The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 11: AntepenultimataBierce, Ambrose
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The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce, Volume 11: Antepenultimata
Bierce, Ambrose
American essays; American literature
I am no contestant for forms of government—no believer in either
the excellence or the permanence of any that has yet been devised.
That all men are created equal, in the best and highest sense of
the phrase, I hold, not as I observe it held by others, but as a
living faith. That an officeholder is a servant of the people; that
I am his political superior, owing him no deference, but entitled to
such deference from him as may be serviceable to keep him in mind of
his subordination—these are propositions which command my assent,
which I _feel_ to be true and which determine the character of my
personal relations with those whom they concern. That I should give my
hand, or bend my neck, or uncover my head to any man in mere homage
to, or recognition of, his office, great or small, is to me simply
inconceivable. These tricks of servility with the softened names
are the vestiges of an involuntary allegiance to power extraneous
to the performer. They represent in our American life obedience
and propitiation in their most primitive and odious forms. The man
who speaks of them as manifestations of a proper respect for “the
President’s great office” is either a rogue, a dupe or a journalist.
They come to us out of a fascinating but terrible past as survivals
of servitude. They speak a various language of oppression and the
superstition of man-worship; they carry forward the traditions of the
sceptre and the lash. Through the plaudits of the people may be heard
always the faint, far cry of the beaten slave.
Respect? Respect the good. Respect the wise. Let the President look
to it that he belongs to one of these classes. His going about the
country in gorgeous state and barbaric splendor as the guest of a
thieving corporation, but at our expense—shining and dining and
swining—unsouling himself of clotted nonsense in pickled platitudes
calculated for the meridian of Coon Hollow, Indiana, but ingeniously
adapted to each water tank on the line of his absurd “progress,” does
not prove it, and the presumption of his “great office” is against him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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