he will perceive that such was not my
design: nor has it been my object to advocate any form of
government in particular, for I am of opinion that absolute
excellence is rarely to be found in any legislation; I have not
even affected to discuss whether the social revolution, which I
believe to be irresistible, is advantageous or prejudicial to
mankind; I have acknowledged this revolution as a fact already
accomplished or on the eve of its accomplishment; and I have
selected the nation, from among those which have undergone it, in
which its development has been the most peaceful and the most
complete, in order to discern its natural consequences, and, if
it be possible, to distinguish the means by which it may be
rendered profitable. I confess that in America I saw more than
America; I sought the image of democracy itself, with its
inclinations, its character, its prejudices, and its passions, in
order to learn what we have to fear or to hope from its progress.

In the first part of this work I have attempted to show the
tendency given to the laws by the democracy of America, which is
abandoned almost without restraint to its instinctive
propensities; and to exhibit the course it prescribes to the
government, and the influence it exercises on affairs. I have
sought to discover the evils and the advantages which it
produces. I have examined the precautions used by the Americans
to direct it, as well as those which they have not adopted, and I
have undertaken to point out the causes which enable it to govern
society.

It was my intention to depict, in a second part, the influence
which the equality of conditions and the rule of democracy
exercise on the civil society, the habits, the ideas, and the
manners of the Americans; I begin, however, to feel less ardor
for the accomplishment of this project, since the excellent work
of my friend and travelling companion M. de Beaumont has been
given to the world.[Footnote:

This work is entitled, Marie, ou l'Esclavage aux Etats-Unis.

] I do not know whether I have succeeded in making known what I
saw in America, but I am certain that such has been my sincere
desire, and that I have never, knowingly, moulded facts to ideas,
instead of ideas to facts.

Whenever a point could be established by the aid of written
documents, I have had recourse to the original text, and to the
most authentic and approved works.[Footnote:

Legislative and administrative documents have been furnished me
with a degree of politeness which I shall always remember with
gratitude. Among the American functionaries who thus favored my
inquiries I am proud to name Mr. Edward Livingston, then
Secretary of State and late American minister at Paris. During
my stay at the session of Congress, Mr. Livingston was kind
enough to furnish me with the greater part of the documents I
possess relative to the federal government. Mr. Livingston is
one of those rare individuals whom one loves, respects, and
admires, from their writings, and to whom one is happy to incur
the debt of gratitude on further acquaintance.

] I have cited my authorities in the notes, and any one may
refer to them. Whenever an opinion, a political custom, or a
remark on the manners of the country was concerned, I endeavored
to consult the most enlightened men I met with. If the point in
question was important or doubtful, I was not satisfied with one
testimony, but I formed my opinion on the evidence of several
witnesses. Here the reader must necessarily believe me upon my
word. I could frequently have quoted names which are either
known to him, or which deserve to be so, in proof of what I
advance; but I have carefully abstained from this practice. A
stranger frequently hears important truths at the fireside of his
host, which the latter would perhaps conceal even from the ear of
friendship; he consoles himself with his guest, for the silence
to which he is restricted, and the shortness of the traveller's
stay takes away all fear of his indiscretion. I carefully noted
every conversation of this nature as soon as it occurred, but
these notes will never leave my writing-case; I had rather injure
the success of my statements than add my name to the list of
those strangers who repay the generous hospitality they have
received by subsequent chagrin and annoyance.

I am aware that, notwithstanding my care, nothing will be easier
than to criticise this book, if any one ever chooses to criticise
it.

Those readers who may examine it closely will discover the
fundamental idea which connects the several parts together. But
the diversity of the subjects I have had to treat is exceedingly
great, and it will not be difficult to oppose an isolated fact to
the body of facts which I quote, or an isolated idea to the body
of ideas I put forth. I hope to be read in the spirit which has
guided my labors, and that my book may be judged by the general
impression it leaves, as I have formed my own judgment not on any
single reason, but upon the mass of evidence.

It must not be forgotten that the author who wishes to be
understood is obliged to push all his ideas to their utmost
theoretical consequences, and often to the verge of what is false
or impracticable; for if it be necessary sometimes to quit the
rules of logic in active life, such is not the case in discourse,
and a man finds that almost as many difficulties spring from
inconsistency of language, as usually arise from consistency of
conduct.

I conclude by pointing out myself what many readers will consider
the principal defect of the work. This book is written to favor
no particular views, and in composing it I have entertained no
design of serving or attacking any party: I have undertaken not
to see differently, but to look farther than parties, and while
they are busied for the morrow, I have turned my thoughts to the
future.

* * * * *

AMERICAN INSTITUTIONS.

CHAPTER I.

EXTERIOR FORM OF NORTH AMERICA.

North America divided into two vast regions, one inclining toward
the Pole, the other toward the Equator.--Valley of the
Mississippi.--Traces of the Revolutions of the Globe.--Shore
of the Atlantic Ocean, where the English Colonies were
founded.--Difference in the Appearance of North and of South
America at the Time of their Discovery.--Forests of North
America.--Prairies.--Wandering Tribes of Natives.--Their
outward Appearance, Manners, and Language.--Traces of an
Unknown People.

North America presents in its external form certain general
features, which it is easy to discriminate at the first glance.

A sort of methodical order seems to have regulated the separation
of land and water, mountains and valleys. A simple but grand
arrangement is discoverable amid the confusion of objects and the
prodigious variety of scenes.

This continent is divided, almost equally, into two vast regions,
one of which is bounded, on the north by the arctic pole, and by
the two great oceans on the east and west. It stretches toward
the south, forming a triangle, whose irregular sides meet at
length below the great lakes of Canada.

The second region begins where the other terminates, and includes
all the remainder of the continent.

The one slopes gently toward the pole, the other toward the
equator.

The territory comprehended in the first regions descends toward
the north with so imperceptible a slope that it may almost be
said to form a level plain. Within the bounds of this immense
tract of country there are neither high mountains nor deep
valleys. Streams meander through it irregularly; great rivers
mix their currents, separate and meet again, disperse and form
vast marshes, losing all trace of their channels in the labyrinth
of waters they have themselves created; and thus, at length,
after innumerable windings, fall into the polar seas. The great
lakes which bound this first region are not walled in, like most
of those in the Old World, between hills and rocks. Their banks
are flat, and rise but a few feet above the level of their
waters; each of them thus forming a vast bowl filled to the brim.
The slightest change in the structure of the globe would cause
their waters to rush either toward the pole or to the tropical
sea.

The second region is more varied on its surface, and better
suited for the habitation of man. Two long chains of mountains
divide it from one extreme to the other; the Allegany ridge takes
the form of the shores of the Atlantic ocean; the other is
parallel with the Pacific.

The space which lies between these two chains of mountains
contains 1,341,649 square miles.[Footnote:

Darby's "View of the United States."

] Its surface is therefore about six times as great as that of
France.

This vast territory, however, forms a single valley, one side of
which descends gradually from the rounded summits of the
Alleganies, while the other rises in an uninterrupted course
toward the tops of the Rocky mountains.

At the bottom of the valley flows an immense river, into which
the various streams issuing from the mountains fall from all
parts. In memory of their native land, the French formerly
called this the river St. Louis. The Indians, in their pompous
language, have named it the Father of Waters, or the Mississippi.

The Mississippi takes its source above the limit of the two great
regions of which I have spoken, not far from the highest point of
the table-land where they unite. Near the same spot rises
another river,[Footnote:

Mackenzie's river.

] which empties itself into the polar seas. The course of the
Mississippi is at first devious: it winds several times toward
the north, whence it rose; and, at length, after having been
delayed in lakes and marshes, it flows slowly onward to the
south.

Sometimes quietly gliding along the argillaceous bed which nature
has assigned to it; sometimes swollen by storms, the Mississippi
waters 2,500 miles in its course.[Footnote:

Warden's "Description of the United States."

] At the distance of 1,364 miles from its mouth this river
attains an average depth of fifteen feet; and it is navigated by
vessels of 300 tons burden for a course of nearly 500 miles.
Fifty-seven large navigable rivers contribute to swell the waters
of the Mississippi; among others the Missouri, which traverses a
space of 2,500 miles; the Arkansas of 1,300 miles; the Red river
1,000 miles; four whose course is from 800 to 1000 miles in
length, viz., the Illinois, the St. Peter's, the St. Francis, and
the Moingona; besides a countless number of rivulets which unite
from all parts their tributary streams.

The valley which is watered by the Mississippi seems formed to be
the bed of this mighty river, which like a god of antiquity
dispenses both good and evil in its course. On the shores of the
stream nature displays an inexhaustible fertility; in proportion
as you recede from its banks, the powers of vegetation languish,
the soil becomes poor, and the plants that survive have a sickly
growth. Nowhere have the great convulsions of the globe left
more evident traces than in the valley of the Mississippi: the
whole aspect of the country shows the powerful effects of water,
both by its fertility and by its barrenness. The waters of the
primeval ocean accumulated enormous beds of vegetable mould in
the valley, which they levelled as they retired. Upon the right
shore of the river are seen immense plains, as smooth as if the
husbandman had passed over them with his roller. As you approach
the mountains, the soil becomes more aim more unequal and
sterile; the ground is, as it were, pierced in a thousand places
by primitive rocks, which appear like the bones of a skeleton
whose flesh is partly consumed. The surface of the earth is
covered with a granitic sand, and huge irregular masses of stone,
among which a few plants force their growth, and give the
appearance of a green field covered with the ruins of a vast
edifice. These stones and this sand discover, on examination, a
perfect analogy with those which compose the arid and broken
summits of the Rocky mountains. The flood of waters which washed
the soil to the bottom of the valley, afterward carried away
portions of the rocks themselves; and these, dashed and bruised
against the neighboring cliffs, were left scattered like wrecks
at their feet.[Footnote:

See Appendix A.

]

The valley of the Mississippi is, upon the whole, the most
magnificent dwelling-place prepared by God for man's abode; and
yet it may be said that at present it is but a mighty desert.

On the eastern side of the Alleganies, between the base of these
mountains and the Atlantic ocean, lies a long ridge of rocks and
sand, which the sea appears to have left behind as it retired.
The mean breadth of this territory does not exceed one hundred
miles; but it is about nine hundred miles in length. This part
of the American continent has a soil which offers every obstacle
to the husbandman, and its vegetation is scanty and unvaried.

Upon this inhospitable coast the first united efforts of human
industry were made. This tongue of arid land was the cradle of
those English colonies which were destined one day to become the
United States of America. The centre of power still remains
there; while in the backward States the true elements of the
great people, to whom the future control of the continent
belongs, are secretly springing up.

When the Europeans first landed on the shores of the Antilles,
and afterwards on the coast of South America, they thought
themselves transported into those fabulous regions of which poets
had sung. The sea sparkled with phosphoric light, and the
extraordinary transparency of its waters discovered to the view
of the navigator all that had hitherto been hidden in the deep
abyss.[Footnote:

Malte Brun tells us (vol. v., p. 726) that the water of the
Caribbean sea is so transparent, that corals and fish are
discernible at a depth of sixty fathoms. The ship seemed to
float in the air, the navigator became giddy as his eye
penetrated through the crystal flood, and beheld submarine
gardens, or beds of shells, or gilded fishes gliding among tufts
and thickets of seaweed.

] Here and there appeared little islands perfumed with
odoriferous plants, and resembling baskets of flowers, floating
on the tranquil surface of the ocean. Every object which met the
sight, in this enchanting region, seemed prepared to satisfy the
wants, or contribute to the pleasures of man. Almost all the
trees were loaded with nourishing fruits, and those which were
useless as food, delighted the eye by the brilliancy and variety
of their colors. In groves of fragrant lemon-trees, wild figs,
flowering myrtles, acacias, and oleanders, which were hung with
festoons of various climbing-plants, covered with flowers, a
multitude of birds unknown in Europe displayed their bright
plumage, glittering with purple and azure, and mingled their
warbling in the harmony of a world teeming with life and
motion.[Footnote:

See Appendix B.

]

Underneath this brilliant exterior death was concealed. The air
of these climates had so enervating an influence that man,
completely absorbed by the present enjoyment, was rendered
regardless of the future.

North America appeared under a very different aspect; there,
everything was grave, serious, and solemn; it seemed created to
be the domain of intelligence, as the south was that of sensual
delight. A turbulent and foggy ocean washed its shores. It was
girded round by a belt of granitic rocks, or by wide plains of
sand. The foliage of its woods was dark and gloomy; for they
were composed of firs, larches, evergreen oaks, wild olive-trees,
and laurels.

Beyond this outer belt lay the thick shades of the central
forests, where the largest trees which are produced in the two
hemispheres grow side by side. The plane, the catalpa, the
sugar-maple, and the Virginian poplar, mingled their branches
with those of the oak, the beech, and the lime.

In these, as in the forests of the Old World, destruction was
perpetually going on. The ruins of vegetation were heaped upon
each other; but there was no laboring hand to remove them, and
their decay was not rapid enough to make room for the continual
work of reproduction. Climbing-plants, grasses and other herbs,
forced their way through the moss of dying trees; they crept
along their bending trunks, found nourishment in their dusty
cavities, and a passage beneath the lifeless bark. Thus decay
gave its assistance to life, and their respective productions
were mingled together. The depths of these forests were gloomy
and obscure, and a thousand rivulets, undirected in their course
by human industry, preserved in them a constant moisture. It was
rare to meet with flowers, wild fruits, or birds, beneath their
shades. The fall of a tree overthrown by age, the rushing
torrent of a cataract, the lowing of the buffalo, and the howling
of the wind, were the only sounds which broke the silence of
nature.

To the east of the great river the woods almost disappeared; in
their stead were seen prairies of immense extent. Whether nature
in her infinite variety had denied the germes of trees to these
fertile plains, or whether they had once been covered with
forests, subsequently destroyed by the hand of man, is a question
which neither tradition nor scientific research has been able to
resolve.

These immense deserts were not, however, devoid of human
inhabitants. Some wandering tribes had been for ages scattered
among the forest shades or the green pastures of the prairie.
From the mouth of the St. Lawrence to the Delta of the
Mississippi, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean, these
savages possessed certain points of resemblance which bore
witness of their common origin: but at the same time they
differed from all other known races of men:[Footnote:

With the progress of discovery, some resemblance has been found
to exist between the physical conformation, the language, and the
habits of the Indians of North America, and those of the Tongous,
Mantchous, Moguls, Tartars, and other wandering tribes of Asia.
The land occupied by these tribes is not very distant from
Behring's strait; which allows of the supposition, that at a
remote period they gave inhabitants to the desert continent of
America. But this is a point which has not yet been clearly
elucidated by science. See Malte Brun, vol. v.; the works of
Humboldt; Fischer, "Conjecture sur l'Origine des Americains;"
Adair, "History of the American Indians."

] they were neither white like the Europeans, nor yellow like
most of the Asiatics, nor black like the negroes. Their skin was
reddish brown, their hair long and shining, their lips thin, and
their cheek-bones very prominent. The languages spoken by the
North American tribes were various as far as regarded their
words, but they were subject to the same grammatical rules.
Those rules differed in several points from such as had been
observed to govern the origin of language.

The idiom of the Americans seemed to be the product of new
combinations, and bespoke an effort of the understanding, of
which the Indians of our days would be incapable.[Footnote:

See Appendix C.

]

The social state of these tribes differed also in many respects
from all that was seen in the Old World. They seemed to have
multiplied freely in the midst of their deserts, without coming
in contact with other races more civilized than their own.

Accordingly, they exhibited none of those indistinct, incoherent
notions of right and wrong, none of that deep corruption of
manners that is usually joined with ignorance and rudeness among
nations which, after advancing to civilisation, have relapsed
into a state of barbarism. The Indian was indebted to no one but
himself; his virtues, his vices, and his prejudices, were his own
work; he had grown up in the wild independence of his nature.

If, in polished countries, the lowest of the people are rude and
uncivil, it is not merely because they are poor and ignorant, but
that, being so, they are in daily contact with rich and
enlightened men. The sight of their own hard lot and of their
weakness, which are daily contrasted with the happiness and power
of some of their fellow creatures, excites in their hearts at the
same time the sentiments of anger and of fear: the consciousness
of their inferiority and of their dependence irritates while it
humiliates them. This state of mind displays itself in their
manners and language; they are at once insolent and servile. The
truth of this is easily proved by observation; the people are
more rude in aristocratic countries than elsewhere; in opulent
cities than in rural districts. In those places where the rich
and powerful are assembled together, the weak and the indigent
feel themselves oppressed by their inferior condition. Unable to
perceive a single chance of regaining their equality, they give
up to despair, and allow themselves to fall below the dignity of
human nature.

This unfortunate effect of the disparity of conditions is not
observable in savage life; the Indians, although they are
ignorant and poor, are equal and free.

At the period when Europeans first came among them, the natives
of North America were ignorant of the value of riches, and
indifferent to the enjoyments which civilized man procures to
himself by their means. Nevertheless there was nothing coarse in
their demeanor; they practised an habitual reserve, and a kind of
aristocratic politeness.

Mild and hospitable when at peace, though merciless in war beyond
any known degree of human ferocity, the Indian would expose
himself to die of hunger in order to succor the stranger who
asked admittance by night at the door of his hut--yet he could
tear in pieces with his hands the still quivering limbs of his
prisoner. The famous republics of antiquity never gave examples
of more unshaken courage, more haughty spirits, or more
intractable love of independence, than were hidden in former
times among the wild forests of the New World.[Footnote: