Holly Lodge, Kensington, London | |
May 23, 1857 |
The four volumes of the Colonial History of New York reached me safely. I assure you that I shall value them highly. They contain much to interest an English as well as an American reader. Pray accept my thanks, and convey them to the Regents of the University.
You are surprised to learn that I have not a high opinion of Mr.
Jefferson, and I am a little surprised at your surprise. I am certain
that I never wrote a line, and that I never, in Parliament, in
conversation, or even on the hustings, - a place where it is the fashion
to court the populace, - uttered a word indicating an opinion that the
supreme authority in a state ought to be entrusted to the majority of
citizens told by the head, in other words, to the poorest and most
ignorant part of society. I have long been convinced that institutions
purely democratic must, sooner or later, destroy liberty, or
civilisation, or both. In Europe, where the population is dense, the
effect of such institutions would be almost instantaneous. What happened
lately in France is an example. In 1848 a pure democracy was established
there. During a short time there was reason to expect a general
spoliation, a national bankruptcy, a new partition of the soil, a maximum
of prices, a ruinous load of taxation laid on the rich for the purpose of
supporting the poor in idleness. Such a system would, in twenty years,
have made France as poor and barbarous as the France of the
Carlovingians. Happily the danger was averted, and now there is a
despotism, a silent tribune, an enslaved press. Liberty is gone: but
civilisation has been saved. I have not the smallest doubt that, if we
had a purely democratic government here, the effect would be the same.
Either the poor would plunder the rich, and civilisation would perish; or
order and property would be saved by a strong military government, and
liberty would perish. You may think that your country enjoys an
exemption from these evils. I will frankly own to you that I am of a
very different opinion. Your fate I believe to be certain, though it is
deferred by a physical cause. As long as you have a boundless extent of
fertile and unoccupied land, your labouring population will be far more
at ease than the labouring population of the old world; and, while that
is the case, the Jeffersonian polity may continue to exist without
causing any fatal calamity. But the time will come when New England will
be as thickly peopled as old England. Wages will be as low, and will
fluctuate as much with you as with us. You will have your Manchesters
and Birminghams; and, in those Manchesters and Birminghams, hundreds of
thousands of artisans will assuredly be sometimes out of work. Then your
institutions will be fairly brought to the test. Distress every where
makes the labourer mutinous and discontented, and inclines him to listen
with eagerness to agitators who tell him that it is a monstrous iniquity
that one man should have a million while another cannot get a full meal.
In bad years there is plenty of grumbling here, and sometimes a little
rioting. But it matters little. For here the sufferers are not the
rulers. The supreme power is in the hands of a class, numerous indeed,
but select, of an educated class, of a class which is, and knows itself
to be, deeply interested in the security of property and the maintenance
of order. Accordingly, the malecontents are firmly, yet gently,
restrained. The bad time is got over without robbing the wealthy to
relieve the indigent. The springs of national prosperity soon begin to
flow again: work is plentiful: wages rise; and all is tranquillity and
cheerfulness. I have seen England pass three or four times through such
critical seasons as I have described. Through such seasons the United
States will have to pass, in the course of the next century, if not of
this. How will you pass through them. I heartily wish you a good
deliverance. But my reason and my wishes are at war; and I cannot help
foreboding the worst. It is quite plain that your government will never
be able to restrain a distressed and discontented majority. For with you
the majority is the government, and has the rich, who are always a
minority, absolutely at its mercy. The day will come when, in the State
of New York, a multitude of people, none of whom has had more than half a
breakfast or expects to have more than half a dinner, will chuse a
legislature. Is it possible to doubt what sort of legislature will be
chosen? On one side is a statesman preaching patience, respect for
vested rights, strict observances of public faith. On the other is a
demagogue ranting about the tyranny of capitalists and usurers, and
asking why anybody should be permitted to drink Champagne and to ride in
a carriage, while thousands of honest folks are in want of necessaries.
Which of the two candidates is likely to be preferred by a working man
who hears his children cry for more bread? I seriously apprehend that
you will, in some such season of adversity as I have described, do things
which will prevent prosperity from returning; that you will act like
people who should, in a year of scarcity, devour all the seed corn, and
thus make the next year a year, not of scarcity, but of absolute famine.
There will be, I fear, spoliation. The spoliation will increase the
distress. The distress will produce fresh spoliation. There is nothing
to stop you. Your constitution is all sail and no anchor. As I said
before, when a society has entered on this downward progress, either
civilisation or liberty must perish. Either some Caesar or Napoleon will
seize the reins of government with a strong hand; or your republic will
be as fearfully plundered and laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth
Century as the Roman Empire was in the fifth; - with this difference,
that the Huns and Vandals who ravaged the Roman Empire came from without,
and that your Huns and Vandals will have been engendered within your own
country by your own institutions. Thinking thus, of course, I cannot
reckon Jefferson among the benefactors of mankind. I readily admit that
his intentions were good and his abilities considerable. Odious stories
have been circulated about his private life: but I do not know on what
evidence those stories rest; and I think it probable that they are false,
or monstrously exaggerated. I have no doubt that I shall derive both
pleasure and information from your account of him. / I have the honor to
be, / Dear Sir,
Your faithful Servant, | |
T B Macaulay |
Holly Lodge, Kensington | |
October 9, 1858 |
Your book was preceded by a letter, for which I have also to thank you. In that letter you expressed, without the smallest discourtesy, a very decided dissent from some opinions, which I have long held firmly, but which I should never have obtruded on you except at your own earnest request, and which I have no wish to defend against your objections. If you can derive any comfort as to the future destinies of your country from your conviction that a benevolent Creator will never suffer more human beings to be born than can live in plenty, it is a comfort of which I should be sorry to deprive you. By the same process of reasoning one may arrive at many very agreeable conclusions, such as that there is no cholera, no malaria, no yellow fever, no negro slavery, in the world. Unfortunately for me, perhaps, I learned from Lord Bacon a method of investigating truth diametrically opposite to that which you appear to follow. I am perfectly aware of the immense progress which your country has made and is making in population and wealth. I know that the labourer with you has large wages, abundant food, and the means of giving some education to his children. But I see no reason for attributing these things to the policy of Jefferson. I see no reason to believe that your progress would have been less rapid, that your labouring people would have been worse fed, or clothed, or taught, if your government had been conducted on the principles of Washington and Hamilton. Nay, you will, I am sure, acknowledge that the progress which you are now making is only a continuation of the progress which you have been making ever since the middle of the seventeenth century, and that the blessings which you now enjoy were enjoyed by your forefathers who were loyal subjects of the Kings of England. The contrast between the labourer of New York and the labourer of Europe is not stronger now than it was when New York was governed by noblemen and gentlemen commissioned under the English Great Seal. And there are at this moment dependencies of the English crown in which all the phaenomena which you attribute to purely democratical institutions may be seen in the highest perfection. The colony of Victoria in Australasia was planted only twenty years ago. The population is now, I suppose, near a million. The revenue is enormous, near five millions sterling, and raised without any murmuring. The wages of labour are higher than they are even with you. Immense sums are expended on education. And this is a province governed by the delegate of a hereditary Sovereign. It therefore seems to me quite clear that the facts which you cite to prove the excellence of purely democratic institutions ought to be ascribed, not to those institutions, but to causes which operated in America long before your Declaration of Independence, and which are still operating in many parts of the British empire. You will perceive therefore that I do not propose, as you thought, to sacrifice the interests of the present generation to those of remote generations. It would indeed be absurd in a nation to part with institutions to which it is indebted for immense present prosperity from an apprehension that, after the lapse of a century, those institutions may be found to produce mischief. But I do not admit that the prosperity which your country enjoys arises from those parts of your polity which may be called, in an especial manner, Jeffersonian. Those parts of your polity already produce bad effects, and will, unless I am greatly mistaken, produce fatal effects, if they shall last till North America has two hundred inhabitants to the square mile.
With repeated thanks for your present I have the honor to be, Sir,
Your faithful Servant, | |
Macaulay |