Wednesday, July 04, 2012
The Fourth of July is the only American holiday with a
villain.
The Declaration of Independence, adopted by the Second
Continental Congress on July 4, 1776, is best known for its stirring preamble.
But most of the charter is an indictment of King George III for his
"history of repeated injuries and usurpations" -- a catalogue of
royal crimes ranging from obstruction of justice to the imposition of martial
law to the levying of unfair taxes. "He has plundered our seas, ravaged
our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people,"
Congress charged. The king had proved to be "a Tyrant … unfit to be the
ruler of a free people." Accordingly the American colonies were entitled
not just "to be Free and Independent States," but also to be
"absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown."
It was no small thing to give up their attachment to a
monarch. Many Americans had only recently been enthusiastic royalists. Writing
to a friend from Paris in 1767, Benjamin Franklin praised Louis XV, whom he had
just met at Versailles. Yet "no Frenchman shall go beyond me," he
insisted, "in thinking my own King and Queen the very best in the World
and the most amiable." That was a common sentiment for the colonists, who
after all had been raised as English citizens and the subjects of a king.
But as disaffection with British policies intensified, so
did Americans' aversion to royalty. They came to see George III as the
personification of everything they hated about the Old World's political
institutions. Hereditary monarchy and blood-based nobility, once regarded as
necessary and natural, turned into the ultimate symbol of despotism. It wasn't
only for national independence that Americans fought a revolution. It was for a
republic, too -- for a government of the people and by the people, a nation in
which citizens governed themselves and rejected as pernicious the very idea of
kings on thrones or aristocrats born to rule.
Few ideals are as entrenched in our national character.
Early on, Americans feared that the president would turn into a king. At the
Constitutional Convention in 1787, Franklin argued against paying the nation's
highest official a salary, lest he be tempted to "follow the example of
Pharaoh, get first all the people's money, then all their lands, and then make
them and their children servants forever." Perhaps recalling his own
former affections, Franklin wasn't sure that Americans might not allow such a
monarchy to take root. "There is," he warned, "a natural
inclination in mankind to Kingly Government."
Yet that inclination is one to which Americans have
proved immune. When we broke with the British crown in 1776, we broke with
royalty for good. The Constitution prohibits both federal and state governments
from granting titles of nobility -- a provision Alexander Hamilton hailed in
Federalist No. 84 as "the corner-stone of republican government." The
First Congress rejected suggestions that the president needed a regal-sounding
form of address -- "His Mightiness" was one proposal -- and no
president has ever refused to leave office when his term ended. To this day we
revere George Washington for voluntarily stepping down after two terms instead
of clinging to power. (And when Franklin Roosevelt in 1940 failed to uphold the
precedent, the Constitution was amended to require it.)
Royalty may be fine for lesser breeds across the pond,
but it's one habit the American nation has never regretted giving up. Watching
from afar, some Americans may enjoy the pageantry of a royal wedding or diamond
jubilee, and for ongoing tabloid-style entertainment it's certainly hard to
beat the soap-opera dysfunction of the House of Windsor. But envy the Brits (or
anyone else) their monarch? Not us. Not a chance.
Americans, Lord knows, are apt to quarrel about
everything. But one thing we never, ever debate is whether we'd be better off
with a king. In Gallup polls dating back to 1950, nearly 90 percent of
Americans have consistently said that a royal family would be bad for America.
Alexis de Tocqueville reported the same thing. Americans' lack of desire for a
monarch, he wrote in 1835, amounted to "a sort of consensus
universalis."
Royalty is a superstition, long ago contradicted by the
self-evident truth that all men are created equal. It's a scam, and a
ridiculous scam at that. "All kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I
can make out," said Huck Finn. No conviction could be more American.
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