America is pre-eminently the land of legislative experiments; and it has unequalled facilities for giving trial, with comparatively little risk, to many of the professed solutions of those problems which the artificial life of civilised society has produced. On nothing has it made more numerous or varied experiments than on efforts to promote sobriety by law. Each State in the Union is free, within certain limits, to regulate or suppress the liquor traffic within its own borders, without interference from the Federal Government. The latter body, however, maintains freedom of inter-State traffic, and has the power to tax liquor, and to impose internal revenue fees on brewers and saloon keepers. These fees are most strictly enforced; and the first thing a man does who contemplates entering the drink trade, whether legally or illegally, is to take out his internal revenue licence. Even the individual who surreptitiously sells half a dozen bottles of whisky a month in the lowest “speak-easy” rarely thinks of attempting to evade the Federal revenue law; for conviction is so sure, and the penalties are so heavy, that it does not pay.

In seeking to learn what lessons can be taught to old-world politicians from the new-world experiments, it must be borne in mind that, although the Americans are mostly of one blood with ourselves, the conditions of their social and political life are yet very different. The liquor problem occupies a far more prominent place there than at home, and the saloon keeper is an influential force in State, Union, and City politics. The temperance element is strong and active, and exercises a social influence not easy to estimate. A solid public sentiment has been created against even the moderate use of intoxicants; personal abstinence is advocated as part of the routine in nearly all the public elementary schools; it is regarded as disreputable for a man to frequent saloons; and, except under very extraordinary circumstances, no respectable woman would think of crossing their doorsteps. Many employers of labour, especially railway companies, go so far as to insist that their hands shall be abstainers. But while the work of the teetotalers has been productive of much socially, their political work has been far more spasmodic, and less effective. They are split into cliques; and whatever proposal may be brought forward, there is almost certain to be a body of irreconcilables who fight against it. In America, as in other countries, the greatest opponents of temperance legislation are always temperance reformers: if a law is moderate, then it incurs the enmity of those who believe that any other plan than the utter and immediate destruction of the saloon is sin; if it satisfies the extremists, it is opposed by those who declare that such uncompromising legislation will produce a reaction, and so in the end do more harm than good. A still greater cause of weakness than even their internal divisions is the temporary character of much of their work. The respectable people of a city or State will rouse themselves to a fever-heat of emotion over some social reform, and will carry it into law with a rush. Then the excitement will gradually die away, and in a shorter or a longer time the new law will be left to enforce itself; affairs will soon drop back into their old groove, until, possibly, some time after, a specially flagrant case of law-breaking again arouses the public conscience, and the same thing is gone through once more.

The brewers and saloon keepers work differently. They are efficiently organised, and have behind them an almost unlimited supply of money and a considerable voting power. Their work is not the unselfish advancement of some general benefit, but the protection of their own pecuniary interests. They have shown themselves willing to sink all partisan preferences in order to prevent their trade being extinguished, and they have attempted to save themselves by securing control of the political machinery. They have too largely succeeded. America, in spite of its unceasing boasts of liberty, is especially the land where the few dominate over the many. In industry, the rings and monopolies rule; in politics, the “bosses” are supreme. The people are allowed to retain in their hands all the paraphernalia of political authority; but in many parts they are ruled by autocratic political organisations, with saloon keepers and plunderers of the public at their head.

It would not be just to pronounce the same sweeping condemnation on politicians in all parts of the Union alike. In most country parts and in some cities the government is all that could be desired; and, usually, the more native-born Americans and English and Scottish settlers there are, the more free are the officials from corruption. But in many cities the administration is absolutely rotten: the courts dole out injustice, the municipal officers solely study their own interests, and obtain office for the one purpose of dishonestly acquiring public money; laws are enforced or set at defiance as may be most profitable; and perjury and plunder are the every-day business of mayors, aldermen, policemen, and justices alike. The plunderers are elected to office mainly by the saloon vote, a large proportion are or have been drink sellers themselves, and for these things the saloons are largely responsible. It is the realisation of this that has induced many men, by no means ardent abstainers, to advocate prohibition, not so much because it prevents intemperance, but because it breaks the power of the saloon in politics.

The source of the power of the saloon lies mainly in three things: (1) The absorption of respectable citizens in their private concerns, and their indifference to politics; (2) the political machines; (3) manhood suffrage.

On the first cause but little need be said. In America the race for wealth is keener than anywhere else; the almighty dollar is worshipped, and most men are in a hurry to make their piles before the end of next week. A large proportion of the business men allow themselves time for nothing but money making, and those who have leisure regard politics as disreputable. In England our best citizens are glad to serve the commonwealth at their own cost; in America, a rich and cultured man would in many cities be looked upon by his friends as either a crank or a boodler if he announced his intention of adopting a political career.

On the subject of manhood suffrage generally and its desirability or otherwise, I have no intention of entering in this place. But coming to the result of manhood suffrage on American politics, few can doubt that it has exercised in some ways a most evil effect. If all the citizens to whom the ballot has been given were intelligent and educated, and knew anything of the politics of the country which they are helping to rule, then suffrage would be robbed of much of its evil effects. But at present the peasant who has been picked from the wilds of Connemara, the lazzaroni from Naples and Rome, the offscourings of the slums of the cities of Central Europe, are able to out-vote in many towns the genuine Americans. They are brought under the influence of ambitious and unscrupulous political organisers almost as soon as they land at New York, and too often their ballot papers are cast solid for the maintenance of fraud, falsehood and robbery.The results of machine voting, the rule of the “bosses” and saloon politics can perhaps best be seen in one well-known instance. The city of New York, the metropolis of America, has actually been controlled for some years, not by its inhabitants, but by an ex-drink seller, Richard Croker, and his subordinates. This man was originally a young rough, in due course he developed into a saloon keeper, and after a time he resigned his bar for the more profitable employment of politician. He now holds no office under Government, he has no ostensible means of earning a living; yet he is able to maintain a magnificent country mansion and a town palace; he owns as fine a team of trotting horses as most men in the State; and he is well known to be enormously wealthy. His horses are said to be worth seventy-four thousand dollars, and he owns a half interest in a stud farm valued at a quarter of a million. When he travels the railway companies provide specially luxuriant cars for his special accommodation, and he receives such homage and abject worship as exceed the subservience shown by the poorest-spirited courtiers to any petty princeling. Over his long-distance telephone he controls local politicians and the State Legislature, and he can wreck Bills or bring them into law almost as he pleases.

The secret of Croker’s power is the fact that he is the head of Tammany Hall, the most powerful political machine in the Union. Under this body, New York is mapped out into about eleven hundred electoral districts, each containing a few hundred voters, with a “captain,” who is usually a saloon keeper, over each. It is the duty of the “captain” to get as many people as possible in his district to join Tammany, and to vote on the Tammany ticket; and woe to him if he lets the Hall lose power there! He has innumerable methods of attracting voters to himself. Any man who has a little local influence is instantly noticed, and has tempting visions of place and power held out before him if he will only consent to throw his lot in with the party. The Tammanyite who is in trouble with the police knows that he can obtain the friendly services of the “captain” to speak a kind word for him to the justice; and it is wonderful how far these kind words go with the politically-appointed justices. The Tammanyite who is out of work will naturally look to the “captain” to help him to something, whether it is a clerkship in the municipal offices, a street-sweepership, or a higher and better paid post. The “captain” may or may not be paid openly for his services; but he receives plenty of either direct or indirect emolument. If he is a saloon keeper, numbers of people naturally flock about his place, and deal of him. He is a man of weight, to be respected as such!

No party organisation like this could be held together without powerful motive forces. To some of the Tammany “captains” need not be denied purity and honesty of aims; but it is to be feared that such are in the minority. Tammany as it is conducted to-day rests on bribery, swindling and corruption. Those whom it can buy, and who are worth buying, it buys, whether they are senators or street-sweepers; those who are not to be bought, it often terrifies into passiveness. If a public-spirited citizen shows himself inclined to kick hard against his lawful rulers, and if he is a person who can be safely annoyed, then the municipality lets him feel the weight of its wrath. It does not use the old-time methods of casting him into prison, cutting off his head, or the like; for such crude expedients might attract an unpleasant amount of public attention. The recalcitrant citizen to-day has the assessment of his property for the purpose of taxation increased to perhaps double its former amount; city officials suddenly discover that his house transgresses some local ordinance, and order him to make costly structural alterations. If he is a saloon keeper the power of the “boss” over him is almost unlimited, and the unlucky wight can be hauled up before the justices almost every week, and fined or imprisoned continually. Hence few saloon keepers dare to offend. There are a thousand and one ways in which Tammany can punish its opponents.

But if Tammany is cruel to its foes, it can be very kind to its friends. The happy man who does it service finds money, place, and power waiting him. The saloon keeper can defy the Sunday closing law with impunity, and the business man has his house assessed very moderately. The young fellow of talent who throws his lot in with the party knows that in due course (when he has earned his reward) he can be almost certain of a comfortable competence in a municipal or Government post. Tammany has no less than twenty-seven thousand rewards, in the shape of municipal offices, to distribute among its friends.

On first hearing of these things it seems inexplicable to an Englishman why the honest people of the American metropolis do not rise up and destroy such an institution. The reasons are manifold. It must be remembered that even Tammany is not all bad. Among those who blindly follow its ticket are many who believe that they show their patriotism by doing so. The “boss” is backed by a political party; he is a Democrat, and many upright Democrats think that this fact alone compels them to throw all their influence on the side of the man who carries their party colours. Moreover any party of reform has to reckon with the thirty thousand votes of the city drink sellers and their men, which are cast solid for Tammany so long as it helps them. Without the saloon and its help, Tammany would not keep together for twelve months; but with its influence on its side, it is no easy task to overcome it. To-day the churches are struggling, the newspapers are denouncing, leagues and societies are being formed against the common enemy; yet Tammany still rules. Last autumn a majority was elected to the State Legislature against Croker’s party, and it was confidently expected that at last its power would be curtailed. By the peculiar system of controlling New York city, the State Legislature has considerable power of interfering with its affairs. Accordingly, this year measures have been brought forward that would have done great damage to Croker’s friends. But even this session sufficient senators have been found willing to break through their solemn electoral pledges, to vote against their own party, and to wreck Bill after Bill directed against the municipal ring. The Tammany men openly proclaim that they can kill every other reform in the same way. No secret is made of the reason for the senators’ change of face. It is openly said in conversation, and plainly printed in the papers, that they were bribed by Croker’s agents.

It may be asked where Croker and his men get the necessary money from to carry on their work. The answer lies in one word—blackmail! Business men are politely requested to contribute to the funds of the Hall, and if they refuse they are looked upon as enemies, and treated accordingly. Every man who is allowed to break the law, whether he is a saloon keeper who keeps a side door open on Sunday, the owner of a gambling hell, or a more respectable sinner, is expected to allow a solid cash consideration for the privilege. If any one or any corporation wants a favour of the local authorities, the only way of obtaining it is to grease the itching palms of the aldermen, and to make friends with the politicians. Even those who want perfectly legitimate permits granted to them from the city can only get what they need by paying heavily for them. “All the laws good and bad,” said Mr. Kelly of New York recently, “are so misexecuted by Tammany as to give it a clutch upon business men and especially the liquor dealers.... The power of the ring seems to depend upon its power to play upon the hopes and fears of our citizens.”

The result of Tammany rule on New York city has been indescribably bad. Notorious law-breakers have been appointed to the most responsible posts, either because they had done some service to Tammany, or because they were willing to pay the highest price for the appointments. Justices have been put in office, not because of their learning or integrity, but because they are willing to twist the laws to suit Tammany. Even the electoral returns have been fraudulently altered to place the nominees of the Hall in office.

It is impossible in one short chapter to give any elaborate details of the extent to which corruption prevails in American cities; but enough has been said to show that the conditions under which temperance reformers have to work there are very different to those that prevail at home. The difficulties are greater, the means for enforcement are less effective, and the powers of lawlessness are more potent.