Not only are we no less sycophantic than the people of monarchical countries; we are more so. We grovel before their exalted personages, and perform in addition a special prostration at the clay feet of our own idols—which _they_ do not revere. The typical subject, hat-in-hand to his sovereign and his nobleman, is a less shameful figure than the citizen executing his genuflexion before the public of which he is himself a part. No European court journal, no European courtier, was ever more abject in subservience to the sovereign than are the American newspaper and the American politician in flattery of the people. Between the courtier and the demagogue I see nothing to choose. They are moved by the same sentiment and fired by the same hope. Their method is flattery, and their purpose profit. Their adulation is not a testimony to character, but a tribute to power, or the shadow of power. If this country were governed by its criminal idiots we should have the same attestations of their goodness and wisdom, the same competition for their favor, the same solemn doctrine that their voice is the voice of God. Our children would be brought up to believe that an Idiotocracy is the only natural and rational form of government. And for my part I’m not at all sure that it would not be a pretty good political system, as political systems go. I have always, however, cherished a secret faith in Smithocracy, which seems to combine the advantages of both the monarchical and the republican idea. If all the offices were held for life by Smiths—the senior John being President—we should have a settled and orderly succession to allay all fears of a perilous interregnum and a sufficiently wide eligibility to feed the fires of patriotic ambition. All could not be Smiths, but many could marry into the family. II The Harrison “progress” (notable as precursor to many another) left its heritage of shame, whereof each abaser would gladly have washed the hands of him in his neighbor’s basin. All this was in due order of nature, and was to have been expected. It was a phenomenon of the same character as, in the loves of the low, the squabbling consequent upon satiety and shame. We could not slink out of sight; we could not deny our sycophancy, albeit we might give it another name; but we could somewhat medicine our impaired self-esteem by dealing damnation round on one another. The blush of shame turns easily to the glow of indignation, and many a hatred is kindled at the rosy flame of self-contempt. Persons conscious of having dishonored themselves are doubly sensitive to any indignity put upon them by others. The vices and follies of human nature are interdependent; they are not singly roused to activity.