,,democracy ,,in ,,america ,by ,alexis ,de ,tocqueville ,translated by ,henry ,reeve ,book ,two3 ,influence ,of ,democracy ,on ,progress ,of ,opinion ,in the ,united ,states4 ,de ,tocqueville's ,preface ,to ,the ,second ,part ,the ,americans live in a democratic state of society1 which has naturally suggested to them certain laws and a certain political character4 ,this same state of society has1 moreover1 engendered amongst them a multitude of feelings and opinions which were unknown amongst the elder aristocratic communities of ,europe3 it has destroyed or modified all the relations which before existed1 and established others of a novel kind4 ,the--aspect of civil society has been no less affected by these changes than that of the political world4 ,the former subject has been treated of in the work on the ,democracy of ,america1 which ,i published five years ago2 to examine the latter is the object of the present book2 but these two parts complete each other1 and form one and the same work4 ,i must at once warn the reader against an error which would be extremely prejudicial to me4 ,when he finds that ,i attribute so many different consequences to the principle of equality1 he may thence infer that ,i consider that principle to be the sole cause of all that takes place in the present age3 but this would be to impute to me a very narrow view4 ,a multitude of opinions1 feelings1 and propensities are now in existence1 which owe their origin to circumstances unconnected with or even contrary to the principle of equality4 ,thus if ,i were to select the ,united ,states as an example1 ,i could easily prove that the nature of the country1 the origin of its inhabitants1 the religion of its founders1 their acquired knowledge1 and their former habits1 have exercised1 and still exercise1 independently of democracy1 a vast influence upon the thoughts and feelings of that people4 ,different causes1 but no less distinct from the circumstance of the equality of conditions1 might be traced in ,europe1 and would explain a great portion of the occurrences taking place amongst us4 ,i acknowledge the existence of all these different causes1 and their power1 but my subject does not lead me to treat of them4 ,i have not undertaken to unfold the reason of all our inclinations and all our notions3 my only object is to show in what respects the principle of equality has modified both the former and the latter4 ,some readers may perhaps be astonished that--firmly persuaded as ,i am that the democratic revolution which we are witnessing is an irresistible fact against which it would be neither desirable nor wise to struggle--,i should often have had occasion in this book to address language of such severity to those democratic communities which this revolution has brought into being4 ,my answer is simply1 that it is because ,i am not an adversary of democracy1 that ,i have sought to speak of democracy in all sincerity4 ,men will not accept truth at the hands of their enemies1 and truth is seldom offered to them by their friends3 for this reason ,i have spoken it4 ,i was persuaded that many would take upon themselves to announce the new blessings which the principle of equality promises to mankind1 but that few would dare to point out from afar the dangers with which it threatens them4 ,to those perils therefore ,i have turned my chief attention1 and believing that ,i had discovered them clearly1 ,i have not had the cowardice to leave them untold4 ,i trust that my readers will find in this ,second ,part that impartiality which seems to have been remarked in the former work4 ,placed as ,i am in the midst of the conflicting opinions between which we are divided1 ,i have endeavored to suppress within me for a time the favorable sympathies or the adverse emotions with which each of them inspires me4 ,if those who read this book can find a single sentence intended to flatter any of the great parties which have agitated my country1 or any of those petty factions which now harass and weaken it1 let such readers raise their voices to accuse me4 ,the subject ,i have sought to embrace is immense1 for it includes the greater part of the feelings and opinions to which the new state of society has given birth4 ,such a subject is doubtless above my strength1 and in treating it ,i have not succeeded in satisfying myself4 ,but1 if ,i have not been able to reach the goal which ,i had in view1 my readers will at least do me the justice to acknowledge that ,i have conceived and followed up my undertaking in a spirit not unworthy of success4 ,a4 ,de ,t4 ,march1 #ahdj ,section ,i3 ,influence of ,democracy on the ,action of ,intellect in ,the ,united ,states4 ,chapter ,i3 ,philosophical ,method ,among the ,americans ,i think that in no country in the civilized world is less attention paid to philosophy than in the ,united ,states4 ,the ,americans have no philosophical school of their own2 and they care but little for all the schools into which ,europe is divided1 the very names of which are scarcely known to them4 ,nevertheless it is easy to perceive that almost all the inhabitants of the ,united ,states conduct their understanding in the same manner1 and govern it by the same rules2 that is to say1 that without ever having taken the trouble to define the rules of a philosophical method1 they are in possession of one1 common to the whole people4 ,to evade the bondage of system and habit1 of family maxims1 class opinions1 and1 in some degree1 of national prejudices2 to accept tradition only as a means of information1 and existing facts only as a lesson used in doing otherwise1 and doing better2 to seek the reason of things for one's self1 and in one's self alone2 to tend to results without being bound to means1 and to aim at the substance through the form2--such are the principal characteristics of what ,i shall call the philosophical method of the ,americans4 ,but if ,i go further1 and if ,i seek amongst these characteristics that which predominates over and includes almost all the rest1 ,i discover that in most of the operations of the mind1 each ,american appeals to the individual exercise of his own understanding alone4 ,america is therefore one of the countries in the world where philosophy is least studied1 and where the precepts of ,descartes are best applied4 ,nor is this surprising4 ,the ,americans do not read the works of ,descartes1 because their social condition deters them from speculative studies2 but they follow his maxims because this very social condition naturally disposes their understanding to adopt them4 ,in the midst of the continual movement which agitates a democratic community1 the tie which unites one generation to another is relaxed or broken2 every man readily loses the trace of the ideas of his forefathers or takes no care about them4 ,nor can men living in this state of society derive their belief from the opinions of the class to which they belong1 for1 so to speak1 there are no longer any classes1 or those which still exist are composed of such mobile elements1 that their body can never exercise a real control over its members4 ,as to the influence which the intelligence of one man has on that of another1 it must necessarily be very limited in a country where the citizens1 placed on the footing of a general similitude1 are all closely seen by each other2 and where1 as no signs of incontestable greatness or superiority are perceived in any one of them1 they are constantly brought back to their own reason as the most obvious and proximate source of truth4 ,it is not only confidence in this or that man which is then destroyed1 but the taste for trusting the ipse dixit of any man whatsoever4 ,everyone shuts himself up in his own breast1 and affects from that point to judge the world4 ,the practice which obtains amongst the ,americans of fixing the standard of their judgment in themselves alone1 leads them to other habits of mind4 ,as they perceive that they succeed in resolving without assistance all the little difficulties which their practical life presents1 they readily conclude that everything in the world may be explained1 and that nothing in it transcends the limits of the understanding4 ,thus they fall to denying what they cannot comprehend2 which leaves them but little faith for whatever is extraordinary1 and an almost insurmountable distaste for whatever is supernatural4 ,as it is on their own testimony that they are accustomed to rely1 they like to discern the object which engages their attention with extreme clearness2 they therefore strip off as much as possible all that covers it1 they rid themselves of whatever separates them from it1 they remove whatever conceals it from sight1 in order to view it more closely and in the broad light of day4 ,this disposition of the mind soon leads them to contemn forms1 which they regard as useless and inconvenient veils placed between them and the truth4 ,the ,americans then have not required to extract their philosophical method from books2 they have found it in themselves4 ,the same thing may be remarked in what has taken place in ,europe4 ,this same method has only been established and made popular in ,europe in proportion as the condition of society has become more equal1 and men have grown more like each other4 ,let us consider for a moment the connection of the periods in which this change may be traced4 ,in the sixteenth century the ,reformers subjected some of the dogmas of the ancient faith to the scrutiny of private judgment2 but they still withheld from it the judgment of all the rest4 ,in the seventeenth century1 ,bacon in the natural sciences1 and ,descartes in the study of philosophy in the strict sense of the term1 abolished recognized formulas1 destroyed the empire of tradition1 and overthrew the authority of the schools4 ,the philosophers of the eighteenth century1 generalizing at length the same principle1 undertook to submit to the private judgment of each man all the objects of his belief4 ,who does not perceive that ,luther1 ,descartes1 and ,voltaire employed the same method1 and that they differed only in the greater or less use which they professed should be made of it8 ,why did the ,reformers confine themselves so closely within the circle of religious ideas8 ,why did ,descartes1 choosing only to apply his method to certain matters1 though he had made it fit to be applied to all1 declare that men might judge for themselves in matters philosophical but not in matters political8 ,how happened it that in the eighteenth century those general applications were all at once drawn from this same method1 which ,descartes and his predecessors had either not perceived or had rejected8 ,to what1 lastly1 is the fact to be attributed1 that at this period the method we are speaking of suddenly emerged from the schools1 to penetrate into society and become the common standard of intelligence2 and that1 after it had become popular among the ,french1 it has been ostensibly adopted or secretly followed by all the nations of ,europe8 ,the philosophical method here designated may have been engendered in the sixteenth century--it may have been more accurately defined and more extensively applied in the seventeenth2 but neither in the one nor in the other could it be commonly adopted4 ,political laws1 the condition of society1 and the habits of mind which are derived from these causes1 were as yet opposed to it4 ,it was discovered at a time when men were beginning to equalize and assimilate their conditions4 ,it could only be generally followed in ages when those conditions had at length become nearly equal1 and men nearly alike4 ,the philosophical method of the eighteenth century is then not only ,french1 but it is democratic2 and this explains why it was so readily admitted throughout ,europe1 where it has contributed so powerfully to change the face of society4 ,it is not because the ,french have changed their former opinions1 and altered their former manners1 that they have convulsed the world2 but because they were the first to generalize and bring to light a philosophical method1 by the assistance of which it became easy to attack all that was old1 and to open a path to all that was new4 ,if it be asked why1 at the present day1 this same method is more rigorously followed and more frequently applied by the ,french than by the ,americans1 although the principle of equality be no less complete1 and of more ancient date1 amongst the latter people1 the fact may be attributed to two circumstances1 which it is essential to have clearly understood in the first instance4 ,it must never be forgotten that religion gave birth to ,anglo-,american society4 ,in the ,united ,states religion is therefore commingled with all the habits of the nation and all the feelings of patriotism2 whence it derives a peculiar force4 ,to this powerful reason another of no less intensity may be added3 in ,american religion has1 as it were1 laid down its own limits4 ,religious institutions have remained wholly distinct from political institutions1 so that former laws have been easily changed whilst former belief has remained unshaken4 ,christianity has therefore retained a strong hold on the public mind in ,america2 and1 ,i would more particularly remark1 that its sway is not only that of a philosophical doctrine which has been adopted upon inquiry1 but of a religion which is believed without discussion4 ,in the ,united ,states ,christian sects are infinitely diversified and perpetually modified2 but ,christianity itself is a fact so irresistibly established1 that no one undertakes either to attack or to defend it4 ,the ,americans1 having admitted the principal doctrines of the ,christian religion without inquiry1 are obliged to accept in like manner a great number of moral truths originating in it and connected with it4 ,hence the activity of individual analysis is restrained within narrow limits1 and many of the most important of human opinions are removed from the range of its influence4 ,the second circumstance to which ,i have alluded is the following3 the social condition and the constitution of the ,americans are democratic1 but they have not had a democratic revolution4 ,they arrived upon the soil they occupy in nearly the condition in which we see them at the present day2 and this is of very considerable importance4 ,there are no revolutions which do not shake existing belief1 enervate authority1 and throw doubts over commonly received ideas4 ,the effect of all revolutions is therefore1 more or less1 to surrender men to their own guidance1 and to open to the mind of every man a void and almost unlimited range of speculation4 ,when equality of conditions succeeds a protracted conflict between the different classes of which the elder society was composed1 envy1 hatred1 and uncharitableness1 pride1 and exaggerated self-confidence are apt to seize upon the human heart1 and plant their sway there for a time4 ,this1 independently of equality itself1 tends powerfully to divide men--to lead them to mistrust the judgment of others1 and to seek the light of truth nowhere but in their own understandings4 ,everyone then attempts to be his own sufficient guide1 and makes it his boast to form his own opinions on all subjects4 ,men are no longer bound together by ideas1 but by interests2 and it would seem as if human opinions were reduced to a sort of intellectual dust1 scattered on every side1 unable to collect1 unable to cohere4 ,thus1 that independence of mind which equality supposes to exist1 is never so great1 nor ever appears so excessive1 as at the time when equality is beginning to establish itself1 and in the course of that painful labor by which it is established4 ,that sort of intellectual freedom which equality may give ought1 therefore1 to be very carefully distinguished from the anarchy which revolution brings4 ,each of these two things must be severally considered1 in order not to conceive exaggerated hopes or fears of the future4 ,i believe that the men who will live under the new forms of society will make frequent use of their private judgment2 but ,i am far from thinking that they will often abuse it4 ,this is attributable to a cause of more general application to all democratic countries1 and which1 in the long run1 must needs restrain in them the independence of individual speculation within fixed1 and sometimes narrow1 limits4 ,i shall proceed to point out this cause in the next chapter4 ,chapter ,,ii3 ,of ,the ,principal ,source ,of ,belief ,among ,democratic ,nations ,at different periods dogmatical belief is more or less abundant4 ,it arises in different ways1 and it may change its object or its form2 but under no circumstances will dogmatical belief cease to exist1 or1 in other words1 men will never cease to entertain some implicit opinions without trying them by actual discussion4 ,if everyone undertook to form his own opinions and to seek for truth by isolated paths struck out by himself alone1 it is not to be supposed that any considerable number of men would ever unite in any common belief4 ,but obviously without such common belief no society can prosper--say rather no society can subsist2 for without ideas held in common1 there is no common action1 and without common action1 there may still be men1 but there is no social body4 ,in order that society should exist1 and1 a fortiori1 that a society should prosper1 it is required that all the minds of the citizens should be rallied and held together by certain predominant ideas2 and this cannot be the case1 unless each of them sometimes draws his opinions from the common source1 and consents to accept certain matters of belief at the hands of the community4 ,if ,i now consider man in his isolated capacity1 ,i find that dogmatical belief is not less indispensable to him in order to live alone1 than it is to enable him to co-operate with his fellow-creatures4 ,if man were forced to demonstrate to himself all the truths of which he makes daily use1 his task would never end4 ,he would exhaust his strength in preparatory exercises1 without advancing beyond them4 ,as1 from the shortness of his life1 he has not the time1 nor1 from the limits of his intelligence1 the capacity1 to accomplish this1 he is reduced to take upon trust a number of facts and opinions which he has not had either the time or the power to verify himself1 but which men of greater ability have sought out1 or which the world adopts4 ,on this groundwork he raises for himself the structure of his own thoughts2 nor is he led to proceed in this manner by choice so much as he is constrained by the inflexible law of his condition4 ,there is no philosopher of such great parts in the world1 but that he believes a million of things on the faith of other people1 and supposes a great many more truths than he demonstrates4 ,this is not only necessary but desirable4 ,a man who should undertake to inquire into everything for himself1 could devote to each thing but little time and attention4 ,his task would keep his mind in perpetual unrest1 which would prevent him from penetrating to the depth of any truth1 or of grappling his mind indissolubly to any conviction4 ,his intellect would be at once independent and powerless4 ,he must therefore make his choice from amongst the various objects of human belief1 and he must adopt many opinions without discussion1 in order to search the better into that smaller number which he sets apart for investigation4 ,it is true that whoever receives an opinion on the word of another1 does so far enslave his mind2 but it is a salutary servitude which allows him to make a good use of freedom4 ,a principle of authority must then always occur1 under all circumstances1 in some part or other of the moral and intellectual world4 ,its place is variable1 but a place it necessarily has4 ,the independence of individual minds may be greater1 or it may be less3 unbounded it cannot be4 ,thus the question is1 not to know whether any intellectual authority exists in the ages of democracy1 but simply where it resides and by what standard it is to be measured4 ,i have shown in the preceding chapter how the equality of conditions leads men to entertain a sort of instinctive incredulity of the supernatural1 and a very lofty and often exaggerated opinion of the human understanding4 ,the men who live at a period of social equality are not therefore easily led to place that intellectual authority to which they bow either beyond or above humanity4 ,they commonly seek for the sources of truth in themselves1 or in those who are like themselves4 ,this would be enough to prove that at such periods no new religion could be established1 and that all schemes for such a purpose would be not only impious but absurd and irrational4 ,it may be foreseen that a democratic people will not easily give credence to divine missions2 that they will turn modern prophets to a ready jest2 and they that will seek to discover the chief arbiter of their belief within1 and not beyond1 the limits of their kind4 ,when the ranks of society are unequal1 and men unlike each other in condition1 there are some individuals invested with all the power of superior intelligence1 learning1 and enlightenment1 whilst the multitude is sunk in ignorance and prejudice4 ,men living at these aristocratic periods are therefore naturally induced to shape their opinions by the superior standard of a person or a class of persons1 whilst they are averse to recognize the infallibility of the mass of the people4 ,the contrary takes place in ages of equality4 ,the nearer the citizens are drawn to the common level of an equal and similar condition1 the less prone does each man become to place implicit faith in a certain man or a certain class of men4 ,but his readiness to believe the multitude increases1 and opinion is more than ever mistress of the world4 ,not only is common opinion the only guide which private judgment retains amongst a democratic people1 but amongst such a people it possesses a power infinitely beyond what it has elsewhere4 ,at periods of equality men have no faith in one another1 by reason of their common resemblance2 but this very resemblance gives them almost unbounded confidence in the judgment of the public2 for it would not seem probable1 as they are all endowed with equal means of judging1 but that the greater truth should go with the greater number4 ,when the inhabitant of a democratic country compares himself individually with all those about him1 he feels with pride that he is the equal of any one of them2 but when he comes to survey the totality of his fellows1 and to place himself in contrast to so huge a body1 he is instantly overwhelmed by the sense of his own insignificance and weakness4 ,the same equality which renders him independent of each of his fellow-citizens taken severally1 exposes him alone and unprotected to the influence of the greater number4 ,the public has therefore among a democratic people a singular power1 of which aristocratic nations could never so much as conceive an idea2 for it does not persuade to certain opinions1 but it enforces them1 and infuses them into the faculties by a sort of enormous pressure of the minds of all upon the reason of each4 ,in the ,united ,states the majority undertakes to supply a multitude of ready-made opinions for the use of individuals1 who are thus relieved from the necessity of forming opinions of their own4 ,everybody there adopts great numbers of theories1 on philosophy1 morals1 and politics1 without inquiry1 upon public trust2 and if we look to it very narrowly1 it will be perceived that religion herself holds her sway there1 much less as a doctrine of revelation than as a commonly received opinion4 ,the fact that the political laws of the ,americans are such that the majority rules the community with sovereign sway1 materially increases the power which that majority naturally exercises over the mind4 ,for nothing is more customary in man than to recognize superior wisdom in the person of his oppressor4 ,this political omnipotence of the majority in the ,united ,states doubtless augments the influence which public opinion would obtain without it over the mind of each member of the community2 but the foundations of that influence do not rest upon it4 ,they must be sought for in the principle of equality itself1 not in the more or less popular institutions which men living under that condition may give themselves4 ,the intellectual dominion of the greater number would probably be less absolute amongst a democratic people governed by a king than in the sphere of a pure democracy1 but it will always be extremely absolute2 and by whatever political laws men are governed in the ages of equality1 it may be foreseen that faith in public opinion will become a species of religion there1 and the majority its ministering prophet4 ,thus intellectual authority will be different1 but it will not be diminished2 and far from thinking that it will disappear1 ,i augur that it may readily acquire too much preponderance1 and confine the action of private judgment within narrower limits than are suited either to the greatness or the happiness of the human race4 ,in the principle of equality ,i very clearly discern two tendencies2 the one leading the mind of every man to untried thoughts1 the other inclined to prohibit him from thinking at all4 ,and ,i perceive how1 under the dominion of certain laws1 democracy would extinguish that liberty of the mind to which a democratic social condition is favorable2 so that1 after having broken all the bondage once imposed on it by ranks or by men1 the human mind would be closely fettered to the general will of the greatest number4 ,if the absolute power of the majority were to be substituted by democratic nations1 for all the different powers which checked or retarded overmuch the energy of individual minds1 the evil would only have changed its symptoms4 ,men would not have found the means of independent life2 they would simply have invented 7no easy task7 a new dress for servitude4 ,there is--and ,i cannot repeat it too often--there is in this matter for profound reflection for those who look on freedom as a holy thing1 and who hate not only the despot1 but despotism4 ,for myself1 when ,i feel the hand of power lie heavy on my brow1 ,i care but little to know who oppresses me2 and ,i am not the more disposed to pass beneath the yoke1 because it is held out to me by the arms of a million of men4 ,chapter ,,iii3 ,why ,the ,americans ,display ,more ,readiness ,and ,more ,taste ,for ,general ,ideas ,than ,their ,forefathers1 ,the ,english4 ,the ,deity does not regard the human race collectively4 ,he surveys at one glance and severally all the beings of whom mankind is composed1 and he discerns in each man the resemblances which assimilate him to all his fellows1 and the differences which distinguish him from them4 ,god1 therefore1 stands in no need of general ideas2 that is to say1 he is never sensible of the necessity of collecting a considerable number of analogous objects under the same form for greater convenience in thinking4 ,such is1 however1 not the case with man4 ,if the human mind were to attempt to examine and pass a judgment on all the individual cases before it1 the immensity of detail would soon lead it astray and bewilder its discernment3 in this strait1 man has recourse to an imperfect but necessary expedient1 which at once assists and demonstrates his weakness4 ,having superficially considered a certain number of objects1 and remarked their resemblance1 he assigns to them a common name1 sets them apart1 and proceeds onwards4 ,general ideas are no proof of the strength1 but rather of the insufficiency of the human intellect2 for there are in nature no beings exactly alike1 no things precisely identical1 nor any rules indiscriminately and alike applicable to several objects at once4 ,the chief merit of general ideas is1 that they enable the human mind to pass a rapid judgment on a great many objects at once2 but1 on the other hand1 the notions they convey are never otherwise than incomplete1 and they always cause the mind to lose as much in accuracy as it gains in comprehensiveness4 ,as social bodies advance in civilization1 they acquire the knowledge of new facts1 and they daily lay hold almost unconsciously of some particular truths4 ,the more truths of this kind a man apprehends1 the more general ideas is he naturally led to conceive4 ,a multitude of particular facts cannot be seen separately1 without at last discovering the common tie which connects them4 ,several individuals lead to the perception of the species2 several species to that of the genus4 ,hence the habit and the taste for general ideas will always be greatest amongst a people of ancient cultivation and extensive knowledge4 ,but there are other reasons which impel men to generalize their ideas1 or which restrain them from it4 ,the ,americans are much more addicted to the use of general ideas than the ,english1 and entertain a much greater relish for them3 this appears very singular at first sight1 when it is remembered that the two nations have the same origin1 that they lived for centuries under the same laws1 and that they still incessantly interchange their opinions and their manners4 ,this contrast becomes much more striking still1 if we fix our eyes on our own part of the world1 and compare together the two most enlightened nations which inhabit it4 ,it would seem as if the mind of the ,english could only tear itself reluctantly and painfully away from the observation of particular facts1 to rise from them to their causes2 and that it only generalizes in spite of itself4 ,amongst the ,french1 on the contrary1 the taste for general ideas would seem to have grown to so ardent a passion1 that it must be satisfied on every occasion4 ,i am informed1 every morning when ,i wake1 that some general and eternal law has just been discovered1 which ,i never heard mentioned before4 ,there is not a mediocre scribbler who does not try his hand at discovering truths applicable to a great kingdom1 and who is very ill pleased with himself if he does not succeed in compressing the human race into the compass of an article4 ,so great a dissimilarity between two very enlightened nations surprises me4 ,if ,i again turn my attention to ,england1 and observe the events which have occurred there in the last half-century1 ,i think ,i may affirm that a taste for general ideas increases in that country in proportion as its ancient constitution is weakened4 ,the state of civilization is therefore insufficient by itself to explain what suggests to the human mind the love of general ideas1 or diverts it from them4 ,when the conditions of men are very unequal1 and inequality itself is the permanent state of society1 individual men gradually become so dissimilar that each class assumes the aspect of a distinct race3 only one of these classes is ever in view at the same instant2 and losing sight of that general tie which binds them all within the vast bosom of mankind1 the observation invariably rests not on man1 but on certain men4 ,those who live in this aristocratic state of society never1 therefore1 conceive very general ideas respecting themselves1 and that is enough to imbue them with an habitual distrust of such ideas1 and an instinctive aversion of them4 ,he1 on the contrary1 who inhabits a democratic country1 sees around him1 one very hand1 men differing but little from each other2 he cannot turn his mind to any one portion of mankind1 without expanding and dilating his thought till it embrace the whole4 ,all the truths which are applicable to himself1 appear to him equally and similarly applicable to each of his fellow-citizens and fellow-men4 ,having contracted the habit of generalizing his ideas in the study which engages him most1 and interests him more than others1 he transfers the same habit to all his pursuits2 and thus it is that the craving to discover general laws in everything1 to include a great number of objects under the same formula1 and to explain a mass of facts by a single cause1 becomes an ardent1 and sometimes an undiscerning1 passion in the human mind4 ,nothing shows the truth of this proposition more clearly than the opinions of the ancients respecting their slaves4 ,the most profound and capacious minds of ,rome and ,greece were never able to reach the idea1 at once so general and so simple1 of the common likeness of men1 and of the common birthright of each to freedom3 they strove to prove that slavery was in the order of nature1 and that it would always exist4 ,nay1 more1 everything shows that those of the ancients who had passed from the servile to the free condition1 many of whom have left us excellent writings1 did themselves regard servitude in no other light4 ,all the great writers of antiquity belonged to the aristocracy of masters1 or at least they saw that aristocracy established and uncontested before their eyes4 ,their mind1 after it had expanded itself in several directions1 was barred from further progress in this one2 and the advent of ,jesus ,christ upon earth was required to teach that all the members of the human race are by nature equal and alike4 ,in the ages of equality all men are independent of each other1 isolated and weak4 ,the movements of the multitude are not permanently guided by the will of any individuals2 at such times humanity seems always to advance of itself4 ,in order1 therefore1 to explain what is passing in the world1 man is driven to seek for some great causes1 which1 acting in the same manner on all our fellow-creatures1 thus impel them all involuntarily to pursue the same track4 ,this again naturally leads the human mind to conceive general ideas1 and superinduces a taste for them4 ,i have already shown in what way the equality of conditions leads every man to investigate truths for himself4 ,it may readily be perceived that a method of this kind must insensibly beget a tendency to general ideas in the human mind4 ,when ,i repudiate the traditions of rank1 profession1 and birth2 when ,i escape from the authority of example1 to seek out1 by the single effort of my reason1 the path to be followed1 ,i am inclined to derive the motives of my opinions from human nature itself2 which leads me necessarily1 and almost unconsciously1 to adopt a great number of very general notions4 ,all that ,i have here said explains the reasons for which the ,english display much less readiness and taste or the generalization of ideas than their ,american progeny1 and still less again than their ,french neighbors2 and likewise the reason for which the ,english of the present day display more of these qualities than their forefathers did4 ,the ,english have long been a very enlightened and a very aristocratic nation2 their enlightened condition urged them constantly to generalize1 and their aristocratic habits confined them to particularize4 ,hence arose that philosophy1 at once bold and timid1 broad and narrow1 which has hitherto prevailed in ,england1 and which still obstructs and stagnates in so many minds in that country4 ,independently of the causes ,i have pointed out in what goes before1 others may be discerned less apparent1 but no less efficacious1 which engender amongst almost every democratic people a taste1 and frequently a passion1 for general ideas4 ,an accurate distinction must be taken between ideas of this kind4 ,some are the result of slow1 minute1 and conscientious labor of the mind1 and these extend the sphere of human knowledge2 others spring up at once from the first rapid exercise of the wits1 and beget none but very superficial and very uncertain notions4 ,men who live in ages of equality have a great deal of curiosity and very little leisure2 their life is so practical1 so confused1 so excited1 so active1 that but little time remains to them for thought4 ,such men are prone to general ideas because they spare them the trouble of studying particulars2 they contain1 if ,i may so speak1 a great deal in a little compass1 and give1 in a little time1 a great return4 ,if then1 upon a brief and inattentive investigation1 a common relation is thought to be detected between certain obtects1 inquiry is not pushed any further2 and without examining in detail how far these different objects differ or agree1 they are hastily arranged under one formulary1 in order to pass to another subject4 ,one of the distinguishing characteristics of a democratic period is the taste all men have at such ties for easy success and present enjoyment4 ,this occurs in the pursuits of the intellect as well as in all others4 ,most of those who live at a time of equality are full of an ambition at once aspiring and relaxed3 they would fain succeed brilliantly and at once1 but they would be dispensed from great efforts to obtain success4 ,these conflicting tendencies lead straight to the research of general ideas1 by aid of which they flatter themselves that they can figure very importantly at a small expense1 and draw the attention of the public with very little trouble4 ,and ,i know not whether they be wrong in thinking thus4 ,for their readers are as much averse to investigating anything to the bottom as they can be themselves2 and what is generally sought in the productions of the mind is easy pleasure and information without labor4 ,if aristocratic nations do not make sufficient use of general ideas1 and frequently treat them with inconsiderate disdain1 it is true1 on the other hand1 that a democratic people is ever ready to carry ideas of this kind to excess1 and to espouse the with injudicious warmth4 ,chapter ,,iv3 ,why ,the ,americans ,have ,never ,been ,so ,eager ,as ,the ,french ,for ,general ,ideas ,in ,political ,matters ,i observed in the last chapter1 that the ,americans show a less decided taste for general ideas than the ,french2 this is more especially true in political matters4 ,although the ,americans infuse into their legislation infinitely more general ideas than the ,english1 and although they pay much more attention than the latter people to the adjustment of the practice of affairs to theory1 no political bodies in the ,united ,states have ever shown so warm an attachment to general ideas as the ,constituent ,assembly and the ,convention in ,france4 ,at no time has the ,american people laid hold on ideas of this kind with the passionate energy of the ,french people in the eighteenth century1 or displayed the same blind confidence in the value and absolute truth of any theory4 ,this difference between the ,americans and the ,french originates in several causes1 but principally in the following one4 ,the ,americans form a democratic people1 which has always itself directed public affairs4 ,the ,french are a democratic people1 who1 for a long time1 could only speculate on the best manner of conducting them4 ,the social condition of ,france led that people to conceive very general ideas on the subject of government1 whilst its political constitution prevented it from correcting those ideas by experiment1 and from gradually detecting their insufficiency2 whereas in ,america the two things constantly balance and correct each other4 ,it may seem1 at first sight1 that this is very much opposed to what ,i have said before1 that democratic nations derive their love of theory from the excitement of their active life4 ,a more attentive examination will show that there is nothing contradictory in the proposition4 ,men living in democratic countries eagerly lay hold of general ideas because they have but little leisure1 and because these ideas spare them the trouble of studying particulars4 ,this is true2 but it is only to be understood to apply to those matters which are not the necessary and habitual subjects of their thoughts4 ,mercantile men will take up very eagerly1 and without any very close scrutiny1 all the general ideas on philosophy1 politics1 science1 or the arts1 which may be presented to them2 but for such as relate to commerce1 they will not receive them without inquiry1 or adopt them without reserve4 ,the same thing applies to statesmen with regard to general ideas in politics4 ,if1 then1 there be a subject upon which a democratic people is peculiarly liable to abandon itself1 blindly and extravagantly1 to general ideas1 the best corrective that can be used will be to make that subject a part of the daily practical occupation of that people4 ,the people will then be compelled to enter upon its details1 and the details will teach them the weak points of the theory4 ,this remedy may frequently be a painful one1 but its effect is certain4 ,thus it happens1 that the democratic institutions which compel every citizen to take a practical part in the government1 moderate that excessive taste for general theories in politics which the principle of equality suggests4 ,chapter ,v3 ,of ,the ,manner ,in ,which ,religion ,in ,the ,united ,states ,avails ,itself ,of ,democratic ,tendencies ,i have laid it down in a preceding chapter that men cannot do without dogmatical belief2 and even that it is very much to be desired that such belief should exist amongst them4 ,i now add1 that of all the kinds of dogmatical belief the most desirable appears to me to be dogmatical belief in matters of religion2 and this is a very clear inference1 even from no higher consideration than the interests of this world4 ,there is hardly any human action1 however particular a character be assigned to it1 which does not originate in some very general idea men have conceived of the ,deity1 of his relation to mankind1 of the nature of their own souls1 and of their duties to their fellow-creatures4 ,nor can anything prevent these ideas from being the common spring from which everything else emanates4 ,men are therefore immeasurably interested in acquiring fixed ideas of ,god1 of the soul1 and of their common duties to their ,creator and to their fellow-men2 for doubt on these first principles would abandon all their actions to the impulse of chance1 and would condemn them to live1 to a certain extent1 powerless and undisciplined4 ,this is then the subject on which it is most important for each of us to entertain fixed ideas2 and unhappily it is also the subject on which it is most difficult for each of us1 left to himself1 to settle his opinions by the sole force of his reason4 ,none but minds singularly free from the ordinary anxieties of life--minds at once penetrating1 subtle1 and trained by thinking--can even with the assistance of much time and care1 sound the depth of these most necessary truths4 ,and1 indeed1 we see that these philosophers are themselves almost always enshrouded in uncertainties2 that at every step the natural light which illuminates their path grows dimmer and less secure2 and that1 in spite of all their efforts1 they have as yet only discovered a small number of conflicting notions1 on which the mind of man has been tossed about for thousands of years1 without either laying a firmer grasp on truth1 or finding novelty even in its errors4 ,studies of this nature are far above the average capacity of men2 and even if the majority of mankind were capable of such pursuits1 it is evident that leisure to cultivate them would still be wanting4 ,fixed ideas of ,god and human nature are indispensable to the daily practice of men's lives2 but the practice of their lives prevents them from acquiring such ideas4 ,the difficulty appears to me to be without a parallel4 ,amongst the sciences there are some which are useful to the mass of mankind1 and which are within its reach2 others can only be approached by the few1 and are not cultivated by the many1 who require nothing beyond their more remote applications3 but the daily practice of the science ,i speak of is indispensable to all1 although the study of it is inaccessible to the far greater number4 ,general ideas respecting ,god and human nature are therefore the ideas above all others which it is most suitable to withdraw from the habitual action of private judgment1 and in which there is most to gain and least to lose by recognizing a principle of authority4 ,the first object and one of the principal advantages of religions1 is to furnish to each of these fundamental questions a solution which is at once clear1 precise1 intelligible to the mass of mankind1 and lasting4 ,there are religions which are very false and very absurd2 but it may be affirmed1 that any religion which remains within the circle ,i have just traced1 without aspiring to go beyond it 7as many religions have attempted to do1 for the purpose of enclosing on every side the free progress of the human mind71 imposes a salutary restraint on the intellect2 and it must be admitted that1 if it do not save men in another world1 such religion is at least very conducive to their happiness and their greatness in this4 ,this is more especially true of men living in free countries4 ,when the religion of a people is destroyed1 doubt gets hold of the highest portions of the intellect1 and half paralyzes all the rest of its powers4 ,every man accustoms himself to entertain none but confused and changing notions on the subjects most interesting to his fellow-creatures and himself4 ,his opinions are ill-defended and easily abandoned3 and1 despairing of ever resolving by himself the hardest problems of the destiny of man1 he ignobly submits to think no more about them4 ,such a condition cannot but enervate the soul1 relax the springs of the will1 and prepare a people for servitude4 ,nor does it only happen1 in such a case1 that they allow their freedom to be wrested from them2 they frequently themselves surrender it4 ,when there is no longer any principle of authority in religion any more than in politics1 men are speedily frightened at the aspect of this unbounded independence4 ,the constant agitation of all surrounding things alarms and exhausts them4 ,as everything is at sea in the sphere of the intellect1 they determine at least that the mechanism of society should be firm and fixed2 and as they cannot resume their ancient belief1 they assume a master4 ,for my own part1 ,i doubt whether man can ever support at the same time complete religious independence and entire public freedom4 ,and ,i am inclined to think1 that if faith be wanting in him1 he must serve2 and if he be free1 he must believe4 ,perhaps1 however1 this great utility of religions is still more obvious amongst nations where equality of conditions prevails than amongst others4 ,it must be acknowledged that equality1 which brings great benefits into the world1 nevertheless suggests to men 7as will be shown hereafter7 some very dangerous propensities4 ,it tends to isolate them from each other1 to concentrate every man's attention upon himself2 and it lays open the soul to an inordinate love of material gratification4 ,the greatest advantage of religion is to inspire diametrically contrary principles4 ,there is no religion which does not place the object of man's desires above and beyond the treasures of earth1 and which does not naturally raise his soul to regions far above those of the senses4 ,nor is there any which does not impose on man some sort of duties to his kind1 and thus draws him at times from the contemplation of himself4 ,this occurs in religions the most false and dangerous4 ,religious nations are therefore naturally strong on the very point on which democratic nations are weak2 which shows of what importance it is for men to preserve their religion as their conditions become more equal4 ,i have neither the right nor the intention of examining the supernatural means which ,god employs to infuse religious belief into the heart of man4 ,i am at this moment considering religions in a purely human point of view3 my object is to inquire by what means they may most easily retain their sway in the democratic ages upon which we are entering4 ,it has been shown that1 at times of general cultivation and equality1 the human mind does not consent to adopt dogmatical opinions without reluctance1 and feels their necessity acutely in spiritual matters only4 ,this proves1 in the first place1 that at such times religions ought1 more cautiously than at any other1 to confine themselves within their own precincts2 for in seeking to extend their power beyond religious matters1 they incur a risk of not being believed at all4 ,the circle within which they seek to bound the human intellect ought therefore to be carefully traced1 and beyond its verge the mind should be left in entire freedom to its own guidance4 ,mahommed professed to derive from ,heaven1 and he has inserted in the ,koran1 not only a body of religious doctrines1 but political maxims1 civil and criminal laws1 and theories of science4 ,the gospel1 on the contrary1 only speaks of the general relations of men to ,god and to each other--beyond which it inculcates and imposes no point of faith4 ,this alone1 besides a thousand other reasons1 would suffice to prove that the former of these religions will never long predominate in a cultivated and democratic age1 whilst the latter is destined to retain its sway at these as at all other periods4 ,but in continuation of this branch of the subject1 ,i find that in order for religions to maintain their authority1 humanly speaking1 in democratic ages1 they must not only confine themselves strictly within the circle of spiritual matters3 their power also depends very much on the nature of the belief they inculcate1 on the external forms they assume1 and on the obligations they impose4 ,the preceding observation1 that equality leads men to very general and very extensive notions1 is principally to be understood as applied to the question of religion4 ,men living in a similar and equal condition in the world readily conceive the idea of the one ,god1 governing every man by the same laws1 and granting to every man future happiness on the same conditions4 ,the idea of the unity of mankind constantly leads them back to the idea of the unity of the ,creator2 whilst1 on the contrary1 in a state of society where men are broken up into very unequal ranks1 they are apt to devise as many deities as there are nations1 castes1 classes1 or families1 and to trace a thousand private roads to heaven4 ,it cannot be denied that ,christianity itself has felt1 to a certain extent1 the influence which social and political conditions exercise on religious opinions4 ,at the epoch at which the ,christian religion appeared upon earth1 ,providence1 by whom the world was doubtless prepared for its coming1 had gathered a large portion of the human race1 like an immense flock1 under the sceptre of the ,caesars4 ,the men of whom this multitude was composed were distinguished by numerous differences2 but they had thus much in common1 that they all obeyed the same laws1 and that every subject was so weak and insignificant in relation to the imperial potentate1 that all appeared equal when their condition was contrasted with his4 ,this novel and peculiar state of mankind necessarily predisposed men to listen to the general truths which ,christianity teaches1 and may serve to explain the facility and rapidity with which they then penetrated into the human mind4 ,the counterpart of this state of things was exhibited after the destruction of the empire4 ,the ,roman world being then as it were shattered into a thousand fragments1 each nation resumed its pristine individuality4 ,an infinite scale of ranks very soon grew up in the bosom of these nations2 the different races were more sharply defined1 and each nation was divided by castes into several peoples4 ,in the midst of this common effort1 which seemed to be urging human society to the greatest conceivable amount of voluntary subdivision1 ,christianity did not lose sight of the leading general ideas which it had brought into the world4 ,but it appeared1 nevertheless1 to lend itself1 as much as was possible1 to those new tendencies to which the fractional distribution of mankind had given birth4 ,men continued to worship an only ,god1 the ,creator and ,preserver of all things2 but every people1 every city1 and1 so to speak1 every man1 thought to obtain some distinct privilege1 and win the favor of an especial patron at the foot of the ,throne of ,grace4 ,unable to subdivide the ,deity1 they multiplied and improperly enhanced the importance of the divine agents4 ,the homage due to saints and angels became an almost idolatrous worship amongst the majority of the ,christian world2 and apprehensions might be entertained for a moment lest the religion of ,christ should retrograde towards the superstitions which it had subdued4 ,it seems evident1 that the more the barriers are removed which separate nation from nation amongst mankind1 and citizen from citizen amongst a people1 the stronger is the bent of the human mind1 as if by its own impulse1 towards the idea of an only and all-powerful ,being1 dispensing equal laws in the same manner to every man4 ,in democratic ages1 then1 it is more particularly important not to allow the homage paid to secondary agents to be confounded with the worship due to the ,creator alone4 ,another truth is no less clear--that religions ought to assume fewer external observances in democratic periods than at any others4 ,in speaking of philosophical method among the ,americans1 ,i have shown that nothing is more repugnant to the human mind in an age of equality than the idea of subjection to forms4 ,men living at such times are impatient of figures2 to their eyes symbols appear to be the puerile artifice which is used to conceal or to set off truths1 which should more naturally be bared to the light of open day3 they are unmoved by ceremonial observances1 and they are predisposed to attach a secondary importance to the details of public worship4 ,those whose care it is to regulate the external forms of religion in a democratic age should pay a close attention to these natural propensities of the human mind1 in order not unnecessarily to run counter to them4 ,i firmly believe in the necessity of forms1 which fix the human mind in the contemplation of abstract truths1 and stimulate its ardor in the pursuit of them1 whilst they invigorate its powers of retaining them steadfastly4 ,nor do ,i suppose that it is possible to maintain a religion without external observances2 but1 on the other hand1 ,i am persuaded that1 in the ages upon which we are entering1 it would be peculiarly dangerous to multiply them beyond measure2 and that they ought rather to be limited to as much as is absolutely necessary to perpetuate the doctrine itself1 which is the substance of religions of which the ritual is only the form4 99a ,a religion which should become more minute1 more peremptory1 and more surcharged with small observances at a time in which men are becoming more equal1 would soon find itself reduced to a band of fanatical zealots in the midst of an infidel people4 ,footnote a3 ,in all religions there are some ceremonies which are inherent in the substance of the faith itself1 and in these nothing should1 on any account1 be changed4 ,this is especially the case with ,roman ,catholicism1 in which the doctrine and the form are frequently so closely united as to form one point of belief4 ,i anticipate the objection1 that as all religions have general and eternal truths for their object1 they cannot thus shape themselves to the shifting spirit of every age without forfeiting their claim to certainty in the eyes of mankind4 ,to this ,i reply again1 that the principal opinions which constitute belief1 and which theologians call articles of faith1 must be very carefully distinguished from the accessories connected with them4 ,religions are obliged to hold fast to the former1 whatever be the peculiar spirit of the age2 but they should take good care not to bind themselves in the same manner to the latter at a time when everything is in transition1 and when the mind1 accustomed to the moving pageant of human affairs1 reluctantly endures the attempt to fix it to any given point4 ,the fixity of external and secondary things can only afford a chance of duration when civil society is itself fixed2 under any other circumstances ,i hold it to be perilous4 ,we shall have occasion to see that1 of all the passions which originate in1 or are fostered by1 equality1 there is one which it renders peculiarly intense1 and which it infuses at the same time into the heart of every man3 ,i mean the love of well-being4 ,the taste for well-being is the prominent and indelible feature of democratic ages4 ,it may be believed that a religion which should undertake to destroy so deep seated a passion1 would meet its own destruction thence in the end2 and if it attempted to wean men entirely from the contemplation of the good things of this world1 in order to devote their faculties exclusively to the thought of another1 it may be foreseen that the soul would at length escape from its grasp1 to plunge into the exclusive enjoyment of present and material pleasures4 ,the chief concern of religions is to purify1 to regulate1 and to restrain the excessive and exclusive taste for well-being which men feel at periods of equality2 but they would err in attempting to control it completely or to eradicate it4 ,they will not succeed in curing men of the love of riches3 but they may still persuade men to enrich themselves by none but honest means4 ,this brings me to a final consideration1 which comprises1 as it were1 all the others4 ,the more the conditions of men are equalized and assimilated to each other1 the more important is it for religions1 whilst they carefully abstain from the daily turmoil of secular affairs1 not needlessly to run counter to the ideas which generally prevail1 and the permanent interests which exist in the mass of the people4 ,for as public opinion grows to be more and more evidently the first and most irresistible of existing powers1 the religious principle has no external support strong enough to enable it long to resist its attacks4 ,this is not less true of a democratic people1 ruled by a despot1 than in a republic4 ,in ages of equality1 kings may often command obedience1 but the majority always commands belief3 to the majority1 therefore1 deference is to be paid in whatsoever is not contrary to the faith4 ,i showed in my former volumes how the ,american clergy stand aloof from secular affairs4 ,this is the most obvious1 but it is not the only1 example of their self-restraint4 ,in ,america religion is a distinct sphere1 in which the priest is sovereign1 but out of which he takes care never to go4 ,within its limits he is the master of the mind2 beyond them1 he leaves men to themselves1 and surrenders them to the independence and instability which belong to their nature and their age4 ,i have seen no country in which ,christianity is clothed with fewer forms1 figures1 and observances than in the ,united ,states2 or where it presents more distinct1 more simple1 or more general notions to the mind4 ,although the ,christians of ,america are divided into a multitude of sects1 they all look upon their religion in the same light4 ,this applies to ,roman ,catholicism as well as to the other forms of belief4 ,there are no ,romish priests who show less taste for the minute individual observances for extraordinary or peculiar means of salvation1 or who cling more to the spirit1 and less to the letter of the law1 than the ,roman ,catholic priests of the ,united ,states4 ,nowhere is that doctrine of the ,church1 which prohibits the worship reserved to ,god alone from being offered to the saints1 more clearly inculcated or more generally followed4 ,yet the ,roman ,catholics of ,america are very submissive and very sincere4 ,another remark is applicable to the clergy of every communion4 ,the ,american ministers of the gospel do not attempt to draw or to fix all the thoughts of man upon the life to come2 they are willing to surrender a portion of his heart to the cares of the present2 seeming to consider the goods of this world as important1 although as secondary1 objects4 ,if they take no part themselves in productive labor1 they are at least interested in its progression1 and ready to applaud its results2 and whilst they never cease to point to the other world as the great object of the hopes and fears of the believer1 they do not forbid him honestly to court prosperity in this4 ,far from attempting to show that these things are distinct and contrary to one another1 they study rather to find out on what point they are most nearly and closely connected4 ,all the ,american clergy know and respect the intellectual supremacy exercised by the majority2 they never sustain any but necessary conflicts with it4 ,they take no share in the altercations of parties1 but they readily adopt the general opinions of their country and their age2 and they allow themselves to be borne away without opposition in the current of feeling and opinion by which everything around them is carried along4 ,they endeavor to amend their contemporaries1 but they do not quit fellowship with them4 ,public opinion is therefore never hostile to them2 it rather supports and protects them2 and their belief owes its authority at the same time to the strength which is its own1 and to that which they borrow from the opinions of the majority4 ,thus it is that1 by respecting all democratic tendencies not absolutely contrary to herself1 and by making use of several of them for her own purposes1 religion sustains an advantageous struggle with that spirit of individual independence which is her most dangerous antagonist4 ,chapter ,,vi3 ,of ,the ,progress ,of ,roman ,catholicism ,in ,the ,united ,states ,america is the most democratic country in the world1 and it is at the same time 7according to reports worthy of belief7 the country in which the ,roman ,catholic religion makes most progress4 ,at first sight this is surprising4 ,two things must here be accurately distinguished3 equality inclines men to wish to form their own opinions2 but1 on the other hand1 it imbues them with the taste and the idea of unity1 simplicity1 and impartiality in the power which governs society4 ,men living in democratic ages are therefore very prone to shake off all religious authority2 but if they consent to subject themselves to any authority of this kind1 they choose at least that it should be single and uniform4 ,religious powers not radiating from a common centre are naturally repugnant to their minds2 and they almost as readily conceive that there should be no religion1 as that there should be several4 ,at the present time1 more than in any preceding one1 ,roman ,catholics are seen to lapse into infidelity1 and ,protestants to be converted to ,roman ,catholicism4 ,if the ,roman ,catholic faith be considered within the pale of the church1 it would seem to be losing ground2 without that pale1 to be gaining it4 ,nor is this circumstance difficult of explanation4 ,the men of our days are naturally disposed to believe2 but1 as soon as they have any religion1 they immediately find in themselves a latent propensity which urges them unconsciously towards ,catholicism4 ,many of the doctrines and the practices of the ,romish ,church astonish them2 but they feel a secret admiration for its discipline1 and its great unity attracts them4 ,if ,catholicism could at length withdraw itself from the political animosities to which it has given rise1 ,i have hardly any doubt but that the same spirit of the age1 which appears to be so opposed to it1 would become so favorable as to admit of its great and sudden advancement4 ,one of the most ordinary weaknesses of the human intellect is to seek to reconcile contrary principles1 and to purchase peace at the expense of logic4 ,thus there have ever been1 and will ever be1 men who1 after having submitted some portion of their religious belief to the principle of authority1 will seek to exempt several other parts of their faith from its influence1 and to keep their minds floating at random between liberty and obedience4 ,but ,i am inclined to believe that the number of these thinkers will be less in democratic than in other ages2 and that our posterity will tend more and more to a single division into two parts--some relinquishing ,christianity entirely1 and others returning to the bosom of the ,church of ,rome4 ,chapter ,,vii3 ,of ,the ,cause ,of ,a ,leaning ,to ,pantheism ,amongst ,democratic ,nations ,i shall take occasion hereafter to show under what form the preponderating taste of a democratic people for very general ideas manifests itself in politics2 but ,i would point out1 at the present stage of my work1 its principal effect on philosophy4 ,it cannot be denied that pantheism has made great progress in our age4 ,the writings of a part of ,europe bear visible marks of it3 the ,germans introduce it into philosophy1 and the ,french into literature4 ,most of the works of imagination published in ,france contain some opinions or some tinge caught from pantheistical doctrines1 or they disclose some tendency to such doctrines in their authors4 ,this appears to me not only to proceed from an accidental1 but from a permanent cause4 ,when the conditions of society are becoming more equal1 and each individual man becomes more like all the rest1 more weak and more insignificant1 a habit grows up of ceasing to notice the citizens to consider only the people1 and of overlooking individuals to think only of their kind4 ,at such times the human mind seeks to embrace a multitude of different objects at once2 and it constantly strives to succeed in connecting a variety of consequences with a single cause4 ,the idea of unity so possesses itself of man1 and is sought for by him so universally1 that if he thinks he has found it1 he readily yields himself up to repose in that belief4 ,nor does he content himself with the discovery that nothing is in the world but a creation and a ,creator2 still embarrassed by this primary division of things1 he seeks to expand and to simplify his conception by including ,god and the universe in one great whole4 ,if there be a philosophical system which teaches that all things material and immaterial1 visible and invisible1 which the world contains1 are only to be considered as the several parts of an immense ,being1 which alone remains unchanged amidst the continual change and ceaseless transformation of all that constitutes it1 we may readily infer that such a system1 although it destroy the individuality of man--nay1 rather because it destroys that individuality--will have secret charms for men living in democracies4 ,all their habits of thought prepare them to conceive it1 and predispose them to adopt it4 ,it naturally attracts and fixes their imagination2 it fosters the pride1 whilst it soothes the indolence1 of their minds4 ,amongst the different systems by whose aid philosophy endeavors to explain the universe1 ,i believe pantheism to be one of those most fitted to seduce the human mind in democratic ages4 ,against it all who abide in their attachment to the true greatness of man should struggle and combine4 ,chapter ,,viii3 ,the ,principle ,of ,equality ,suggests ,to ,the ,americans ,the ,idea ,of ,the ,indefinite ,perfectibility ,of ,man ,equality suggests to the human mind several ideas which would not have originated from any other source1 and it modifies almost all those previously entertained4 ,i take as an example the idea of human perfectibility1 because it is one of the principal notions that the intellect can conceive1 and because it constitutes of itself a great philosophical theory1 which is every instant to be traced by its consequences in the practice of human affairs4 ,although man has many points of resemblance with the brute creation1 one characteristic is peculiar to himself--he improves3 they are incapable of improvement4 ,mankind could not fail to discover this difference from its earliest period4 ,the idea of perfectibility is therefore as old as the world2 equality did not give birth to it1 although it has imparted to it a novel character4 ,when the citizens of a community are classed according to their rank1 their profession1 or their birth1 and when all men are constrained to follow the career which happens to open before them1 everyone thinks that the utmost limits of human power are to be discerned in proximity to himself1 and none seeks any longer to resist the inevitable law of his destiny4 ,not indeed that an aristocratic people absolutely contests man's faculty of self-improvement1 but they do not hold it to be indefinite2 amelioration they conceive1 but not change3 they imagine that the future condition of society may be better1 but not essentially different2 and whilst they admit that mankind has made vast strides in improvement1 and may still have some to make1 they assign to it beforehand certain impassable limits4 ,thus they do not presume that they have arrived at the supreme good or at absolute truth 7what people or what man was ever wild enough to imagine it87 but they cherish a persuasion that they have pretty nearly reached that degree of greatness and knowledge which our imperfect nature admits of2 and as nothing moves about them they are willing to fancy that everything is in its fit place4 ,then it is that the legislator affects to lay down eternal laws2 that kings and nations will raise none but imperishable monuments2 and that the present generation undertakes to spare generations to come the care of regulating their destinies4 ,in proportion as castes disappear and the classes of society approximate--as manners1 customs1 and laws vary1 from the tumultuous intercourse of men--as new facts arise--as new truths are brought to light--as ancient opinions are dissipated1 and others take their place--the image of an ideal perfection1 forever on the wing1 presents itself to the human mind4 ,continual changes are then every instant occurring under the observation of every man3 the position of some is rendered worse2 and he learns but too well1 that no people and no individual1 how enlightened soever they may be1 can lay claim to infallibility2--the condition of others is improved2 whence he infers that man is endowed with an indefinite faculty of improvement4 ,his reverses teach him that none may hope to have discovered absolute good--his success stimulates him to the never-ending pursuit of it4 ,thus1 forever seeking--forever falling1 to rise again--often disappointed1 but not discouraged--he tends unceasingly towards that unmeasured greatness so indistinctly visible at the end of the long track which humanity has yet to tread4 ,it can hardly be believed how many facts naturally flow from the philosophical theory of the indefinite perfectibility of man1 or how strong an influence it exercises even on men who1 living entirely for the purposes of action and not of thought1 seem to conform their actions to it1 without knowing anything about it4 ,i accost an ,american sailor1 and ,i inquire why the ships of his country are built so as to last but for a short time2 he answers without hesitation that the art of navigation is every day making such rapid progress1 that the finest vessel would become almost useless if it lasted beyond a certain number of years4 ,in these words1 which fell accidentally and on a particular subject from a man of rude attainments1 ,i recognize the general and systematic idea upon which a great people directs all its concerns4 ,aristocratic nations are naturally too apt to narrow the scope of human perfectibility2 democratic nations to expand it beyond compass4 ,chapter ,,ix3 ,the ,example ,of ,the ,americans ,does ,not ,prove ,that ,a ,democratic ,people ,can ,have ,no ,aptitude ,and ,no ,taste ,for ,science1 ,literature1 ,or ,art ,it must be acknowledged that amongst few of the civilized nations of our time have the higher sciences made less progress than in the ,united ,states2 and in few have great artists1 fine poets1 or celebrated writers been more rare4 ,many ,europeans1 struck by this fact1 have looked upon it as a natural and inevitable result of equality2 and they have supposed that if a democratic state of society and democratic institutions were ever to prevail over the whole earth1 the human mind would gradually find its beacon-lights grow dim1 and men would relapse into a period of darkness4 ,to reason thus is1 ,i think1 to confound several ideas which it is important to divide and to examine separately3 it is to mingle1 unintentionally1 what is democratic with what is only ,american4 ,the religion professed by the first emigrants1 and bequeathed by them to their descendants1 simple in its form of worship1 austere and almost harsh in its principles1 and hostile to external symbols and to ceremonial pomp1 is naturally unfavorable to the fine arts1 and only yields a reluctant sufferance to the pleasures of literature4 ,the ,americans are a very old and a very enlightened people1 who have fallen upon a new and unbounded country1 where they may extend themselves at pleasure1 and which they may fertilize without difficulty4 ,this state of things is without a parallel in the history of the world4 ,in ,america1 then1 every one finds facilities1 unknown elsewhere1 for making or increasing his fortune4 ,the spirit of gain is always on the stretch1 and the human mind1 constantly diverted from the pleasures of imagination and the labors of the intellect1 is there swayed by no impulse but the pursuit of wealth4 ,not only are manufacturing and commercial classes to be found in the ,united ,states1 as they are in all other countries2 but what never occurred elsewhere1 the whole community is simultaneously engaged in productive industry and commerce4 ,i am convinced that1 if the ,americans had been alone in the world1 with the freedom and the knowledge acquired by their forefathers1 and the passions which are their own1 they would not have been slow to discover that progress cannot long be made in the application of the sciences without cultivating the theory of them2 that all the arts are perfected by one another3 and1 however absorbed they might have been by the pursuit of the principal object of their desires1 they would speedily have admitted1 that it is necessary to turn aside from it occasionally1 in order the better to attain it in the end4 ,the taste for the pleasures of the mind is moreover so natural to the heart of civilized man1 that amongst the polite nations1 which are least disposed to give themselves up to these pursuits1 a certain number of citizens are always to be found who take part in them4 ,this intellectual craving1 when once felt1 would very soon have been satisfied4 ,but at the very time when the ,americans were naturally inclined to require nothing of science but its special applications to the useful arts and the means of rendering life comfortable1 learned and literary ,europe was engaged in exploring the common sources of truth1 and in improving at the same time all that can minister to the pleasures or satisfy the wants of man4 ,at the head of the enlightened nations of the ,old ,world the inhabitants of the ,united ,states more particularly distinguished one1 to which they were closely united by a common origin and by kindred habits4 ,amongst this people they found distinguished men of science1 artists of skill1 writers of eminence1 and they were enabled to enjoy the treasures of the intellect without requiring to labor in amassing them4 ,i cannot consent to separate ,america from ,europe1 in spite of the ocean which intervenes4 ,i consider the people of the ,united ,states as that portion of the ,english people which is commissioned to explore the wilds of the ,new ,world2 whilst the rest of the nation1 enjoying more leisure and less harassed by the drudgery of life1 may devote its energies to thought1 and enlarge in all directions the empire of the mind4 ,the position of the ,americans is therefore quite exceptional1 and it may be believed that no democratic people will ever be placed in a similar one4 ,their strictly ,puritanical origin--their exclusively commercial habits--even the country they inhabit1 which seems to divert their minds from the pursuit of science1 literature1 and the arts--the proximity of ,europe1 which allows them to neglect these pursuits without relapsing into barbarism--a thousand special causes1 of which ,i have only been able to point out the most important--have singularly concurred to fix the mind of the ,american upon purely practical objects4 ,his passions1 his wants1 his education1 and everything about him seem to unite in drawing the native of the ,united ,states earthward3 his religion alone bids him turn1 from time to time1 a transient and distracted glance to heaven4 ,let us cease then to view all democratic nations under the mask of the ,american people1 and let us attempt to survey them at length with their own proper features4 ,it is possible to conceive a people not subdivided into any castes or scale of ranks2 in which the law1 recognizing no privileges1 should divide inherited property into equal shares2 but which1 at the same time1 should be without knowledge and without freedom4 ,nor is this an empty hypothesis3 a despot may find that it is his interest to render his subjects equal and to leave them ignorant1 in order more easily to keep them slaves4 ,not only would a democratic people of this kind show neither aptitude nor taste for science1 literature1 or art1 but it would probably never arrive at the possession of them4 ,the law of descent would of itself provide for the destruction of fortunes at each succeeding generation2 and new fortunes would be acquired by none4 ,the poor man1 without either knowledge or freedom1 would not so much as conceive the idea of raising himself to wealth2 and the rich man would allow himself to be degraded to poverty1 without a notion of self-defence4 ,between these two members of the community complete and invincible equality would soon be established4 ,no one would then have time or taste to devote himself to the pursuits or pleasures of the intellect2 but all men would remain paralyzed by a state of common ignorance and equal servitude4 ,when ,i conceive a democratic society of this kind1 ,i fancy myself in one of those low1 close1 and gloomy abodes1 where the light which breaks in from without soon faints and fades away4 ,a sudden heaviness overpowers me1 and ,i grope through the surrounding darkness1 to find the aperture which will restore me to daylight and the air4 ,but all this is not applicable to men already enlightened who retain their freedom1 after having abolished from amongst them those peculiar and hereditary rights which perpetuated the tenure of property in the hands of certain individuals or certain bodies4 ,when men living in a democratic state of society are enlightened1 they readily discover that they are confined and fixed within no limits which constrain them to take up with their present fortune4 ,they all therefore conceive the idea of increasing it2 if they are free1 they all attempt it1 but all do not succeed in the same manner4 ,the legislature1 it is true1 no longer grants privileges1 but they are bestowed by nature4 ,as natural inequality is very great1 fortunes become unequal as soon as every man exerts all his faculties to get rich4 ,the law of descent prevents the establishment of wealthy families2 but it does not prevent the existence of wealthy individuals4 ,it constantly brings back the members of the community to a common level1 from which they as constantly escape3 and the inequality of fortunes augments in proportion as knowledge is diffused and liberty increased4 ,a sect which arose in our time1 and was celebrated for its talents and its extravagance1 proposed to concentrate all property into the hands of a central power1 whose function it should afterwards be to parcel it out to individuals1 according to their capacity4 ,this would have been a method of escaping from that complete and eternal equality which seems to threaten democratic society4 ,but it would be a simpler and less dangerous remedy to grant no privilege to any1 giving to all equal cultivation and equal independence1 and leaving everyone to determine his own position4 ,natural inequality will very soon make way for itself1 and wealth will spontaneously pass into the hands of the most capable4 ,free and democratic communities1 then1 will always contain a considerable number of people enjoying opulence or competency4 ,the wealthy will not be so closely linked to each other as the members of the former aristocratic class of society3 their propensities will be different1 and they will scarcely ever enjoy leisure as secure or as complete3 but they will be far more numerous than those who belonged to that class of society could ever be4 ,these persons will not be strictly confined to the cares of practical life1 and they will still be able1 though in different degrees1 to indulge in the pursuits and pleasures of the intellect4 ,in those pleasures they will indulge2 for if it be true that the human mind leans on one side to the narrow1 the practical1 and the useful1 it naturally rises on the other to the infinite1 the spiritual1 and the beautiful4 ,physical wants confine it to the earth2 but1 as soon as the tie is loosened1 it will unbend itself again4 ,not only will the number of those who can take an interest in the productions of the mind be enlarged1 but the taste for intellectual enjoyment will descend1 step by step1 even to those who1 in aristocratic societies1 seem to have neither time nor ability to in indulge in them4 ,when hereditary wealth1 the privileges of rank1 and the prerogatives of birth have ceased to be1 and when every man derives his strength from himself alone1 it becomes evident that the chief cause of disparity between the fortunes of men is the mind4 ,whatever tends to invigorate1 to extend1 or to adorn the mind1 instantly rises to great value4 ,the utility of knowledge becomes singularly conspicuous even to the eyes of the multitude3 those who have no taste for its charms set store upon its results1 and make some efforts to acquire it4 ,in free and enlightened democratic ages1 there is nothing to separate men from each other or to retain them in their peculiar sphere2 they rise or sink with extreme rapidity4 ,all classes live in perpetual intercourse from their great proximity to each other4 ,they communicate and intermingle every day--they imitate and envy one other3 this suggests to the people many ideas1 notions1 and desires which it would never have entertained if the distinctions of rank had been fixed and society at rest4 ,in such nations the servant never considers himself as an entire stranger to the pleasures and toils of his master1 nor the poor man to those of the rich2 the rural population assimilates itself to that of the towns1 and the provinces to the capital4 ,no one easily allows himself to be reduced to the mere material cares of life2 and the humblest artisan casts at times an eager and a furtive glance into the higher regions of the intellect4 ,people do not read with the same notions or in the same manner as they do in an aristocratic community2 but the circle of readers is unceasingly expanded1 till it includes all the citizens4 ,as soon as the multitude begins to take an interest in the labors of the mind1 it finds out that to excel in some of them is a powerful method of acquiring fame1 power1 or wealth4 ,the restless ambition which equality begets instantly takes this direction as it does all others4 ,the number of those who cultivate science1 letters1 and the arts1 becomes immense4 ,the intellectual world starts into prodigious activity3 everyone endeavors to open for himself a path there1 and to draw the eyes of the public after him4 ,something analogous occurs to what happens in society in the ,united ,states1 politically considered4 ,what is done is often imperfect1 but the attempts are innumerable2 and1 although the results of individual effort are commonly very small1 the total amount is always very large4 ,it is therefore not true to assert that men living in democratic ages are naturally indifferent to science1 literature1 and the arts3 only it must be acknowledged that they cultivate them after their own fashion1 and bring to the task their own peculiar qualifications and deficiencies4 ,chapter ,x3 ,why ,the ,americans ,are ,more ,addicted ,to ,practical ,than ,to ,theoretical ,science ,if a democratic state of society and democratic institutions do not stop the career of the human mind1 they incontestably guide it in one direction in preference to another4 ,their effects1 thus circumscribed1 are still exceedingly great2 and ,i trust ,i may be pardoned if ,i pause for a moment to survey them4 ,we had occasion1 in speaking of the philosophical method of the ,american people1 to make several remarks which must here be turned to account4 ,equality begets in man the desire of judging of everything for himself3 it gives him1 in all things1 a taste for the tangible and the real1 a contempt for tradition and for forms4 ,these general tendencies are principally discernible in the peculiar subject of this chapter4 ,those who cultivate the sciences amongst a democratic people are always afraid of losing their way in visionary speculation4 ,they mistrust systems2 they adhere closely to facts and the study of facts with their own senses4 ,as they do not easily defer to the mere name of any fellow-man1 they are never inclined to rest upon any man's authority2 but1 on the contrary1 they are unremitting in their efforts to point out the weaker points of their neighbors' opinions4 ,scientific precedents have very little weight with them2 they are never long detained by the subtilty of the schools1 nor ready to accept big words for sterling coin2 they penetrate1 as far as they can1 into the principal parts of the subject which engages them1 and they expound them in the vernacular tongue4 ,scientific pursuits then follow a freer and a safer course1 but a less lofty one4 ,the mind may1 as it appears to me1 divide science into three parts4 ,the first comprises the most theoretical principles1 and those more abstract notions whose application is either unknown or very remote4 ,the second is composed of those general truths which still belong to pure theory1 but lead1 nevertheless1 by a straight and short road to practical results4 ,methods of application and means of execution make up the third4 ,each of these different portions of science may be separately cultivated1 although reason and experience show that none of them can prosper long1 if it be absolutely cut off from the two others4 ,in ,america the purely practical part of science is admirably understood1 and careful attention is paid to the theoretical portion which is immediately requisite to application4 ,on this head the ,americans always display a clear1 free1 original1 and inventive power of mind4 ,but hardly anyone in the ,united ,states devotes himself to the essentially theoretical and abstract portion of human knowledge4 ,in this respect the ,americans carry to excess a tendency which is1 ,i think1 discernible1 though in a less degree1 amongst all democratic nations4 ,nothing is more necessary to the culture of the higher sciences1 or of the more elevated departments of science1 than meditation2 and nothing is less suited to meditation than the structure of democratic society4 ,we do not find there1 as amongst an aristocratic people1 one class which clings to a state of repose because it is well off2 and another which does not venture to stir because it despairs of improving its condition4 ,everyone is actively in motion3 some in quest of power1 others of gain4 ,in the midst of this universal tumult--this incessant conflict of jarring interests--this continual stride of men after fortune--where is that calm to be found which is necessary for the deeper combinations of the intellect8 ,how can the mind dwell upon any single point1 when everything whirls around it1 and man himself is swept and beaten onwards by the heady current which rolls all things in its course8 ,but the permanent agitation which subsists in the bosom of a peaceable and established democracy1 must be distinguished from the tumultuous and revolutionary movements which almost always attend the birth and growth of democratic society4 ,when a violent revolution occurs amongst a highly civilized people1 it cannot fail to give a sudden impulse to their feelings and their opinions4 ,this is more particularly true of democratic revolutions1 which stir up all the classes of which a people is composed1 and beget1 at the same time1 inordinate ambition in the breast of every member of the community4 ,the ,french made most surprising advances in the exact sciences at the very time at which they were finishing the destruction of the remains of their former feudal society2 yet this sudden fecundity is not to be attributed to democracy1 but to the unexampled revolution which attended its growth4 ,what happened at that period was a special incident1 and it would be unwise to regard it as the test of a general principle4 ,great revolutions are not more common amongst democratic nations than amongst others3 ,i am even inclined to believe that they are less so4 ,but there prevails amongst those populations a small distressing motion--a sort of incessant jostling of men--which annoys and disturbs the mind1 without exciting or elevating it4 ,men who live in democratic communities not only seldom indulge in meditation1 but they naturally entertain very little esteem for it4 ,a democratic state of society and democratic institutions plunge the greater part of men in constant active life2 and the habits of mind which are suited to an active life1 are not always suited to a contemplative one4 ,the man of action is frequently obliged to content himself with the best he can get1 because he would never accomplish his purpose if he chose to carry every detail to perfection4 ,he has perpetually occasion to rely on ideas which he has not had leisure to search to the bottom2 for he is much more frequently aided by the opportunity of an idea than by its strict accuracy2 and1 in the long run1 he risks less in making use of some false principles1 than in spending his time in establishing all his principles on the basis of truth4 ,the world is not led by long or learned demonstrations2 a rapid glance at particular incidents1 the daily study of the fleeting passions of the multitude1 the accidents of the time1 and the art of turning them to account1 decide all its affairs4 ,in the ages in which active life is the condition of almost everyone1 men are therefore generally led to attach an excessive value to the rapid bursts and superficial conceptions of the intellect2 and1 on the other hand1 to depreciate below their true standard its slower and deeper labors4 ,this opinion of the public influences the judgment of the men who cultivate the sciences2 they are persuaded that they may succeed in those pursuits without meditation1 or deterred from such pursuits as demand it4 ,there are several methods of studying the sciences4 ,amongst a multitude of men you will find a selfish1 mercantile1 and trading taste for the discoveries of the mind1 which must not be confounded with that disinterested passion which is kindled in the heart of the few4 ,a desire to utilize knowledge is one thing2 the pure desire to know is another4 ,i do not doubt that in a few minds and far between1 an ardent1 inexhaustible love of truth springs up1 self-supported1 and living in ceaseless fruition without ever attaining the satisfaction which it seeks4 ,this ardent love it is--this proud1 disinterested love of what is true--which raises men to the abstract sources of truth1 to draw their mother-knowledge thence4 ,if ,pascal had had nothing in view but some large gain1 or even if he had been stimulated by the love of fame alone1 ,i cannot conceive that he would ever have been able to rally all the powers of his mind1 as he did1 for the better discovery of the most hidden things of the ,creator4 ,when ,i see him1 as it were1 tear his soul from the midst of all the cares of life to devote it wholly to these researches1 and1 prematurely snapping the links which bind the frame to life1 die of old age before forty1 ,i stand amazed1 and ,i perceive that no ordinary cause is at work to produce efforts so extra-ordinary4 ,the future will prove whether these passions1 at once so rare and so productive1 come into being and into growth as easily in the midst of democratic as in aristocratic communities4 ,for myself1 ,i confess that ,i am slow to believe it4 ,in aristocratic society1 the class which gives the tone to opinion1 and has the supreme guidance of affairs1 being permanently and hereditarily placed above the multitude1 naturally conceives a lofty idea of itself and of man4 ,it loves to invent for him noble pleasures1 to carve out splendid objects for his ambition4 ,aristocracies often commit very tyrannical and very inhuman actions2 but they rarely entertain grovelling thoughts2 and they show a kind of haughty contempt of little pleasures1 even whilst they indulge in them4 ,the effect is greatly to raise the general pitch of society4 ,in aristocratic ages vast ideas are commonly entertained of the dignity1 the power1 and the greatness of man4 ,these opinions exert their influence on those who cultivate the sciences1 as well as on the rest of the community4 ,they facilitate the natural impulse of the mind to the highest regions of thought1 and they naturally prepare it to conceive a sublime--nay1 almost a divine--love of truth4 ,men of science at such periods are consequently carried away by theory2 and it even happens that they frequently conceive an inconsiderate contempt for the practical part of learning4 ,archimedes1 says ,plutarch1 was of so lofty a spirit1 that he never condescended to write any treatise on the manner of constructing all these engines of offence and defence4 ,and as he held this science of inventing and putting together engines1 and all arts generally speaking which tended to any useful end in practice1 to be vile1 low1 and mercenary1 he spent his talents and his studious hours in writing of those things only whose beauty and subtilty had in them no admixture of necessity4 ,such is the aristocratic aim of science2 in democratic nations it cannot be the same4 ,the greater part of the men who constitute these nations are extremely eager in the pursuit of actual and physical gratification4 ,as they are always dissatisfied with the position which they occupy1 and are always free to leave it1 they think of nothing but the means of changing their fortune1 or of increasing it4 ,to minds thus predisposed1 every new method which leads by a shorter road to wealth1 every machine which spares labor1 every instrument which diminishes the cost of production1 every discovery which facilitates pleasures or augments them1 seems to be the grandest effort of the human intellect4 ,it is chiefly from these motives that a democratic people addicts itself to scientific pursuits--that it understands1 and that it respects them4 ,in aristocratic ages1 science is more particularly called upon to furnish gratification to the mind2 in democracies1 to the body4 ,you may be sure that the more a nation is democratic1 enlightened1 and free1 the greater will be the number of these interested promoters of scientific genius1 and the more will discoveries immediately applicable to productive industry confer gain1 fame1 and even power on their authors4 ,for in democracies the working class takes a part in public affairs2 and public honors1 as well as pecuniary remuneration1 may be awarded to those who deserve them4 ,in a community thus organized it may easily be conceived that the human mind may be led insensibly to the neglect of theory2 and that it is urged1 on the contrary1 with unparalleled vehemence to the applications of science1 or at least to that portion of theoretical science which is necessary to those who make such applications4 ,in vain will some innate propensity raise the mind towards the loftier spheres of the intellect2 interest draws it down to the middle zone4 ,there it may develop all its energy and restless activity1 there it may engender all its wonders4 ,these very ,americans1 who have not discovered one of the general laws of mechanics1 have introduced into navigation an engine which changes the aspect of the world4 ,assuredly ,i do not content that the democratic nations of our time are destined to witness the extinction of the transcendent luminaries of man's intelligence1 nor even that no new lights will ever start into existence4 ,at the age at which the world has now arrived1 and amongst so many cultivated nations1 perpetually excited by the fever of productive industry1 the bonds which connect the different parts of science together cannot fail to strike the observation2 and the taste for practical science itself1 if it be enlightened1 ought to lead men not to neglect theory4 ,in the midst of such numberless attempted applications of so many experiments1 repeated every day1 it is almost impossible that general laws should not frequently be brought to light2 so that great discoveries would be frequent1 though great inventors be rare4 ,i believe1 moreover1 in the high calling of scientific minds4 ,if the democratic principle does not1 on the one hand1 induce men to cultivate science for its own sake1 on the other it enormously increases the number of those who do cultivate it4 ,nor is it credible that1 from amongst so great a multitude no speculative genius should from time to time arise1 inflamed by the love of truth alone4 ,such a one1 we may be sure1 would dive into the deepest mysteries of nature1 whatever be the spirit of his country or his age4 ,he requires no assistance in his course--enough that he be not checked in it4 ,all that ,i mean to say is this3--permanent inequality of conditions leads men to confine themselves to the arrogant and sterile research of abstract truths2 whilst the social condition and the institutions of democracy prepare them to seek the immediate and useful practical results of the sciences4 ,this tendency is natural and inevitable3 it is curious to be acquainted with it1 and it may be necessary to point it out4 ,if those who are called upon to guide the nations of our time clearly discerned from afar off these new tendencies1 which will soon be irresistible1 they would understand that1 possessing education and freedom1 men living in democratic ages cannot fail to improve the industrial part of science2 and that henceforward all the efforts of the constituted authorities ought to be directed to support the highest branches of learning1 and to foster the nobler passion for science itself4 ,in the present age the human mind must be coerced into theoretical studies2 it runs of its own accord to practical applications2 and1 instead of perpetually referring it to the minute examination of secondary effects1 it is well to divert it from them sometimes1 in order to raise it up to the contemplation of primary causes4 ,because the civilization of ancient ,rome perished in consequence of the invasion of the barbarians1 we are perhaps too apt to think that civilization cannot perish in any other manner4 ,if the light by which we are guided is ever extinguished1 it will dwindle by degrees1 and expire of itself4 ,by dint of close adherence to mere applications1 principles would be lost sight of2 and when the principles were wholly forgotten1 the methods derived from them would be ill-pursued4 ,new methods could no longer be invented1 and men would continue to apply1 without intelligence1 and without art1 scientific processes no longer understood4 ,when ,europeans first arrived in ,china1 three hundred years ago1 they found that almost all the arts had reached a certain degree of perfection there2 and they were surprised that a people which had attained this point should not have gone beyond it4 ,at a later period they discovered some traces of the higher branches of science which were lost4 ,the nation was absorbed in productive industry3 the greater part of its scientific processes had been preserved1 but science itself no longer existed there4 ,this served to explain the strangely motionless state in which they found the minds of this people4 ,the ,chinese1 in following the track of their forefathers1 had forgotten the reasons by which the latter had been guided4 ,they still used the formula1 without asking for its meaning3 they retained the instrument1 but they no longer possessed the art of altering or renewing it4 ,the ,chinese1 then1 had lost the power of change2 for them to improve was impossible4 ,they were compelled1 at all times and in all points1 to imitate their predecessors1 lest they should stray into utter darkness1 by deviating for an instant from the path already laid down for them4 ,the source of human knowledge was all but dry2 and though the stream still ran on1 it could neither swell its waters nor alter its channel4 ,notwithstanding this1 ,china had subsisted peaceably for centuries4 ,the invaders who had conquered the country assumed the manners of the inhabitants1 and order prevailed there4 ,a sort of physical prosperity was everywhere discernible3 revolutions were rare1 and war was1 so to speak1 unknown4 ,it is then a fallacy to flatter ourselves with the reflection that the barbarians are still far from us2 for if there be some nations which allow civilization to be torn from their grasp1 there are others who trample it themselves under their feet4 ,chapter ,,xi3 ,of ,the ,spirit ,in ,which ,the ,americans ,cultivate ,the ,arts ,it would be to waste the time of my readers and my own if ,i strove to demonstrate how the general mediocrity of fortunes1 the absence of superfluous wealth1 the universal desire of comfort1 and the constant efforts by which everyone attempts to procure it1 make the taste for the useful predominate over the love of the beautiful in the heart of man4 ,democratic nations1 amongst which all these things exist1 will therefore cultivate the arts which serve to render life easy1 in preference to those whose object is to adorn it4 ,they will habitually prefer the useful to the beautiful1 and they will require that the beautiful should be useful4 ,but ,i propose to go further2 and after having pointed out this first feature1 to sketch several others4 ,it commonly happens that in the ages of privilege the practice of almost all the arts becomes a privilege2 and that every profession is a separate walk1 upon which it is not allowable for everyone to enter4 ,even when productive industry is free1 the fixed character which belongs to aristocratic nations gradually segregates all the persons who practise the same art1 till they form a distinct class1 always composed of the same families1 whose members are all known to each other1 and amongst whom a public opinion of their own and a species of corporate pride soon spring up4 ,in a class or guild of this kind1 each artisan has not only his fortune to make1 but his reputation to preserve4 ,he is not exclusively swayed by his own interest1 or even by that of his customer1 but by that of the body to which he belongs2 and the interest of that body is1 that each artisan should produce the best possible workmanship4 ,in aristocratic ages1 the object of the arts is therefore to manufacture as well as possible--not with the greatest despatch1 or at the lowest rate4 ,when1 on the contrary1 every profession is open to all--when a multitude of persons are constantly embracing and abandoning it--and when its several members are strangers to each other1 indifferent1 and from their numbers hardly seen amongst themselves2 the social tie is destroyed1 and each workman1 standing alone1 endeavors simply to gain the greatest possible quantity of money at the least possible cost4 ,the will of the customer is then his only limit4 ,but at the same time a corresponding revolution takes place in the customer also4 ,in countries in which riches as well as power are concentrated and retained in the hands of the few1 the use of the greater part of this world's goods belongs to a small number of individuals1 who are always the same4 ,necessity1 public opinion1 or moderate desires exclude all others from the enjoyment of them4 ,as this aristocratic class remains fixed at the pinnacle of greatness on which it stands1 without diminution or increase1 it is always acted upon by the same wants and affected by them in the same manner4 ,the men of whom it is composed naturally derive from their superior and hereditary position a taste for what is extremely well made and lasting4 ,this affects the general way of thinking of the nation in relation to the arts4 ,it often occurs1 among such a people1 that even the peasant will rather go without the object he covets1 than procure it in a state of imperfection4 ,in aristocracies1 then1 the handicraftsmen work for only a limited number of very fastidious customers3 the profit they hope to make depends principally on the perfection of their workmanship4 ,such is no longer the case when1 all privileges being abolished1 ranks are intermingled1 and men are forever rising or sinking upon the ladder of society4 ,amongst a democratic people a number of citizens always exist whose patrimony is divided and decreasing4 ,they have contracted1 under more prosperous circumstances1 certain wants1 which remain after the means of satisfying such wants are gone2 and they are anxiously looking out for some surreptitious method of providing for them4 ,on the other hand1 there are always in democracies a large number of men whose fortune is upon the increase1 but whose desires grow much faster than their fortunes3 and who gloat upon the gifts of wealth in anticipation1 long before they have means to command them4 ,such men eager to find some short cut to these gratifications1 already almost within their reach4 ,from the combination of these causes the result is1 that in democracies there are always a multitude of individuals whose wants are above their means1 and who are very willing to take up with imperfect satisfaction rather than abandon the object of their desires4 ,the artisan readily understands these passions1 for he himself partakes in them3 in an aristocracy he would seek to sell his workmanship at a high price to the few2 he now conceives that the more expeditious way of getting rich is to sell them at a low price to all4 ,but there are only two ways of lowering the price of commodities4 ,the first is to discover some better1 shorter1 and more ingenious method of producing them3 the second is to manufacture a larger quantity of goods1 nearly similar1 but of less value4 ,amongst a democratic population1 all the intellectual faculties of the workman are directed to these two objects3 he strives to invent methods which may enable him not only to work better1 but quicker and cheaper2 or1 if he cannot succeed in that1 to diminish the intrinsic qualities of the thing he makes1 without rendering it wholly unfit for the use for which it is intended4 ,when none but the wealthy had watches1 they were almost all very good ones3 few are now made which are worth much1 but everybody has one in his pocket4 ,thus the democratic principle not only tends to direct the human mind to the useful arts1 but it induces the artisan to produce with greater rapidity a quantity of imperfect commodities1 and the consumer to content himself with these commodities4 ,not that in democracies the arts are incapable of producing very commendable works1 if such be required4 ,this may occasionally be the case1 if customers appear who are ready to pay for time and trouble4 ,in this rivalry of every kind of industry--in the midst of this immense competition and these countless experiments1 some excellent workmen are formed who reach the utmost limits of their craft4 ,but they have rarely an opportunity of displaying what they can do2 they are scrupulously sparing of their powers2 they remain in a state of accomplished mediocrity1 which condemns itself1 and1 though it be very well able to shoot beyond the mark before it1 aims only at what it hits4 ,in aristocracies1 on the contrary1 workmen always do all they can2 and when they stop1 it is because they have reached the limit of their attainments4 ,when ,i arrive in a country where ,i find some of the finest productions of the arts1 ,i learn from this fact nothing of the social condition or of the political constitution of the country4 ,but if ,i perceive that the productions of the arts are generally of an inferior quality1 very abundant and very cheap1 ,i am convinced that1 amongst the people where this occurs1 privilege is on the decline1 and that ranks are beginning to intermingle1 and will soon be confounded together4 ,the handicraftsmen of democratic ages endeavor not only to bring their useful productions within the reach of the whole community1 but they strive to give to all their commodities attractive qualities which they do not in reality possess4 ,in the confusion of all ranks everyone hopes to appear what he is not1 and makes great exertions to succeed in this object4 ,this sentiment indeed1 which is but too natural to the heart of man1 does not originate in the democratic principle2 but that principle applies it to material objects4 ,to mimic virtue is of every age2 but the hypocrisy of luxury belongs more particularly to the ages of democracy4 ,to satisfy these new cravings of human vanity the arts have recourse to every species of imposture3 and these devices sometimes go so far as to defeat their own purpose4 ,imitation diamonds are now made which may be easily mistaken for real ones2 as soon as the art of fabricating false diamonds shall have reached so high a degree of perfection that they cannot be distinguished from real ones1 it is probable that both one and the other will be abandoned1 and become mere pebbles again4 ,this leads me to speak of those arts which are called the fine arts1 by way of distinction4 ,i do not believe that it is a necessary effect of a democratic social condition and of democratic institutions to diminish the number of men who cultivate the fine arts2 but these causes exert a very powerful influence on the manner in which these arts are cultivated4 ,many of those who had already contracted a taste for the fine arts are impoverished3 on the other hand1 many of those who are not yet rich begin to conceive that taste1 at least by imitation2 and the number of consumers increases1 but opulent and fastidious consumers become more scarce4 ,something analogous to what ,i have already pointed out in the useful arts then takes place in the fine arts2 the productions of artists are more numerous1 but the merit of each production is diminished4 ,no longer able to soar to what is great1 they cultivate what is pretty and elegant2 and appearance is more attended to than reality4 ,in aristocracies a few great pictures are produced2 in democratic countries1 a vast number of insignificant ones4 ,in the former1 statues are raised of bronze2 in the latter1 they are modelled in plaster4 ,when ,i arrived for the first time at ,new ,york1 by that part of the ,atlantic ,ocean which is called the ,narrows1 ,i was surprised to perceive along the shore1 at some distance from the city1 a considerable number of little palaces of white marble1 several of which were built after the models of ancient architecture4 ,when ,i went the next day to inspect more closely the building which had particularly attracted my notice1 ,i found that its walls were of whitewashed brick1 and its columns of painted wood4 ,all the edifices which ,i had admired the night before were of the same kind4 ,the social condition and the institutions of democracy impart1 moreover1 certain peculiar tendencies to all the imitative arts1 which it is easy to point out4 ,they frequently withdraw them from the delineation of the soul to fix them exclusively on that of the body3 and they substitute the representation of motion and sensation for that of sentiment and thought3 in a word1 they put the real in the place of the ideal4 ,i doubt whether ,raphael studied the minutest intricacies of the mechanism of the human body as thoroughly as the draughtsmen of our own time4 ,he did not attach the same importance to rigorous accuracy on this point as they do1 because he aspired to surpass nature4 ,he sought to make of man something which should be superior to man1 and to embellish beauty's self4 ,david and his scholars were1 on the contrary1 as good anatomists as they were good painters4 ,they wonderfully depicted the models which they had before their eyes1 but they rarely imagined anything beyond them3 they followed nature with fidelity3 whilst ,raphael sought for something better than nature4 ,they have left us an exact portraiture of man2 but he discloses in his works a glimpse of the ,divinity4 ,this remark as to the manner of treating a subject is no less applicable to the choice of it4 ,the painters of the ,middle ,ages generally sought far above themselves1 and away from their own time1 for mighty subjects1 which left to their imagination an unbounded range4 ,our painters frequently employ their talents in the exact imitation of the details of private life1 which they have always before their eyes2 and they are forever copying trivial objects1 the originals of which are only too abundant in nature4 ,chapter ,,xii3 ,why ,the ,americans ,raise ,some ,monuments ,so ,insignificant1 ,and ,others ,so ,important ,i have just observed1 that in democratic ages monuments of the arts tend to become more numerous and less important4 ,i now hasten to point out the exception to this rule4 ,in a democratic community individuals are very powerless2 but the ,state which represents them all1 and contains them all in its grasp1 is very powerful4 ,nowhere do citizens appear so insignificant as in a democratic nation2 nowhere does the nation itself appear greater1 or does the mind more easily take in a wide general survey of it4 ,in democratic communities the imagination is compressed when men consider themselves2 it expands indefinitely when they think of the ,state4 ,hence it is that the same men who live on a small scale in narrow dwellings1 frequently aspire to gigantic splendor in the erection of their public monuments4 ,the ,americans traced out the circuit of an immense city on the site which they intended to make their capital1 but which1 up to the present time1 is hardly more densely peopled than ,pontoise1 though1 according to them1 it will one day contain a million of inhabitants4 ,they have already rooted up trees for ten miles round1 lest they should interfere with the future citizens of this imaginary metropolis4 ,they have erected a magnificent palace for ,congress in the centre of the city1 and have given it the pompous name of the ,capitol4 ,the several ,states of the ,union are every day planning and erecting for themselves prodigious undertakings1 which would astonish the engineers of the great ,european nations4 ,thus democracy not only leads men to a vast number of inconsiderable productions2 it also leads them to raise some monuments on the largest scale3 but between these two extremes there is a blank4 ,a few scattered remains of enormous buildings can therefore teach us nothing of the social condition and the institutions of the people by whom they were raised4 ,i may add1 though the remark leads me to step out of my subject1 that they do not make us better acquainted with its greatness1 its civilization1 and its real prosperity4 ,whensoever a power of any kind shall be able to make a whole people co-operate in a single undertaking1 that power1 with a little knowledge and a great deal of time1 will succeed in obtaining something enormous from the co-operation of efforts so multiplied4 ,but this does not lead to the conclusion that the people was very happy1 very enlightened1 or even very strong4 ,the ,spaniards found the ,city of ,mexico full of magnificent temples and vast palaces2 but that did not prevent ,cortes from conquering the ,mexican ,empire with #fjj foot soldiers and sixteen horses4 ,if the ,romans had been better acquainted with the laws of hydraulics1 they would not have constructed all the aqueducts which surround the ruins of their cities--they would have made a better use of their power and their wealth4 ,if they had invented the steam-engine1 perhaps they would not have extended to the extremities of their empire those long artificial roads which are called ,roman roads4 ,these things are at once the splendid memorials of their ignorance and of their greatness4 ,a people which should leave no other vestige of its track than a few leaden pipes in the earth and a few iron rods upon its surface1 might have been more the master of nature than the ,romans4 ,chapter ,,xiii3 ,literary ,characteristics ,of ,democratic ,ages ,when a traveller goes into a bookseller's shop in the ,united ,states1 and examines the ,american books upon the shelves1 the number of works appears extremely great2 whilst that of known authors appears1 on the contrary1 to be extremely small4 ,he will first meet with a number of elementary treatises1 destined to teach the rudiments of human knowledge4 ,most of these books are written in ,europe2 the ,americans reprint them1 adapting them to their own country4 ,next comes an enormous quantity of religious works1 ,bibles1 sermons1 edifying anecdotes1 controversial divinity1 and reports of charitable societies2 lastly1 appears the long catalogue of political pamphlets4 ,in ,america1 parties do not write books to combat each others' opinions1 but pamphlets which are circulated for a day with incredible rapidity1 and then expire4 ,in the midst of all these obscure productions of the human brain are to be found the more remarkable works of that small number of authors1 whose names are1 or ought to be1 known to ,europeans4 ,although ,america is perhaps in our days the civilized country in which literature is least attended to1 a large number of persons are nevertheless to be found there who take an interest in the productions of the mind1 and who make them1 if not the study of their lives1 at least the charm of their leisure hours4 ,but ,england supplies these readers with the larger portion of the books which they require4 ,almost all important ,english books are republished in the ,united ,states4 ,the literary genius of ,great ,britain still darts its rays into the recesses of the forests of the ,new ,world4 ,there is hardly a pioneer's hut which does not contain a few odd volumes of ,shakespeare4 ,i remember that ,i read the feudal play of ,henry ,v for the first time in a loghouse4 ,not only do the ,americans constantly draw upon the treasures of ,english literature1 but it may be said with truth that they find the literature of ,england growing on their own soil4 ,the larger part of that small number of men in the ,united ,states who are engaged in the composition of literary works are ,english in substance1 and still more so in form4 ,thus they transport into the midst of democracy the ideas and literary fashions which are current amongst the aristocratic nation they have taken for their model4 ,they paint with colors borrowed from foreign manners2 and as they hardly ever represent the country they were born in as it really is1 they are seldom popular there4 ,the citizens of the ,united ,states are themselves so convinced that it is not for them that books are published1 that before they can make up their minds upon the merit of one of their authors1 they generally wait till his fame has been ratified in ,england1 just as in pictures the author of an original is held to be entitled to judge of the merit of a copy4 ,the inhabitants of the ,united ,states have then at present1 properly speaking1 no literature4 ,the only authors whom ,i acknowledge as ,american are the journalists4 ,they indeed are not great writers1 but they speak the language of their countrymen1 and make themselves heard by them4 ,other authors are aliens2 they are to the ,americans what the imitators of the ,greeks and ,romans were to us at the revival of learning--an object of curiosity1 not of general sympathy4 ,they amuse the mind1 but they do not act upon the manners of the people4 ,i have already said that this state of things is very far from originating in democracy alone1 and that the causes of it must be sought for in several peculiar circumstances independent of the democratic principle4 ,if the ,americans1 retaining the same laws and social condition1 had had a different origin1 and had been transported into another country1 ,i do not question that they would have had a literature4 ,even as they now are1 ,i am convinced that they will ultimately have one2 but its character will be different from that which marks the ,american literary productions of our time1 and that character will be peculiarly its own4 ,nor is it impossible to trace this character beforehand4 ,i suppose an aristocratic people amongst whom letters are cultivated2 the labors of the mind1 as well as the affairs of state1 are conducted by a ruling class in society4 ,the literary as well as the political career is almost entirely confined to this class1 or to those nearest to it in rank4 ,these premises suffice to give me a key to all the rest4 ,when a small number of the same men are engaged at the same time upon the same objects1 they easily concert with one another1 and agree upon certain leading rules which are to govern them each and all4 ,if the object which attracts the attention of these men is literature1 the productions of the mind will soon be subjected by them to precise canons1 from which it will no longer be allowable to depart4 ,if these men occupy a hereditary position in the country1 they will be naturally inclined1 not only to adopt a certain number of fixed rules for themselves1 but to follow those which their forefathers laid down for their own guidance2 their code will be at once strict and traditional4 ,as they are not necessarily engrossed by the cares of daily life--as they have never been so1 any more than their fathers were before them--they have learned to take an interest1 for several generations back1 in the labors of the mind4 ,they have learned to understand literature as an art1 to love it in the end for its own sake1 and to feel a scholar-like satisfaction in seeing men conform to its rules4 ,nor is this all3 the men of whom ,i speak began and will end their lives in easy or in affluent circumstances2 hence they have naturally conceived a taste for choice gratifications1 and a love of refined and delicate pleasures4 ,nay more1 a kind of indolence of mind and heart1 which they frequently contract in the midst of this long and peaceful enjoyment of so much welfare1 leads them to put aside1 even from their pleasures1 whatever might be too startling or too acute4 ,they had rather be amused than intensely excited2 they wish to be interested1 but not to be carried away4 ,now let us fancy a great number of literary performances executed by the men1 or for the men1 whom ,i have just described1 and we shall readily conceive a style of literature in which everything will be regular and prearranged4 ,the slightest work will be carefully touched in its least details2 art and labor will be conspicuous in everything2 each kind of writing will have rules of its own1 from which it will not be allowed to swerve1 and which distinguish it from all others4 ,style will be thought of almost as much importance as thought2 and the form will be no less considered than the matter3 the diction will be polished1 measured1 and uniform4 ,the tone of the mind will be always dignified1 seldom very animated2 and writers will care more to perfect what they produce than to multiply their productions4 ,it will sometimes happen that the members of the literary class1 always living amongst themselves and writing for themselves alone1 will lose sight of the rest of the world1 which will infect them with a false and labored style2 they will lay down minute literary rules for their exclusive use1 which will insensibly lead them to deviate from common-sense1 and finally to transgress the bounds of nature4 ,by dint of striving after a mode of parlance different from the vulgar1 they will arrive at a sort of aristocratic jargon1 which is hardly less remote from pure language than is the coarse dialect of the people4 ,such are the natural perils of literature amongst aristocracies4 ,every aristocracy which keeps itself entirely aloof from the people becomes impotent--a fact which is as true in literature as it is in politics4 99a ,footnote a3 ,all this is especially true of the aristocratic countries which have been long and peacefully subject to a monarchical government4 ,when liberty prevails in an aristocracy1 the higher ranks are constantly obliged to make use of the lower classes2 and when they use1 they approach them4 ,this frequently introduces something of a democratic spirit into an aristocratic community4 ,there springs up1 moreover1 in a privileged body1 governing with energy and an habitually bold policy1 a taste for stir and excitement which must infallibly affect all literary performances4 ,let us now turn the picture and consider the other side of it2 let us transport ourselves into the midst of a democracy1 not unprepared by ancient traditions and present culture to partake in the pleasures of the mind4 ,ranks are there intermingled and confounded2 knowledge and power are both infinitely subdivided1 and1 if ,i may use the expression1 scattered on every side4 ,here then is a motley multitude1 whose intellectual wants are to be supplied4 ,these new votaries of the pleasures of the mind have not all received the same education2 they do not possess the same degree of culture as their fathers1 nor any resemblance to them--nay1 they perpetually differ from themselves1 for they live in a state of incessant change of place1 feelings1 and fortunes4 ,the mind of each member of the community is therefore unattached to that of his fellow-citizens by tradition or by common habits2 and they have never had the power1 the inclination1 nor the time to concert together4 ,it is1 however1 from the bosom of this heterogeneous and agitated mass that authors spring2 and from the same source their profits and their fame are distributed4 ,i can without difficulty understand that1 under these circumstances1 ,i must expect to meet in the literature of such a people with but few of those strict conventional rules which are admitted by readers and by writers in aristocratic ages4 ,if it should happen that the men of some one period were agreed upon any such rules1 that would prove nothing for the following period2 for amongst democratic nations each new generation is a new people4 ,amongst such nations1 then1 literature will not easily be subjected to strict rules1 and it is impossible that any such rules should ever be permanent4 ,in democracies it is by no means the case that all the men who cultivate literature have received a literary education2 and most of those who have some tinge of belles-lettres are either engaged in politics1 or in a profession which only allows them to taste occasionally and by stealth the pleasures of the mind4 ,these pleasures1 therefore1 do not constitute the principal charm of their lives2 but they are considered as a transient and necessary recreation amidst the serious labors of life4 ,such man can never acquire a sufficiently intimate knowledge of the art of literature to appreciate its more delicate beauties2 and the minor shades of expression must escape them4 ,as the time they can devote to letters is very short1 they seek to make the best use of the whole of it4 ,they prefer books which may be easily procured1 quickly read1 and which require no learned researches to be understood4 ,they ask for beauties1 self-proffered and easily enjoyed2 above all1 they must have what is unexpected and new4 ,accustomed to the struggle1 the crosses1 and the monotony of practical life1 they require rapid emotions1 startling passages--truths or errors brilliant enough to rouse them up1 and to plunge them at once1 as if by violence1 into the midst of a subject4 ,why should ,i say more8 or who does not understand what is about to follow1 before ,i have expressed it8 ,taken as a whole1 literature in democratic ages can never present1 as it does in the periods of aristocracy1 an aspect of order1 regularity1 science1 and art2 its form will1 on the contrary1 ordinarily be slighted1 sometimes despised4 ,style will frequently be fantastic1 incorrect1 overburdened1 and loose--almost always vehement and bold4 ,authors will aim at rapidity of execution1 more than at perfection of detail4 ,small productions will be more common than bulky books2 there will be more wit than erudition1 more imagination than profundity2 and literary performances will bear marks of an untutored and rude vigor of thought--frequently of great variety and singular fecundity4 ,the object of authors will be to astonish rather than to please1 and to stir the passions more than to charm the taste4 ,here and there1 indeed1 writers will doubtless occur who will choose a different track1 and who will1 if they are gifted with superior abilities1 succeed in finding readers1 in spite of their defects or their better qualities2 but these exceptions will be rare1 and even the authors who shall so depart from the received practice in the main subject of their works1 will always relapse into it in some lesser details4 ,i have just depicted two extreme conditions3 the transition by which a nation passes from the former to the latter is not sudden but gradual1 and marked with shades of very various intensity4 ,in the passage which conducts a lettered people from the one to the other1 there is almost always a moment at which the literary genius of democratic nations has its confluence with that of aristocracies1 and both seek to establish their joint sway over the human mind4 ,such epochs are transient1 but very brilliant3 they are fertile without exuberance1 and animated without confusion4 ,the ,french literature of the eighteenth century may serve as an example4 ,i should say more than ,i mean if ,i were to assert that the literature of a nation is always subordinate to its social condition and its political constitution4 ,i am aware that1 independently of these causes1 there are several others which confer certain characteristics on literary productions2 but these appear to me to be the chief4 ,the relations which exist between the social and political condition of a people and the genius of its authors are always very numerous3 whoever knows the one is never completely ignorant of the other4 ,chapter ,,xiv3 ,the ,trade ,of ,literature ,democracy not only infuses a taste for letters among the trading classes1 but introduces a trading spirit into literature4 ,in aristocracies1 readers are fastidious and few in number2 in democracies1 they are far more numerous and far less difficult to please4 ,the consequence is1 that among aristocratic nations1 no one can hope to succeed without immense exertions1 and that these exertions may bestow a great deal of fame1 but can never earn much money2 whilst among democratic nations1 a writer may flatter himself that he will obtain at a cheap rate a meagre reputation and a large fortune4 ,for this purpose he need not be admired2 it is enough that he is liked4 ,the ever-increasing crowd of readers1 and their continual craving for something new1 insure the sale of books which nobody much esteems4 ,in democratic periods the public frequently treat authors as kings do their courtiers2 they enrich1 and they despise them4 ,what more is needed by the venal souls which are born in courts1 or which are worthy to live there8 ,democratic literature is always infested with a tribe of writers who look upon letters as a mere trade3 and for some few great authors who adorn it you may reckon thousands of idea-mongers4 ,chapter ,,xv3 ,the ,study ,of ,greek ,and ,latin ,literature ,peculiarly ,useful ,in ,democratic ,communities ,what was called the ,people in the most democratic republics of antiquity1 was very unlike what we designate by that term4 ,in ,athens1 all the citizens took part in public affairs2 but there were only #bj1jjj citizens to more than #cej1jjj inhabitants4 ,all the rest were slaves1 and discharged the greater part of those duties which belong at the present day to the lower or even to the middle classes4 ,athens1 then1 with her universal suffrage1 was after all merely an aristocratic republic in which all the nobles had an equal right to the government4 ,the struggle between the patricians and plebeians of ,rome must be considered in the same light3 it was simply an intestine feud between the elder and younger branches of the same family4 ,all the citizens belonged1 in fact1 to the aristocracy1 and partook of its character4 ,it is moreover to be remarked1 that amongst the ancients books were always scarce and dear2 and that very great difficulties impeded their publication and circulation4 ,these circumstances concentrated literary tastes and habits amongst a small number of men1 who formed a small literary aristocracy out of the choicer spirits of the great political aristocracy4 ,accordingly nothing goes to prove that literature was ever treated as a trade amongst the ,greeks and ,romans4 ,these peoples1 which not only constituted aristocracies1 but very polished and free nations1 of course imparted to their literary productions the defects and the merits which characterize the literature of aristocratic ages4 ,and indeed a very superficial survey of the literary remains of the ancients will suffice to convince us1 that if those writers were sometimes deficient in variety1 or fertility in their subjects1 or in boldness1 vivacity1 or power of generalization in their thoughts1 they always displayed exquisite care and skill in their details4 ,nothing in their works seems to be done hastily or at random3 every line is written for the eye of the connoisseur1 and is shaped after some conception of ideal beauty4 ,no literature places those fine qualities1 in which the writers of democracies are naturally deficient1 in bolder relief than that of the ancients2 no literature1 therefore1 ought to be more studied in democratic ages4 ,this study is better suited than any other to combat the literary defects inherent in those ages2 as for their more praiseworthy literary qualities1 they will spring up of their own accord1 without its being necessary to learn to acquire them4 ,it is important that this point should be clearly understood4 ,a particular study may be useful to the literature of a people1 without being appropriate to its social and political wants4 ,if men were to persist in teaching nothing but the literature of the dead languages in a community where everyone is habitually led to make vehement exertions to augment or to maintain his fortune1 the result would be a very polished1 but a very dangerous1 race of citizens4 ,for as their social and political condition would give them every day a sense of wants which their education would never teach them to supply1 they would perturb the ,state1 in the name of the ,greeks and ,romans1 instead of enriching it by their productive industry4 ,it is evident that in democratic communities the interest of individuals1 as well as the security of the commonwealth1 demands that the education of the greater number should be scientific1 commercial1 and industrial1 rather than literary4 ,greek and ,latin should not be taught in all schools2 but it is important that those who by their natural disposition or their fortune are destined to cultivate letters or prepared to relish them1 should find schools where a complete knowledge of ancient literature may be acquired1 and where the true scholar may be formed4 ,a few excellent universities would do more towards the attainment of this object than a vast number of bad grammar schools1 where superfluous matters1 badly learned1 stand in the way of sound instruction in necessary studies4 ,all who aspire to literary excellence in democratic nations1 ought frequently to refresh themselves at the springs of ancient literature3 there is no more wholesome course for the mind4 ,not that ,i hold the literary productions of the ancients to be irreproachable2 but ,i think that they have some especial merits1 admirably calculated to counterbalance our peculiar defects4 ,they are a prop on the side on which we are in most danger of falling4 ,chapter ,,xvi3 ,the ,effect ,of ,democracy ,on ,language ,if the reader has rightly understood what ,i have already said on the subject of literature in general1 he will have no difficulty in comprehending that species of influence which a democratic social condition and democratic institutions may exercise over language itself1 which is the chief instrument of thought4 ,american authors may truly be said to live more in ,england than in their own country2 since they constantly study the ,english writers1 and take them every day for their models4 ,but such is not the case with the bulk of the population1 which is more immediately subjected to the peculiar causes acting upon the ,united ,states4 ,it is not then to the written1 but to the spoken language that attention must be paid1 if we would detect the modifications which the idiom of an aristocratic people may undergo when it becomes the language of a democracy4 ,englishmen of education1 and more competent judges than ,i can be myself of the nicer shades of expression1 have frequently assured me that the language of the educated classes in the ,united ,states is notably different from that of the educated classes in ,great ,britain4 ,they complain not only that the ,americans have brought into use a number of new words--the difference and the distance between the two countries might suffice to explain that much--but that these new words are more especially taken from the jargon of parties1 the mechanical arts1 or the language of trade4 ,they assert1 in addition to this1 that old ,english words are often used by the ,americans in new acceptations2 and lastly1 that the inhabitants of the ,united ,states frequently intermingle their phraseology in the strangest manner1 and sometimes place words together which are always kept apart in the language of the mother-country4 ,these remarks1 which were made to me at various times by persons who appeared to be worthy of credit1 led me to reflect upon the subject2 and my reflections brought me1 by theoretical reasoning1 to the same point at which my informants had arrived by practical observation4 ,in aristocracies1 language must naturally partake of that state of repose in which everything remains4 ,few new words are coined1 because few new things are made2 and even if new things were made1 they would be designated by known words1 whose meaning has been determined by tradition4 ,if it happens that the human mind bestirs itself at length1 or is roused by light breaking in from without1 the novel expressions which are introduced are characterized by a degree of learning1 intelligence1 and philosophy1 which shows that they do not originate in a democracy4 ,after the fall of ,constantinople had turned the tide of science and literature towards the west1 the ,french language was almost immediately invaded by a multitude of new words1 which had all ,greek or ,latin roots4 ,an erudite neologism then sprang up in ,france which was confined to the educated classes1 and which produced no sensible effect1 or at least a very gradual one1 upon the people4 ,all the nations of ,europe successively exhibited the same change4 ,milton alone introduced more than six hundred words into the ,english language1 almost all derived from the ,latin1 the ,greek1 or the ,hebrew4 ,the constant agitation which prevails in a democratic community tends unceasingly1 on the contrary1 to change the character of the language1 as it does the aspect of affairs4 ,in the midst of this general stir and competition of minds1 a great number of new ideas are formed1 old ideas are lost1 or reappear1 or are subdivided into an infinite variety of minor shades4 ,the consequence is1 that many words must fall into desuetude1 and others must be brought into use4 ,democratic nations love change for its own sake2 and this is seen in their language as much as in their politics4 ,even when they do not need to change words1 they sometimes feel a wish to transform them4 ,the genius of a democratic people is not only shown by the great number of words they bring into use1 but also by the nature of the ideas these new words represent4 ,amongst such a people the majority lays down the law in language as well as in everything else2 its prevailing spirit is as manifest in that as in other respects4 ,but the majority is more engaged in business than in study--in political and commercial interests than in philosophical speculation or literary pursuits4 ,most of the words coined or adopted for its use will therefore bear the mark of these habits2 they will mainly serve to express the wants of business1 the passions of party1 or the details of the public administration4 ,in these departments the language will constantly spread1 whilst on the other hand it will gradually lose ground in metaphysics and theology4 ,as to the source from which democratic nations are wont to derive their new expressions1 and the manner in which they go to work to coin them1 both may easily be described4 ,men living in democratic countries know but little of the language which was spoken at ,athens and at ,rome1 and they do not care to dive into the lore of antiquity to find the expression they happen to want4 ,if they have sometimes recourse to learned etymologies1 vanity will induce them to search at the roots of the dead languages2 but erudition does not naturally furnish them with its resources4 ,the most ignorant1 it sometimes happens1 will use them most4 ,the eminently democratic desire to get above their own sphere will often lead them to seek to dignify a vulgar profession by a ,greek or ,latin name4 ,the lower the calling is1 and the more remote from learning1 the more pompous and erudite is its appellation4 ,thus the ,french rope-dancers have transformed themselves into acrobates and funambules4 ,in the absence of knowledge of the dead languages1 democratic nations are apt to borrow words from living tongues2 for their mutual intercourse becomes perpetual1 and the inhabitants of different countries imitate each other the more readily as they grow more like each other every day4 ,but it is principally upon their own languages that democratic nations attempt to perpetrate innovations4 ,from time to time they resume forgotten expressions in their vocabulary1 which they restore to use2 or they borrow from some particular class of the community a term peculiar to it1 which they introduce with a figurative meaning into the language of daily life4 ,many expressions which originally belonged to the technical language of a profession or a party1 are thus drawn into general circulation4 ,the most common expedient employed by democratic nations to make an innovation in language consists in giving some unwonted meaning to an expression already in use4 ,this method is very simple1 prompt1 and convenient2 no learning is required to use it aright1 and ignorance itself rather facilitates the practice2 but that practice is most dangerous to the language4 ,when a democratic people doubles the meaning of a word in this way1 they sometimes render the signification which it retains as ambiguous as that which it acquires4 ,an author begins by a slight deflection of a known expression from its primitive meaning1 and he adapts it1 thus modified1 as well as he can to his subject4 ,a second writer twists the sense of the expression in another way2 a third takes possession of it for another purpose2 and as there is no common appeal to the sentence of a permanent tribunal which may definitely settle the signification of the word1 it remains in an ambiguous condition4 ,the consequence is that writers hardly ever appear to dwell upon a single thought1 but they always seem to point their aim at a knot of ideas1 leaving the reader to judge which of them has been hit4 ,this is a deplorable consequence of democracy4 ,i had rather that the language should be made hideous with words imported from the ,chinese1 the ,tartars1 or the ,hurons1 than that the meaning of a word in our own language should become indeterminate4 ,harmony and uniformity are only secondary beauties in composition2 many of these things are conventional1 and1 strictly speaking1 it is possible to forego them2 but without clear phraseology there is no good language4 ,the principle of equality necessarily introduces several other changes into language4 ,in aristocratic ages1 when each nation tends to stand aloof from all others and likes to have distinct characteristics of its own1 it often happens that several peoples which have a common origin become nevertheless estranged from each other1 so that1 without ceasing to understand the same language1 they no longer all speak it in the same manner4 ,in these ages each nation is divided into a certain number of classes1 which see but little of each other1 and do not intermingle4 ,each of these classes contracts1 and invariably retains1 habits of mind peculiar to itself1 and adopts by choice certain words and certain terms1 which afterwards pass from generation to generation1 like their estates4 ,the same idiom then comprises a language of the poor and a language of the rich--a language of the citizen and a language of the nobility--a learned language and a vulgar one4 ,the deeper the divisions1 and the more impassable the barriers of society become1 the more must this be the case4 ,i would lay a wager1 that amongst the castes of ,india there are amazing variations of language1 and that there is almost as much difference between the language of the pariah and that of the ,brahmin as there is in their dress4 ,when1 on the contrary1 men1 being no longer restrained by ranks1 meet on terms of constant intercourse--when castes are destroyed1 and the classes of society are recruited and intermixed with each other1 all the words of a language are mingled4 ,those which are unsuitable to the greater number perish2 the remainder form a common store1 whence everyone chooses pretty nearly at random4 ,almost all the different dialects which divided the idioms of ,european nations are manifestly declining2 there is no patois in the ,new ,world1 and it is disappearing every day from the old countries4 ,the influence of this revolution in social conditions is as much felt in style as it is in phraseology4 ,not only does everyone use the same words1 but a habit springs up of using them without discrimination4 ,the rules which style had set up are almost abolished3 the line ceases to be drawn between expressions which seem by their very nature vulgar1 and other which appear to be refined4 ,persons springing from different ranks of society carry the terms and expressions they are accustomed to use with them1 into whatever circumstances they may pass2 thus the origin of words is lost like the origin of individuals1 and there is as much confusion in language as there is in society4 ,i am aware that in the classification of words there are rules which do not belong to one form of society any more than to another1 but which are derived from the nature of things4 ,some expressions and phrases are vulgar1 because the ideas they are meant to express are low in themselves2 others are of a higher character1 because the objects they are intended to designate are naturally elevated4 ,no intermixture of ranks will ever efface these differences4 ,but the principle of equality cannot fail to root out whatever is merely conventional and arbitrary in the forms of thought4 ,perhaps the necessary classification which ,i pointed out in the last sentence will always be less respected by a democratic people than by any other1 because amongst such a people there are no men who are permanently disposed by education1 culture1 and leisure to study the natural laws of language1 and who cause those laws to be respected by their own observance of them4 ,i shall not quit this topic without touching on a feature of democratic languages1 which is perhaps more characteristic of them than any other4 ,it has already been shown that democratic nations have a taste1 and sometimes a passion1 for general ideas1 and that this arises from their peculiar merits and defects4 ,this liking for general ideas is displayed in democratic languages by the continual use of generic terms or abstract expressions1 and by the manner in which they are employed4 ,this is the great merit and the great imperfection of these languages4 ,democratic nations are passionately addicted to generic terms or abstract expressions1 because these modes of speech enlarge thought1 and assist the operations of the mind by enabling it to include several objects in a small compass4 ,a ,french democratic writer will be apt to say capacites in the abstract for men of capacity1 and without particularizing the objects to which their capacity is applied3 he will talk about actualities to designate in one word the things passing before his eyes at the instant2 and he will comprehend under the term eventualities whatever may happen in the universe1 dating from the moment at which he speaks4 ,democratic writers are perpetually coining words of this kind1 in which they sublimate into further abstraction the abstract terms of the language4 ,nay1 more1 to render their mode of speech more succinct1 they personify the subject of these abstract terms1 and make it act like a real entity4 ,thus they would say in ,french1 ,la force des choses veut que les capacites gouvernent4 ,i cannot better illustrate what ,i mean than by my own example4 ,i have frequently used the word equality in an absolute sense--nay1 ,i have personified equality in several places2 thus ,i have said that equality does such and such things1 or refrains from doing others4 ,it may be affirmed that the writers of the age of ,louis ,,xiv would not have used these expressions3 they would never have thought of using the word equality without applying it to some particular object2 and they would rather have renounced the term altogether than have consented to make a living personage of it4 ,these abstract terms which abound in democratic languages1 and which are used on every occasion without attaching them to any particular fact1 enlarge and obscure the thoughts they are intended to convey2 they render the mode of speech more succinct1 and the idea contained in it less clear4 ,but with regard to language1 democratic nations prefer obscurity to labor4 ,i know not indeed whether this loose style has not some secret charm for those who speak and write amongst these nations4 ,as the men who live there are frequently left to the efforts of their individual powers of mind1 they are almost always a prey to doubt2 and as their situation in life is forever changing1 they are never held fast to any of their opinions by the certain tenure of their fortunes4 ,men living in democratic countries are1 then1 apt to entertain unsettled ideas1 and they require loose expressions to convey them4 ,as they never know whether the idea they express to-day will be appropriate to the new position they may occupy to-morrow1 they naturally acquire a liking for abstract terms4 ,an abstract term is like a box with a false bottom3 you may put in it what ideas you please1 and take them out again without being observed4 ,amongst all nations1 generic and abstract terms form the basis of language4 ,i do not1 therefore1 affect to expel these terms from democratic languages2 ,i simply remark that men have an especial tendency1 in the ages of democracy1 to multiply words of this kind--to take them always by themselves in their most abstract acceptation1 and to use them on all occasions1 even when the nature of the discourse does not require them4 ,chapter ,,xvii3 ,of ,some ,of ,the ,sources ,of ,poetry ,amongst ,democratic ,nations ,various different significations have been given to the word poetry4 ,it would weary my readers if ,i were to lead them into a discussion as to which of these definitions ought to be selected3 ,i prefer telling them at once that which ,i have chosen4 ,in my opinion1 poetry is the search and the delineation of the ideal4 ,the poet is he who1 by suppressing a part of what exists1 by adding some imaginary touches to the picture1 and by combining certain real circumstances1 but which do not in fact concurrently happen1 completes and extends the work of nature4 ,thus the object of poetry is not to represent what is true1 but to adorn it1 and to present to the mind some loftier imagery4 ,verse1 regarded as the ideal beauty of language1 may be eminently poetical2 but verse does not1 of itself1 constitute poetry4 ,i now proceed to inquire whether1 amongst the actions1 the sentiments1 and the opinions of democratic nations1 there are any which lead to a conception of ideal beauty1 and which may for this reason be considered as natural sources of poetry4 ,it must in the first place1 be acknowledged that the taste for ideal beauty1 and the pleasure derived from the expression of it1 are never so intense or so diffused amongst a democratic as amongst an aristocratic people4 ,in aristocratic nations it sometimes happens that the body goes on to act as it were spontaneously1 whilst the higher faculties are bound and burdened by repose4 ,amongst these nations the people will very often display poetic tastes1 and sometimes allow their fancy to range beyond and above what surrounds them4 ,but in democracies the love of physical gratification1 the notion of bettering one's condition1 the excitement of competition1 the charm of anticipated success1 are so many spurs to urge men onwards in the active professions they have embraced1 without allowing them to deviate for an instant from the track4 ,the main stress of the faculties is to this point4 ,the imagination is not extinct2 but its chief function is to devise what may be useful1 and to represent what is real4 ,the principle of equality not only diverts men from the description of ideal beauty--it also diminishes the number of objects to be described4 ,aristocracy1 by maintaining society in a fixed position1 is favorable to the solidity and duration of positive religions1 as well as to the stability of political institutions4 ,it not only keeps the human mind within a certain sphere of belief1 but it predisposes the mind to adopt one faith rather than another4 ,an aristocratic people will always be prone to place intermediate powers between ,god and man4 ,in this respect it may be said that the aristocratic element is favorable to poetry4 ,when the universe is peopled with supernatural creatures1 not palpable to the senses but discovered by the mind1 the imagination ranges freely1 and poets1 finding a thousand subjects to delineate1 also find a countless audience to take an interest in their productions4 ,in democratic ages it sometimes happens1 on the contrary1 that men are as much afloat in matters of belief as they are in their laws4 ,scepticism then draws the imagination of poets back to earth1 and confines them to the real and visible world4 ,even when the principle of equality does not disturb religious belief1 it tends to simplify it1 and to divert attention from secondary agents1 to fix it principally on the ,supreme ,power4 ,aristocracy naturally leads the human mind to the contemplation of the past1 and fixes it there4 ,democracy1 on the contrary1 gives men a sort of instinctive distaste for what is ancient4 ,in this respect aristocracy is far more favorable to poetry2 for things commonly grow larger and more obscure as they are more remote2 and for this twofold reason they are better suited to the delineation of the ideal4 ,after having deprived poetry of the past1 the principle of equality robs it in part of the present4 ,amongst aristocratic nations there are a certain number of privileged personages1 whose situation is1 as it were1 without and above the condition of man2 to these1 power1 wealth1 fame1 wit1 refinement1 and distinction in all things appear peculiarly to belong4 ,the crowd never sees them very closely1 or does not watch them in minute details2 and little is needed to make the description of such men poetical4 ,on the other hand1 amongst the same people1 you will meet with classes so ignorant1 low1 and enslaved1 that they are no less fit objects for poetry from the excess of their rudeness and wretchedness1 than the former are from their greatness and refinement4 ,besides1 as the different classes of which an aristocratic community is composed are widely separated1 and imperfectly acquainted with each other1 the imagination may always represent them with some addition to1 or some subtraction from1 what they really are4 ,in democratic communities1 where men are all insignificant and very much alike1 each man instantly sees all his fellows when he surveys himself4 ,the poets of democratic ages can never1 therefore1 take any man in particular as the subject of a piece2 for an object of slender importance1 which is distinctly seen on all sides1 will never lend itself to an ideal conception4 ,thus the principle of equality2 in proportion as it has established itself in the world1 has dried up most of the old springs of poetry4 ,let us now attempt to show what new ones it may disclose4 ,when scepticism had depopulated heaven1 and the progress of equality had reduced each individual to smaller and better known proportions1 the poets1 not yet aware of what they could substitute for the great themes which were departing together with the aristocracy1 turned their eyes to inanimate nature4 ,as they lost sight of gods and heroes1 they set themselves to describe streams and mountains4 ,thence originated in the last century1 that kind of poetry which has been called1 by way of distinction1 the descriptive4 ,some have thought that this sort of delineation1 embellished with all the physical and inanimate objects which cover the earth1 was the kind of poetry peculiar to democratic ages2 but ,i believe this to be an error1 and that it only belongs to a period of transition4 ,i am persuaded that in the end democracy diverts the imagination from all that is external to man1 and fixes it on man alone4 ,democratic nations may amuse themselves for a while with considering the productions of nature2 but they are only excited in reality by a survey of themselves4 ,here1 and here alone1 the true sources of poetry amongst such nations are to be found2 and it may be believed that the poets who shall neglect to draw their inspirations hence1 will lose all sway over the minds which they would enchant1 and will be left in the end with none but unimpassioned spectators of their transports4 ,i have shown how the ideas of progression and of the indefinite perfectibility of the human race belong to democratic ages4 ,democratic nations care but little for what has been1 but they are haunted by visions of what will be2 in this direction their unbounded imagination grows and dilates beyond all measure4 ,here then is the wildest range open to the genius of poets1 which allows them to remove their performances to a sufficient distance from the eye4 ,democracy shuts the past against the poet1 but opens the future before him4 ,as all the citizens who compose a democratic community are nearly equal and alike1 the poet cannot dwell upon any one of them2 but the nation itself invites the exercise of his powers4 ,the general similitude of individuals1 which renders any one of them taken separately an improper subject of poetry1 allows poets to include them all in the same imagery1 and to take a general survey of the people itself4 ,democractic nations have a clearer perception than any others of their own aspect2 and an aspect so imposing is admirably fitted to the delineation of the ideal4 ,i readily admit that the ,americans have no poets2 ,i cannot allow that they have no poetic ideas4 ,in ,europe people talk a great deal of the wilds of ,america1 but the ,americans themselves never think about them3 they are insensible to the wonders of inanimate nature1 and they may be said not to perceive the mighty forests which surround them till they fall beneath the hatchet4 ,their eyes are fixed upon another sight3 the ,american people views its own march across these wilds--drying swamps1 turning the course of rivers1 peopling solitudes1 and subduing nature4 ,this magnificent image of themselves does not meet the gaze of the ,americans at intervals only2 it may be said to haunt every one of them in his least as well as in his most important actions1 and to be always flitting before his mind4 ,nothing conceivable is so petty1 so insipid1 so crowded with paltry interests1 in one word so anti-poetic1 as the life of a man in the ,united ,states4 ,but amongst the thoughts which it suggests there is always one which is full of poetry1 and that is the hidden nerve which gives vigor to the frame4 ,in aristocratic ages each people1 as well as each individual1 is prone to stand separate and aloof from all others4 ,in democratic ages1 the extreme fluctuations of men and the impatience of their desires keep them perpetually on the move2 so that the inhabitants of different countries intermingle1 see1 listen to1 and borrow from each other's stores4 ,it is not only then the members of the same community who grow more alike2 communities are themselves assimilated to one another1 and the whole assemblage presents to the eye of the spectator one vast democracy1 each citizen of which is a people4 ,this displays the aspect of mankind for the first time in the broadest light4 ,all that belongs to the existence of the human race taken as a whole1 to its vicissitudes and to its future1 becomes an abundant mine of poetry4 ,the poets who lived in aristocratic ages have been eminently successful in their delineations of certain incidents in the life of a people or a man2 but none of them ever ventured to include within his performances the destinies of mankind--a task which poets writing in democratic ages may attempt4 ,at that same time at which every man1 raising his eyes above his country1 begins at length to discern mankind at large1 the ,divinity is more and more manifest to the human mind in full and entire majesty4 ,if in democratic ages faith in positive religions be often shaken1 and the belief in intermediate agents1 by whatever name they are called1 be overcast2 on the other hand men are disposed to conceive a far broader idea of ,providence itself1 and its interference in human affairs assumes a new and more imposing appearance to their eyes4 ,looking at the human race as one great whole1 they easily conceive that its destinies are regulated by the same design2 and in the actions of every individual they are led to acknowledge a trace of that universal and eternal plan on which ,god rules our race4 ,this consideration may be taken as another prolific source of poetry which is opened in democratic ages4 ,democratic poets will always appear trivial and frigid if they seek to invest gods1 demons1 or angels1 with corporeal forms1 and if they attempt to draw them down from heaven to dispute the supremacy of earth4 ,but if they strive to connect the great events they commemorate with the general providential designs which govern the universe1 and1 without showing the finger of the ,supreme ,governor1 reveal the thoughts of the ,supreme ,mind1 their works will be admired and understood1 for the imagination of their contemporaries takes this direction of its own accord4 ,it may be foreseen in the like manner that poets living in democratic ages will prefer the delineation of passions and ideas to that of persons and achievements4 ,the language1 the dress1 and the daily actions of men in democracies are repugnant to ideal conceptions4 ,these things are not poetical in themselves2 and1 if it were otherwise1 they would cease to be so1 because they are too familiar to all those to whom the poet would speak of them4 ,this forces the poet constantly to search below the external surface which is palpable to the senses1 in order to read the inner soul3 and nothing lends itself more to the delineation of the ideal than the scrutiny of the hidden depths in the immaterial nature of man4 ,i need not to ramble over earth and sky to discover a wondrous object woven of contrasts1 of greatness and littleness infinite1 of intense gloom and of amazing brightness--capable at once of exciting pity1 admiration1 terror1 contempt4 ,i find that object in myself4 ,man springs out of nothing1 crosses time1 and disappears forever in the bosom of ,god2 he is seen but for a moment1 staggering on the verge of the two abysses1 and there he is lost4 ,if man were wholly ignorant of himself1 he would have no poetry in him2 for it is impossible to describe what the mind does not conceive4 ,if man clearly discerned his own nature1 his imagination would remain idle1 and would have nothing to add to the picture4 ,but the nature of man is sufficiently disclosed for him to apprehend something of himself2 and sufficiently obscure for all the rest to be plunged in thick darkness1 in which he gropes forever--and forever in vain--to lay hold on some completer notion of his being4 ,amongst a democratic people poetry will not be fed with legendary lays or the memorials of old traditions4 ,the poet will not attempt to people the universe with supernatural beings in whom his readers and his own fancy have ceased to believe2 nor will he present virtues and vices in the mask of frigid personification1 which are better received under their own features4 ,all these resources fail him2 but ,man remains1 and the poet needs no more4 ,the destinies of mankind--man himself1 taken aloof from his age and his country1 and standing in the presence of ,nature and of ,god1 with his passions1 his doubts1 his rare prosperities1 and inconceivable wretchedness--will become the chief1 if not the sole theme of poetry amongst these nations4 ,experience may confirm this assertion1 if we consider the productions of the greatest poets who have appeared since the world has been turned to democracy4 ,the authors of our age who have so admirably delineated the features of ,faust1 ,childe ,harold1 ,rene1 and ,jocelyn1 did not seek to record the actions of an individual1 but to enlarge and to throw light on some of the obscurer recesses of the human heart4 ,such are the poems of democracy4 ,the principle of equality does not then destroy all the subjects of poetry3 it renders them less numerous1 but more vast4 ,chapter ,,xviii3 ,of ,the ,inflated ,style ,of ,american ,writers ,and ,orators ,i have frequently remarked that the ,americans1 who generally treat of business in clear1 plain language1 devoid of all ornament1 and so extremely simple as to be often coarse1 are apt to become inflated as soon as they attempt a more poetical diction4 ,they then vent their pomposity from one end of a harangue to the other2 and to hear them lavish imagery on every occasion1 one might fancy that they never spoke of anything with simplicity4 ,the ,english are more rarely given to a similar failing4 ,the cause of this may be pointed out without much difficulty4 ,in democratic communities each citizen is habitually engaged in the contemplation of a very puny object1 namely himself4 ,if he ever raises his looks higher1 he then perceives nothing but the immense form of society at large1 or the still more imposing aspect of mankind4 ,his ideas are all either extremely minute and clear1 or extremely general and vague3 what lies between is an open void4 ,when he has been drawn out of his own sphere1 therefore1 he always expects that some amazing object will be offered to his attention2 and it is on these terms alone that he consents to tear himself for an instant from the petty complicated cares which form the charm and the excitement of his life4 ,this appears to me sufficiently to explain why men in democracies1 whose concerns are in general so paltry1 call upon their poets for conceptions so vast and descriptions so unlimited4 ,the authors1 on their part1 do not fail to obey a propensity of which they themselves partake2 they perpetually inflate their imaginations1 and expanding them beyond all bounds1 they not unfrequently abandon the great in order to reach the gigantic4 ,by these means they hope to attract the observation of the multitude1 and to fix it easily upon themselves3 nor are their hopes disappointed2 for as the multitude seeks for nothing in poetry but subjects of very vast dimensions1 it has neither the time to measure with accuracy the proportions of all the subjects set before it1 nor a taste sufficiently correct to perceive at once in what respect they are out of proportion4 ,the author and the public at once vitiate one another4 ,we have just seen that amongst democratic nations1 the sources of poetry are grand1 but not abundant4 ,they are soon exhausted3 and poets1 not finding the elements of the ideal in what is real and true1 abandon them entirely and create monsters4 ,i do not fear that the poetry of democratic nations will prove too insipid1 or that it will fly too near the ground2 ,i rather apprehend that it will be forever losing itself in the clouds1 and that it will range at last to purely imaginary regions4 ,i fear that the productions of democratic poets may often be surcharged with immense and incoherent imagery1 with exaggerated descriptions and strange creations2 and that the fantastic beings of their brain may sometimes make us regret the world of reality4 ,chapter ,,xix3 ,some ,observations ,on ,the ,drama ,amongst ,democratic ,nations ,when the revolution which subverts the social and political state of an aristocratic people begins to penetrate into literature1 it generally first manifests itself in the drama1 and it always remains conspicuous there4 ,the spectator of a dramatic piece is1 to a certain extent1 taken by surprise by the impression it conveys4 ,he has no time to refer to his memory1 or to consult those more able to judge than himself4 ,it does not occur to him to resist the new literary tendencies which begin to be felt by him2 he yields to them before he knows what they are4 ,authors are very prompt in discovering which way the taste of the public is thus secretly inclined4 ,they shape their productions accordingly2 and the literature of the stage1 after having served to indicate the approaching literary revolution1 speedily completes its accomplishment4 ,if you would judge beforehand of the literature of a people which is lapsing into democracy1 study its dramatic productions4 ,the literature of the stage1 moreover1 even amongst aristocratic nations1 constitutes the most democratic part of their literature4 ,no kind of literary gratification is so much within the reach of the multitude as that which is derived from theatrical representations4 ,neither preparation nor study is required to enjoy them3 they lay hold on you in the midst of your prejudices and your ignorance4 ,when the yet untutored love of the pleasures of the mind begins to affect a class of the community1 it instantly draws them to the stage4 ,the theatres of aristocratic nations have always been filled with spectators not belonging to the aristocracy4 ,at the theatre alone the higher ranks mix with the middle and the lower classes2 there alone do the former consent to listen to the opinion of the latter1 or at least to allow them to give an opinion at all4 ,at the theatre1 men of cultivation and of literary attainments have always had more difficulty than elsewhere in making their taste prevail over that of the people1 and in preventing themselves from being carried away by the latter4 ,the pit has frequently made laws for the boxes4 ,if it be difficult for an aristocracy to prevent the people from getting the upper hand in the theatre1 it will readily be understood that the people will be supreme there when democratic principles have crept into the laws and manners--when ranks are intermixed--when minds1 as well as fortunes1 are brought more nearly together--and when the upper class has lost1 with its hereditary wealth1 its power1 its precedents1 and its leisure4 ,the tastes and propensities natural to democratic nations1 in respect to literature1 will therefore first be discernible in the drama1 and it may be foreseen that they will break out there with vehemence4 ,in written productions1 the literary canons of aristocracy will be gently1 gradually1 and1 so to speak1 legally modified2 at the theatre they will be riotously overthrown4 ,the drama brings out most of the good qualities1 and almost all the defects1 inherent in democratic literature4 ,democratic peoples hold erudition very cheap1 and care but little for what occurred at ,rome and ,athens2 they want to hear something which concerns themselves1 and the delineation of the present age is what they demand4 ,when the heroes and the manners of antiquity are frequently brought upon the stage1 and dramatic authors faithfully observe the rules of antiquated precedent1 that is enough to warrant a conclusion that the democratic classes have not yet got the upper hand of the theatres4 ,racine makes a very humble apology in the preface to the ,britannicus for having disposed of ,junia amongst the ,vestals1 who1 according to ,aulus ,gellius1 he says1 admitted no one below six years of age nor above ten4 ,we may be sure that he would neither have accused himself of the offence1 nor defended himself from censure1 if he had written for our contemporaries4 ,a fact of this kind not only illustrates the state of literature at the time when it occurred1 but also that of society itself4 ,a democratic stage does not prove that the nation is in a state of democracy1 for1 as we have just seen1 even in aristocracies it may happen that democratic tastes affect the drama2 but when the spirit of aristocracy reigns exclusively on the stage1 the fact irrefragably demonstrates that the whole of society is aristocratic2 and it may be boldly inferred that the same lettered and learned class which sways the dramatic writers commands the people and governs the country4 ,the refined tastes and the arrogant bearing of an aristocracy will rarely fail to lead it1 when it manages the stage1 to make a kind of selection in human nature4 ,some of the conditions of society claim its chief interest2 and the scenes which delineate their manners are preferred upon the stage4 ,certain virtues1 and even certain vices1 are thought more particularly to deserve to figure there2 and they are applauded whilst all others are excluded4 ,upon the stage1 as well as elsewhere1 an aristocratic audience will only meet personages of quality1 and share the emotions of kings4 ,the same thing applies to style3 an aristocracy is apt to impose upon dramatic authors certain modes of expression which give the key in which everything is to be delivered4 ,by these means the stage frequently comes to delineate only one side of man1 or sometimes even to represent what is not to be met with in human nature at all--to rise above nature and to go beyond it4 ,in democratic communities the spectators have no such partialities1 and they rarely display any such antipathies3 they like to see upon the stage that medley of conditions1 of feelings1 and of opinions1 which occurs before their eyes4 ,the drama becomes more striking1 more common1 and more true4 ,sometimes1 however1 those who write for the stage in democracies also transgress the bounds of human nature--but it is on a different side from their predecessors4 ,by seeking to represent in minute detail the little singularities of the moment and the peculiar characteristics of certain personages1 they forget to portray the general features of the race4 ,when the democratic classes rule the stage1 they introduce as much license in the manner of treating subjects as in the choice of them4 ,as the love of the drama is1 of all literary tastes1 that which is most natural to democratic nations1 the number of authors and of spectators1 as well as of theatrical representations1 is constantly increasing amongst these communities4 ,a multitude composed of elements so different1 and scattered in so many different places1 cannot acknowledge the same rules or submit to the same laws4 ,no concurrence is possible amongst judges so numerous1 who know not when they may meet again2 and therefore each pronounces his own sentence on the piece4 ,if the effect of democracy is generally to question the authority of all literary rules and conventions1 on the stage it abolishes them altogether1 and puts in their place nothing but the whim of each author and of each public4 ,the drama also displays in an especial manner the truth of what ,i have said before in speaking more generally of style and art in democratic literature4 ,in reading the criticisms which were occasioned by the dramatic productions of the age of ,louis ,,xiv1 one is surprised to remark the great stress which the public laid on the probability of the plot1 and the importance which was attached to the perfect consistency of the characters1 and to their doing nothing which could not be easily explained and understood4 ,the value which was set upon the forms of language at that period1 and the paltry strife about words with which dramatic authors were assailed1 are no less surprising4 ,it would seem that the men of the age of ,louis ,,xiv attached very exaggerated importance to those details1 which may be perceived in the study1 but which escape attention on the stage4 ,for1 after all1 the principal object of a dramatic piece is to be performed1 and its chief merit is to affect the audience4 ,but the audience and the readers in that age were the same3 on quitting the theatre they called up the author for judgment to their own firesides4 ,in democracies1 dramatic pieces are listened to1 but not read4 ,most of those who frequent the amusements of the stage do not go there to seek the pleasures of the mind1 but the keen emotions of the heart4 ,they do not expect to hear a fine literary work1 but to see a play2 and provided the author writes the language of his country correctly enough to be understood1 and that his characters excite curiosity and awaken sympathy1 the audience are satisfied4 ,they ask no more of fiction1 and immediately return to real life4 ,accuracy of style is therefore less required1 because the attentive observance of its rules is less perceptible on the stage4 ,as for the probability of the plot1 it is incompatible with perpetual novelty1 surprise1 and rapidity of invention4 ,it is therefore neglected1 and the public excuses the neglect4 ,you may be sure that if you succeed in bringing your audience into the presence of something that affects them1 they will not care by what road you brought them there2 and they will never reproach you for having excited their emotions in spite of dramatic rules4 ,the ,americans very broadly display all the different propensities which ,i have here described when they go to the theatres2 but it must be acknowledged that as yet a very small number of them go to theatres at all4 ,although playgoers and plays have prodigiously increased in the ,united ,states in the last forty years1 the population indulges in this kind of amusement with the greatest reserve4 ,this is attributable to peculiar causes1 which the reader is already acquainted with1 and of which a few words will suffice to remind him4 ,the ,puritans who founded the ,american republics were not only enemies to amusements1 but they professed an especial abhorrence for the stage4 ,they considered it as an abominable pastime2 and as long as their principles prevailed with undivided sway1 scenic performances were wholly unknown amongst them4 ,these opinions of the first fathers of the colony have left very deep marks on the minds of their descendants4 ,the extreme regularity of habits and the great strictness of manners which are observable in the ,united ,states1 have as yet opposed additional obstacles to the growth of dramatic art4 ,there are no dramatic subjects in a country which has witnessed no great political catastrophes1 and in which love invariably leads by a straight and easy road to matrimony4 ,people who spend every day in the week in making money1 and the ,sunday in going to church1 have nothing to invite the muse of ,comedy4 ,a single fact suffices to show that the stage is not very popular in the ,united ,states4 ,the ,americans1 whose laws allow of the utmost freedom and even license of language in all other respects1 have nevertheless subjected their dramatic authors to a sort of censorship4 ,theatrical performances can only take place by permission of the municipal authorities4 ,this may serve to show how much communities are like individuals2 they surrender themselves unscrupulously to their ruling passions1 and afterwards take the greatest care not to yield too much to the vehemence of tastes which they do not possess4 ,no portion of literature is connected by closer or more numerous ties with the present condition of society than the drama4 ,the drama of one period can never be suited to the following age1 if in the interval an important revolution has changed the manners and the laws of the nation4 ,the great authors of a preceding age may be read2 but pieces written for a different public will not be followed4 ,the dramatic authors of the past live only in books4 ,the traditional taste of certain individuals1 vanity1 fashion1 or the genius of an actor may sustain or resuscitate for a time the aristocratic drama amongst a democracy2 but it will speedily fall away of itself--not overthrown1 but abandoned4 ,chapter ,,xx3 ,characteristics ,of ,historians ,in ,democratic ,ages ,historians who write in aristocratic ages are wont to refer all occurrences to the particular will or temper of certain individuals2 and they are apt to attribute the most important revolutions to very slight accidents4 ,they trace out the smallest causes with sagacity1 and frequently leave the greatest unperceived4 ,historians who live in democratic ages exhibit precisely opposite characteristics4 ,most of them attribute hardly any influence to the individual over the destiny of the race1 nor to citizens over the fate of a people2 but1 on the other hand1 they assign great general causes to all petty incidents4 ,these contrary tendencies explain each other4 ,when the historian of aristocratic ages surveys the theatre of the world1 he at once perceives a very small number of prominent actors1 who manage the whole piece4 ,these great personages1 who occupy the front of the stage1 arrest the observation1 and fix it on themselves2 and whilst the historian is bent on penetrating the secret motives which make them speak and act1 the rest escape his memory4 ,the importance of the things which some men are seen to do1 gives him an exaggerated estimate of the influence which one man may possess2 and naturally leads him to think1 that in order to explain the impulses of the multitude1 it is necessary to refer them to the particular influence of some one individual4 ,when1 on the contrary1 all the citizens are independent of one another1 and each of them is individually weak1 no one is seen to exert a great1 or still less a lasting power1 over the community4 ,at first sight1 individuals appear to be absolutely devoid of any influence over it2 and society would seem to advance alone by the free and voluntary concurrence of all the men who compose it4 ,this naturally prompts the mind to search for that general reason which operates upon so many men's faculties at the same time1 and turns them simultaneously in the same direction4 ,i am very well convinced that even amongst democratic nations1 the genius1 the vices1 or the virtues of certain individuals retard or accelerate the natural current of a people's history3 but causes of this secondary and fortuitous nature are infinitely more various1 more concealed1 more complex1 less powerful1 and consequently less easy to trace in periods of equality than in ages of aristocracy1 when the task of the historian is simply to detach from the mass of general events the particular influences of one man or of a few men4 ,in the former case the historian is soon wearied by the toil2 his mind loses itself in this labyrinth2 and1 in his inability clearly to discern or conspicuously to point out the influence of individuals1 he denies their existence4 ,he prefers talking about the characteristics of race1 the physical conformation of the country1 or the genius of civilization1 which abridges his own labors1 and satisfies his reader far better at less cost4 ,m4 de ,lafayette says somewhere in his ,memoirs that the exaggerated system of general causes affords surprising consolations to second-rate statesmen4 ,i will add1 that its effects are not less consolatory to second-rate historians2 it can always furnish a few mighty reasons to extricate them from the most difficult part of their work1 and it indulges the indolence or incapacity of their minds1 whilst it confers upon them the honors of deep thinking4 ,for myself1 ,i am of opinion that at all times one great portion of the events of this world are attributable to general facts1 and another to special influences4 ,these two kinds of cause are always in operation3 their proportion only varies4 ,general facts serve to explain more things in democratic than in aristocratic ages1 and fewer things are then assignable to special influences4 ,at periods of aristocracy the reverse takes place3 special influences are stronger1 general causes weaker--unless indeed we consider as a general cause the fact itself of the inequality of conditions1 which allows some individuals to baffle the natural tendencies of all the rest4 ,the historians who seek to describe what occurs in democratic societies are right1 therefore1 in assigning much to general causes1 and in devoting their chief attention to discover them2 but they are wrong in wholly denying the special influence of individuals1 because they cannot easily trace or follow it4 ,the historians who live in democratic ages are not only prone to assign a great cause to every incident1 but they are also given to connect incidents together1 so as to deduce a system from them4 ,in aristocratic ages1 as the attention of historians is constantly drawn to individuals1 the connection of events escapes them2 or rather1 they do not believe in any such connection4 ,to them the clew of history seems every instant crossed and broken by the step of man4 ,in democratic ages1 on the contrary1 as the historian sees much more of actions than of actors1 he may easily establish some kind of sequency and methodical order amongst the former4 ,ancient literature1 which is so rich in fine historical compositions1 does not contain a single great historical system1 whilst the poorest of modern literatures abound with them4 ,it would appear that the ancient historians did not make sufficient use of those general theories which our historical writers are ever ready to carry to excess4 ,those who write in democratic ages have another more dangerous tendency4 ,when the traces of individual action upon nations are lost1 it often happens that the world goes on to move1 though the moving agent is no longer discoverable4 ,as it becomes extremely difficult to discern and to analyze the reasons which1 acting separately on the volition of each member of the community1 concur in the end to produce movement in the old mass1 men are led to believe that this movement is involuntary1 and that societies unconsciously obey some superior force ruling over them4 ,but even when the general fact which governs the private volition of all individuals is supposed to be discovered upon the earth1 the principle of human free-will is not secure4 ,a cause sufficiently extensive to affect millions of men at once1 and sufficiently strong to bend them all together in the same direction1 may well seem irresistible3 having seen that mankind do yield to it1 the mind is close upon the inference that mankind cannot resist it4 ,historians who live in democratic ages1 then1 not only deny that the few have any power of acting upon the destiny of a people1 but they deprive the people themselves of the power of modifying their own condition1 and they subject them either to an inflexible ,providence1 or to some blind necessity4 ,according to them1 each nation is indissolubly bound by its position1 its origin1 its precedents1 and its character1 to a certain lot which no efforts can ever change4 ,they involve generation in generation1 and thus1 going back from age to age1 and from necessity to necessity1 up to the origin of the world1 they forge a close and enormous chain1 which girds and binds the human race4 ,to their minds it is not enough to show what events have occurred3 they would fain show that events could not have occurred otherwise4 ,they take a nation arrived at a certain stage of its history1 and they affirm that it could not but follow the track which brought it thither4 ,it is easier to make such an assertion than to show by what means the nation might have adopted a better course4 ,in reading the historians of aristocratic ages1 and especially those of antiquity1 it would seem that1 to be master of his lot1 and to govern his fellow-creatures1 man requires only to be master of himself4 ,in perusing the historical volumes which our age has produced1 it would seem that man is utterly powerless over himself and over all around him4 ,the historians of antiquity taught how to command3 those of our time teach only how to obey2 in their writings the author often appears great1 but humanity is always diminutive4 ,if this doctrine of necessity1 which is so attractive to those who write history in democratic ages1 passes from authors to their readers1 till it infects the whole mass of the community and gets possession of the public mind1 it will soon paralyze the activity of modern society1 and reduce ,christians to the level of the ,turks4 ,i would moreover observe1 that such principles are peculiarly dangerous at the period at which we are arrived4 ,our contemporaries are but too prone to doubt of the human free-will1 because each of them feels himself confined on every side by his own weakness2 but they are still willing to acknowledge the strength and independence of men united in society4 ,let not this principle be lost sight of2 for the great object in our time is to raise the faculties of men1 not to complete their prostration4 ,chapter ,,xxi3 ,of ,parliamentary ,eloquence ,in ,the ,united ,states ,amongst aristocratic nations all the members of the community are connected with and dependent upon each other2 the graduated scale of different ranks acts as a tie1 which keeps everyone in his proper place and the whole body in subordination4 ,something of the same kind always occurs in the political assemblies of these nations4 ,parties naturally range themselves under certain leaders1 whom they obey by a sort of instinct1 which is only the result of habits contracted elsewhere4 ,they carry the manners of general society into the lesser assemblage4 ,in democratic countries it often happens that a great number of citizens are tending to the same point2 but each one only moves thither1 or at least flatters himself that he moves1 of his own accord4 ,accustomed to regulate his doings by personal impulse alone1 he does not willingly submit to dictation from without4 ,this taste and habit of independence accompany him into the councils of the nation4 ,if he consents to connect himself with other men in the prosecution of the same purpose1 at least he chooses to remain free to contribute to the common success after his own fashion4 ,hence it is that in democratic countries parties are so impatient of control1 and are never manageable except in moments of great public danger4 ,even then1 the authority of leaders1 which under such circumstances may be able to make men act or speak1 hardly ever reaches the extent of making them keep silence4 ,amongst aristocratic nations the members of political assemblies are at the same time members of the aristocracy4 ,each of them enjoys high established rank in his own right1 and the position which he occupies in the assembly is often less important in his eyes than that which he fills in the country4 ,this consoles him for playing no part in the discussion of public affairs1 and restrains him from too eagerly attempting to play an insignificant one4 ,in ,america1 it generally happens that a ,representative only becomes somebody from his position in the ,assembly4 ,he is therefore perpetually haunted by a craving to acquire importance there1 and he feels a petulant desire to be constantly obtruding his opinions upon the ,house4 ,his own vanity is not the only stimulant which urges him on in this course1 but that of his constituents1 and the continual necessity of propitiating them4 ,amongst aristocratic nations a member of the legislature is rarely in strict dependence upon his constituents3 he is frequently to them a sort of unavoidable representative2 sometimes they are themselves strictly dependent upon him2 and if at length they reject him1 he may easily get elected elsewhere1 or1 retiring from public life1 he may still enjoy the pleasures of splendid idleness4 ,in a democratic country like the ,united ,states a ,representative has hardly ever a lasting hold on the minds of his constituents4 ,however small an electoral body may be1 the fluctuations of democracy are constantly changing its aspect2 it must1 therefore1 be courted unceasingly4 ,he is never sure of his supporters1 and1 if they forsake him1 he is left without a resource2 for his natural position is not sufficiently elevated for him to be easily known to those not close to him2 and1 with the complete state of independence prevailing among the people1 he cannot hope that his friends or the government will send him down to be returned by an electoral body unacquainted with him4 ,the seeds of his fortune are1 therefore1 sown in his own neighborhood2 from that nook of earth he must start1 to raise himself to the command of a people and to influence the destinies of the world4 ,thus it is natural that in democratic countries the members of political assemblies think more of their constituents than of their party1 whilst in aristocracies they think more of their party than of their constituents4 ,but what ought to be said to gratify constituents is not always what ought to be said in order to serve the party to which ,representatives profess to belong4 ,the general interest of a party frequently demands that members belonging to it should not speak on great questions which they understand imperfectly2 that they should speak but little on those minor questions which impede the great ones2 lastly1 and for the most part1 that they should not speak at all4 ,to keep silence is the most useful service that an indifferent spokesman can render to the commonwealth4 ,constituents1 however1 do not think so4 ,the population of a district sends a representative to take a part in the government of a country1 because they entertain a very lofty notion of his merits4 ,as men appear greater in proportion to the littleness of the objects by which they are surrounded1 it may be assumed that the opinion entertained of the delegate will be so much the higher as talents are more rare among his constituents4 ,it will therefore frequently happen that the less constituents have to expect from their representative1 the more they will anticipate from him2 and1 however incompetent he may be1 they will not fail to call upon him for signal exertions1 corresponding to the rank they have conferred upon him4 ,independently of his position as a legislator of the ,state1 electors also regard their ,representative as the natural patron of the constituency in the ,legislature2 they almost consider him as the proxy of each of his supporters1 and they flatter themselves that he will not be less zealous in defense of their private interests than of those of the country4 ,thus electors are well assured beforehand that the ,representative of their choice will be an orator2 that he will speak often if he can1 and that in case he is forced to refrain1 he will strive at any rate to compress into his less frequent orations an inquiry into all the great questions of state1 combined with a statement of all the petty grievances they have themselves to complain to2 so that1 though he be not able to come forward frequently1 he should on each occasion prove what he is capable of doing2 and that1 instead of perpetually lavishing his powers1 he should occasionally condense them in a small compass1 so as to furnish a sort of complete and brilliant epitome of his constituents and of himself4 ,on these terms they will vote for him at the next election4 ,these conditions drive worthy men of humble abilities to despair1 who1 knowing their own powers1 would never voluntarily have come forward4 ,but thus urged on1 the ,representative begins to speak1 to the great alarm of his friends2 and rushing imprudently into the midst of the most celebrated orators1 he perplexes the debate and wearies the ,house4 ,all laws which tend to make the ,representative more dependent on the elector1 not only affect the conduct of the legislators1 as ,i have remarked elsewhere1 but also their language4 ,they exercise a simultaneous influence on affairs themselves1 and on the manner in which affairs are discussed4 ,there is hardly a member of ,congress who can make up his mind to go home without having despatched at least one speech to his constituents2 nor who will endure any interruption until he has introduced into his harangue whatever useful suggestions may be made touching the four-and-twenty ,states of which the ,union is composed1 and especially the district which he represents4 ,he therefore presents to the mind of his auditors a succession of great general truths 7which he himself only comprehends1 and expresses1 confusedly71 and of petty minutia1 which he is but too able to discover and to point out4 ,the consequence is that the debates of that great assembly are frequently vague and perplexed1 and that they seem rather to drag their slow length along than to advance towards a distinct object4 ,some such state of things will1 ,i believe1 always arise in the public assemblies of democracies4 ,propitious circumstances and good laws might succeed in drawing to the legislature of a democratic people men very superior to those who are returned by the ,americans to ,congress2 but nothing will ever prevent the men of slender abilities who sit there from obtruding themselves with complacency1 and in all ways1 upon the public4 ,the evil does not appear to me to be susceptible of entire cure1 because it not only originates in the tactics of that assembly1 but in its constitution and in that of the country4 ,the inhabitants of the ,united ,states seem themselves to consider the matter in this light2 and they show their long experience of parliamentary life not by abstaining from making bad speeches1 but by courageously submitting to hear them made4 ,they are resigned to it1 as to an evil which they know to be inevitable4 ,we have shown the petty side of political debates in democratic assemblies--let us now exhibit the more imposing one4 ,the proceedings within the ,parliament of ,england for the last one hundred and fifty years have never occasioned any great sensation out of that country2 the opinions and feelings expressed by the speakers have never awakened much sympathy1 even amongst the nations placed nearest to the great arena of ,british liberty2 whereas ,europe was excited by the very first debates which took place in the small colonial assemblies of ,america at the time of the ,revolution4 ,this was attributable not only to particular and fortuitous circumstances1 but to general and lasting causes4 ,i can conceive nothing more admirable or more powerful than a great orator debating on great questions of state in a democratic assembly4 ,as no particular class is ever represented there by men commissioned to defend its own interests1 it is always to the whole nation1 and in the name of the whole nation1 that the orator speaks4 ,this expands his thoughts1 and heightens his power of language4 ,as precedents have there but little weight-as there are no longer any privileges attached to certain property1 nor any rights inherent in certain bodies or in certain individuals1 the mind must have recourse to general truths derived from human nature to resolve the particular question under discussion4 ,hence the political debates of a democratic people1 however small it may be1 have a degree of breadth which frequently renders them attractive to mankind4 ,all men are interested by them1 because they treat of man1 who is everywhere the same4 ,amongst the greatest aristocratic nations1 on the contrary1 the most general questions are almost always argued on some special grounds derived from the practice of a particular time1 or the rights of a particular class2 which interest that class alone1 or at most the people amongst whom that class happens to exist4 ,it is owing to this1 as much as to the greatness of the ,french people1 and the favorable disposition of the nations who listen to them1 that the great effect which the ,french political debates sometimes produce in the world1 must be attributed4 ,the orators of ,france frequently speak to mankind1 even when they are addressing their countrymen only4 ,section #b3 ,influence of ,democracy on the ,feelings of ,americans ,chapter ,i3 ,why ,democratic ,nations ,show ,a ,more ,ardent ,and ,enduring ,love ,of ,equality ,than ,of ,liberty ,the first and most intense passion which is engendered by the equality of conditions is1 ,i need hardly say1 the love of that same equality4 ,my readers will therefore not be surprised that ,i speak of its before all others4 ,everybody has remarked that in our time1 and especially in ,france1 this passion for equality is every day gaining ground in the human heart4 ,it has been said a hundred times that our contemporaries are far more ardently and tenaciously attached to equality than to freedom2 but as ,i do not find that the causes of the fact have been sufficiently analyzed1 ,i shall endeavor to point them out4 ,it is possible to imagine an extreme point at which freedom and equality would meet and be confounded together4 ,let us suppose that all the members of the community take a part in the government1 and that each of them has an equal right to take a part in it4 ,as none is different from his fellows1 none can exercise a tyrannical power3 men will be perfectly free1 because they will all be entirely equal2 and they will all be perfectly equal1 because they will be entirely free4 ,to this ideal state democratic nations tend4 ,such is the completest form that equality can assume upon earth2 but there are a thousand others which1 without being equally perfect1 are not less cherished by those nations4 ,the principle of equality may be established in civil society1 without prevailing in the political world4 ,equal rights may exist of indulging in the same pleasures1 of entering the same professions1 of frequenting the same places--in a word1 of living in the same manner and seeking wealth by the same means1 although all men do not take an equal share in the government4 ,a kind of equality may even be established in the political world1 though there should be no political freedom there4 ,a man may be the equal of all his countrymen save one1 who is the master of all without distinction1 and who selects equally from among them all the agents of his power4 ,several other combinations might be easily imagined1 by which very great equality would be united to institutions more or less free1 or even to institutions wholly without freedom4 ,although men cannot become absolutely equal unless they be entirely free1 and consequently equality1 pushed to its furthest extent1 may be confounded with freedom1 yet there is good reason for distinguishing the one from the other4 ,the taste which men have for liberty1 and that which they feel for equality1 are1 in fact1 two different things2 and ,i am not afraid to add that1 amongst democratic nations1 they are two unequal things4 ,upon close inspection1 it will be seen that there is in every age some peculiar and preponderating fact with which all others are connected2 this fact almost always gives birth to some pregnant idea or some ruling passion1 which attracts to itself1 and bears away in its course1 all the feelings and opinions of the time3 it is like a great stream1 towards which each of the surrounding rivulets seems to flow4 ,freedom has appeared in the world at different times and under various forms2 it has not been exclusively bound to any social condition1 and it is not confined to democracies4 ,freedom cannot1 therefore1 form the distinguishing characteristic of democratic ages4 ,the peculiar and preponderating fact which marks those ages as its own is the equality of conditions2 the ruling passion of men in those periods is the love of this equality4 ,ask not what singular charm the men of democratic ages find in being equal1 or what special reasons they may have for clinging so tenaciously to equality rather than to the other advantages which society holds out to them3 equality is the distinguishing characteristic of the age they live in2 that1 of itself1 is enough to explain that they prefer it to all the rest4 ,but independently of this reason there are several others1 which will at all times habitually lead men to prefer equality to freedom4 ,if a people could ever succeed in destroying1 or even in diminishing1 the equality which prevails in its own body1 this could only be accomplished by long and laborious efforts4 ,its social condition must be modified1 its laws abolished1 its opinions superseded1 its habits changed1 its manners corrupted4 ,but political liberty is more easily lost2 to neglect to hold it fast is to allow it to escape4 ,men therefore not only cling to equality because it is dear to them2 they also adhere to it because they think it will last forever4 ,that political freedom may compromise in its excesses the tranquillity1 the property1 the lives of individuals1 is obvious to the narrowest and most unthinking minds4 ,but1 on the contrary1 none but attentive and clear-sighted men perceive the perils with which equality threatens us1 and they commonly avoid pointing them out4 ,they know that the calamities they apprehend are remote1 and flatter themselves that they will only fall upon future generations1 for which the present generation takes but little thought4 ,the evils which freedom sometimes brings with it are immediate2 they are apparent to all1 and all are more or less affected by them4 ,the evils which extreme equality may produce are slowly disclosed2 they creep gradually into the social frame2 they are only seen at intervals1 and at the moment at which they become most violent habit already causes them to be no longer felt4 ,the advantages which freedom brings are only shown by length of time2 and it is always easy to mistake the cause in which they originate4 ,the advantages of equality are instantaneous1 and they may constantly be traced from their source4 ,political liberty bestows exalted pleasures1 from time to time1 upon a certain number of citizens4 ,equality every day confers a number of small enjoyments on every man4 ,the charms of equality are every instant felt1 and are within the reach of all2 the noblest hearts are not insensible to them1 and the most vulgar souls exult in them4 ,the passion which equality engenders must therefore be at once strong and general4 ,men cannot enjoy political liberty unpurchased by some sacrifices1 and they never obtain it without great exertions4 ,but the pleasures of equality are self-proffered3 each of the petty incidents of life seems to occasion them1 and in order to taste them nothing is required but to live4 ,democratic nations are at all times fond of equality1 but there are certain epochs at which the passion they entertain for it swells to the height of fury4 ,this occurs at the moment when the old social system1 long menaced1 completes its own destruction after a last intestine struggle1 and when the barriers of rank are at length thrown down4 ,at such times men pounce upon equality as their booty1 and they cling to it as to some precious treasure which they fear to lose4 ,the passion for equality penetrates on every side into men's hearts1 expands there1 and fills them entirely4 ,tell them not that by this blind surrender of themselves to an exclusive passion they risk their dearest interests3 they are deaf4 ,show them not freedom escaping from their grasp1 whilst they are looking another way3 they are blind--or rather1 they can discern but one sole object to be desired in the universe4 ,what ,i have said is applicable to all democratic nations3 what ,i am about to say concerns the ,french alone4 ,amongst most modern nations1 and especially amongst all those of the ,continent of ,europe1 the taste and the idea of freedom only began to exist and to extend themselves at the time when social conditions were tending to equality1 and as a consequence of that very equality4 ,absolute kings were the most efficient levellers of ranks amongst their subjects4 ,amongst these nations equality preceded freedom3 equality was therefore a fact of some standing when freedom was still a novelty3 the one had already created customs1 opinions1 and laws belonging to it1 when the other1 alone and for the first time1 came into actual existence4 ,thus the latter was still only an affair of opinion and of taste1 whilst the former had already crept into the habits of the people1 possessed itself of their manners1 and given a particular turn to the smallest actions of their lives4 ,can it be wondered that the men of our own time prefer the one to the other8 ,i think that democratic communities have a natural taste for freedom3 left to themselves1 they will seek it1 cherish it1 and view any privation of it with regret4 ,but for equality1 their passion is ardent1 insatiable1 incessant1 invincible3 they call for equality in freedom2 and if they cannot obtain that1 they still call for equality in slavery4 ,they will endure poverty1 servitude1 barbarism--but they will not endure aristocracy4 ,this is true at all times1 and especially true in our own4 ,all men and all powers seeking to cope with this irresistible passion1 will be overthrown and destroyed by it4 ,in our age1 freedom cannot be established without it1 and despotism itself cannot reign without its support4 ,chapter ,,ii3 ,of ,individualism ,in ,democratic ,countries ,i have shown how it is that in ages of equality every man seeks for his opinions within himself3 ,i am now about to show how it is that1 in the same ages1 all his feelings are turned towards himself alone4 ,individualism 99a is a novel expression1 to which a novel idea has given birth4 ,our fathers were only acquainted with egotism4 ,egotism is a passionate and exaggerated love of self1 which leads a man to connect everything with his own person1 and to prefer himself to everything in the world4 ,individualism is a mature and calm feeling1 which disposes each member of the community to sever himself from the mass of his fellow-creatures2 and to draw apart with his family and his friends2 so that1 after he has thus formed a little circle of his own1 he willingly leaves society at large to itself4 ,egotism originates in blind instinct3 individualism proceeds from erroneous judgment more than from depraved feelings2 it originates as much in the deficiencies of the mind as in the perversity of the heart4 ,egotism blights the germ of all virtue2 individualism1 at first1 only saps the virtues of public life2 but1 in the long run1 it attacks and destroys all others1 and is at length absorbed in downright egotism4 ,egotism is a vice as old as the world1 which does not belong to one form of society more than to another3 individualism is of democratic origin1 and it threatens to spread in the same ratio as the equality of conditions4 ,footnote a3 ,i adopt the expression of the original1 however strange it may seem to the ,english ear1 partly because it illustrates the remark on the introduction of general terms into democratic language which was made in a preceding chapter1 and partly because ,i know of no ,english word exactly equivalent to the expression4 ,the chapter itself defines the meaning attached to it by the author4--,translator's ,note4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 as families remain for centuries in the same condition1 often on the same spot1 all generations become as it were contemporaneous4 ,a man almost always knows his forefathers1 and respects them3 he thinks he already sees his remote descendants1 and he loves them4 ,he willingly imposes duties on himself towards the former and the latter2 and he will frequently sacrifice his personal gratifications to those who went before and to those who will come after him4 ,aristocratic institutions have1 moreover1 the effect of closely binding every man to several of his fellow-citizens4 ,as the classes of an aristocratic people are strongly marked and permanent1 each of them is regarded by its own members as a sort of lesser country1 more tangible and more cherished than the country at large4 ,as in aristocratic communities all the citizens occupy fixed positions1 one above the other1 the result is that each of them always sees a man above himself whose patronage is necessary to him1 and below himself another man whose co-operation he may claim4 ,men living in aristocratic ages are therefore almost always closely attached to something placed out of their own sphere1 and they are often disposed to forget themselves4 ,it is true that in those ages the notion of human fellowship is faint1 and that men seldom think of sacrificing themselves for mankind2 but they often sacrifice themselves for other men4 ,in democratic ages1 on the contrary1 when the duties of each individual to the race are much more clear1 devoted service to any one man becomes more rare2 the bond of human affection is extended1 but it is relaxed4 ,amongst democratic nations new families are constantly springing up1 others are constantly falling away1 and all that remain change their condition2 the woof of time is every instant broken1 and the track of generations effaced4 ,those who went before are soon forgotten2 of those who will come after no one has any idea3 the interest of man is confined to those in close propinquity to himself4 ,as each class approximates to other classes1 and intermingles with them1 its members become indifferent and as strangers to one another4 ,aristocracy had made a chain of all the members of the community1 from the peasant to the king3 democracy breaks that chain1 and severs every link of it4 ,as social conditions become more equal1 the number of persons increases who1 although they are neither rich enough nor powerful enough to exercise any great influence over their fellow-creatures1 have nevertheless acquired or retained sufficient education and fortune to satisfy their own wants4 ,they owe nothing to any man1 they expect nothing from any man2 they acquire the habit of always considering themselves as standing alone1 and they are apt to imagine that their whole destiny is in their own hands4 ,thus not only does democracy make every man forget his ancestors1 but it hides his descendants1 and separates his contemporaries from him2 it throws him back forever upon himself alone1 and threatens in the end to confine him entirely within the solitude of his own heart4 ,chapter ,,iii3 ,individualism ,stronger ,at ,the ,close ,of ,a ,democratic ,revolution ,than ,at ,other ,periods ,the period when the construction of democratic society upon the ruins of an aristocracy has just been completed1 is especially that at which this separation of men from one another1 and the egotism resulting from it1 most forcibly strike the observation4 ,democratic communities not only contain a large number of independent citizens1 but they are constantly filled with men who1 having entered but yesterday upon their independent condition1 are intoxicated with their new power4 ,they entertain a presumptuous confidence in their strength1 and as they do not suppose that they can henceforward ever have occasion to claim the assistance of their fellow-creatures1 they do not scruple to show that they care for nobody but themselves4 ,an aristocracy seldom yields without a protracted struggle1 in the course of which implacable animosities are kindled between the different classes of society4 ,these passions survive the victory1 and traces of them may be observed in the midst of the democratic confusion which ensues4 ,those members of the community who were at the top of the late gradations of rank cannot immediately forget their former greatness2 they will long regard themselves as aliens in the midst of the newly composed society4 ,they look upon all those whom this state of society has made their equals as oppressors1 whose destiny can excite no sympathy2 they have lost sight of their former equals1 and feel no longer bound by a common interest to their fate3 each of them1 standing aloof1 thinks that he is reduced to care for himself alone4 ,those1 on the contrary1 who were formerly at the foot of the social scale1 and who have been brought up to the common level by a sudden revolution1 cannot enjoy their newly acquired independence without secret uneasiness2 and if they meet with some of their former superiors on the same footing as themselves1 they stand aloof from them with an expression of triumph and of fear4 ,it is1 then1 commonly at the outset of democratic society that citizens are most disposed to live apart4 ,democracy leads men not to draw near to their fellow-creatures2 but democratic revolutions lead them to shun each other1 and perpetuate in a state of equality the animosities which the state of inequality engendered4 ,the great advantage of the ,americans is that they have arrived at a state of democracy without having to endure a democratic revolution2 and that they are born equal1 instead of becoming so4 ,chapter ,,iv3 ,that ,the ,americans ,combat ,the ,effects ,of ,individualism ,by ,free ,institutions ,despotism1 which is of a very timorous nature1 is never more secure of continuance than when it can keep men asunder2 and all is influence is commonly exerted for that purpose4 ,no vice of the human heart is so acceptable to it as egotism3 a despot easily forgives his subjects for not loving him1 provided they do not love each other4 ,he does not ask them to assist him in governing the ,state2 it is enough that they do not aspire to govern it themselves4 ,he stigmatizes as turbulent and unruly spirits those who would combine their exertions to promote the prosperity of the community1 and1 perverting the natural meaning of words1 he applauds as good citizens those who have no sympathy for any but themselves4 ,thus the vices which despotism engenders are precisely those which equality fosters4 ,these two things mutually and perniciously complete and assist each other4 ,equality places men side by side1 unconnected by any common tie2 despotism raises barriers to keep them asunder2 the former predisposes them not to consider their fellow-creatures1 the latter makes general indifference a sort of public virtue4 ,despotism then1 which is at all times dangerous1 is more particularly to be feared in democratic ages4 ,it is easy to see that in those same ages men stand most in need of freedom4 ,when the members of a community are forced to attend to public affairs1 they are necessarily drawn from the circle of their own interests1 and snatched at times from self-observation4 ,as soon as a man begins to treat of public affairs in public1 he begins to perceive that he is not so independent of his fellow-men as he had at first imagined1 and that1 in order to obtain their support1 he must often lend them his co-operation4 ,when the public is supreme1 there is no man who does not feel the value of public goodwill1 or who does not endeavor to court it by drawing to himself the esteem and affection of those amongst whom he is to live4 ,many of the passions which congeal and keep asunder human hearts1 are then obliged to retire and hide below the surface4 ,pride must be dissembled2 disdain dares not break out2 egotism fears its own self4 ,under a free government1 as most public offices are elective1 the men whose elevated minds or aspiring hopes are too closely circumscribed in private life1 constantly feel that they cannot do without the population which surrounds them4 ,men learn at such times to think of their fellow-men from ambitious motives2 and they frequently find it1 in a manner1 their interest to forget themselves4 ,i may here be met by an objection derived from electioneering intrigues1 the meannesses of candidates1 and the calumnies of their opponents4 ,these are opportunities for animosity which occur the oftener the more frequent elections become4 ,such evils are doubtless great1 but they are transient2 whereas the benefits which attend them remain4 ,the desire of being elected may lead some men for a time to violent hostility2 but this same desire leads all men in the long run mutually to support each other2 and if it happens that an election accidentally severs two friends1 the electoral system brings a multitude of citizens permanently together1 who would always have remained unknown to each other4 ,freedom engenders private animosities1 but despotism gives birth to general indifference4 ,the ,americans have combated by free institutions the tendency of equality to keep men asunder1 and they have subdued it4 ,the legislators of ,america did not suppose that a general representation of the whole nation would suffice to ward off a disorder at once so natural to the frame of democratic society1 and so fatal3 they also thought that it would be well to infuse political life into each portion of the territory1 in order to multiply to an infinite extent opportunities of acting in concert for all the members of the community1 and to make them constantly feel their mutual dependence on each other4 ,the plan was a wise one4 ,the general affairs of a country only engage the attention of leading politicians1 who assemble from time to time in the same places2 and as they often lose sight of each other afterwards1 no lasting ties are established between them4 ,but if the object be to have the local affairs of a district conducted by the men who reside there1 the same persons are always in contact1 and they are1 in a manner1 forced to be acquainted1 and to adapt themselves to one another4 ,it is difficult to draw a man out of his own circle to interest him in the destiny of the ,state1 because he does not clearly understand what influence the destiny of the ,state can have upon his own lot4 ,but if it be proposed to make a road cross the end of his estate1 he will see at a glance that there is a connection between this small public affair and his greatest private affairs2 and he will discover1 without its being shown to him1 the close tie which unites private to general interest4 ,thus1 far more may be done by intrusting to the citizens the administration of minor affairs than by surrendering to them the control of important ones1 towards interesting them in the public welfare1 and convincing them that they constantly stand in need one of the other in order to provide for it4 ,a brilliant achievement may win for you the favor of a people at one stroke2 but to earn the love and respect of the population which surrounds you1 a long succession of little services rendered and of obscure good deeds--a constant habit of kindness1 and an established reputation for disinterestedness--will be required4 ,local freedom1 then1 which leads a great number of citizens to value the affection of their neighbors and of their kindred1 perpetually brings men together1 and forces them to help one another1 in spite of the propensities which sever them4 ,in the ,united ,states the more opulent citizens take great care not to stand aloof from the people2 on the contrary1 they constantly keep on easy terms with the lower classes3 they listen to them1 they speak to them every day4 ,they know that the rich in democracies always stand in need of the poor2 and that in democratic ages you attach a poor man to you more by your manner than by benefits conferred4 ,the magnitude of such benefits1 which sets off the difference of conditions1 causes a secret irritation to those who reap advantage from them2 but the charm of simplicity of manners is almost irresistible3 their affability carries men away1 and even their want of polish is not always displeasing4 ,this truth does not take root at once in the minds of the rich4 ,they generally resist it as long as the democratic revolution lasts1 and they do not acknowledge it immediately after that revolution is accomplished4 ,they are very ready to do good to the people1 but they still choose to keep them at arm's length2 they think that is sufficient1 but they are mistaken4 ,they might spend fortunes thus without warming the hearts of the population around them2--that population does not ask them for the sacrifice of their money1 but of their pride4 ,it would seem as if every imagination in the ,united ,states were upon the stretch to invent means of increasing the wealth and satisfying the wants of the public4 ,the best-informed inhabitants of each district constantly use their information to discover new truths which may augment the general prosperity2 and if they have made any such discoveries1 they eagerly surrender them to the mass of the people4 ,when the vices and weaknesses1 frequently exhibited by those who govern in ,america1 are closely examined1 the prosperity of the people occasions--but improperly occasions--surprise4 ,elected magistrates do not make the ,american democracy flourish2 it flourishes because the magistrates are elective4 ,it would be unjust to suppose that the patriotism and the zeal which every ,american displays for the welfare of his fellow-citizens are wholly insincere4 ,although private interest directs the greater part of human actions in the ,united ,states as well as elsewhere1 it does not regulate them all4 ,i must say that ,i have often seen ,americans make great and real sacrifices to the public welfare2 and ,i have remarked a hundred instances in which they hardly ever failed to lend faithful support to each other4 ,the free institutions which the inhabitants of the ,united ,states possess1 and the political rights of which they make so much use1 remind every citizen1 and in a thousand ways1 that he lives in society4 ,they every instant impress upon his mind the notion that it is the duty1 as well as the interest of men1 to make themselves useful to their fellow-creatures2 and as he sees no particular ground of animosity to them1 since he is never either their master or their slave1 his heart readily leans to the side of kindness4 ,men attend to the interests of the public1 first by necessity1 afterwards by choice3 what was intentional becomes an instinct2 and by dint of working for the good of one's fellow citizens1 the habit and the taste for serving them is at length acquired4 ,many people in ,france consider equality of conditions as one evil1 and political freedom as a second4 ,when they are obliged to yield to the former1 they strive at least to escape from the latter4 ,but ,i contend that in order to combat the evils which equality may produce1 there is only one effectual remedy--namely1 political freedom4 ,chapter ,v3 ,of ,the ,use ,which ,the ,americans ,make ,of ,public ,associations ,in ,civil ,life ,i do not propose to speak of those political associations--by the aid of which men endeavor to defend themselves against the despotic influence of a majority--or against the aggressions of regal power4 ,that subject ,i have already treated4 ,if each citizen did not learn1 in proportion as he individually becomes more feeble1 and consequently more incapable of preserving his freedom single-handed1 to combine with his fellow-citizens for the purpose of defending it1 it is clear that tyranny would unavoidably increase together with equality4 ,those associations only which are formed in civil life1 without reference to political objects1 are here adverted to4 ,the political associations which exist in the ,united ,states are only a single feature in the midst of the immense assemblage of associations in that country4 ,americans of all ages1 all conditions1 and all dispositions1 constantly form associations4 ,they have not only commercial and manufacturing companies1 in which all take part1 but associations of a thousand other kinds--religious1 moral1 serious1 futile1 extensive1 or restricted1 enormous or diminutive4 ,the ,americans make associations to give entertainments1 to found establishments for education1 to build inns1 to construct churches1 to diffuse books1 to send missionaries to the antipodes2 and in this manner they found hospitals1 prisons1 and schools4 ,if it be proposed to advance some truth1 or to foster some feeling by the encouragement of a great example1 they form a society4 ,wherever1 at the head of some new undertaking1 you see the government in ,france1 or a man of rank in ,england1 in the ,united ,states you will be sure to find an association4 ,i met with several kinds of associations in ,america1 of which ,i confess ,i had no previous notion2 and ,i have often admired the extreme skill with which the inhabitants of the ,united ,states succeed in proposing a common object to the exertions of a great many men1 and in getting them voluntarily to pursue it4 ,i have since travelled over ,england1 whence the ,americans have taken some of their laws and many of their customs2 and it seemed to me that the principle of association was by no means so constantly or so adroitly used in that country4 ,the ,english often perform great things singly2 whereas the ,americans form associations for the smallest undertakings4 ,it is evident that the former people consider association as a powerful means of action1 but the latter seem to regard it as the only means they have of acting4 ,thus the most democratic country on the face of the earth is that in which men have in our time carried to the highest perfection the art of pursuing in common the object of their common desires1 and have applied this new science to the greatest number of purposes4 ,is this the result of accident8 or is there in reality any necessary connection between the principle of association and that of equality8 ,aristocratic communities always contain1 amongst a multitude of persons who by themselves are powerless1 a small number of powerful and wealthy citizens1 each of whom can achieve great undertakings single-handed4 ,in aristocratic societies men do not need to combine in order to act1 because they are strongly held together4 ,every wealthy and powerful citizen constitutes the head of a permanent and compulsory association1 composed of all those who are dependent upon him1 or whom he makes subservient to the execution of his designs4 ,amongst democratic nations1 on the contrary1 all the citizens are independent and feeble2 they can do hardly anything by themselves1 and none of them can oblige his fellow-men to lend him their assistance4 ,they all1 therefore1 fall into a state of incapacity1 if they do not learn voluntarily to help each other4 ,if men living in democratic countries had no right and no inclination to associate for political purposes1 their independence would be in great jeopardy2 but they might long preserve their wealth and their cultivation3 whereas if they never acquired the habit of forming associations in ordinary life1 civilization itself would be endangered4 ,a people amongst which individuals should lose the power of achieving great things single-handed1 without acquiring the means of producing them by united exertions1 would soon relapse into barbarism4 ,unhappily1 the same social condition which renders associations so necessary to democratic nations1 renders their formation more difficult amongst those nations than amongst all others4 ,when several members of an aristocracy agree to combine1 they easily succeed in doing so2 as each of them brings great strength to the partnership1 the number of its members may be very limited2 and when the members of an association are limited in number1 they may easily become mutually acquainted1 understand each other1 and establish fixed regulations4 ,the same opportunities do not occur amongst democratic nations1 where the associated members must always be very numerous for their association to have any power4 ,i am aware that many of my countrymen are not in the least embarrassed by this difficulty4 ,they contend that the more enfeebled and incompetent the citizens become1 the more able and active the government ought to be rendered1 in order that society at large may execute what individuals can no longer accomplish4 ,they believe this answers the whole difficulty1 but ,i think they are mistaken4 ,a government might perform the part of some of the largest ,american companies2 and several ,states1 members of the ,union1 have already attempted it2 but what political power could ever carry on the vast multitude of lesser undertakings which the ,american citizens perform every day1 with the assistance of the principle of association8 ,it is easy to foresee that the time is drawing near when man will be less and less able to produce1 of himself alone1 the commonest necessaries of life4 ,the task of the governing power will therefore perpetually increase1 and its very efforts will extend it every day4 ,the more it stands in the place of associations1 the more will individuals1 losing the notion of combining together1 require its assistance3 these are causes and effects which unceasingly engender each other4 ,will the administration of the country ultimately assume the management of all the manufacturers1 which no single citizen is able to carry on8 ,and if a time at length arrives1 when1 in consequence of the extreme subdivision of landed property1 the soil is split into an infinite number of parcels1 so that it can only be cultivated by companies of husbandmen1 will it be necessary that the head of the government should leave the helm of state to follow the plough8 ,the morals and the intelligence of a democratic people would be as much endangered as its business and manufactures1 if the government ever wholly usurped the place of private companies4 ,feelings and opinions are recruited1 the heart is enlarged1 and the human mind is developed by no other means than by the reciprocal influence of men upon each other4 ,i have shown that these influences are almost null in democratic countries2 they must therefore be artificially created1 and this can only be accomplished by associations4 ,when the members of an aristocratic community adopt a new opinion1 or conceive a new sentiment1 they give it a station1 as it were1 beside themselves1 upon the lofty platform where they stand2 and opinions or sentiments so conspicuous to the eyes of the multitude are easily introduced into the minds or hearts of all around4 ,in democratic countries the governing power alone is naturally in a condition to act in this manner2 but it is easy to see that its action is always inadequate1 and often dangerous4 ,a government can no more be competent to keep alive and to renew the circulation of opinions and feelings amongst a great people1 than to manage all the speculations of productive industry4 ,no sooner does a government attempt to go beyond its political sphere and to enter upon this new track1 than it exercises1 even unintentionally1 an insupportable tyranny2 for a government can only dictate strict rules1 the opinions which it favors are rigidly enforced1 and it is never easy to discriminate between its advice and its commands4 ,worse still will be the case if the government really believes itself interested in preventing all circulation of ideas2 it will then stand motionless1 and oppressed by the heaviness of voluntary torpor4 ,governments therefore should not be the only active powers3 associations ought1 in democratic nations1 to stand in lieu of those powerful private individuals whom the equality of conditions has swept away4 ,as soon as several of the inhabitants of the ,united ,states have taken up an opinion or a feeling which they wish to promote in the world1 they look out for mutual assistance2 and as soon as they have found each other out1 they combine4 ,from that moment they are no longer isolated men1 but a power seen from afar1 whose actions serve for an example1 and whose language is listened to4 ,the first time ,i heard in the ,united ,states that #ajj1jjj men had bound themselves publicly to abstain from spirituous liquors1 it appeared to me more like a joke than a serious engagement2 and ,i did not at once perceive why these temperate citizens could not content themselves with drinking water by their own firesides4 ,i at last understood that #cjj1jjj ,americans1 alarmed by the progress of drunkenness around them1 had made up their minds to patronize temperance4 ,they acted just in the same way as a man of high rank who should dress very plainly1 in order to inspire the humbler orders with a contempt of luxury4 ,it is probable that if these #ajj1jjj men had lived in ,france1 each of them would singly have memorialized the government to watch the public-houses all over the kingdom4 ,nothing1 in my opinion1 is more deserving of our attention than the intellectual and moral associations of ,america4 ,the political and industrial associations of that country strike us forcibly2 but the others elude our observation1 or if we discover them1 we understand them imperfectly1 because we have hardly ever seen anything of the kind4 ,it must1 however1 be acknowledged that they are as necessary to the ,american people as the former1 and perhaps more so4 ,in democratic countries the science of association is the mother of science2 the progress of all the rest depends upon the progress it has made4 ,amongst the laws which rule human societies there is one which seems to be more precise and clear than all others4 ,if men are to remain civilized1 or to become so1 the art of associating together must grow and improve in the same ratio in which the equality of conditions is increased4 ,chapter ,,vi3 ,of ,the ,relation ,between ,public ,associations ,and ,newspapers ,when men are no longer united amongst themselves by firm and lasting ties1 it is impossible to obtain the cooperation of any great number of them1 unless you can persuade every man whose concurrence you require that this private interest obliges him voluntarily to unite his exertions to the exertions of all the rest4 ,this can only be habitually and conveniently effected by means of a newspaper2 nothing but a newspaper can drop the same thought into a thousand minds at the same moment4 ,a newspaper is an adviser who does not require to be sought1 but who comes of his own accord1 and talks to you briefly every day of the common weal1 without distracting you from your private affairs4 ,newspapers therefore become more necessary in proportion as men become more equal1 and individualism more to be feared4 ,to suppose that they only serve to protect freedom would be to diminish their importance3 they maintain civilization4 ,i shall not deny that in democratic countries newspapers frequently lead the citizens to launch together in very ill-digested schemes2 but if there were no newspapers there would be no common activity4 ,the evil which they produce is therefore much less than that which they cure4 ,the effect of a newspaper is not only to suggest the same purpose to a great number of persons1 but also to furnish means for executing in common the designs which they may have singly conceived4 ,the principal citizens who inhabit an aristocratic country discern each other from afar2 and if they wish to unite their forces1 they move towards each other1 drawing a multitude of men after them4 ,it frequently happens1 on the contrary1 in democratic countries1 that a great number of men who wish or who want to combine cannot accomplish it1 because as they are very insignificant and lost amidst the crowd1 they cannot see1 and know not where to find1 one another4 ,a newspaper then takes up the notion or the feeling which had occurred simultaneously1 but singly1 to each of them4 ,all are then immediately guided towards this beacon2 and these wandering minds1 which had long sought each other in darkness1 at length meet and unite4 ,the newspaper brought them together1 and the newspaper is still necessary to keep them united4 ,in order that an association amongst a democratic people should have any power1 it must be a numerous body4 ,the persons of whom it is composed are therefore scattered over a wide extent1 and each of them is detained in the place of his domicile by the narrowness of his income1 or by the small unremitting exertions by which he earns it4 ,means then must be found to converse every day without seeing each other1 and to take steps in common without having met4 ,thus hardly any democratic association can do without newspapers4 ,there is consequently a necessary connection between public associations and newspapers3 newspapers make associations1 and associations make newspapers2 and if it has been correctly advanced that associations will increase in number as the conditions of men become more equal1 it is not less certain that the number of newspapers increases in proportion to that of associations4 ,thus it is in ,america that we find at the same time the greatest number of associations and of newspapers4 ,this connection between the number of newspapers and that of associations leads us to the discovery of a further connection between the state of the periodical press and the form of the administration in a country2 and shows that the number of newspapers must diminish or increase amongst a democratic people1 in proportion as its administration is more or less centralized4 ,for amongst democratic nations the exercise of local powers cannot be intrusted to the principal members of the community as in aristocracies4 ,those powers must either be abolished1 or placed in the hands of very large numbers of men1 who then in fact constitute an association permanently established by law for the purpose of administering the affairs of a certain extent of territory2 and they require a journal1 to bring to them every day1 in the midst of their own minor concerns1 some intelligence of the state of their public weal4 ,the more numerous local powers are1 the greater is the number of men in whom they are vested by law2 and as this want is hourly felt1 the more profusely do newspapers abound4 ,the extraordinary subdivision of administrative power has much more to do with the enormous number of ,american newspapers than the great political freedom of the country and the absolute liberty of the press4 ,if all the inhabitants of the ,union had the suffrage--but a suffrage which should only extend to the choice of their legislators in ,congress--they would require but few newspapers1 because they would only have to act together on a few very important but very rare occasions4 ,but within the pale of the great association of the nation1 lesser associations have been established by law in every country1 every city1 and indeed in every village1 for the purposes of local administration4 ,the laws of the country thus compel every ,american to co-operate every day of his life with some of his fellow-citizens for a common purpose1 and each one of them requires a newspaper to inform him what all the others are doing4 ,i am of opinion that a democratic people1 99a without any national representative assemblies1 but with a great number of small local powers1 would have in the end more newspapers than another people governed by a centralized administration and an elective legislation4 ,what best explains to me the enormous circulation of the daily press in the ,united ,states1 is that amongst the ,americans ,i find the utmost national freedom combined with local freedom of every kind4 ,there is a prevailing opinion in ,france and ,england that the circulation of newspapers would be indefinitely increased by removing the taxes which have been laid upon the press4 ,this is a very exaggerated estimate of the effects of such a reform4 ,newspapers increase in numbers1 not according to their cheapness1 but according to the more or less frequent want which a great number of men may feel for intercommunication and combination4 ,footnote a3 ,i say a democratic people3 the administration of an aristocratic people may be the reverse of centralized1 and yet the want of newspapers be little felt1 because local powers are then vested in the hands of a very small number of men1 who either act apart1 or who know each other and can easily meet and come to an understanding4 ,in like manner ,i should attribute the increasing influence of the daily press to causes more general than those by which it is commonly explained4 ,a newspaper can only subsist on the condition of publishing sentiments or principles common to a large number of men4 ,a newspaper therefore always represents an association which is composed of its habitual readers4 ,this association may be more or less defined1 more or less restricted1 more or less numerous2 but the fact that the newspaper keeps alive1 is a proof that at least the germ of such an association exists in the minds of its readers4 ,this leads me to a last reflection1 with which ,i shall conclude this chapter4 ,the more equal the conditions of men become1 and the less strong men individually are1 the more easily do they give way to the current of the multitude1 and the more difficult is it for them to adhere by themselves to an opinion which the multitude discard4 ,a newspaper represents an association2 it may be said to address each of its readers in the name of all the others1 and to exert its influence over them in proportion to their individual weakness4 ,the power of the newspaper press must therefore increase as the social conditions of men become more equal4 ,chapter ,,vii3 ,connection ,of ,civil ,and ,political ,associations ,there is only one country on the face of the earth where the citizens enjoy unlimited freedom of association for political purposes4 ,this same country is the only one in the world where the continual exercise of the right of association has been introduced into civil life1 and where all the advantages which civilization can confer are procured by means of it4 ,in all the countries where political associations are prohibited1 civil associations are rare4 ,it is hardly probable that this is the result of accident2 but the inference should rather be1 that there is a natural1 and perhaps a necessary1 connection between these two kinds of associations4 ,certain men happen to have a common interest in some concern--either a commercial undertaking is to be managed1 or some speculation in manufactures to be tried2 they meet1 they combine1 and thus by degrees they become familiar with the principle of association4 ,the greater is the multiplicity of small affairs1 the more do men1 even without knowing it1 acquire facility in prosecuting great undertakings in common4 ,civil associations1 therefore1 facilitate political association3 but1 on the other hand1 political association singularly strengthens and improves associations for civil purposes4 ,in civil life every man may1 strictly speaking1 fancy that he can provide for his own wants2 in politics1 he can fancy no such thing4 ,when a people1 then1 have any knowledge of public life1 the notion of association1 and the wish to coalesce1 present themselves every day to the minds of the whole community3 whatever natural repugnance may restrain men from acting in concert1 they will always be ready to combine for the sake of a party4 ,thus political life makes the love and practice of association more general2 it imparts a desire of union1 and teaches the means of combination to numbers of men who would have always lived apart4 ,politics not only give birth to numerous associations1 but to associations of great extent4 ,in civil life it seldom happens that any one interest draws a very large number of men to act in concert2 much skill is required to bring such an interest into existence3 but in politics opportunities present themselves every day4 ,now it is solely in great associations that the general value of the principle of association is displayed4 ,citizens who are individually powerless1 do not very clearly anticipate the strength which they may acquire by uniting together2 it must be shown to them in order to be understood4 ,hence it is often easier to collect a multitude for a public purpose than a few persons2 a thousand citizens do not see what interest they have in combining together--ten thousand will be perfectly aware of it4 ,in politics men combine for great undertakings2 and the use they make of the principle of association in important affairs practically teaches them that it is their interest to help each other in those of less moment4 ,a political association draws a number of individuals at the same time out of their own circle3 however they may be naturally kept asunder by age1 mind1 and fortune1 it places them nearer together and brings them into contact4 ,once met1 they can always meet again4 ,men can embark in few civil partnerships without risking a portion of their possessions2 this is the case with all manufacturing and trading companies4 ,when men are as yet but little versed in the art of association1 and are unacquainted with its principal rules1 they are afraid1 when first they combine in this manner1 of buying their experience dear4 ,they therefore prefer depriving themselves of a powerful instrument of success to running the risks which attend the use of it4 ,they are1 however1 less reluctant to join political associations1 which appear to them to be without danger1 because they adventure no money in them4 ,but they cannot belong to these associations for any length of time without finding out how order is maintained amongst a large number of men1 and by what contrivance they are made to advance1 harmoniously and methodically1 to the same object4 ,thus they learn to surrender their own will to that of all the rest1 and to make their own exertions subordinate to the common impulse--things which it is not less necessary to know in civil than in political associations4 ,political associations may therefore be considered as large free schools1 where all the members of the community go to learn the general theory of association4 ,but even if political association did not directly contribute to the progress of civil association1 to destroy the former would be to impair the latter4 ,when citizens can only meet in public for certain purposes1 they regard such meetings as a strange proceeding of rare occurrence1 and they rarely think at all about it4 ,when they are allowed to meet freely for all purposes1 they ultimately look upon public association as the universal1 or in a manner the sole means1 which men can employ to accomplish the different purposes they may have in view4 ,every new want instantly revives the notion4 ,the art of association then becomes1 as ,i have said before1 the mother of action1 studied and applied by all4 ,when some kinds of associations are prohibited and others allowed1 it is difficult to distinguish the former from the latter1 beforehand4 ,in this state of doubt men abstain from them altogether1 and a sort of public opinion passes current which tends to cause any association whatsoever to be regarded as a bold and almost an illicit enterprise4 99a ,footnote a3 ,this is more especially true when the executive government has a discretionary power of allowing or prohibiting associations4 ,when certain associations are simply prohibited by law1 and the courts of justice have to punish infringements of that law1 the evil is far less considerable4 ,then every citizen knows beforehand pretty nearly what he has to expect4 ,he judges himself before he is judged by the law1 and1 abstaining from prohibited associations1 he embarks in those which are legally sanctioned4 ,it is by these restrictions that all free nations have always admitted that the right of association might be limited4 ,but if the legislature should invest a man with a power of ascertaining beforehand which associations are dangerous and which are useful1 and should authorize him to destroy all associations in the bud or allow them to be formed1 as nobody would be able to foresee in what cases associations might be established and in what cases they would be put down1 the spirit of association would be entirely paralyzed4 ,the former of these laws would only assail certain associations2 the latter would apply to society itself1 and inflict an injury upon it4 ,i can conceive that a regular government may have recourse to the former1 but ,i do not concede that any government has the right of enacting the latter4 ,it is therefore chimerical to suppose that the spirit of association1 when it is repressed on some one point1 will nevertheless display the same vigor on all others2 and that if men be allowed to prosecute certain undertakings in common1 that is quite enough for them eagerly to set about them4 ,when the members of a community are allowed and accustomed to combine for all purposes1 they will combine as readily for the lesser as for the more important ones2 but if they are only allowed to combine for small affairs1 they will be neither inclined nor able to effect it4 ,it is in vain that you will leave them entirely free to prosecute their business on joint-stock account3 they will hardly care to avail themselves of the rights you have granted to them2 and1 after having exhausted your strength in vain efforts to put down prohibited associations1 you will be surprised that you cannot persuade men to form the associations you encourage4 ,i do not say that there can be no civil associations in a country where political association is prohibited2 for men can never live in society without embarking in some common undertakings3 but ,i maintain that in such a country civil associations will always be few in number1 feebly planned1 unskillfully managed1 that they will never form any vast designs1 or that they will fail in the execution of them4 ,this naturally leads me to think that freedom of association in political matters is not so dangerous to public tranquillity as is supposed2 and that possibly1 after having agitated society for some time1 it may strengthen the ,state in the end4 ,in democratic countries political associations are1 so to speak1 the only powerful persons who aspire to rule the ,state4 ,accordingly1 the governments of our time look upon associations of this kind just as sovereigns in the ,middle ,ages regarded the great vassals of the ,crown3 they entertain a sort of instinctive abhorrence of them1 and they combat them on all occasions4 ,they bear1 on the contrary1 a natural goodwill to civil associations1 because they readily discover that1 instead of directing the minds of the community to public affairs1 these institutions serve to divert them from such reflections2 and that1 by engaging them more and more in the pursuit of objects which cannot be attained without public tranquillity1 they deter them from revolutions4 ,but these governments do not attend to the fact that political associations tend amazingly to multiply and facilitate those of a civil character1 and that in avoiding a dangerous evil they deprive themselves of an efficacious remedy4 ,when you see the ,americans freely and constantly forming associations for the purpose of promoting some political principle1 of raising one man to the head of affairs1 or of wresting power from another1 you have some difficulty in understanding that men so independent do not constantly fall into the abuse of freedom4 ,if1 on the other hand1 you survey the infinite number of trading companies which are in operation in the ,united ,states1 and perceive that the ,americans are on every side unceasingly engaged in the execution of important and difficult plans1 which the slightest revolution would throw into confusion1 you will readily comprehend why people so well employed are by no means tempted to perturb the ,state1 nor to destroy that public tranquillity by which they all profit4 ,is it enough to observe these things separately1 or should we not discover the hidden tie which connects them8 ,in their political associations1 the ,americans of all conditions1 minds1 and ages1 daily acquire a general taste for association1 and grow accustomed to the use of it4 ,there they meet together in large numbers1 they converse1 they listen to each other1 and they are mutually stimulated to all sorts of undertakings4 ,they afterwards transfer to civil life the notions they have thus acquired1 and make them subservient to a thousand purposes4 ,thus it is by the enjoyment of a dangerous freedom that the ,americans learn the art of rendering the dangers of freedom less formidable4 ,if a certain moment in the existence of a nation be selected1 it is easy to prove that political associations perturb the ,state1 and paralyze productive industry2 but take the whole life of a people1 and it may perhaps be easy to demonstrate that freedom of association in political matters is favorable to the prosperity and even to the tranquillity of the community4 ,i said in the former part of this work1 ,the unrestrained liberty of political association cannot be entirely assimilated to the liberty of the press4 ,the one is at the same time less necessary and more dangerous than the other4 ,a nation may confine it within certain limits without ceasing to be mistress of itself2 and it may sometimes be obliged to do so in order to maintain its own authority4 ,and further on ,i added3 ,it cannot be denied that the unrestrained liberty of association for political purposes is the last degree of liberty which a people is fit for4 ,if it does not throw them into anarchy1 it perpetually brings them1 as it were1 to the verge of it4 ,thus ,i do not think that a nation is always at liberty to invest its citizens with an absolute right of association for political purposes2 and ,i doubt whether1 in any country or in any age1 it be wise to set no limits to freedom of association4 ,a certain nation1 it is said1 could not maintain tranquillity in the community1 cause the laws to be respected1 or establish a lasting government1 if the right of association were not confined within narrow limits4 ,these blessings are doubtless invaluable1 and ,i can imagine that1 to acquire or to preserve them1 a nation may impose upon itself severe temporary restrictions3 but still it is well that the nation should know at what price these blessings are purchased4 ,i can understand that it may be advisable to cut off a man's arm in order to save his life2 but it would be ridiculous to assert that he will be as dexterous as he was before he lost it4 ,chapter ,,viii3 ,the ,americans ,combat ,individualism ,by ,the ,principle ,of ,interest ,rightly ,understood ,when the world was managed by a few rich and powerful individuals1 these persons loved to entertain a lofty idea of the duties of man4 ,they were fond of professing that it is praiseworthy to forget one's self1 and that good should be done without hope of reward1 as it is by the ,deity himself4 ,such were the standard opinions of that time in morals4 ,i doubt whether men were more virtuous in aristocratic ages than in others2 but they were incessantly talking of the beauties of virtue1 and its utility was only studied in secret4 ,but since the imagination takes less lofty flights and every man's thoughts are centred in himself1 moralists are alarmed by this idea of self-sacrifice1 and they no longer venture to present it to the human mind4 ,they therefore content themselves with inquiring whether the personal advantage of each member of the community does not consist in working for the good of all2 and when they have hit upon some point on which private interest and public interest meet and amalgamate1 they are eager to bring it into notice4 ,observations of this kind are gradually multiplied3 what was only a single remark becomes a general principle2 and it is held as a truth that man serves himself in serving his fellow-creatures1 and that his private interest is to do good4 ,i have already shown1 in several parts of this work1 by what means the inhabitants of the ,united ,states almost always manage to combine their own advantage with that of their fellow-citizens3 my present purpose is to point out the general rule which enables them to do so4 ,in the ,united ,states hardly anybody talks of the beauty of virtue2 but they maintain that virtue is useful1 and prove it every day4 ,the ,american moralists do not profess that men ought to sacrifice themselves for their fellow-creatures because it is noble to make such sacrifices2 but they boldly aver that such sacrifices are as necessary to him who imposes them upon himself as to him for whose sake they are made4 ,they have found out that in their country and their age man is brought home to himself by an irresistible force2 and losing all hope of stopping that force1 they turn all their thoughts to the direction of it4 ,they therefore do not deny that every man may follow his own interest2 but they endeavor to prove that it is the interest of every man to be virtuous4 ,i shall not here enter into the reasons they allege1 which would divert me from my subject3 suffice it to say that they have convinced their fellow-countrymen4 ,montaigne said long ago3 ,were ,i not to follow the straight road for its straightness1 ,i should follow it for having found by experience that in the end it is commonly the happiest and most useful track4 ,the doctrine of interest rightly understood is not1 then1 new1 but amongst the ,americans of our time it finds universal acceptance3 it has become popular there2 you may trace it at the bottom of all their actions1 you will remark it in all they say4 ,it is as often to be met with on the lips of the poor man as of the rich4 ,in ,europe the principle of interest is much grosser than it is in ,america1 but at the same time it is less common1 and especially it is less avowed2 amongst us1 men still constantly feign great abnegation which they no longer feel4 ,the ,americans1 on the contrary1 are fond of explaining almost all the actions of their lives by the principle of interest rightly understood2 they show with complacency how an enlightened regard for themselves constantly prompts them to assist each other1 and inclines them willingly to sacrifice a portion of their time and property to the welfare of the ,state4 ,in this respect ,i think they frequently fail to do themselves justice2 for in the ,united ,states1 as well as elsewhere1 people are sometimes seen to give way to those disinterested and spontaneous impulses which are natural to man2 but the ,americans seldom allow that they yield to emotions of this kind2 they are more anxious to do honor to their philosophy than to themselves4 ,i might here pause1 without attempting to pass a judgment on what ,i have described4 ,the extreme difficulty of the subject would be my excuse1 but ,i shall not avail myself of it2 and ,i had rather that my readers1 clearly perceiving my object1 should refuse to follow me than that ,i should leave them in suspense4 ,the principle of interest rightly understood is not a lofty one1 but it is clear and sure4 ,it does not aim at mighty objects1 but it attains without excessive exertion all those at which it aims4 ,as it lies within the reach of all capacities1 everyone can without difficulty apprehend and retain it4 ,by its admirable conformity to human weaknesses1 it easily obtains great dominion2 nor is that dominion precarious1 since the principle checks one personal interest by another1 and uses1 to direct the passions1 the very same instrument which excites them4 ,the principle of interest rightly understood produces no great acts of self-sacrifice1 but it suggests daily small acts of self-denial4 ,by itself it cannot suffice to make a man virtuous1 but it disciplines a number of citizens in habits of regularity1 temperance1 moderation1 foresight1 self-command2 and1 if it does not lead men straight to virtue by the will1 it gradually draws them in that direction by their habits4 ,if the principle of interest rightly understood were to sway the whole moral world1 extraordinary virtues would doubtless be more rare2 but ,i think that gross depravity would then also be less common4 ,the principle of interest rightly understood perhaps prevents some men from rising far above the level of mankind2 but a great number of other men1 who were falling far below it1 are caught and restrained by it4 ,observe some few individuals1 they are lowered by it2 survey mankind1 it is raised4 ,i am not afraid to say that the principle of interest1 rightly understood1 appears to me the best suited of all philosophical theories to the wants of the men of our time1 and that ,i regard it as their chief remaining security against themselves4 ,towards it1 therefore1 the minds of the moralists of our age should turn2 even should they judge it to be incomplete1 it must nevertheless be adopted as necessary4 ,i do not think upon the whole that there is more egotism amongst us than in ,america2 the only difference is1 that there it is enlightened--here it is not4 ,every ,american will sacrifice a portion of his private interests to preserve the rest2 we would fain preserve the whole1 and oftentimes the whole is lost4 ,everybody ,i see about me seems bent on teaching his contemporaries1 by precept and example1 that what is useful is never wrong4 ,will nobody undertake to make them understand how what is right may be useful8 ,no power upon earth can prevent the increasing equality of conditions from inclining the human mind to seek out what is useful1 or from leading every member of the community to be wrapped up in himself4 ,it must therefore be expected that personal interest will become more than ever the principal1 if not the sole1 spring of men's actions2 but it remains to be seen how each man will understand his personal interest4 ,if the members of a community1 as they become more equal1 become more ignorant and coarse1 it is difficult to foresee to what pitch of stupid excesses their egotism may lead them2 and no one can foretell into what disgrace and wretchedness they would plunge themselves1 lest they should have to sacrifice something of their own well-being to the prosperity of their fellow-creatures4 ,i do not think that the system of interest1 as it is professed in ,america1 is1 in all its parts1 self-evident2 but it contains a great number of truths so evident that men1 if they are but educated1 cannot fail to see them4 ,educate1 then1 at any rate2 for the age of implicit self-sacrifice and instinctive virtues is already flitting far away from us1 and the time is fast approaching when freedom1 public peace1 and social order itself will not be able to exist without education4 ,chapter ,,ix3 ,that ,the ,americans ,apply ,the ,principle ,of ,interest ,rightly ,understood ,to ,religious ,matters ,if the principle of interest rightly understood had nothing but the present world in view1 it would be very insufficient2 for there are many sacrifices which can only find their recompense in another2 and whatever ingenuity may be put forth to demonstrate the utility of virtue1 it will never be an easy task to make that man live aright who has no thoughts of dying4 ,it is therefore necessary to ascertain whether the principle of interest rightly understood is easily compatible with religious belief4 ,the philosophers who inculcate this system of morals tell men1 that to be happy in this life they must watch their own passions and steadily control their excess2 that lasting happiness can only be secured by renouncing a thousand transient gratifications2 and that a man must perpetually triumph over himself1 in order to secure his own advantage4 ,the founders of almost all religions have held the same language4 ,the track they point out to man is the same1 only that the goal is more remote2 instead of placing in this world the reward of the sacrifices they impose1 they transport it to another4 ,nevertheless ,i cannot believe that all those who practise virtue from religious motives are only actuated by the hope of a recompense4 ,i have known zealous ,christians who constantly forgot themselves1 to work with greater ardor for the happiness of their fellow-men2 and ,i have heard them declare that all they did was only to earn the blessings of a future state4 ,i cannot but think that they deceive themselves2 ,i respect them too much to believe them4 ,christianity indeed teaches that a man must prefer his neighbor to himself1 in order to gain eternal life2 but ,christianity also teaches that men ought to benefit their fellow-creatures for the love of ,god4 ,a sublime expression6 ,man1 searching by his intellect into the divine conception1 and seeing that order is the purpose of ,god1 freely combines to prosecute the great design2 and whilst he sacrifices his personal interests to this consummate order of all created things1 expects no other recompense than the pleasure of contemplating it4 ,i do not believe that interest is the sole motive of religious men3 but ,i believe that interest is the principal means which religions themselves employ to govern men1 and ,i do not question that this way they strike into the multitude and become popular4 ,it is not easy clearly to perceive why the principle of interest rightly understood should keep aloof from religious opinions2 and it seems to me more easy to show why it should draw men to them4 ,let it be supposed that1 in order to obtain happiness in this world1 a man combats his instinct on all occasions and deliberately calculates every action of his life2 that1 instead of yielding blindly to the impetuosity of first desires1 he has learned the art of resisting them1 and that he has accustomed himself to sacrifice without an effort the pleasure of a moment to the lasting interest of his whole life4 ,if such a man believes in the religion which he professes1 it will cost him but little to submit to the restrictions it may impose4 ,reason herself counsels him to obey1 and habit has prepared him to endure them4 ,if he should have conceived any doubts as to the object of his hopes1 still he will not easily allow himself to be stopped by them2 and he will decide that it is wise to risk some of the advantages of this world1 in order to preserve his rights to the great inheritance promised him in another4 ,to be mistaken in believing that the ,christian religion is true1 says ,pascal1 is no great loss to anyone2 but how dreadful to be mistaken in believing it to be false6 ,the ,americans do not affect a brutal indifference to a future state2 they affect no puerile pride in despising perils which they hope to escape from4 ,they therefore profess their religion without shame and without weakness2 but there generally is1 even in their zeal1 something so indescribably tranquil1 methodical1 and deliberate1 that it would seem as if the head1 far more than the heart1 brought them to the foot of the altar4 ,the ,americans not only follow their religion from interest1 but they often place in this world the interest which makes them follow it4 ,in the ,middle ,ages the clergy spoke of nothing but a future state2 they hardly cared to prove that a sincere ,christian may be a happy man here below4 ,but the ,american preachers are constantly referring to the earth2 and it is only with great difficulty that they can divert their attention from it4 ,to touch their congregations1 they always show them how favorable religious opinions are to freedom and public tranquillity2 and it is often difficult to ascertain from their discourses whether the principal object of religion is to procure eternal felicity in the other world1 or prosperity in this4 ,chapter ,x3 ,of ,the ,taste ,for ,physical ,well-,being ,in ,america ,in ,america the passion for physical well-being is not always exclusive1 but it is general2 and if all do not feel it in the same manner1 yet it is felt by all4 ,carefully to satisfy all1 even the least wants of the body1 and to provide the little conveniences of life1 is uppermost in every mind4 ,something of an analogous character is more and more apparent in ,europe4 ,amongst the causes which produce these similar consequences in both hemispheres1 several are so connected with my subject as to deserve notice4 ,when riches are hereditarily fixed in families1 there are a great number of men who enjoy the comforts of life without feeling an exclusive taste for those comforts4 ,the heart of man is not so much caught by the undisturbed possession of anything valuable as by the desire1 as yet imperfectly satisfied1 of possessing it1 and by the incessant dread of losing it4 ,in aristocratic communities1 the wealthy1 never having experienced a condition different from their own1 entertain no fear of changing it2 the existence of such conditions hardly occurs to them4 ,the comforts of life are not to them the end of life1 but simply a way of living2 they regard them as existence itself--enjoyed1 but scarcely thought of4 ,as the natural and instinctive taste which all men feel for being well off is thus satisfied without trouble and without apprehension1 their faculties are turned elsewhere1 and cling to more arduous and more lofty undertakings1 which excite and engross their minds4 ,hence it is that1 in the midst of physical gratifications1 the members of an aristocracy often display a haughty contempt of these very enjoyments1 and exhibit singular powers of endurance under the privation of them4 ,all the revolutions which have ever shaken or destroyed aristocracies1 have shown how easily men accustomed to superfluous luxuries can do without the necessaries of life2 whereas men who have toiled to acquire a competency can hardly live after they have lost it4 ,if ,i turn my observation from the upper to the lower classes1 ,i find analogous effects produced by opposite causes4 ,amongst a nation where aristocracy predominates in society1 and keeps it stationary1 the people in the end get as much accustomed to poverty as the rich to their opulence4 ,the latter bestow no anxiety on their physical comforts1 because they enjoy them without an effort2 the former do not think of things which they despair of obtaining1 and which they hardly know enough of to desire them4 ,in communities of this kind1 the imagination of the poor is driven to seek another world2 the miseries of real life inclose it around1 but it escapes from their control1 and flies to seek its pleasures far beyond4 ,when1 on the contrary1 the distinctions of ranks are confounded together and privileges are destroyed--when hereditary property is subdivided1 and education and freedom widely diffused1 the desire of acquiring the comforts of the world haunts the imagination of the poor1 and the dread of losing them that of the rich4 ,many scanty fortunes spring up2 those who possess them have a sufficient share of physical gratifications to conceive a taste for these pleasures--not enough to satisfy it4 ,they never procure them without exertion1 and they never indulge in them without apprehension4 ,they are therefore always straining to pursue or to retain gratifications so delightful1 so imperfect1 so fugitive4 ,if ,i were to inquire what passion is most natural to men who are stimulated and circumscribed by the obscurity of their birth or the mediocrity of their fortune1 ,i could discover none more peculiarly appropriate to their condition than this love of physical prosperity4 ,the passion for physical comforts is essentially a passion of the middle classes3 with those classes it grows and spreads1 with them it preponderates4 ,from them it mounts into the higher orders of society1 and descends into the mass of the people4 ,i never met in ,america with any citizen so poor as not to cast a glance of hope and envy on the enjoyments of the rich1 or whose imagination did not possess itself by anticipation of those good things which fate still obstinately withheld from him4 ,on the other hand1 ,i never perceived amongst the wealthier inhabitants of the ,united ,states that proud contempt of physical gratifications which is sometimes to be met with even in the most opulent and dissolute aristocracies4 ,most of these wealthy persons were once poor2 they have felt the sting of want2 they were long a prey to adverse fortunes2 and now that the victory is won1 the passions which accompanied the contest have survived it3 their minds are1 as it were1 intoxicated by the small enjoyments which they have pursued for forty years4 ,not but that in the ,united ,states1 as elsewhere1 there are a certain number of wealthy persons who1 having come into their property by inheritance1 possess1 without exertion1 an opulence they have not earned4 ,but even these men are not less devotedly attached to the pleasures of material life4 ,the love of well-being is now become the predominant taste of the nation2 the great current of man's passions runs in that channel1 and sweeps everything along in its course4 ,chapter ,,xi3 ,peculiar ,effects ,of ,the ,love ,of ,physical ,gratifications ,in ,democratic ,ages ,it may be supposed1 from what has just been said1 that the love of physical gratifications must constantly urge the ,americans to irregularities in morals1 disturb the peace of families1 and threaten the security of society at large4 ,such is not the case3 the passion for physical gratifications produces in democracies effects very different from those which it occasions in aristocratic nations4 ,it sometimes happens that1 wearied with public affairs and sated with opulence1 amidst the ruin of religious belief and the decline of the ,state1 the heart of an aristocracy may by degrees be seduced to the pursuit of sensual enjoyments only4 ,at other times the power of the monarch or the weakness of the people1 without stripping the nobility of their fortune1 compels them to stand aloof from the administration of affairs1 and whilst the road to mighty enterprise is closed1 abandons them to the inquietude of their own desires2 they then fall back heavily upon themselves1 and seek in the pleasures of the body oblivion of their former greatness4 ,when the members of an aristocratic body are thus exclusively devoted to the pursuit of physical gratifications1 they commonly concentrate in that direction all the energy which they derive from their long experience of power4 ,such men are not satisfied with the pursuit of comfort2 they require sumptuous depravity and splendid corruption4 ,the worship they pay the senses is a gorgeous one2 and they seem to vie with each other in the art of degrading their own natures4 ,the stronger1 the more famous1 and the more free an aristocracy has been1 the more depraved will it then become2 and however brilliant may have been the lustre of its virtues1 ,i dare predict that they will always be surpassed by the splendor of its vices4 ,the taste for physical gratifications leads a democratic people into no such excesses4 ,the love of well-being is there displayed as a tenacious1 exclusive1 universal passion2 but its range is confined4 ,to build enormous palaces1 to conquer or to mimic nature1 to ransack the world in order to gratify the passions of a man1 is not thought of3 but to add a few roods of land to your field1 to plant an orchard1 to enlarge a dwelling1 to be always making life more comfortable and convenient1 to avoid trouble1 and to satisfy the smallest wants without effort and almost without cost4 ,these are small objects1 but the soul clings to them2 it dwells upon them closely and day by day1 till they at last shut out the rest of the world1 and sometimes intervene between itself and heaven4 ,this1 it may be said1 can only be applicable to those members of the community who are in humble circumstances2 wealthier individuals will display tastes akin to those which belonged to them in aristocratic ages4 ,i contest the proposition3 in point of physical gratifications1 the most opulent members of a democracy will not display tastes very different from those of the people2 whether it be that1 springing from the people1 they really share those tastes1 or that they esteem it a duty to submit to them4 ,in democratic society the sensuality of the public has taken a moderate and tranquil course1 to which all are bound to conform3 it is as difficult to depart from the common rule by one's vices as by one's virtues4 ,rich men who live amidst democratic nations are therefore more intent on providing for their smallest wants than for their extraordinary enjoyments2 they gratify a number of petty desires1 without indulging in any great irregularities of passion3 thus they are more apt to become enervated than debauched4 ,the especial taste which the men of democratic ages entertain for physical enjoyments is not naturally opposed to the principles of public order2 nay1 it often stands in need of order that it may be gratified4 ,nor is it adverse to regularity of morals1 for good morals contribute to public tranquillity and are favorable to industry4 ,it may even be frequently combined with a species of religious morality3 men wish to be as well off as they can in this world1 without foregoing their chance of another4 ,some physical gratifications cannot be indulged in without crime2 from such they strictly abstain4 ,the enjoyment of others is sanctioned by religion and morality2 to these the heart1 the imagination1 and life itself are unreservedly given up2 till1 in snatching at these lesser gifts1 men lose sight of those more precious possessions which constitute the glory and the greatness of mankind4 ,the reproach ,i address to the principle of equality1 is not that it leads men away in the pursuit of forbidden enjoyments1 but that it absorbs them wholly in quest of those which are allowed4 ,by these means1 a kind of virtuous materialism may ultimately be established in the world1 which would not corrupt1 but enervate the soul1 and noiselessly unbend its springs of action4 ,chapter ,,xii3 ,causes ,of ,fanatical ,enthusiasm ,in ,some ,americans ,although the desire of acquiring the good things of this world is the prevailing passion of the ,american people1 certain momentary outbreaks occur1 when their souls seem suddenly to burst the bonds of matter by which they are restrained1 and to soar impetuously towards heaven4 ,in all the ,states of the ,union1 but especially in the half-peopled country of the ,far ,west1 wandering preachers may be met with who hawk about the word of ,god from place to place4 ,whole families--old men1 women1 and children--cross rough passes and untrodden wilds1 coming from a great distance1 to join a camp-meeting1 where they totally forget for several days and nights1 in listening to these discourses1 the cares of business and even the most urgent wants of the body4 ,here and there1 in the midst of ,american society1 you meet with men1 full of a fanatical and almost wild enthusiasm1 which hardly exists in ,europe4 ,from time to time strange sects arise1 which endeavor to strike out extraordinary paths to eternal happiness4 ,religious insanity is very common in the ,united ,states4 ,nor ought these facts to surprise us4 ,it was not man who implanted in himself the taste for what is infinite and the love of what is immortal3 those lofty instincts are not the offspring of his capricious will2 their steadfast foundation is fixed in human nature1 and they exist in spite of his efforts4 ,he may cross and distort them--destroy them he cannot4 ,the soul has wants which must be satisfied2 and whatever pains be taken to divert it from itself1 it soon grows weary1 restless1 and disquieted amidst the enjoyments of sense4 ,if ever the faculties of the great majority of mankind were exclusively bent upon the pursuit of material objects1 it might be anticipated that an amazing reaction would take place in the souls of some men4 ,they would drift at large in the world of spirits1 for fear of remaining shackled by the close bondage of the body4 ,it is not then wonderful if1 in the midst of a community whose thoughts tend earthward1 a small number of individuals are to be found who turn their looks to heaven4 ,i should be surprised if mysticism did not soon make some advance amongst a people solely engaged in promoting its own worldly welfare4 ,it is said that the deserts of the ,thebaid were peopled by the persecutions of the emperors and the massacres of the ,circus2 ,i should rather say that it was by the luxuries of ,rome and the ,epicurean philosophy of ,greece4 ,if their social condition1 their present circumstances1 and their laws did not confine the minds of the ,americans so closely to the pursuit of worldly welfare1 it is probable that they would display more reserve and more experience whenever their attention is turned to things immaterial1 and that they would check themselves without difficulty4 ,but they feel imprisoned within bounds which they will apparently never be allowed to pass4 ,as soon as they have passed these bounds1 their minds know not where to fix themselves1 and they often rush unrestrained beyond the range of common-sense4 ,chapter ,,xiii3 ,causes ,of ,the ,restless ,spirit ,of ,americans ,in ,the ,midst ,of ,their ,prosperity ,in certain remote corners of the ,old ,world you may still sometimes stumble upon a small district which seems to have been forgotten amidst the general tumult1 and to have remained stationary whilst everything around it was in motion4 ,the inhabitants are for the most part extremely ignorant and poor2 they take no part in the business of the country1 and they are frequently oppressed by the government2 yet their countenances are generally placid1 and their spirits light4 ,in ,america ,i saw the freest and most enlightened men1 placed in the happiest circumstances which the world affords3 it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow1 and ,i thought them serious and almost sad even in their pleasures4 ,the chief reason of this contrast is that the former do not think of the ills they endure--the latter are forever brooding over advantages they do not possess4 ,it is strange to see with what feverish ardor the ,americans pursue their own welfare2 and to watch the vague dread that constantly torments them lest they should not have chosen the shortest path which may lead to it4 ,a native of the ,united ,states clings to this world's goods as if he were certain never to die2 and he is so hasty in grasping at all within his reach1 that one would suppose he was constantly afraid of not living long enough to enjoy them4 ,he clutches everything1 he holds nothing fast1 but soon loosens his grasp to pursue fresh gratifications4 ,in the ,united ,states a man builds a house to spend his latter years in it1 and he sells it before the roof is on3 he plants a garden1 and lets it just as the trees are coming into bearing3 he brings a field into tillage1 and leaves other men to gather the crops3 he embraces a profession1 and gives it up3 he settles in a place1 which he soon afterwards leaves1 to carry his changeable longings elsewhere4 ,if his private affairs leave him any leisure1 he instantly plunges into the vortex of politics2 and if at the end of a year of unremitting labor he finds he has a few days' vacation1 his eager curiosity whirls him over the vast extent of the ,united ,states1 and he will travel fifteen hundred miles in a few days1 to shake off his happiness4 ,death at length overtakes him1 but it is before he is weary of his bootless chase of that complete felicity which is forever on the wing4 ,at first sight there is something surprising in this strange unrest of so many happy men1 restless in the midst of abundance4 ,the spectacle itself is however as old as the world2 the novelty is to see a whole people furnish an exemplification of it4 ,their taste for physical gratifications must be regarded as the original source of that secret inquietude which the actions of the ,americans betray1 and of that inconstancy of which they afford fresh examples every day4 ,he who has set his heart exclusively upon the pursuit of worldly welfare is always in a hurry1 for he has but a limited time at his disposal to reach it1 to grasp it1 and to enjoy it4 ,the recollection of the brevity of life is a constant spur to him4 ,besides the good things which he possesses1 he every instant fancies a thousand others which death will prevent him from trying if he does not try them soon4 ,this thought fills him with anxiety1 fear1 and regret1 and keeps his mind in ceaseless trepidation1 which leads him perpetually to change his plans and his abode4 ,if in addition to the taste for physical well-being a social condition be superadded1 in which the laws and customs make no condition permanent1 here is a great additional stimulant to this restlessness of temper4 ,men will then be seen continually to change their track1 for fear of missing the shortest cut to happiness4 ,it may readily be conceived that if men1 passionately bent upon physical gratifications1 desire eagerly1 they are also easily discouraged3 as their ultimate object is to enjoy1 the means to reach that object must be prompt and easy1 or the trouble of acquiring the gratification would be greater than the gratification itself4 ,their prevailing frame of mind then is at once ardent and relaxed1 violent and enervated4 ,death is often less dreaded than perseverance in continuous efforts to one end4 ,the equality of conditions leads by a still straighter road to several of the effects which ,i have here described4 ,when all the privileges of birth and fortune are abolished1 when all professions are accessible to all1 and a man's own energies may place him at the top of any one of them1 an easy and unbounded career seems open to his ambition1 and he will readily persuade himself that he is born to no vulgar destinies4 ,but this is an erroneous notion1 which is corrected by daily experience4 ,the same equality which allows every citizen to conceive these lofty hopes1 renders all the citizens less able to realize them3 it circumscribes their powers on every side1 whilst it gives freer scope to their desires4 ,not only are they themselves powerless1 but they are met at every step by immense obstacles1 which they did not at first perceive4 ,they have swept away the privileges of some of their fellow-creatures which stood in their way1 but they have opened the door to universal competition3 the barrier has changed its shape rather than its position4 ,when men are nearly alike1 and all follow the same track1 it is very difficult for any one individual to walk quick and cleave a way through the dense throng which surrounds and presses him4 ,this constant strife between the propensities springing from the equality of conditions and the means it supplies to satisfy them1 harasses and wearies the mind4 ,it is possible to conceive men arrived at a degree of freedom which should completely content them2 they would then enjoy their independence without anxiety and without impatience4 ,but men will never establish any equality with which they can be contented4 ,whatever efforts a people may make1 they will never succeed in reducing all the conditions of society to a perfect level2 and even if they unhappily attained that absolute and complete depression1 the inequality of minds would still remain1 which1 coming directly from the hand of ,god1 will forever escape the laws of man4 ,however democratic then the social state and the political constitution of a people may be1 it is certain that every member of the community will always find out several points about him which command his own position2 and we may foresee that his looks will be doggedly fixed in that direction4 ,when inequality of conditions is the common law of society1 the most marked inequalities do not strike the eye3 when everything is nearly on the same level1 the slightest are marked enough to hurt it4 ,hence the desire of equality always becomes more insatiable in proportion as equality is more complete4 ,amongst democratic nations men easily attain a certain equality of conditions3 they can never attain the equality they desire4 ,it perpetually retires from before them1 yet without hiding itself from their sight1 and in retiring draws them on4 ,at every moment they think they are about to grasp it2 it escapes at every moment from their hold4 ,they are near enough to see its charms1 but too far off to enjoy them2 and before they have fully tasted its delights they die4 ,to these causes must be attributed that strange melancholy which oftentimes will haunt the inhabitants of democratic countries in the midst of their abundance1 and that disgust at life which sometimes seizes upon them in the midst of calm and easy circumstances4 ,complaints are made in ,france that the number of suicides increases2 in ,america suicide is rare1 but insanity is said to be more common than anywhere else4 ,these are all different symptoms of the same disease4 ,the ,americans do not put an end to their lives1 however disquieted they may be1 because their religion forbids it2 and amongst them materialism may be said hardly to exist1 notwithstanding the general passion for physical gratification4 ,the will resists--reason frequently gives way4 ,in democratic ages enjoyments are more intense than in the ages of aristocracy1 and especially the number of those who partake in them is larger3 but1 on the other hand1 it must be admitted that man's hopes and his desires are oftener blasted1 the soul is more stricken and perturbed1 and care itself more keen4 ,chapter ,,xiv3 ,taste ,for ,physical ,gratifications ,united ,in ,america ,to ,love ,of ,freedom ,and ,attention ,to ,public ,affairs ,when a democratic state turns to absolute monarchy1 the activity which was before directed to public and to private affairs is all at once centred upon the latter3 the immediate consequence is1 for some time1 great physical prosperity2 but this impulse soon slackens1 and the amount of productive industry is checked4 ,i know not if a single trading or manufacturing people can be cited1 from the ,tyrians down to the ,florentines and the ,english1 who were not a free people also4 ,there is therefore a close bond and necessary relation between these two elements--freedom and productive industry4 ,this proposition is generally true of all nations1 but especially of democratic nations4 ,i have already shown that men who live in ages of equality continually require to form associations in order to procure the things they covet2 and1 on the other hand1 ,i have shown how great political freedom improves and diffuses the art of association4 ,freedom1 in these ages1 is therefore especially favorable to the production of wealth2 nor is it difficult to perceive that despotism is especially adverse to the same result4 ,the nature of despotic power in democratic ages is not to be fierce or cruel1 but minute and meddling4 ,despotism of this kind1 though it does not trample on humanity1 is directly opposed to the genius of commerce and the pursuits of industry4 ,thus the men of democratic ages require to be free in order more readily to procure those physical enjoyments for which they are always longing4 ,it sometimes happens1 however1 that the excessive taste they conceive for these same enjoyments abandons them to the first master who appears4 ,the passion for worldly welfare then defeats itself1 and1 without perceiving it1 throws the object of their desires to a greater distance4 ,there is1 indeed1 a most dangerous passage in the history of a democratic people4 ,when the taste for physical gratifications amongst such a people has grown more rapidly than their education and their experience of free institutions1 the time will come when men are carried away1 and lose all self-restraint1 at the sight of the new possessions they are about to lay hold upon4 ,in their intense and exclusive anxiety to make a fortune1 they lose sight of the close connection which exists between the private fortune of each of them and the prosperity of all4 ,it is not necessary to do violence to such a people in order to strip them of the rights they enjoy2 they themselves willingly loosen their hold4 ,the discharge of political duties appears to them to be a troublesome annoyance1 which diverts them from their occupations and business4 ,if they be required to elect representatives1 to support the ,government by personal service1 to meet on public business1 they have no time--they cannot waste their precious time in useless engagements3 such idle amusements are unsuited to serious men who are engaged with the more important interests of life4 ,these people think they are following the principle of self-interest1 but the idea they entertain of that principle is a very rude one2 and the better to look after what they call their business1 they neglect their chief business1 which is to remain their own masters4 ,as the citizens who work do not care to attend to public business1 and as the class which might devote its leisure to these duties has ceased to exist1 the place of the ,government is1 as it were1 unfilled4 ,if at that critical moment some able and ambitious man grasps the supreme power1 he will find the road to every kind of usurpation open before him4 ,if he does but attend for some time to the material prosperity of the country1 no more will be demanded of him4 ,above all he must insure public tranquillity3 men who are possessed by the passion of physical gratification generally find out that the turmoil of freedom disturbs their welfare1 before they discover how freedom itself serves to promote it4 ,if the slightest rumor of public commotion intrudes into the petty pleasures of private life1 they are aroused and alarmed by it4 ,the fear of anarchy perpetually haunts them1 and they are always ready to fling away their freedom at the first disturbance4 ,i readily admit that public tranquillity is a great good2 but at the same time ,i cannot forget that all nations have been enslaved by being kept in good order4 ,certainly it is not to be inferred that nations ought to despise public tranquillity2 but that state ought not to content them4 ,a nation which asks nothing of its government but the maintenance of order is already a slave at heart--the slave of its own well-being1 awaiting but the hand that will bind it4 ,by such a nation the despotism of faction is not less to be dreaded than the despotism of an individual4 ,when the bulk of the community is engrossed by private concerns1 the smallest parties need not despair of getting the upper hand in public affairs4 ,at such times it is not rare to see upon the great stage of the world1 as we see at our theatres1 a multitude represented by a few players1 who alone speak in the name of an absent or inattentive crowd3 they alone are in action whilst all are stationary2 they regulate everything by their own caprice2 they change the laws1 and tyrannize at will over the manners of the country2 and then men wonder to see into how small a number of weak and worthless hands a great people may fall4 ,hitherto the ,americans have fortunately escaped all the perils which ,i have just pointed out2 and in this respect they are really deserving of admiration4 ,perhaps there is no country in the world where fewer idle men are to be met with than in ,america1 or where all who work are more eager to promote their own welfare4 ,but if the passion of the ,americans for physical gratifications is vehement1 at least it is not indiscriminating2 and reason1 though unable to restrain it1 still directs its course4 ,an ,american attends to his private concerns as if he were alone in the world1 and the next minute he gives himself up to the common weal as if he had forgotten them4 ,at one time he seems animated by the most selfish cupidity1 at another by the most lively patriotism4 ,the human heart cannot be thus divided4 ,the inhabitants of the ,united ,states alternately display so strong and so similar a passion for their own welfare and for their freedom1 that it may be supposed that these passions are united and mingled in some part of their character4 ,and indeed the ,americans believe their freedom to be the best instrument and surest safeguard of their welfare3 they are attached to the one by the other4 ,they by no means think that they are not called upon to take a part in the public weal2 they believe1 on the contrary1 that their chief business is to secure for themselves a government which will allow them to acquire the things they covet1 and which will not debar them from the peaceful enjoyment of those possessions which they have acquired4 ,chapter ,,xv3 ,that ,religious ,belief ,sometimes ,turns ,the ,thoughts ,of ,the ,americans ,to ,immaterial ,pleasures ,in the ,united ,states1 on the seventh day of every week1 the trading and working life of the nation seems suspended2 all noises cease2 a deep tranquillity1 say rather the solemn calm of meditation1 succeeds the turmoil of the week1 and the soul resumes possession and contemplation of itself4 ,upon this day the marts of traffic are deserted2 every member of the community1 accompanied by his children1 goes to church1 where he listens to strange language which would seem unsuited to his ear4 ,he is told of the countless evils caused by pride and covetousness3 he is reminded of the necessity of checking his desires1 of the finer pleasures which belong to virtue alone1 and of the true happiness which attends it4 ,on his return home1 he does not turn to the ledgers of his calling1 but he opens the book of ,holy ,scripture2 there he meets with sublime or affecting descriptions of the greatness and goodness of the ,creator1 of the infinite magnificence of the handiwork of ,god1 of the lofty destinies of man1 of his duties1 and of his immortal privileges4 ,thus it is that the ,american at times steals an hour from himself2 and laying aside for a while the petty passions which agitate his life1 and the ephemeral interests which engross it1 he strays at once into an ideal world1 where all is great1 eternal1 and pure4 ,i have endeavored to point out in another part of this work the causes to which the maintenance of the political institutions of the ,americans is attributable2 and religion appeared to be one of the most prominent amongst them4 ,i am now treating of the ,americans in an individual capacity1 and ,i again observe that religion is not less useful to each citizen than to the whole ,state4 ,the ,americans show1 by their practice1 that they feel the high necessity of imparting morality to democratic communities by means of religion4 ,what they think of themselves in this respect is a truth of which every democratic nation ought to be thoroughly persuaded4 ,i do not doubt that the social and political constitution of a people predisposes them to adopt a certain belief and certain tastes1 which afterwards flourish without difficulty amongst them2 whilst the same causes may divert a people from certain opinions and propensities1 without any voluntary effort1 and1 as it were1 without any distinct consciousness1 on their part4 ,the whole art of the legislator is correctly to discern beforehand these natural inclinations of communities of men1 in order to know whether they should be assisted1 or whether it may not be necessary to check them4 ,for the duties incumbent on the legislator differ at different times2 the goal towards which the human race ought ever to be tending is alone stationary2 the means of reaching it are perpetually to be varied4 ,if ,i had been born in an aristocratic age1 in the midst of a nation where the hereditary wealth of some1 and the irremediable penury of others1 should equally divert men from the idea of bettering their condition1 and hold the soul as it were in a state of torpor fixed on the contemplation of another world1 ,i should then wish that it were possible for me to rouse that people to a sense of their wants2 ,i should seek to discover more rapid and more easy means for satisfying the fresh desires which ,i might have awakened2 and1 directing the most strenuous efforts of the human mind to physical pursuits1 ,i should endeavor to stimulate it to promote the well-being of man4 ,if it happened that some men were immoderately incited to the pursuit of riches1 and displayed an excessive liking for physical gratifications1 ,i should not be alarmed2 these peculiar symptoms would soon be absorbed in the general aspect of the people4 ,the attention of the legislators of democracies is called to other cares4 ,give democratic nations education and freedom1 and leave them alone4 ,they will soon learn to draw from this world all the benefits which it can afford2 they will improve each of the useful arts1 and will day by day render life more comfortable1 more convenient1 and more easy4 ,their social condition naturally urges them in this direction2 ,i do not fear that they will slacken their course4 ,but whilst man takes delight in this honest and lawful pursuit of his wellbeing1 it is to be apprehended that he may in the end lose the use of his sublimest faculties2 and that whilst he is busied in improving all around him1 he may at length degrade himself4 ,here1 and here only1 does the peril lie4 ,it should therefore be the unceasing object of the legislators of democracies1 and of all the virtuous and enlightened men who live there1 to raise the souls of their fellow-citizens1 and keep them lifted up towards heaven4 ,it is necessary that all who feel an interest in the future destinies of democratic society should unite1 and that all should make joint and continual efforts to diffuse the love of the infinite1 a sense of greatness1 and a love of pleasures not of earth4 ,if amongst the opinions of a democratic people any of those pernicious theories exist which tend to inculcate that all perishes with the body1 let men by whom such theories are professed be marked as the natural foes of such a people4 ,the materialists are offensive to me in many respects2 their doctrines ,i hold to be pernicious1 and ,i am disgusted at their arrogance4 ,if their system could be of any utility to man1 it would seem to be by giving him a modest opinion of himself4 ,but these reasoners show that it is not so2 and when they think they have said enough to establish that they are brutes1 they show themselves as proud as if they had demonstrated that they are gods4 ,materialism is1 amongst all nations1 a dangerous disease of the human mind2 but it is more especially to be dreaded amongst a democratic people1 because it readily amalgamates with that vice which is most familiar to the heart under such circumstances4 ,democracy encourages a taste for physical gratification3 this taste1 if it become excessive1 soon disposes men to believe that all is matter only2 and materialism1 in turn1 hurries them back with mad impatience to these same delights3 such is the fatal circle within which democratic nations are driven round4 ,it were well that they should see the danger and hold back4 ,most religions are only general1 simple1 and practical means of teaching men the doctrine of the immortality of the soul4 ,that is the greatest benefit which a democratic people derives1 from its belief1 and hence belief is more necessary to such a people than to all others4 ,when therefore any religion has struck its roots deep into a democracy1 beware lest you disturb them2 but rather watch it carefully1 as the most precious bequest of aristocratic ages4 ,seek not to supersede the old religious opinions of men by new ones2 lest in the passage from one faith to another1 the soul being left for a while stripped of all belief1 the love of physical gratifications should grow upon it and fill it wholly4 ,the doctrine of metempsychosis is assuredly not more rational than that of materialism2 nevertheless if it were absolutely necessary that a democracy should choose one of the two1 ,i should not hesitate to decide that the community would run less risk of being brutalized by believing that the soul of man will pass into the carcass of a hog1 than by believing that the soul of man is nothing at all4 ,the belief in a supersensual and immortal principle1 united for a time to matter1 is so indispensable to man's greatness1 that its effects are striking even when it is not united to the doctrine of future reward and punishment2 and when it holds no more than that after death the divine principle contained in man is absorbed in the ,deity1 or transferred to animate the frame of some other creature4 ,men holding so imperfect a belief will still consider the body as the secondary and inferior portion of their nature1 and they will despise it even whilst they yield to its influence2 whereas they have a natural esteem and secret admiration for the immaterial part of man1 even though they sometimes refuse to submit to its dominion4 ,that is enough to give a lofty cast to their opinions and their tastes1 and to bid them tend with no interested motive1 and as it were by impulse1 to pure feelings and elevated thoughts4 ,it is not certain that ,socrates and his followers had very fixed opinions as to what would befall man hereafter2 but the sole point of belief on which they were determined--that the soul has nothing in common with the body1 and survives it--was enough to give the ,platonic philosophy that sublime aspiration by which it is distinguished4 ,it is clear from the works of ,plato1 that many philosophical writers1 his predecessors or contemporaries1 professed materialism4 ,these writers have not reached us1 or have reached us in mere fragments4 ,the same thing has happened in almost all ages2 the greater part of the most famous minds in literature adhere to the doctrines of a supersensual philosophy4 ,the instinct and the taste of the human race maintain those doctrines2 they save them oftentimes in spite of men themselves1 and raise the names of their defenders above the tide of time4 ,it must not then be supposed that at any period or under any political condition1 the passion for physical gratifications1 and the opinions which are superinduced by that passion1 can ever content a whole people4 ,the heart of man is of a larger mould3 it can at once comprise a taste for the possessions of earth and the love of those of heaven3 at times it may seem to cling devotedly to the one1 but it will never be long without thinking of the other4 ,if it be easy to see that it is more particularly important in democratic ages that spiritual opinions should prevail1 it is not easy to say by what means those who govern democratic nations may make them predominate4 ,i am no believer in the prosperity1 any more than in the durability1 of official philosophies2 and as to state religions1 ,i have always held1 that if they be sometimes of momentary service to the interests of political power1 they always1 sooner or later1 become fatal to the ,church4 ,nor do ,i think with those who assert1 that to raise religion in the eyes of the people1 and to make them do honor to her spiritual doctrines1 it is desirable indirectly to give her ministers a political influence which the laws deny them4 ,i am so much alive to the almost inevitable dangers which beset religious belief whenever the clergy take part in public affairs1 and ,i am so convinced that ,christianity must be maintained at any cost in the bosom of modern democracies1 that ,i had rather shut up the priesthood within the sanctuary than allow them to step beyond it4 ,what means then remain in the hands of constituted authorities to bring men back to spiritual opinions1 or to hold them fast to the religion by which those opinions are suggested8 ,my answer will do me harm in the eyes of politicians4 ,i believe that the sole effectual means which governments can employ in order to have the doctrine of the immortality of the soul duly respected1 is ever to act as if they believed in it themselves2 and ,i think that it is only by scrupulous conformity to religious morality in great affairs that they can hope to teach the community at large to know1 to love1 and to observe it in the lesser concerns of life4 ,chapter ,,xvi3 ,that ,excessive ,care ,of ,worldly ,welfare ,may ,impair ,that ,welfare ,there is a closer tie than is commonly supposed between the improvement of the soul and the amelioration of what belongs to the body4 ,man may leave these two things apart1 and consider each of them alternately2 but he cannot sever them entirely without at last losing sight of one and of the other4 ,the beasts have the same senses as ourselves1 and very nearly the same appetites4 ,we have no sensual passions which are not common to our race and theirs1 and which are not to be found1 at least in the germ1 in a dog as well as in a man4 ,whence is it then that the animals can only provide for their first and lowest wants1 whereas we can infinitely vary and endlessly increase our enjoyments8 ,we are superior to the beasts in this1 that we use our souls to find out those material benefits to which they are only led by instinct4 ,in man1 the angel teaches the brute the art of contenting its desires4 ,it is because man is capable of rising above the things of the body1 and of contemning life itself1 of which the beasts have not the least notion1 that he can multiply these same things of the body to a degree which inferior races are equally unable to conceive4 ,whatever elevates1 enlarges1 and expands the soul1 renders it more capable of succeeding in those very undertakings which concern it not4 ,whatever1 on the other hand1 enervates or lowers it1 weakens it for all purposes1 the chiefest1 as well as the least1 and threatens to render it almost equally impotent for the one and for the other4 ,hence the soul must remain great and strong1 though it were only to devote its strength and greatness from time to time to the service of the body4 ,if men were ever to content themselves with material objects1 it is probable that they would lose by degrees the art of producing them2 and they would enjoy them in the end1 like the brutes1 without discernment and without improvement4 ,chapter ,,xvii3 ,that ,in ,times ,marked ,by ,equality ,of ,conditions ,and ,sceptical ,opinions1 ,it ,is ,important ,to ,remove ,to ,a ,distance ,the ,objects ,of ,human ,actions ,in the ages of faith the final end of life is placed beyond life4 ,the men of those ages therefore naturally1 and in a manner involuntarily1 accustom themselves to fix their gaze for a long course of years on some immovable object1 towards which they are constantly tending2 and they learn by insensible degrees to repress a multitude of petty passing desires1 in order to be the better able to content that great and lasting desire which possesses them4 ,when these same men engage in the affairs of this world1 the same habits may be traced in their conduct4 ,they are apt to set up some general and certain aim and end to their actions here below1 towards which all their efforts are directed3 they do not turn from day to day to chase some novel object of desire1 but they have settled designs which they are never weary of pursuing4 ,this explains why religious nations have so often achieved such lasting results3 for whilst they were thinking only of the other world1 they had found out the great secret of success in this4 ,religions give men a general habit of conducting themselves with a view to futurity3 in this respect they are not less useful to happiness in this life than to felicity hereafter2 and this is one of their chief political characteristics4 ,but in proportion as the light of faith grows dim1 the range of man's sight is circumscribed1 as if the end and aim of human actions appeared every day to be more within his reach4 ,when men have once allowed themselves to think no more of what is to befall them after life1 they readily lapse into that complete and brutal indifference to futurity1 which is but too conformable to some propensities of mankind4 ,as soon as they have lost the habit of placing their chief hopes upon remote events1 they naturally seek to gratify without delay their smallest desires2 and no sooner do they despair of living forever1 than they are disposed to act as if they were to exist but for a single day4 ,in sceptical ages it is always therefore to be feared that men may perpetually give way to their daily casual desires2 and that1 wholly renouncing whatever cannot be acquired without protracted effort1 they may establish nothing great1 permanent1 and calm4 ,if the social condition of a people1 under these circumstances1 becomes democratic1 the danger which ,i here point out is thereby increased4 ,when everyone is constantly striving to change his position--when an immense field for competition is thrown open to all--when wealth is amassed or dissipated in the shortest possible space of time amidst the turmoil of democracy1 visions of sudden and easy fortunes--of great possessions easily won and lost--of chance1 under all its forms--haunt the mind4 ,the instability of society itself fosters the natural instability of man's desires4 ,in the midst of these perpetual fluctuations of his lot1 the present grows upon his mind1 until it conceals futurity from his sight1 and his looks go no further than the morrow4 ,in those countries in which unhappily irreligion and democracy coexist1 the most important duty of philosophers and of those in power is to be always striving to place the objects of human actions far beyond man's immediate range4 ,circumscribed by the character of his country and his age1 the moralist must learn to vindicate his principles in that position4 ,he must constantly endeavor to show his contemporaries1 that1 even in the midst of the perpetual commotion around them1 it is easier than they think to conceive and to execute protracted undertakings4 ,he must teach them that1 although the aspect of mankind may have changed1 the methods by which men may provide for their prosperity in this world are still the same2 and that amongst democratic nations1 as well as elsewhere1 it is only by resisting a thousand petty selfish passions of the hour that the general and unquenchable passion for happiness can be satisfied4 ,the task of those in power is not less clearly marked out4 ,at all times it is important that those who govern nations should act with a view to the future3 but this is even more necessary in democratic and sceptical ages than in any others4 ,by acting thus1 the leading men of democracies not only make public affairs prosperous1 but they also teach private individuals1 by their example1 the art of managing private concerns4 ,above all they must strive as much as possible to banish chance from the sphere of politics4 ,the sudden and undeserved promotion of a courtier produces only a transient impression in an aristocratic country1 because the aggregate institutions and opinions of the nation habitually compel men to advance slowly in tracks which they cannot get out of4 ,but nothing is more pernicious than similar instances of favor exhibited to the eyes of a democratic people3 they give the last impulse to the public mind in a direction where everything hurries it onwards4 ,at times of scepticism and equality more especially1 the favor of the people or of the prince1 which chance may confer or chance withhold1 ought never to stand in lieu of attainments or services4 ,it is desirable that every advancement should there appear to be the result of some effort2 so that no greatness should be of too easy acquirement1 and that ambition should be obliged to fix its gaze long upon an object before it is gratified4 ,governments must apply themselves to restore to men that love of the future with which religion and the state of society no longer inspire them2 and1 without saying so1 they must practically teach the community day by day that wealth1 fame1 and power are the rewards of labor--that great success stands at the utmost range of long desires1 and that nothing lasting is obtained but what is obtained by toil4 ,when men have accustomed themselves to foresee from afar what is likely to befall in the world and to feed upon hopes1 they can hardly confine their minds within the precise circumference of life1 and they are ready to break the boundary and cast their looks beyond4 ,i do not doubt that1 by training the members of a community to think of their future condition in this world1 they would be gradually and unconsciously brought nearer to religious convictions4 ,thus the means which allow men1 up to a certain point1 to go without religion1 are perhaps after all the only means we still possess for bringing mankind back by a long and roundabout path to a state of faith4 ,chapter ,,xviii3 ,that ,amongst ,the ,americans ,all ,honest ,callings ,are ,honorable ,amongst a democratic people1 where there is no hereditary wealth1 every man works to earn a living1 or has worked1 or is born of parents who have worked4 ,the notion of labor is therefore presented to the mind on every side as the necessary1 natural1 and honest condition of human existence4 ,not only is labor not dishonorable amongst such a people1 but it is held in honor3 the prejudice is not against it1 but in its favor4 ,in the ,united ,states a wealthy man thinks that he owes it to public opinion to devote his leisure to some kind of industrial or commercial pursuit1 or to public business4 ,he would think himself in bad repute if he employed his life solely in living4 ,it is for the purpose of escaping this obligation to work1 that so many rich ,americans come to ,europe1 where they find some scattered remains of aristocratic society1 amongst which idleness is still held in honor4 ,equality of conditions not only ennobles the notion of labor in men's estimation1 but it raises the notion of labor as a source of profit4 ,in aristocracies it is not exactly labor that is despised1 but labor with a view to profit4 ,labor is honorific in itself1 when it is undertaken at the sole bidding of ambition or of virtue4 ,yet in aristocratic society it constantly happens that he who works for honor is not insensible to the attractions of profit4 ,but these two desires only intermingle in the innermost depths of his soul3 he carefully hides from every eye the point at which they join2 he would fain conceal it from himself4 ,in aristocratic countries there are few public officers who do not affect to serve their country without interested motives4 ,their salary is an incident of which they think but little1 and of which they always affect not to think at all4 ,thus the notion of profit is kept distinct from that of labor2 however they may be united in point of fact1 they are not thought of together4 ,in democratic communities these two notions are1 on the contrary1 always palpably united4 ,as the desire of well-being is universal--as fortunes are slender or fluctuating--as everyone wants either to increase his own resources1 or to provide fresh ones for his progeny1 men clearly see that it is profit which1 if not wholly1 at least partially1 leads them to work4 ,even those who are principally actuated by the love of fame are necessarily made familiar with the thought that they are not exclusively actuated by that motive2 and they discover that the desire of getting a living is mingled in their minds with the desire of making life illustrious4 ,as soon as1 on the one hand1 labor is held by the whole community to be an honorable necessity of man's condition1 and1 on the other1 as soon as labor is always ostensibly performed1 wholly or in part1 for the purpose of earning remuneration1 the immense interval which separated different callings in aristocratic societies disappears4 ,if all are not alike1 all at least have one feature in common4 ,no profession exists in which men do not work for money2 and the remuneration which is common to them all gives them all an air of resemblance4 ,this serves to explain the opinions which the ,americans entertain with respect to different callings4 ,in ,america no one is degraded because he works1 for everyone about him works also2 nor is anyone humiliated by the notion of receiving pay1 for the ,president of the ,united ,states also works for pay4 ,he is paid for commanding1 other men for obeying orders4 ,in the ,united ,states professions are more or less laborious1 more or less profitable2 but they are never either high or low3 every honest calling is honorable4 ,chapter ,,xix3 ,that ,almost ,all ,the ,americans ,follow ,industrial ,callings ,agriculture is1 perhaps1 of all the useful arts that which improves most slowly amongst democratic nations4 ,frequently1 indeed1 it would seem to be stationary1 because other arts are making rapid strides towards perfection4 ,on the other hand1 almost all the tastes and habits which the equality of condition engenders naturally lead men to commercial and industrial occupations4 ,suppose an active1 enlightened1 and free man1 enjoying a competency1 but full of desires3 he is too poor to live in idleness2 he is rich enough to feel himself protected from the immediate fear of want1 and he thinks how he can better his condition4 ,this man has conceived a taste for physical gratifications1 which thousands of his fellow-men indulge in around him2 he has himself begun to enjoy these pleasures1 and he is eager to increase his means of satisfying these tastes more completely4 ,but life is slipping away1 time is urgent--to what is he to turn8 ,the cultivation of the ground promises an almost certain result to his exertions1 but a slow one2 men are not enriched by it without patience and toil4 ,agriculture is therefore only suited to those who have already large1 superfluous wealth1 or to those whose penury bids them only seek a bare subsistence4 ,the choice of such a man as we have supposed is soon made2 he sells his plot of ground1 leaves his dwelling1 and embarks in some hazardous but lucrative calling4 ,democratic communities abound in men of this kind2 and in proportion as the equality of conditions becomes greater1 their multitude increases4 ,thus democracy not only swells the number of workingmen1 but it leads men to prefer one kind of labor to another2 and whilst it diverts them from agriculture1 it encourages their taste for commerce and manufactures4 99a ,footnote a3 ,it has often been remarked that manufacturers and mercantile men are inordinately addicted to physical gratifications1 and this has been attributed to commerce and manufactures2 but that is1 ,i apprehend1 to take the effect for the cause4 ,the taste for physical gratifications is not imparted to men by commerce or manufactures1 but it is rather this taste which leads men to embark in commerce and manufactures1 as a means by which they hope to satisfy themselves more promptly and more completely4 ,if commerce and manufactures increase the desire of well-being1 it is because every passion gathers strength in proportion as it is cultivated1 and is increased by all the efforts made to satiate it4 ,all the causes which make the love of worldly welfare predominate in the heart of man are favorable to the growth of commerce and manufactures4 ,equality of conditions is one of those causes2 it encourages trade1 not directly by giving men a taste for business1 but indirectly by strengthening and expanding in their minds a taste for prosperity4 ,this spirit may be observed even amongst the richest members of the community4 ,in democratic countries1 however opulent a man is supposed to be1 he is almost always discontented with his fortune1 because he finds that he is less rich than his father was1 and he fears that his sons will be less rich than himself4 ,most rich men in democracies are therefore constantly haunted by the desire of obtaining wealth1 and they naturally turn their attention to trade and manufactures1 which appear to offer the readiest and most powerful means of success4 ,in this respect they share the instincts of the poor1 without feeling the same necessities2 say rather1 they feel the most imperious of all necessities1 that of not sinking in the world4 ,in aristocracies the rich are at the same time those who govern4 ,the attention which they unceasingly devote to important public affairs diverts them from the lesser cares which trade and manufactures demand4 ,if the will of an individual happens1 nevertheless1 to turn his attention to business1 the will of the body to which he belongs will immediately debar him from pursuing it2 for however men may declaim against the rule of numbers1 they cannot wholly escape their sway2 and even amongst those aristocratic bodies which most obstinately refuse to acknowledge the rights of the majority of the nation1 a private majority is formed which governs the rest4 99b ,footnote b3 ,some aristocracies1 however1 have devoted themselves eagerly to commerce1 and have cultivated manufactures with success4 ,the history of the world might furnish several conspicuous examples4 ,but1 generally speaking1 it may be affirmed that the aristocratic principle is not favorable to the growth of trade and manufactures4 ,moneyed aristocracies are the only exception to the rule4 ,amongst such aristocracies there are hardly any desires which do not require wealth to satisfy them2 the love of riches becomes1 so to speak1 the high road of human passions1 which is crossed by or connected with all lesser tracks4 ,the love of money and the thirst for that distinction which attaches to power1 are then so closely intermixed in the same souls1 that it becomes difficult to discover whether men grow covetous from ambition1 or whether they are ambitious from covetousness4 ,this is the case in ,england1 where men seek to get rich in order to arrive at distinction1 and seek distinctions as a manifestation of their wealth4 ,the mind is then seized by both ends1 and hurried into trade and manufactures1 which are the shortest roads that lead to opulence4 ,this1 however1 strikes me as an exceptional and transitory circumstance4 ,when wealth is become the only symbol of aristocracy1 it is very difficult for the wealthy to maintain sole possession of political power1 to the exclusion of all other men4 ,the aristocracy of birth and pure democracy are at the two extremes of the social and political state of nations3 between them moneyed aristocracy finds its place4 ,the latter approximates to the aristocracy of birth by conferring great privileges on a small number of persons2 it so far belongs to the democratic element1 that these privileges may be successively acquired by all4 ,it frequently forms a natural transition between these two conditions of society1 and it is difficult to say whether it closes the reign of aristocratic institutions1 or whether it already opens the new era of democracy4 ,in democratic countries1 where money does not lead those who possess it to political power1 but often removes them from it1 the rich do not know how to spend their leisure4 ,they are driven into active life by the inquietude and the greatness of their desires1 by the extent of their resources1 and by the taste for what is extraordinary1 which is almost always felt by those who rise1 by whatsoever means1 above the crowd4 ,trade is the only road open to them4 ,in democracies nothing is more great or more brilliant than commerce3 it attracts the attention of the public1 and fills the imagination of the multitude2 all energetic passions are directed towards it4 ,neither their own prejudices1 nor those of anybody else1 can prevent the rich from devoting themselves to it4 ,the wealthy members of democracies never form a body which has manners and regulations of its own2 the opinions peculiar to their class do not restrain them1 and the common opinions of their country urge them on4 ,moreover1 as all the large fortunes which are to be met with in a democratic community are of commercial growth1 many generations must succeed each other before their possessors can have entirely laid aside their habits of business4 ,circumscribed within the narrow space which politics leave them1 rich men in democracies eagerly embark in commercial enterprise3 there they can extend and employ their natural advantages2 and indeed it is even by the boldness and the magnitude of their industrial speculations that we may measure the slight esteem in which productive industry would have been held by them1 if they had been born amidst an aristocracy4 ,a similar observation is likewise applicable to all men living in democracies1 whether they be poor or rich4 ,those who live in the midst of democratic fluctuations have always before their eyes the phantom of chance2 and they end by liking all undertakings in which chance plays a part4 ,they are therefore all led to engage in commerce1 not only for the sake of the profit it holds out to them1 but for the love of the constant excitement occasioned by that pursuit4 ,the ,united ,states of ,america have only been emancipated for half a century in #ahdj from the state of colonial dependence in which they stood to ,great ,britain2 the number of large fortunes there is small1 and capital is still scarce4 ,yet no people in the world has made such rapid progress in trade and manufactures as the ,americans3 they constitute at the present day the second maritime nation in the world2 and although their manufactures have to struggle with almost insurmountable natural impediments1 they are not prevented from making great and daily advances4 ,in the ,united ,states the greatest undertakings and speculations are executed without difficulty1 because the whole population is engaged in productive industry1 and because the poorest as well as the most opulent members of the commonwealth are ready to combine their efforts for these purposes4 ,the consequence is1 that a stranger is constantly amazed by the immense public works executed by a nation which contains1 so to speak1 no rich men4 ,the ,americans arrived but as yesterday on the territory which they inhabit1 and they have already changed the whole order of nature for their own advantage4 ,they have joined the ,hudson to the ,mississippi1 and made the ,atlantic ,ocean communicate with the ,gulf of ,mexico1 across a continent of more than five hundred leagues in extent which separates the two seas4 ,the longest railroads which have been constructed up to the present time are in ,america4 ,but what most astonishes me in the ,united ,states1 is not so much the marvellous grandeur of some undertakings1 as the innumerable multitude of small ones4 ,almost all the farmers of the ,united ,states combine some trade with agriculture2 most of them make agriculture itself a trade4 ,it seldom happens that an ,american farmer settles for good upon the land which he occupies3 especially in the districts of the ,far ,west he brings land into tillage in order to sell it again1 and not to farm it3 he builds a farmhouse on the speculation that1 as the state of the country will soon be changed by the increase of population1 a good price will be gotten for it4 ,every year a swarm of the inhabitants of the ,north arrive in the ,southern ,states1 and settle in the parts where the cotton plant and the sugar-cane grow4 ,these men cultivate the soil in order to make it produce in a few years enough to enrich them2 and they already look forward to the time when they may return home to enjoy the competency thus acquired4 ,thus the ,americans carry their business-like qualities into agriculture2 and their trading passions are displayed in that as in their other pursuits4 ,the ,americans make immense progress in productive industry1 because they all devote themselves to it at once2 and for this same reason they are exposed to very unexpected and formidable embarrassments4 ,as they are all engaged in commerce1 their commercial affairs are affected by such various and complex causes that it is impossible to foresee what difficulties may arise4 ,as they are all more or less engaged in productive industry1 at the least shock given to business all private fortunes are put in jeopardy at the same time1 and the ,state is shaken4 ,i believe that the return of these commercial panics is an endemic disease of the democratic nations of our age4 ,it may be rendered less dangerous1 but it cannot be cured2 because it does not originate in accidental circumstances1 but in the temperament of these nations4 ,chapter ,,xx3 ,that ,aristocracy ,may ,be ,engendered ,by ,manufactures ,i have shown that democracy is favorable to the growth of manufactures1 and that it increases without limit the numbers of the manufacturing classes3 we shall now see by what side road manufacturers may possibly in their turn bring men back to aristocracy4 ,it is acknowledged that when a workman is engaged every day upon the same detail1 the whole commodity is produced with greater ease1 promptitude1 and economy4 ,it is likewise acknowledged that the cost of the production of manufactured goods is diminished by the extent of the establishment in which they are made1 and by the amount of capital employed or of credit4 ,these truths had long been imperfectly discerned1 but in our time they have been demonstrated4 ,they have been already applied to many very important kinds of manufactures1 and the humblest will gradually be governed by them4 ,i know of nothing in politics which deserves to fix the attention of the legislator more closely than these two new axioms of the science of manufactures4 ,when a workman is unceasingly and exclusively engaged in the fabrication of one thing1 he ultimately does his work with singular dexterity2 but at the same time he loses the general faculty of applying his mind to the direction of the work4 ,he every day becomes more adroit and less industrious2 so that it may be said of him1 that in proportion as the workman improves the man is degraded4 ,what can be expected of a man who has spent twenty years of his life in making heads for pins8 and to what can that mighty human intelligence1 which has so often stirred the world1 be applied in him1 except it be to investigate the best method of making pins' heads8 ,when a workman has spent a considerable portion of his existence in this manner1 his thoughts are forever set upon the object of his daily toil2 his body has contracted certain fixed habits1 which it can never shake off3 in a word1 he no longer belongs to himself1 but to the calling which he has chosen4 ,it is in vain that laws and manners have been at the pains to level all barriers round such a man1 and to open to him on every side a thousand different paths to fortune2 a theory of manufactures more powerful than manners and laws binds him to a craft1 and frequently to a spot1 which he cannot leave3 it assigns to him a certain place in society1 beyond which he cannot go3 in the midst of universal movement it has rendered him stationary4 ,in proportion as the principle of the division of labor is more extensively applied1 the workman becomes more weak1 more narrow-minded1 and more dependent4 ,the art advances1 the artisan recedes4 ,on the other hand1 in proportion as it becomes more manifest that the productions of manufactures are by so much the cheaper and better as the manufacture is larger and the amount of capital employed more considerable1 wealthy and educated men come forward to embark in manufactures which were heretofore abandoned to poor or ignorant handicraftsmen4 ,the magnitude of the efforts required1 and the importance of the results to be obtained1 attract them4 ,thus at the very time at which the science of manufactures lowers the class of workmen1 it raises the class of masters4 ,whereas the workman concentrates his faculties more and more upon the study of a single detail1 the master surveys a more extensive whole1 and the mind of the latter is enlarged in proportion as that of the former is narrowed4 ,in a short time the one will require nothing but physical strength without intelligence2 the other stands in need of science1 and almost of genius1 to insure success4 ,this man resembles more and more the administrator of a vast empire--that man1 a brute4 ,the master and the workman have then here no similarity1 and their differences increase every day4 ,they are only connected as the two rings at the extremities of a long chain4 ,each of them fills the station which is made for him1 and out of which he does not get3 the one is continually1 closely1 and necessarily dependent upon the other1 and seems as much born to obey as that other is to command4 ,what is this but aristocracy8 ,as the conditions of men constituting the nation become more and more equal1 the demand for manufactured commodities becomes more general and more extensive2 and the cheapness which places these objects within the reach of slender fortunes becomes a great element of success4 ,hence there are every day more men of great opulence and education who devote their wealth and knowledge to manufactures2 and who seek1 by opening large establishments1 and by a strict division of labor1 to meet the fresh demands which are made on all sides4 ,thus1 in proportion as the mass of the nation turns to democracy1 that particular class which is engaged in manufactures becomes more aristocratic4 ,men grow more alike in the one--more different in the other2 and inequality increases in the less numerous class in the same ratio in which it decreases in the community4 ,hence it would appear1 on searching to the bottom1 that aristocracy should naturally spring out of the bosom of democracy4 ,but this kind of aristocracy by no means resembles those kinds which preceded it4 ,it will be observed at once1 that as it applies exclusively to manufactures and to some manufacturing callings1 it is a monstrous exception in the general aspect of society4 ,the small aristocratic societies which are formed by some manufacturers in the midst of the immense democracy of our age1 contain1 like the great aristocratic societies of former ages1 some men who are very opulent1 and a multitude who are wretchedly poor4 ,the poor have few means of escaping from their condition and becoming rich2 but the rich are constantly becoming poor1 or they give up business when they have realized a fortune4 ,thus the elements of which the class of the poor is composed are fixed2 but the elements of which the class of the rich is composed are not so4 ,to say the truth1 though there are rich men1 the class of rich men does not exist2 for these rich individuals have no feelings or purposes in common1 no mutual traditions or mutual hopes2 there are therefore members1 but no body4 ,not only are the rich not compactly united amongst themselves1 but there is no real bond between them and the poor4 ,their relative position is not a permanent one2 they are constantly drawn together or separated by their interests4 ,the workman is generally dependent on the master1 but not on any particular master2 these two men meet in the factory1 but know not each other elsewhere2 and whilst they come into contact on one point1 they stand very wide apart on all others4 ,the manufacturer asks nothing of the workman but his labor2 the workman expects nothing from him but his wages4 ,the one contracts no obligation to protect1 nor the other to defend2 and they are not permanently connected either by habit or by duty4 ,the aristocracy created by business rarely settles in the midst of the manufacturing population which it directs2 the object is not to govern that population1 but to use it4 ,an aristocracy thus constituted can have no great hold upon those whom it employs2 and even if it succeed in retaining them at one moment1 they escape the next2 it knows not how to will1 and it cannot act4 ,the territorial aristocracy of former ages was either bound by law1 or thought itself bound by usage1 to come to the relief of its serving-men1 and to succor their distresses4 ,but the manufacturing aristocracy of our age first impoverishes and debases the men who serve it1 and then abandons them to be supported by the charity of the public4 ,this is a natural consequence of what has been said before4 ,between the workmen and the master there are frequent relations1 but no real partnership4 ,i am of opinion1 upon the whole1 that the manufacturing aristocracy which is growing up under our eyes is one of the harshest which ever existed in the world2 but at the same time it is one of the most confined and least dangerous4 ,nevertheless the friends of democracy should keep their eyes anxiously fixed in this direction2 for if ever a permanent inequality of conditions and aristocracy again penetrate into the world1 it may be predicted that this is the channel by which they will enter4 ,book ,three3 ,influence ,of ,democracy ,on ,manners1 ,properly ,so ,called ,chapter ,i3 ,that ,manners ,are ,softened ,as ,social ,conditions ,become ,more ,equal ,we perceive that for several ages social conditions have tended to equality1 and we discover that in the course of the same period the manners of society have been softened4 ,are these two things merely contemporaneous1 or does any secret link exist between them1 so that the one cannot go on without making the other advance8 ,several causes may concur to render the manners of a people less rude2 but1 of all these causes1 the most powerful appears to me to be the equality of conditions4 ,equality of conditions and growing civility in manners are1 then1 in my eyes1 not only contemporaneous occurrences1 but correlative facts4 ,when the fabulists seek to interest us in the actions of beasts1 they invest them with human notions and passions2 the poets who sing of spirits and angels do the same2 there is no wretchedness so deep1 nor any happiness so pure1 as to fill the human mind and touch the heart1 unless we are ourselves held up to our own eyes under other features4 ,this is strictly applicable to the subject upon which we are at present engaged4 ,when all men are irrevocably marshalled in an aristocratic community1 according to their professions1 their property1 and their birth1 the members of each class1 considering themselves as children of the same family1 cherish a constant and lively sympathy towards each other1 which can never be felt in an equal degree by the citizens of a democracy4 ,but the same feeling does not exist between the several classes towards each other4 ,amongst an aristocratic people each caste has its own opinions1 feelings1 rights1 manners1 and modes of living4 ,thus the men of whom each caste is composed do not resemble the mass of their fellow-citizens2 they do not think or feel in the same manner1 and they scarcely believe that they belong to the same human race4 ,they cannot1 therefore1 thoroughly understand what others feel1 nor judge of others by themselves4 ,yet they are sometimes eager to lend each other mutual aid2 but this is not contrary to my previous observation4 ,these aristocratic institutions1 which made the beings of one and the same race so different1 nevertheless bound them to each other by close political ties4 ,although the serf had no natural interest in the fate of nobles1 he did not the less think himself obliged to devote his person to the service of that noble who happened to be his lord2 and although the noble held himself to be of a different nature from that of his serfs1 he nevertheless held that his duty and his honor constrained him to defend1 at the risk of his own life1 those who dwelt upon his domains4 ,it is evident that these mutual obligations did not originate in the law of nature1 but in the law of society2 and that the claim of social duty was more stringent than that of mere humanity4 ,these services were not supposed to be due from man to man1 but to the vassal or to the lord4 ,feudal institutions awakened a lively sympathy for the sufferings of certain men1 but none at all for the miseries of mankind4 ,they infused generosity rather than mildness into the manners of the time1 and although they prompted men to great acts of self-devotion1 they engendered no real sympathies2 for real sympathies can only exist between those who are alike2 and in aristocratic ages men acknowledge none but the members of their own caste to be like themselves4 ,when the chroniclers of the ,middle ,ages1 who all belonged to the aristocracy by birth or education1 relate the tragical end of a noble1 their grief flows apace2 whereas they tell you at a breath1 and without wincing1 of massacres and tortures inflicted on the common sort of people4 ,not that these writers felt habitual hatred or systematic disdain for the people2 war between the several classes of the community was not yet declared4 ,they were impelled by an instinct rather than by a passion2 as they had formed no clear notion of a poor man's sufferings1 they cared but little for his fate4 ,the same feelings animated the lower orders whenever the feudal tie was broken4 ,the same ages which witnessed so many heroic acts of self-devotion on the part of vassals for their lords1 were stained with atrocious barbarities1 exercised from time to time by the lower classes on the higher4 ,it must not be supposed that this mutual insensibility arose solely from the absence of public order and education2 for traces of it are to be found in the following centuries1 which became tranquil and enlightened whilst they remained aristocratic4 ,in #afge the lower classes in ,brittany revolted at the imposition of a new tax4 ,these disturbances were put down with unexampled atrocity4 ,observe the language in which ,madame de ,sevigne1 a witness of these horrors1 relates them to her daughter3-- ,aux ,rochers1 #cj ,octobre1 #afge4 ,mon ,dieu1 ma fille1 que votre lettre d',aix est plaisante6 ,au moins relisez vos lettres avant que de les envoyer2 laissez-vous surpendre a leur agrement1 et consolez-vous par ce plaisir de la peine que vous avez d'en tant ecrire4 ,vous avez donc baise toute la ,provence8 il n'y aurait pas satisfaction a baiser toute la ,bretagne1 a moins qu'on n'aimat a sentir le vin4 4 4 4 ,voulez-vous savoir des nouvelles de ,rennes8 ,on a fait une taxe de cent mille ecus sur le bourgeois2 et si on ne trouve point cette somme dans vingt-quatre heures1 elle sera doublee et exigible par les soldats4 ,on a chasse et banni toute une grand rue1 et defendu de les recueillir sous peine de la vie2 de sorte qu'on voyait tous ces miserables1 veillards1 femmes accouchees1 enfans1 errer en pleurs au sortir de cette ville sans savoir ou aller4 ,on roua avant-hier un violon1 qui avait commence la danse et la pillerie du papier timbre2 il a ete ecartele apres sa mort1 et ses quatre quartiers exposes aux quatre coins de la ville4 ,on a pris soixante bourgeois1 et on commence demain les punitions4 ,cette province est un bel exemple pour les autres1 et surtout de respecter les gouverneurs et les gouvernantes1 et de ne point jeter de pierres dans leur jardin4 99a ,footnote a3 ,to feel the point of this joke the reader should recollect that ,madame de ,grignan was ,gouvernante de ,provence4 ,madame de ,tarente etait hier dans ces bois par un temps enchante3 il n'est question ni de chambre ni de collation2 elle entre par la barriere et s'en retourne de meme4 4 4 4 ,in another letter she adds3-- ,vous me parlez bien plaisamment de nos miseres2 nous ne sommes plus si roues2 un en huit jours1 pour entretenir la justice4 ,il est vrai que la penderie me parait maintenant un refraichissement4 ,j'ai une tout autre idee de la justice1 depuis que je suis en ce pays4 ,vos galeriens me paraissent une societe d'honnetes gens qui se sont retires du monde pour mener une vie douce4 ,it would be a mistake to suppose that ,madame de ,sevigne1 who wrote these lines1 was a selfish or cruel person2 she was passionately attached to her children1 and very ready to sympathize in the sorrows of her friends2 nay1 her letters show that she treated her vassals and servants with kindness and indulgence4 ,but ,madame de ,sevigne had no clear notion of suffering in anyone who was not a person of quality4 ,in our time the harshest man writing to the most insensible person of his acquaintance would not venture wantonly to indulge in the cruel jocularity which ,i have quoted2 and even if his own manners allowed him to do so1 the manners of society at large would forbid it4 ,whence does this arise8 ,have we more sensibility than our forefathers8 ,i know not that we have2 but ,i am sure that our insensibility is extended to a far greater range of objects4 ,when all the ranks of a community are nearly equal1 as all men think and feel in nearly the same manner1 each of them may judge in a moment of the sensations of all the others2 he casts a rapid glance upon himself1 and that is enough4 ,there is no wretchedness into which he cannot readily enter1 and a secret instinct reveals to him its extent4 ,it signifies not that strangers or foes be the sufferers2 imagination puts him in their place2 something like a personal feeling is mingled with his pity1 and makes himself suffer whilst the body of his fellow-creature is in torture4 ,in democratic ages men rarely sacrifice themselves for one another2 but they display general compassion for the members of the human race4 ,they inflict no useless ills2 and they are happy to relieve the griefs of others1 when they can do so without much hurting themselves2 they are not disinterested1 but they are humane4 ,although the ,americans have1 in a manner1 reduced egotism to a social and philosophical theory1 they are nevertheless extremely open to compassion4 ,in no country is criminal justice administered with more mildness than in the ,united ,states4 ,whilst the ,english seem disposed carefully to retain the bloody traces of the dark ages in their penal legislation1 the ,americans have almost expunged capital punishment from their codes4 ,north ,america is1 ,i think1 the only one country upon earth in which the life of no one citizen has been taken for a political offence in the course of the last fifty years4 ,the circumstance which conclusively shows that this singular mildness of the ,americans arises chiefly from their social condition1 is the manner in which they treat their slaves4 ,perhaps there is not1 upon the whole1 a single ,european colony in the ,new ,world in which the physical condition of the blacks is less severe than in the ,united ,states2 yet the slaves still endure horrid sufferings there1 and are constantly exposed to barbarous punishments4 ,it is easy to perceive that the lot of these unhappy beings inspires their masters with but little compassion1 and that they look upon slavery1 not only as an institution which is profitable to them1 but as an evil which does not affect them4 ,thus the same man who is full of humanity towards his fellow-creatures when they are at the same time his equals1 becomes insensible to their afflictions as soon as that equality ceases4 ,his mildness should therefore be attributed to the equality of conditions1 rather than to civilization and education4 ,what ,i have here remarked of individuals is1 to a certain extent1 applicable to nations4 ,when each nation has its distinct opinions1 belief1 laws1 and customs1 it looks upon itself as the whole of mankind1 and is moved by no sorrows but its own4 ,should war break out between two nations animated by this feeling1 it is sure to be waged with great cruelty4 ,at the time of their highest culture1 the ,romans slaughtered the generals of their enemies1 after having dragged them in triumph behind a car2 and they flung their prisoners to the beasts of the ,circus for the amusement of the people4 ,cicero1 who declaimed so vehemently at the notion of crucifying a ,roman citizen1 had not a word to say against these horrible abuses of victory4 ,it is evident that in his eyes a barbarian did not belong to the same human race as a ,roman4 ,on the contrary1 in proportion as nations become more like each other1 they become reciprocally more compassionate1 and the law of nations is mitigated4 ,chapter ,,ii3 ,that ,democracy ,renders ,the ,habitual ,intercourse ,of ,the ,americans ,simple ,and ,easy ,democracy does not attach men strongly to each other2 but it places their habitual intercourse upon an easier footing4 ,if two ,englishmen chance to meet at the ,antipodes1 where they are surrounded by strangers whose language and manners are almost unknown to them1 they will first stare at each other with much curiosity and a kind of secret uneasiness2 they will then turn away1 or1 if one accosts the other1 they will take care only to converse with a constrained and absent air upon very unimportant subjects4 ,yet there is no enmity between these men2 they have never seen each other before1 and each believes the other to be a respectable person4 ,why then should they stand so cautiously apart8 ,we must go back to ,england to learn the reason4 ,when it is birth alone1 independent of wealth1 which classes men in society1 everyone knows exactly what his own position is upon the social scale2 he does not seek to rise1 he does not fear to sink4 ,in a community thus organized1 men of different castes communicate very little with each other2 but if accident brings them together1 they are ready to converse without hoping or fearing to lose their own position4 ,their intercourse is not upon a footing of equality1 but it is not constrained4 ,when moneyed aristocracy succeeds to aristocracy of birth1 the case is altered4 ,the privileges of some are still extremely great1 but the possibility of acquiring those privileges is open to all3 whence it follows that those who possess them are constantly haunted by the apprehension of losing them1 or of other men's sharing them2 those who do not yet enjoy them long to possess them at any cost1 or1 if they fail to appear at least to possess them--which is not impossible4 ,as the social importance of men is no longer ostensibly and permanently fixed by blood1 and is infinitely varied by wealth1 ranks still exist1 but it is not easy clearly to distinguish at a glance those who respectively belong to them4 ,secret hostilities then arise in the community2 one set of men endeavor by innumerable artifices to penetrate1 or to appear to penetrate1 amongst those who are above them2 another set are constantly in arms against these usurpers of their rights2 or rather the same individual does both at once1 and whilst he seeks to raise himself into a higher circle1 he is always on the defensive against the intrusion of those below him4 ,such is the condition of ,england at the present time2 and ,i am of opinion that the peculiarity before adverted to is principally to be attributed to this cause4 ,as aristocratic pride is still extremely great amongst the ,english1 and as the limits of aristocracy are ill-defined1 everybody lives in constant dread lest advantage should be taken of his familiarity4 ,unable to judge at once of the social position of those he meets1 an ,englishman prudently avoids all contact with them4 ,men are afraid lest some slight service rendered should draw them into an unsuitable acquaintance2 they dread civilities1 and they avoid the obtrusive gratitude of a stranger quite as much as his hatred4 ,many people attribute these singular anti-social propensities1 and the reserved and taciturn bearing of the ,english1 to purely physical causes4 ,i may admit that there is something of it in their race1 but much more of it is attributable to their social condition1 as is proved by the contrast of the ,americans4 ,in ,america1 where the privileges of birth never existed1 and where riches confer no peculiar rights on their possessors1 men unacquainted with each other are very ready to frequent the same places1 and find neither peril nor advantage in the free interchange of their thoughts4 ,if they meet by accident1 they neither seek nor avoid intercourse2 their manner is therefore natural1 frank1 and open3 it is easy to see that they hardly expect or apprehend anything from each other1 and that they do not care to display1 any more than to conceal1 their position in the world4 ,if their demeanor is often cold and serious1 it is never haughty or constrained2 and if they do not converse1 it is because they are not in a humor to talk1 not because they think it their interest to be silent4 ,in a foreign country two ,americans are at once friends1 simply because they are ,americans4 ,they are repulsed by no prejudice2 they are attracted by their common country4 ,for two ,englishmen the same blood is not enough2 they must be brought together by the same rank4 ,the ,americans remark this unsociable mood of the ,english as much as the ,french do1 and they are not less astonished by it4 ,yet the ,americans are connected with ,england by their origin1 their religion1 their language1 and partially by their manners2 they only differ in their social condition4 ,it may therefore be inferred that the reserve of the ,english proceeds from the constitution of their country much more than from that of its inhabitants4 ,chapter ,,iii3 ,why ,the ,americans ,show ,so ,little ,sensitiveness ,in ,their ,own ,country1 ,and ,are ,so ,sensitive ,in ,europe ,the temper of the ,americans is vindictive1 like that of all serious and reflecting nations4 ,they hardly ever forget an offence1 but it is not easy to offend them2 and their resentment is as slow to kindle as it is to abate4 ,in aristocratic communities where a small number of persons manage everything1 the outward intercourse of men is subject to settled conventional rules4 ,everyone then thinks he knows exactly what marks of respect or of condescension he ought to display1 and none are presumed to be ignorant of the science of etiquette4 ,these usages of the first class in society afterwards serve as a model to all the others2 besides which each of the latter lays down a code of its own1 to which all its members are bound to conform4 ,thus the rules of politeness form a complex system of legislation1 which it is difficult to be perfectly master of1 but from which it is dangerous for anyone to deviate2 so that men are constantly exposed involuntarily to inflict or to receive bitter affronts4 ,but as the distinctions of rank are obliterated1 as men differing in education and in birth meet and mingle in the same places of resort1 it is almost impossible to agree upon the rules of good breeding4 ,as its laws are uncertain1 to disobey them is not a crime1 even in the eyes of those who know what they are2 men attach more importance to intentions than to forms1 and they grow less civil1 but at the same time less quarrelsome4 ,there are many little attentions which an ,american does not care about2 he thinks they are not due to him1 or he presumes that they are not known to be due3 he therefore either does not perceive a rudeness or he forgives it2 his manners become less courteous1 and his character more plain and masculine4 ,the mutual indulgence which the ,americans display1 and the manly confidence with which they treat each other1 also result from another deeper and more general cause1 which ,i have already adverted to in the preceding chapter4 ,in the ,united ,states the distinctions of rank in civil society are slight1 in political society they are null2 an ,american1 therefore1 does not think himself bound to pay particular attentions to any of his fellow-citizens1 nor does he require such attentions from them towards himself4 ,as he does not see that it is his interest eagerly to seek the company of any of his countrymen1 he is slow to fancy that his own company is declined3 despising no one on account of his station1 he does not imagine that anyone can despise him for that cause2 and until he has clearly perceived an insult1 he does not suppose that an affront was intended4 ,the social condition of the ,americans naturally accustoms them not to take offence in small matters2 and1 on the other hand1 the democratic freedom which they enjoy transfuses this same mildness of temper into the character of the nation4 ,the political institutions of the ,united ,states constantly bring citizens of all ranks into contact1 and compel them to pursue great undertakings in concert4 ,people thus engaged have scarcely time to attend to the details of etiquette1 and they are besides too strongly interested in living harmoniously for them to stick at such things4 ,they therefore soon acquire a habit of considering the feelings and opinions of those whom they meet more than their manners1 and they do not allow themselves to be annoyed by trifles4 ,i have often remarked in the ,united ,states that it is not easy to make a man understand that his presence may be dispensed with2 hints will not always suffice to shake him off4 ,i contradict an ,american at every word he says1 to show him that his conversation bores me2 he instantly labors with fresh pertinacity to convince me2 ,i preserve a dogged silence1 and he thinks ,i am meditating deeply on the truths which he is uttering2 at last ,i rush from his company1 and he supposes that some urgent business hurries me elsewhere4 ,this man will never understand that he wearies me to extinction unless ,i tell him so3 and the only way to get rid of him is to make him my enemy for life4 ,it appears surprising at first sight that the same man transported to ,europe suddenly becomes so sensitive and captious1 that ,i often find it as difficult to avoid offending him here as it was to put him out of countenance4 ,these two opposite effects proceed from the same cause4 ,democratic institutions generally give men a lofty notion of their country and of themselves4 ,an ,american leaves his country with a heart swollen with pride2 on arriving in ,europe he at once finds out that we are not so engrossed by the ,united ,states and the great people which inhabits them as he had supposed1 and this begins to annoy him4 ,he has been informed that the conditions of society are not equal in our part of the globe1 and he observes that among the nations of ,europe the traces of rank are not wholly obliterated2 that wealth and birth still retain some indeterminate privileges1 which force themselves upon his notice whilst they elude definition4 ,he is therefore profoundly ignorant of the place which he ought to occupy in this half-ruined scale of classes1 which are sufficiently distinct to hate and despise each other1 yet sufficiently alike for him to be always confounding them4 ,he is afraid of ranging himself too high--still more is he afraid of being ranged too low2 this twofold peril keeps his mind constantly on the stretch1 and embarrasses all he says and does4 ,he learns from tradition that in ,europe ceremonial observances were infinitely varied according to different ranks2 this recollection of former times completes his perplexity1 and he is the more afraid of not obtaining those marks of respect which are due to him1 as he does not exactly know in what they consist4 ,he is like a man surrounded by traps3 society is not a recreation for him1 but a serious toil3 he weighs your least actions1 interrogates your looks1 and scrutinizes all you say1 lest there should be some hidden allusion to affront him4 ,i doubt whether there was ever a provincial man of quality so punctilious in breeding as he is3 he endeavors to attend to the slightest rules of etiquette1 and does not allow one of them to be waived towards himself3 he is full of scruples and at the same time of pretensions2 he wishes to do enough1 but fears to do too much2 and as he does not very well know the limits of the one or of the other1 he keeps up a haughty and embarrassed air of reserve4 ,but this is not all3 here is yet another double of the human heart4 ,an ,american is forever talking of the admirable equality which prevails in the ,united ,states2 aloud he makes it the boast of his country1 but in secret he deplores it for himself2 and he aspires to show that1 for his part1 he is an exception to the general state of things which he vaunts4 ,there is hardly an ,american to be met with who does not claim some remote kindred with the first founders of the colonies2 and as for the scions of the noble families of ,england1 ,america seemed to me to be covered with them4 ,when an opulent ,american arrives in ,europe1 his first care is to surround himself with all the luxuries of wealth3 he is so afraid of being taken for the plain citizen of a democracy1 that he adopts a hundred distorted ways of bringing some new instance of his wealth before you every day4 ,his house will be in the most fashionable part of the town3 he will always be surrounded by a host of servants4 ,i have heard an ,american complain1 that in the best houses of ,paris the society was rather mixed2 the taste which prevails there was not pure enough for him2 and he ventured to hint that1 in his opinion1 there was a want of elegance of manner2 he could not accustom himself to see wit concealed under such unpretending forms4 ,these contrasts ought not to surprise us4 ,if the vestiges of former aristocratic distinctions were not so completely effaced in the ,united ,states1 the ,americans would be less simple and less tolerant in their own country--they would require less1 and be less fond of borrowed manners in ours4 ,chapter ,,iv3 ,consequences ,of ,the ,three ,preceding ,chapters ,when men feel a natural compassion for their mutual sufferings--when they are brought together by easy and frequent intercourse1 and no sensitive feelings keep them asunder--it may readily be supposed that they will lend assistance to one another whenever it is needed4 ,when an ,american asks for the co-operation of his fellow-citizens it is seldom refused1 and ,i have often seen it afforded spontaneously and with great goodwill4 ,if an accident happens on the highway1 everybody hastens to help the sufferer2 if some great and sudden calamity befalls a family1 the purses of a thousand strangers are at once willingly opened1 and small but numerous donations pour in to relieve their distress4 ,it often happens amongst the most civilized nations of the globe1 that a poor wretch is as friendless in the midst of a crowd as the savage in his wilds3 this is hardly ever the case in the ,united ,states4 ,the ,americans1 who are always cold and often coarse in their manners1 seldom show insensibility2 and if they do not proffer services eagerly1 yet they do not refuse to render them4 ,all this is not in contradiction to what ,i have said before on the subject of individualism4 ,the two things are so far from combating each other1 that ,i can see how they agree4 ,equality of conditions1 whilst it makes men feel their independence1 shows them their own weakness3 they are free1 but exposed to a thousand accidents2 and experience soon teaches them that1 although they do not habitually require the assistance of others1 a time almost always comes when they cannot do without it4 ,we constantly see in ,europe that men of the same profession are ever ready to assist each other2 they are all exposed to the same ills1 and that is enough to teach them to seek mutual preservatives1 however hard-hearted and selfish they may otherwise be4 ,when one of them falls into danger1 from which the others may save him by a slight transient sacrifice or a sudden effort1 they do not fail to make the attempt4 ,not that they are deeply interested in his fate2 for if1 by chance1 their exertions are unavailing1 they immediately forget the object of them1 and return to their own business2 but a sort of tacit and almost involuntary agreement has been passed between them1 by which each one owes to the others a temporary support which he may claim for himself in turn4 ,extend to a people the remark here applied to a class1 and you will understand my meaning4 ,a similar covenant exists in fact between all the citizens of a democracy3 they all feel themselves subject to the same weakness and the same dangers2 and their interest1 as well as their sympathy1 makes it a rule with them to lend each other mutual assistance when required4 ,the more equal social conditions become1 the more do men display this reciprocal disposition to oblige each other4 ,in democracies no great benefits are conferred1 but good offices are constantly rendered3 a man seldom displays self-devotion1 but all men are ready to be of service to one another4 ,chapter ,v3 ,how ,democracy ,affects the ,relation ,of ,masters ,and ,servants ,an ,american who had travelled for a long time in ,europe once said to me1 ,the ,english treat their servants with a stiffness and imperiousness of manner which surprise us2 but on the other hand the ,french sometimes treat their attendants with a degree of familiarity or of politeness which we cannot conceive4 ,it looks as if they were afraid to give orders3 the posture of the superior and the inferior is ill-maintained4 ,the remark was a just one1 and ,i have often made it myself4 ,i have always considered ,england as the country in the world where1 in our time1 the bond of domestic service is drawn most tightly1 and ,france as the country where it is most relaxed4 ,nowhere have ,i seen masters stand so high or so low as in these two countries4 ,between these two extremes the ,americans are to be placed4 ,such is the fact as it appears upon the surface of things3 to discover the causes of that fact1 it is necessary to search the matter thoroughly4 ,no communities have ever yet existed in which social conditions have been so equal that there were neither rich nor poor1 and consequently neither masters nor servants4 ,democracy does not prevent the existence of these two classes1 but it changes their dispositions and modifies their mutual relations4 ,amongst aristocratic nations servants form a distinct class1 not more variously composed than that of masters4 ,a settled order is soon established2 in the former as well as in the latter class a scale is formed1 with numerous distinctions or marked gradations of rank1 and generations succeed each other thus without any change of position4 ,these two communities are superposed one above the other1 always distinct1 but regulated by analogous principles4 ,this aristocratic constitution does not exert a less powerful influence on the notions and manners of servants than on those of masters2 and1 although the effects are different1 the same cause may easily be traced4 ,both classes constitute small communities in the heart of the nation1 and certain permanent notions of right and wrong are ultimately engendered amongst them4 ,the different acts of human life are viewed by one particular and unchanging light4 ,in the society of servants1 as in that of masters1 men exercise a great influence over each other3 they acknowledge settled rules1 and in the absence of law they are guided by a sort of public opinion3 their habits are settled1 and their conduct is placed under a certain control4 ,these men1 whose destiny is to obey1 certainly do not understand fame1 virtue1 honesty1 and honor in the same manner as their masters2 but they have a pride1 a virtue1 and an honesty pertaining to their condition2 and they have a notion1 if ,i may use the expression1 of a sort of servile honor4 99a ,because a class is mean1 it must not be supposed that all who belong to it are mean-hearted2 to think so would be a great mistake4 ,however lowly it may be1 he who is foremost there1 and who has no notion of quitting it1 occupies an aristocratic position which inspires him with lofty feelings1 pride1 and self-respect1 that fit him for the higher virtues and actions above the common4 ,amongst aristocratic nations it was by no means rare to find men of noble and vigorous minds in the service of the great1 who felt not the servitude they bore1 and who submitted to the will of their masters without any fear of their displeasure4 ,but this was hardly ever the case amongst the inferior ranks of domestic servants4 ,it may be imagined that he who occupies the lowest stage of the order of menials stands very low indeed4 ,the ,french created a word on purpose to designate the servants of the aristocracy--they called them lackeys4 ,this word lackey served as the strongest expression1 when all others were exhausted1 to designate human meanness4 ,under the old ,french monarchy1 to denote by a single expression a low-spirited contemptible fellow1 it was usual to say that he had the soul of a lackey2 the term was enough to convey all that was intended4 ,footnote a3 ,if the principal opinions by which men are guided are examined closely and in detail1 the analogy appears still more striking1 and one is surprised to find amongst them1 just as much as amongst the haughtiest scions of a feudal race1 pride of birth1 respect for their ancestry and their descendants1 disdain of their inferiors1 a dread of contact1 a taste for etiquette1 precedents1 and antiquity4 ,the permanent inequality of conditions not only gives servants certain peculiar virtues and vices1 but it places them in a peculiar relation with respect to their masters4 ,amongst aristocratic nations the poor man is familiarized from his childhood with the notion of being commanded3 to whichever side he turns his eyes the graduated structure of society and the aspect of obedience meet his view4 ,hence in those countries the master readily obtains prompt1 complete1 respectful1 and easy obedience from his servants1 because they revere in him not only their master but the class of masters4 ,he weighs down their will by the whole weight of the aristocracy4 ,he orders their actions--to a certain extent he even directs their thoughts4 ,in aristocracies the master often exercises1 even without being aware of it1 an amazing sway over the opinions1 the habits1 and the manners of those who obey him1 and his influence extends even further than his authority4 ,in aristocratic communities there are not only hereditary families of servants as well as of masters1 but the same families of servants adhere for several generations to the same families of masters 7like two parallel lines which neither meet nor separate72 and this considerably modifies the mutual relations of these two classes of persons4 ,thus1 although in aristocratic society the master and servant have no natural resemblance--although1 on the contrary1 they are placed at an immense distance on the scale of human beings by their fortune1 education1 and opinions--yet time ultimately binds them together4 ,they are connected by a long series of common reminiscences1 and however different they may be1 they grow alike2 whilst in democracies1 where they are naturally almost alike1 they always remain strangers to each other4 ,amongst an aristocratic people the master gets to look upon his servants as an inferior and secondary part of himself1 and he often takes an interest in their lot by a last stretch of egotism4 ,servants1 on their part1 are not averse to regard themselves in the same light2 and they sometimes identify themselves with the person of the master1 so that they become an appendage to him in their own eyes as well as in his4 ,in aristocracies a servant fills a subordinate position which he cannot get out of2 above him is another man1 holding a superior rank which he cannot lose4 ,on one side are obscurity1 poverty1 obedience for life2 on the other1 and also for life1 fame1 wealth1 and command4 ,the two conditions are always distinct and always in propinquity2 the tie that connects them is as lasting as they are themselves4 ,in this predicament the servant ultimately detaches his notion of interest from his own person2 he deserts himself1 as it were1 or rather he transports himself into the character of his master1 and thus assumes an imaginary personality4 ,he complacently invests himself with the wealth of those who command him2 he shares their fame1 exalts himself by their rank1 and feeds his mind with borrowed greatness1 to which he attaches more importance than those who fully and really possess it4 ,there is something touching1 and at the same time ridiculous1 in this strange confusion of two different states of being4 ,these passions of masters1 when they pass into the souls of menials1 assume the natural dimensions of the place they occupy--they are contracted and lowered4 ,what was pride in the former becomes puerile vanity and paltry ostentation in the latter4 ,the servants of a great man are commonly most punctilious as to the marks of respect due to him1 and they attach more importance to his slightest privileges than he does himself4 ,in ,france a few of these old servants of the aristocracy are still to be met with here and there2 they have survived their race1 which will soon disappear with them altogether4 ,in the ,united ,states ,i never saw anyone at all like them4 ,the ,americans are not only unacquainted with the kind of man1 but it is hardly possible to make them understand that such ever existed4 ,it is scarcely less difficult for them to conceive it1 than for us to form a correct notion of what a slave was amongst the ,romans1 or a serf in the ,middle ,ages4 ,all these men were in fact1 though in different degrees1 results of the same cause3 they are all retiring from our sight1 and disappearing in the obscurity of the past1 together with the social condition to which they owed their origin4 ,equality of conditions turns servants and masters into new beings1 and places them in new relative positions4 ,when social conditions are nearly equal1 men are constantly changing their situations in life3 there is still a class of menials and a class of masters1 but these classes are not always composed of the same individuals1 still less of the same families2 and those who command are not more secure of perpetuity than those who obey4 ,as servants do not form a separate people1 they have no habits1 prejudices1 or manners peculiar to themselves2 they are not remarkable for any particular turn of mind or moods of feeling4 ,they know no vices or virtues of their condition1 but they partake of the education1 the opinions1 the feelings1 the virtues1 and the vices of their contemporaries2 and they are honest men or scoundrels in the same way as their masters are4 ,the conditions of servants are not less equal than those of masters4 ,as no marked ranks or fixed subordination are to be found amongst them1 they will not display either the meanness or the greatness which characterizes the aristocracy of menials as well as all other aristocracies4 ,i never saw a man in the ,united ,states who reminded me of that class of confidential servants of which we still retain a reminiscence in ,europe1 neither did ,i ever meet with such a thing as a lackey3 all traces of the one and of the other have disappeared4 ,in democracies servants are not only equal amongst themselves1 but it may be said that they are in some sort the equals of their masters4 ,this requires explanation in order to be rightly understood4 ,at any moment a servant may become a master1 and he aspires to rise to that condition3 the servant is therefore not a different man from the master4 ,why then has the former a right to command1 and what compels the latter to obey8--the free and temporary consent of both their wills4 ,neither of them is by nature inferior to the other2 they only become so for a time by covenant4 ,within the terms of this covenant1 the one is a servant1 the other a master2 beyond it they are two citizens of the commonwealth--two men4 ,i beg the reader particularly to observe that this is not only the notion which servants themselves entertain of their own condition2 domestic service is looked upon by masters in the same light2 and the precise limits of authority and obedience are as clearly settled in the mind of the one as in that of the other4 ,when the greater part of the community have long attained a condition nearly alike1 and when equality is an old and acknowledged fact1 the public mind1 which is never affected by exceptions1 assigns certain general limits to the value of man1 above or below which no man can long remain placed4 ,it is in vain that wealth and poverty1 authority and obedience1 accidentally interpose great distances between two men2 public opinion1 founded upon the usual order of things1 draws them to a common level1 and creates a species of imaginary equality between them1 in spite of the real inequality of their conditions4 ,this all-powerful opinion penetrates at length even into the hearts of those whose interest might arm them to resist it2 it affects their judgment whilst it subdues their will4 ,in their inmost convictions the master and the servant no longer perceive any deep-seated difference between them1 and they neither hope nor fear to meet with any such at any time4 ,they are therefore neither subject to disdain nor to anger1 and they discern in each other neither humility nor pride4 ,the master holds the contract of service to be the only source of his power1 and the servant regards it as the only cause of his obedience4 ,they do not quarrel about their reciprocal situations1 but each knows his own and keeps it4 ,in the ,french army the common soldier is taken from nearly the same classes as the officer1 and may hold the same commissions2 out of the ranks he considers himself entirely equal to his military superiors1 and in point of fact he is so2 but when under arms he does not hesitate to obey1 and his obedience is not the less prompt1 precise1 and ready1 for being voluntary and defined4 ,this example may give a notion of what takes place between masters and servants in democratic communities4 ,it would be preposterous to suppose that those warm and deep-seated affections1 which are sometimes kindled in the domestic service of aristocracy1 will ever spring up between these two men1 or that they will exhibit strong instances of self-sacrifice4 ,in aristocracies masters and servants live apart1 and frequently their only intercourse is through a third person2 yet they commonly stand firmly by one another4 ,in democratic countries the master and the servant are close together2 they are in daily personal contact1 but their minds do not intermingle2 they have common occupations1 hardly ever common interests4 ,amongst such a people the servant always considers himself as a sojourner in the dwelling of his masters4 ,he knew nothing of their forefathers--he will see nothing of their descendants--he has nothing lasting to expect from their hand4 ,why then should he confound his life with theirs1 and whence should so strange a surrender of himself proceed8 ,the reciprocal position of the two men is changed--their mutual relations must be so too4 ,i would fain illustrate all these reflections by the example of the ,americans2 but for this purpose the distinctions of persons and places must be accurately traced4 ,in the ,south of the ,union1 slavery exists2 all that ,i have just said is consequently inapplicable there4 ,in the ,north1 the majority of servants are either freedmen or the children of freedmen2 these persons occupy a contested position in the public estimation2 by the laws they are brought up to the level of their masters--by the manners of the country they are obstinately detruded from it4 ,they do not themselves clearly know their proper place1 and they are almost always either insolent or craven4 ,but in the ,northern ,states1 especially in ,new ,england1 there are a certain number of whites1 who agree1 for wages1 to yield a temporary obedience to the will of their fellow-citizens4 ,i have heard that these servants commonly perform the duties of their situation with punctuality and intelligence2 and that without thinking themselves naturally inferior to the person who orders them1 they submit without reluctance to obey him4 ,they appear to me to carry into service some of those manly habits which independence and equality engender4 ,having once selected a hard way of life1 they do not seek to escape from it by indirect means2 and they have sufficient respect for themselves1 not to refuse to their master that obedience which they have freely promised4 ,on their part1 masters require nothing of their servants but the faithful and rigorous performance of the covenant3 they do not ask for marks of respect1 they do not claim their love or devoted attachment2 it is enough that1 as servants1 they are exact and honest4 ,it would not then be true to assert that1 in democratic society1 the relation of servants and masters is disorganized3 it is organized on another footing2 the rule is different1 but there is a rule4 ,it is not my purpose to inquire whether the new state of things which ,i have just described is inferior to that which preceded it1 or simply different4 ,enough for me that it is fixed and determined3 for what is most important to meet with among men is not any given ordering1 but order4 ,but what shall ,i say of those sad and troubled times at which equality is established in the midst of the tumult of revolution--when democracy1 after having been introduced into the state of society1 still struggles with difficulty against the prejudices and manners of the country8 ,the laws1 and partially public opinion1 already declare that no natural or permanent inferiority exists between the servant and the master4 ,but this new belief has not yet reached the innermost convictions of the latter1 or rather his heart rejects it2 in the secret persuasion of his mind the master thinks that he belongs to a peculiar and superior race2 he dares not say so1 but he shudders whilst he allows himself to be dragged to the same level4 ,his authority over his servants becomes timid and at the same time harsh3 he has already ceased to entertain for them the feelings of patronizing kindness which long uncontested power always engenders1 and he is surprised that1 being changed himself1 his servant changes also4 ,he wants his attendants to form regular and permanent habits1 in a condition of domestic service which is only temporary3 he requires that they should appear contented with and proud of a servile condition1 which they will one day shake off--that they should sacrifice themselves to a man who can neither protect nor ruin them--and in short that they should contract an indissoluble engagement to a being like themselves1 and one who will last no longer than they will4 ,amongst aristocratic nations it often happens that the condition of domestic service does not degrade the character of those who enter upon it1 because they neither know nor imagine any other2 and the amazing inequality which is manifest between them and their master appears to be the necessary and unavoidable consequence of some hidden law of ,providence4 ,in democracies the condition of domestic service does not degrade the character of those who enter upon it1 because it is freely chosen1 and adopted for a time only2 because it is not stigmatized by public opinion1 and creates no permanent inequality between the servant and the master4 ,but whilst the transition from one social condition to another is going on1 there is almost always a time when men's minds fluctuate between the aristocratic notion of subjection and the democratic notion of obedience4 ,obedience then loses its moral importance in the eyes of him who obeys2 he no longer considers it as a species of divine obligation1 and he does not yet view it under its purely human aspect2 it has to him no character of sanctity or of justice1 and he submits to it as to a degrading but profitable condition4 ,at that moment a confused and imperfect phantom of equality haunts the minds of servants2 they do not at once perceive whether the equality to which they are entitled is to be found within or without the pale of domestic service2 and they rebel in their hearts against a subordination to which they have subjected themselves1 and from which they derive actual profit4 ,they consent to serve1 and they blush to obey2 they like the advantages of service1 but not the master2 or rather1 they are not sure that they ought not themselves to be masters1 and they are inclined to consider him who orders them as an unjust usurper of their own rights4 ,then it is that the dwelling of every citizen offers a spectacle somewhat analogous to the gloomy aspect of political society4 ,a secret and intestine warfare is going on there between powers1 ever rivals and suspicious of one another3 the master is ill-natured and weak1 the servant ill-natured and intractable2 the one constantly attempts to evade by unfair restrictions his obligation to protect and to remunerate--the other his obligation to obey4 ,the reins of domestic government dangle between them1 to be snatched at by one or the other4 ,the lines which divide authority from oppression1 liberty from license1 and right from might1 are to their eyes so jumbled together and confused1 that no one knows exactly what he is1 or what he may be1 or what he ought to be4 ,such a condition is not democracy1 but revolution4 ,chapter ,,vi3 ,that ,democratic ,institutions ,and ,manners ,tend ,to ,raise ,rents ,and ,shorten ,the ,terms ,of ,leases ,what has been said of servants and masters is applicable1 to a certain extent1 to landowners and farming tenants2 but this subject deserves to be considered by itself4 ,in ,america there are1 properly speaking1 no tenant farmers2 every man owns the ground he tills4 ,it must be admitted that democratic laws tend greatly to increase the number of landowners1 and to diminish that of farming tenants4 ,yet what takes place in the ,united ,states is much less attributable to the institutions of the country than to the country itself4 ,in ,america land is cheap1 and anyone may easily become a landowner2 its returns are small1 and its produce cannot well be divided between a landowner and a farmer4 ,america therefore stands alone in this as well as in many other respects1 and it would be a mistake to take it as an example4 ,i believe that in democratic as well as in aristocratic countries there will be landowners and tenants1 but the connection existing between them will be of a different kind4 ,in aristocracies the hire of a farm is paid to the landlord1 not only in rent1 but in respect1 regard1 and duty2 in democracies the whole is paid in cash4 ,when estates are divided and passed from hand to hand1 and the permanent connection which existed between families and the soil is dissolved1 the landowner and the tenant are only casually brought into contact4 ,they meet for a moment to settle the conditions of the agreement1 and then lose sight of each other2 they are two strangers brought together by a common interest1 and who keenly talk over a matter of business1 the sole object of which is to make money4 ,in proportion as property is subdivided and wealth distributed over the country1 the community is filled with people whose former opulence is declining1 and with others whose fortunes are of recent growth and whose wants increase more rapidly than their resources4 ,for all such persons the smallest pecuniary profit is a matter of importance1 and none of them feel disposed to waive any of their claims1 or to lose any portion of their income4 ,as ranks are intermingled1 and as very large as well as very scanty fortunes become more rare1 every day brings the social condition of the landowner nearer to that of the farmer2 the one has not naturally any uncontested superiority over the other2 between two men who are equal1 and not at ease in their circumstances1 the contract of hire is exclusively an affair of money4 ,a man whose estate extends over a whole district1 and who owns a hundred farms1 is well aware of the importance of gaining at the same time the affections of some thousands of men2 this object appears to call for his exertions1 and to attain it he will readily make considerable sacrifices4 ,but he who owns a hundred acres is insensible to similar considerations1 and he cares but little to win the private regard of his tenant4 ,an aristocracy does not expire like a man in a single day2 the aristocratic principle is slowly undermined in men's opinion1 before it is attacked in their laws4 ,long before open war is declared against it1 the tie which had hitherto united the higher classes to the lower may be seen to be gradually relaxed4 ,indifference and contempt are betrayed by one class1 jealousy and hatred by the others2 the intercourse between rich and poor becomes less frequent and less kind1 and rents are raised4 ,this is not the consequence of a democratic revolution1 but its certain harbinger2 for an aristocracy which has lost the affections of the people1 once and forever1 is like a tree dead at the root1 which is the more easily torn up by the winds the higher its branches have spread4 ,in the course of the last fifty years the rents of farms have amazingly increased1 not only in ,france but throughout the greater part of ,europe4 ,the remarkable improvements which have taken place in agriculture and manufactures within the same period do not suffice in my opinion to explain this fact2 recourse must be had to another cause more powerful and more concealed4 ,i believe that cause is to be found in the democratic institutions which several ,european nations have adopted1 and in the democratic passions which more or less agitate all the rest4 ,i have frequently heard great ,english landowners congratulate themselves that1 at the present day1 they derive a much larger income from their estates than their fathers did4 ,they have perhaps good reasons to be glad2 but most assuredly they know not what they are glad of4 ,they think they are making a clear gain1 when it is in reality only an exchange2 their influence is what they are parting with for cash2 and what they gain in money will ere long be lost in power4 ,there is yet another sign by which it is easy to know that a great democratic revolution is going on or approaching4 ,in the ,middle ,ages almost all lands were leased for lives1 or for very long terms2 the domestic economy of that period shows that leases for ninety-nine years were more frequent then than leases for twelve years are now4 ,men then believed that families were immortal2 men's conditions seemed settled forever1 and the whole of society appeared to be so fixed1 that it was not supposed that anything would ever be stirred or shaken in its structure4 ,in ages of equality1 the human mind takes a different bent2 the prevailing notion is that nothing abides1 and man is haunted by the thought of mutability4 ,under this impression the landowner and the tenant himself are instinctively averse to protracted terms of obligation2 they are afraid of being tied up to-morrow by the contract which benefits them today4 ,they have vague anticipations of some sudden and unforeseen change in their conditions2 they mistrust themselves2 they fear lest their taste should change1 and lest they should lament that they cannot rid themselves of what they coveted2 nor are such fears unfounded1 for in democratic ages that which is most fluctuating amidst the fluctuation of all around is the heart of man4 ,chapter ,,vii3 ,influence ,of ,democracy ,on ,wages ,most of the remarks which ,i have already made in speaking of servants and masters1 may be applied to masters and workmen4 ,as the gradations of the social scale come to be less observed1 whilst the great sink the humble rise1 and as poverty as well as opulence ceases to be hereditary1 the distance both in reality and in opinion1 which heretofore separated the workman from the master1 is lessened every day4 ,the workman conceives a more lofty opinion of his rights1 of his future1 of himself2 he is filled with new ambition and with new desires1 he is harassed by new wants4 ,every instant he views with longing eyes the profits of his employer2 and in order to share them1 he strives to dispose of his labor at a higher rate1 and he generally succeeds at length in the attempt4 ,in democratic countries1 as well as elsewhere1 most of the branches of productive industry are carried on at a small cost1 by men little removed by their wealth or education above the level of those whom they employ4 ,these manufacturing speculators are extremely numerous2 their interests differ2 they cannot therefore easily concert or combine their exertions4 ,on the other hand the workmen have almost always some sure resources1 which enable them to refuse to work when they cannot get what they conceive to be the fair price of their labor4 ,in the constant struggle for wages which is going on between these two classes1 their strength is divided1 and success alternates from one to the other4 ,it is even probable that in the end the interest of the working class must prevail2 for the high wages which they have already obtained make them every day less dependent on their masters2 and as they grow more independent1 they have greater facilities for obtaining a further increase of wages4 ,i shall take for example that branch of productive industry which is still at the present day the most generally followed in ,france1 and in almost all the countries of the world--,i mean the cultivation of the soil4 ,in ,france most of those who labor for hire in agriculture1 are themselves owners of certain plots of ground1 which just enable them to subsist without working for anyone else4 ,when these laborers come to offer their services to a neighboring landowner or farmer1 if he refuses them a certain rate of wages1 they retire to their own small property and await another opportunity4 ,i think that1 upon the whole1 it may be asserted that a slow and gradual rise of wages is one of the general laws of democratic communities4 ,in proportion as social conditions become more equal1 wages rise2 and as wages are higher1 social conditions become more equal4 ,but a great and gloomy exception occurs in our own time4 ,i have shown in a preceding chapter that aristocracy1 expelled from political society1 has taken refuge in certain departments of productive industry1 and has established its sway there under another form2 this powerfully affects the rate of wages4 ,as a large capital is required to embark in the great manufacturing speculations to which ,i allude1 the number of persons who enter upon them is exceedingly limited3 as their number is small1 they can easily concert together1 and fix the rate of wages as they please4 ,their workmen on the contrary are exceedingly numerous1 and the number of them is always increasing2 for1 from time to time1 an extraordinary run of business takes place1 during which wages are inordinately high1 and they attract the surrounding population to the factories4 ,but1 when once men have embraced that line of life1 we have already seen that they cannot quit it again1 because they soon contract habits of body and mind which unfit them for any other sort of toil4 ,these men have generally but little education and industry1 with but few resources2 they stand therefore almost at the mercy of the master4 ,when competition1 or other fortuitous circumstances1 lessen his profits1 he can reduce the wages of his workmen almost at pleasure1 and make from them what he loses by the chances of business4 ,should the workmen strike1 the master1 who is a rich man1 can very well wait without being ruined until necessity brings them back to him2 but they must work day by day or they die1 for their only property is in their hands4 ,they have long been impoverished by oppression1 and the poorer they become the more easily may they be oppressed3 they can never escape from this fatal circle of cause and consequence4 ,it is not then surprising that wages1 after having sometimes suddenly risen1 are permanently lowered in this branch of industry2 whereas in other callings the price of labor1 which generally increases but little1 is nevertheless constantly augmented4 ,this state of dependence and wretchedness1 in which a part of the manufacturing population of our time lives1 forms an exception to the general rule1 contrary to the state of all the rest of the community2 but1 for this very reason1 no circumstance is more important or more deserving of the especial consideration of the legislator2 for when the whole of society is in motion1 it is difficult to keep any one class stationary2 and when the greater number of men are opening new paths to fortune1 it is no less difficult to make the few support in peace their wants and their desires4 ,chapter ,,viii3 ,influence ,of ,democracy ,on ,kindred ,i have just examined the changes which the equality of conditions produces in the mutual relations of the several members of the community amongst democratic nations1 and amongst the ,americans in particular4 ,i would now go deeper1 and inquire into the closer ties of kindred3 my object here is not to seek for new truths1 but to show in what manner facts already known are connected with my subject4 ,it has been universally remarked1 that in our time the several members of a family stand upon an entirely new footing towards each other2 that the distance which formerly separated a father from his sons has been lessened2 and that paternal authority1 if not destroyed1 is at least impaired4 ,something analogous to this1 but even more striking1 may be observed in the ,united ,states4 ,in ,america the family1 in the ,roman and aristocratic signification of the word1 does not exist4 ,all that remains of it are a few vestiges in the first years of childhood1 when the father exercises1 without opposition1 that absolute domestic authority1 which the feebleness of his children renders necessary1 and which their interest1 as well as his own incontestable superiority1 warrants4 ,but as soon as the young ,american approaches manhood1 the ties of filial obedience are relaxed day by day3 master of his thoughts1 he is soon master of his conduct4 ,in ,america there is1 strictly speaking1 no adolescence3 at the close of boyhood the man appears1 and begins to trace out his own path4 ,it would be an error to suppose that this is preceded by a domestic struggle1 in which the son has obtained by a sort of moral violence the liberty that his father refused him4 ,the same habits1 the same principles which impel the one to assert his independence1 predispose the other to consider the use of that independence as an incontestable right4 ,the former does not exhibit any of those rancorous or irregular passions which disturb men long after they have shaken off an established authority2 the latter feels none of that bitter and angry regret which is apt to survive a bygone power4 ,the father foresees the limits of his authority long beforehand1 and when the time arrives he surrenders it without a struggle3 the son looks forward to the exact period at which he will be his own master2 and he enters upon his freedom without precipitation and without effort1 as a possession which is his own and which no one seeks to wrest from him4 99a ,footnote a3 ,the ,americans1 however1 have not yet thought fit to strip the parent1 as has been done in ,france1 of one of the chief elements of parental authority1 by depriving him of the power of disposing of his property at his death4 ,in the ,united ,states there are no restrictions on the powers of a testator4 ,in this respect1 as in almost all others1 it is easy to perceive1 that if the political legislation of the ,americans is much more democratic than that of the ,french1 the civil legislation of the latter is infinitely more democratic than that of the former4 ,this may easily be accounted for4 ,the civil legislation of ,france was the work of a man who saw that it was his interest to satisfy the democratic passions of his contemporaries in all that was not directly and immediately hostile to his own power4 ,he was willing to allow some popular principles to regulate the distribution of property and the government of families1 provided they were not to be introduced into the administration of public affairs4 ,whilst the torrent of democracy overwhelmed the civil laws of the country1 he hoped to find an easy shelter behind its political institutions4 ,this policy was at once both adroit and selfish2 but a compromise of this kind could not last2 for in the end political institutions never fail to become the image and expression of civil society2 and in this sense it may be said that nothing is more political in a nation than its civil legislation4 ,it may perhaps not be without utility to show how these changes which take place in family relations1 are closely connected with the social and political revolution which is approaching its consummation under our own observation4 ,there are certain great social principles1 which a people either introduces everywhere1 or tolerates nowhere4 ,in countries which are aristocratically constituted with all the gradations of rank1 the government never makes a direct appeal to the mass of the governed3 as men are united together1 it is enough to lead the foremost1 the rest will follow4 ,this is equally applicable to the family1 as to all aristocracies which have a head4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 social institutions recognize1 in truth1 no one in the family but the father2 children are received by society at his hands2 society governs him1 he governs them4 ,thus the parent has not only a natural right1 but he acquires a political right1 to command them3 he is the author and the support of his family2 but he is also its constituted ruler4 ,in democracies1 where the government picks out every individual singly from the mass1 to make him subservient to the general laws of the community1 no such intermediate person is required3 a father is there1 in the eye of the law1 only a member of the community1 older and richer than his sons4 ,when most of the conditions of life are extremely unequal1 and the inequality of these conditions is permanent1 the notion of a superior grows upon the imaginations of men3 if the law invested him with no privileges1 custom and public opinion would concede them4 ,when1 on the contrary1 men differ but little from each other1 and do not always remain in dissimilar conditions of life1 the general notion of a superior becomes weaker and less distinct3 it is vain for legislation to strive to place him who obeys very much beneath him who commands2 the manners of the time bring the two men nearer to one another1 and draw them daily towards the same level4 ,although the legislation of an aristocratic people should grant no peculiar privileges to the heads of families2 ,i shall not be the less convinced that their power is more respected and more extensive than in a democracy2 for ,i know that1 whatsoever the laws may be1 superiors always appear higher and inferiors lower in aristocracies than amongst democratic nations4 ,when men live more for the remembrance of what has been than for the care of what is1 and when they are more given to attend to what their ancestors thought than to think themselves1 the father is the natural and necessary tie between the past and the present--the link by which the ends of these two chains are connected4 ,in aristocracies1 then1 the father is not only the civil head of the family1 but the oracle of its traditions1 the expounder of its customs1 the arbiter of its manners4 ,he is listened to with deference1 he is addressed with respect1 and the love which is felt for him is always tempered with fear4 ,when the condition of society becomes democratic1 and men adopt as their general principle that it is good and lawful to judge of all things for one's self1 using former points of belief not as a rule of faith but simply as a means of information1 the power which the opinions of a father exercise over those of his sons diminishes as well as his legal power4 ,perhaps the subdivision of estates which democracy brings with it contributes more than anything else to change the relations existing between a father and his children4 ,when the property of the father of a family is scanty1 his son and himself constantly live in the same place1 and share the same occupations3 habit and necessity bring them together1 and force them to hold constant communication3 the inevitable consequence is a sort of familiar intimacy1 which renders authority less absolute1 and which can ill be reconciled with the external forms of respect4 ,now in democratic countries the class of those who are possessed of small fortunes is precisely that which gives strength to the notions1 and a particular direction to the manners1 of the community4 ,that class makes its opinions preponderate as universally as its will1 and even those who are most inclined to resist its commands are carried away in the end by its example4 ,i have known eager opponents of democracy who allowed their children to address them with perfect colloquial equality4 ,thus1 at the same time that the power of aristocracy is declining1 the austere1 the conventional1 and the legal part of parental authority vanishes1 and a species of equality prevails around the domestic hearth4 ,i know not1 upon the whole1 whether society loses by the change1 but ,i am inclined to believe that man individually is a gainer by it4 ,i think that1 in proportion as manners and laws become more democratic1 the relation of father and son becomes more intimate and more affectionate2 rules and authority are less talked of2 confidence and tenderness are oftentimes increased1 and it would seem that the natural bond is drawn closer in proportion as the social bond is loosened4 ,in a democratic family the father exercises no other power than that with which men love to invest the affection and the experience of age2 his orders would perhaps be disobeyed1 but his advice is for the most part authoritative4 ,though he be not hedged in with ceremonial respect1 his sons at least accost him with confidence2 no settled form of speech is appropriated to the mode of addressing him1 but they speak to him constantly1 and are ready to consult him day by day2 the master and the constituted ruler have vanished--the father remains4 ,nothing more is needed1 in order to judge of the difference between the two states of society in this respect1 than to peruse the family correspondence of aristocratic ages4 ,the style is always correct1 ceremonious1 stiff1 and so cold that the natural warmth of the heart can hardly be felt in the language4 ,the language1 on the contrary1 addressed by a son to his father in democratic countries is always marked by mingled freedom1 familiarity and affection1 which at once show that new relations have sprung up in the bosom of the family4 ,a similar revolution takes place in the mutual relations of children4 ,in aristocratic families1 as well as in aristocratic society1 every place is marked out beforehand4 ,not only does the father occupy a separate rank1 in which he enjoys extensive privileges1 but even the children are not equal amongst themselves4 ,the age and sex of each irrevocably determine his rank1 and secure to him certain privileges3 most of these distinctions are abolished or diminished by democracy4 ,in aristocratic families the eldest son1 inheriting the greater part of the property1 and almost all the rights of the family1 becomes the chief1 and1 to a certain extent1 the master1 of his brothers4 ,greatness and power are for him--for them1 mediocrity and dependence4 ,nevertheless it would be wrong to suppose that1 amongst aristocratic nations1 the privileges of the eldest son are advantageous to himself alone1 or that they excite nothing but envy and hatred in those around him4 ,the eldest son commonly endeavors to procure wealth and power for his brothers1 because the general splendor of the house is reflected back on him who represents it2 the younger sons seek to back the elder brother in all his undertakings1 because the greatness and power of the head of the family better enable him to provide for all its branches4 ,the different members of an aristocratic family are therefore very closely bound together2 their interests are connected1 their minds agree1 but their hearts are seldom in harmony4 ,democracy also binds brothers to each other1 but by very different means4 ,under democratic laws all the children are perfectly equal1 and consequently independent2 nothing brings them forcibly together1 but nothing keeps them apart2 and as they have the same origin1 as they are trained under the same roof1 as they are treated with the same care1 and as no peculiar privilege distinguishes or divides them1 the affectionate and youthful intimacy of early years easily springs up between them4 ,scarcely any opportunities occur to break the tie thus formed at the outset of life2 for their brotherhood brings them daily together1 without embarrassing them4 ,it is not1 then1 by interest1 but by common associations and by the free sympathy of opinion and of taste1 that democracy unites brothers to each other4 ,it divides their inheritance1 but it allows their hearts and minds to mingle together4 ,such is the charm of these democratic manners1 that even the partisans of aristocracy are caught by it2 and after having experienced it for some time1 they are by no means tempted to revert to the respectful and frigid observance of aristocratic families4 ,they would be glad to retain the domestic habits of democracy1 if they might throw off its social conditions and its laws2 but these elements are indissolubly united1 and it is impossible to enjoy the former without enduring the latter4 ,the remarks ,i have made on filial love and fraternal affection are applicable to all the passions which emanate spontaneously from human nature itself4 ,if a certain mode of thought or feeling is the result of some peculiar condition of life1 when that condition is altered nothing whatever remains of the thought or feeling4 ,thus a law may bind two members of the community very closely to one another2 but that law being abolished1 they stand asunder4 ,nothing was more strict than the tie which united the vassal to the lord under the feudal system2 at the present day the two men know not each other2 the fear1 the gratitude1 and the affection which formerly connected them have vanished1 and not a vestige of the tie remains4 ,such1 however1 is not the case with those feelings which are natural to mankind4 ,whenever a law attempts to tutor these feelings in any particular manner1 it seldom fails to weaken them2 by attempting to add to their intensity1 it robs them of some of their elements1 for they are never stronger than when left to themselves4 ,democracy1 which destroys or obscures almost all the old conventional rules of society1 and which prevents men from readily assenting to new ones1 entirely effaces most of the feelings to which these conventional rules have given rise2 but it only modifies some others1 and frequently imparts to them a degree of energy and sweetness unknown before4 ,perhaps it is not impossible to condense into a single proposition the whole meaning of this chapter1 and of several others that preceded it4 ,democracy loosens social ties1 but it draws the ties of nature more tight2 it brings kindred more closely together1 whilst it places the various members of the community more widely apart4 ,chapter ,,ix3 ,education ,of ,young ,women ,in ,the ,united ,states ,no free communities ever existed without morals2 and1 as ,i observed in the former part of this work1 morals are the work of woman4 ,consequently1 whatever affects the condition of women1 their habits and their opinions1 has great political importance in my eyes4 ,amongst almost all ,protestant nations young women are far more the mistresses of their own actions than they are in ,catholic countries4 ,this independence is still greater in ,protestant countries1 like ,england1 which have retained or acquired the right of self-government2 the spirit of freedom is then infused into the domestic circle by political habits and by religious opinions4 ,in the ,united ,states the doctrines of ,protestantism are combined with great political freedom and a most democratic state of society2 and nowhere are young women surrendered so early or so completely to their own guidance4 ,long before an ,american girl arrives at the age of marriage1 her emancipation from maternal control begins2 she has scarcely ceased to be a child when she already thinks for herself1 speaks with freedom1 and acts on her own impulse4 ,the great scene of the world is constantly open to her view2 far from seeking concealment1 it is every day disclosed to her more completely1 and she is taught to survey it with a firm and calm gaze4 ,thus the vices and dangers of society are early revealed to her2 as she sees them clearly1 she views them without illusions1 and braves them without fear2 for she is full of reliance on her own strength1 and her reliance seems to be shared by all who are about her4 ,an ,american girl scarcely ever displays that virginal bloom in the midst of young desires1 or that innocent and ingenuous grace which usually attends the ,european woman in the transition from girlhood to youth4 ,it is rarely that an ,american woman at any age displays childish timidity or ignorance4 ,like the young women of ,europe1 she seeks to please1 but she knows precisely the cost of pleasing4 ,if she does not abandon herself to evil1 at least she knows that it exists2 and she is remarkable rather for purity of manners than for chastity of mind4 ,i have been frequently surprised1 and almost frightened1 at the singular address and happy boldness with which young women in ,america contrive to manage their thoughts and their language amidst all the difficulties of stimulating conversation2 a philosopher would have stumbled at every step along the narrow path which they trod without accidents and without effort4 ,it is easy indeed to perceive that1 even amidst the independence of early youth1 an ,american woman is always mistress of herself2 she indulges in all permitted pleasures1 without yielding herself up to any of them2 and her reason never allows the reins of self-guidance to drop1 though it often seems to hold them loosely4 ,in ,france1 where remnants of every age are still so strangely mingled in the opinions and tastes of the people1 women commonly receive a reserved1 retired1 and almost cloistral education1 as they did in aristocratic times2 and then they are suddenly abandoned1 without a guide and without assistance1 in the midst of all the irregularities inseparable from democratic society4 ,the ,americans are more consistent4 ,they have found out that in a democracy the independence of individuals cannot fail to be very great1 youth premature1 tastes ill-restrained1 customs fleeting1 public opinion often unsettled and powerless1 paternal authority weak1 and marital authority contested4 ,under these circumstances1 believing that they had little chance of repressing in woman the most vehement passions of the human heart1 they held that the surer way was to teach her the art of combating those passions for herself4 ,as they could not prevent her virtue from being exposed to frequent danger1 they determined that she should know how best to defend it2 and more reliance was placed on the free vigor of her will than on safeguards which have been shaken or overthrown4 ,instead1 then1 of inculcating mistrust of herself1 they constantly seek to enhance their confidence in her own strength of character4 ,as it is neither possible nor desirable to keep a young woman in perpetual or complete ignorance1 they hasten to give her a precocious knowledge on all subjects4 ,far from hiding the corruptions of the world from her1 they prefer that she should see them at once and train herself to shun them2 and they hold it of more importance to protect her conduct than to be over-scrupulous of her innocence4 ,although the ,americans are a very religious people1 they do not rely on religion alone to defend the virtue of woman2 they seek to arm her reason also4 ,in this they have followed the same method as in several other respects2 they first make the most vigorous efforts to bring individual independence to exercise a proper control over itself1 and they do not call in the aid of religion until they have reached the utmost limits of human strength4 ,i am aware that an education of this kind is not without danger2 ,i am sensible that it tends to invigorate the judgment at the expense of the imagination1 and to make cold and virtuous women instead of affectionate wives and agreeable companions to man4 ,society may be more tranquil and better regulated1 but domestic life has often fewer charms4 ,these1 however1 are secondary evils1 which may be braved for the sake of higher interests4 ,at the stage at which we are now arrived the time for choosing is no longer within our control2 a democratic education is indispensable to protect women from the dangers with which democratic institutions and manners surround them4 ,chapter ,x3 ,the ,young ,woman ,in ,the ,character ,of ,a ,wife ,in ,america the independence of woman is irrevocably lost in the bonds of matrimony3 if an unmarried woman is less constrained there than elsewhere1 a wife is subjected to stricter obligations4 ,the former makes her father's house an abode of freedom and of pleasure2 the latter lives in the home of her husband as if it were a cloister4 ,yet these two different conditions of life are perhaps not so contrary as may be supposed1 and it is natural that the ,american women should pass through the one to arrive at the other4 ,religious peoples and trading nations entertain peculiarly serious notions of marriage3 the former consider the regularity of woman's life as the best pledge and most certain sign of the purity of her morals2 the latter regard it as the highest security for the order and prosperity of the household4 ,the ,americans are at the same time a puritanical people and a commercial nation3 their religious opinions1 as well as their trading habits1 consequently lead them to require much abnegation on the part of woman1 and a constant sacrifice of her pleasures to her duties which is seldom demanded of her in ,europe4 ,thus in the ,united ,states the inexorable opinion of the public carefully circumscribes woman within the narrow circle of domestic interest and duties1 and forbids her to step beyond it4 ,upon her entrance into the world a young ,american woman finds these notions firmly established2 she sees the rules which are derived from them2 she is not slow to perceive that she cannot depart for an instant from the established usages of her contemporaries1 without putting in jeopardy her peace of mind1 her honor1 nay even her social existence2 and she finds the energy required for such an act of submission in the firmness of her understanding and in the virile habits which her education has given her4 ,it may be said that she has learned by the use of her independence to surrender it without a struggle and without a murmur when the time comes for making the sacrifice4 ,but no ,american woman falls into the toils of matrimony as into a snare held out to her simplicity and ignorance4 ,she has been taught beforehand what is expected of her1 and voluntarily and freely does she enter upon this engagement4 ,she supports her new condition with courage1 because she chose it4 ,as in ,america paternal discipline is very relaxed and the conjugal tie very strict1 a young woman does not contract the latter without considerable circumspection and apprehension4 ,precocious marriages are rare4 ,thus ,american women do not marry until their understandings are exercised and ripened2 whereas in other countries most women generally only begin to exercise and to ripen their understandings after marriage4 ,i by no means suppose1 however1 that the great change which takes place in all the habits of women in the ,united ,states1 as soon as they are married1 ought solely to be attributed to the constraint of public opinion3 it is frequently imposed upon themselves by the sole effort of their own will4 ,when the time for choosing a husband is arrived1 that cold and stern reasoning power which has been educated and invigorated by the free observation of the world1 teaches an ,american woman that a spirit of levity and independence in the bonds of marriage is a constant subject of annoyance1 not of pleasure2 it tells her that the amusements of the girl cannot become the recreations of the wife1 and that the sources of a married woman's happiness are in the home of her husband4 ,as she clearly discerns beforehand the only road which can lead to domestic happiness1 she enters upon it at once1 and follows it to the end without seeking to turn back4 ,the same strength of purpose which the young wives of ,america display1 in bending themselves at once and without repining to the austere duties of their new condition1 is no less manifest in all the great trials of their lives4 ,in no country in the world are private fortunes more precarious than in the ,united ,states4 ,it is not uncommon for the same man1 in the course of his life1 to rise and sink again through all the grades which lead from opulence to poverty4 ,american women support these vicissitudes with calm and unquenchable energy3 it would seem that their desires contract1 as easily as they expand1 with their fortunes4 99a ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,s4 ,the greater part of the adventurers who migrate every year to people the western wilds1 belong1 as ,i observed in the former part of this work1 to the old ,anglo-,american race of the ,northern ,states4 ,many of these men1 who rush so boldly onwards in pursuit of wealth1 were already in the enjoyment of a competency in their own part of the country4 ,they take their wives along with them1 and make them share the countless perils and privations which always attend the commencement of these expeditions4 ,i have often met1 even on the verge of the wilderness1 with young women1 who after having been brought up amidst all the comforts of the large towns of ,new ,england1 had passed1 almost without any intermediate stage1 from the wealthy abode of their parents to a comfortless hovel in a forest4 ,fever1 solitude1 and a tedious life had not broken the springs of their courage4 ,their features were impaired and faded1 but their looks were firm3 they appeared to be at once sad and resolute4 ,i do not doubt that these young ,american women had amassed1 in the education of their early years1 that inward strength which they displayed under these circumstances4 ,the early culture of the girl may still therefore be traced1 in the ,united ,states1 under the aspect of marriage3 her part is changed1 her habits are different1 but her character is the same4 ,chapter ,,xi3 ,that ,the ,equality ,of ,conditions ,contributes ,to ,the ,maintenance ,of ,good ,morals ,in ,america ,some philosophers and historians have said1 or have hinted1 that the strictness of female morality was increased or diminished simply by the distance of a country from the equator4 ,this solution of the difficulty was an easy one2 and nothing was required but a globe and a pair of compasses to settle in an instant one of the most difficult problems in the condition of mankind4 ,but ,i am not aware that this principle of the materialists is supported by facts4 ,the same nations have been chaste or dissolute at different periods of their history2 the strictness or the laxity of their morals depended therefore on some variable cause1 not only on the natural qualities of their country1 which were invariable4 ,i do not deny that in certain climates the passions which are occasioned by the mutual attraction of the sexes are peculiarly intense2 but ,i am of opinion that this natural intensity may always be excited or restrained by the condition of society and by political institutions4 ,although the travellers who have visited ,north ,america differ on a great number of points1 they all agree in remarking that morals are far more strict there than elsewhere4 ,it is evident that on this point the ,americans are very superior to their progenitors the ,english4 ,a superficial glance at the two nations will establish the fact4 ,in ,england1 as in all other countries of ,europe1 public malice is constantly attacking the frailties of women4 ,philosophers and statesmen are heard to deplore that morals are not sufficiently strict1 and the literary productions of the country constantly lead one to suppose so4 ,in ,america all books1 novels not excepted1 suppose women to be chaste1 and no one thinks of relating affairs of gallantry4 ,no doubt this great regularity of ,american morals originates partly in the country1 in the race of the people1 and in their religion3 but all these causes1 which operate elsewhere1 do not suffice to account for it2 recourse must be had to some special reason4 ,this reason appears to me to be the principle of equality and the institutions derived from it4 ,equality of conditions does not of itself engender regularity of morals1 but it unquestionably facilitates and increases it4 99a ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,t4 ,amongst aristocratic nations birth and fortune frequently make two such different beings of man and woman1 that they can never be united to each other4 ,their passions draw them together1 but the condition of society1 and the notions suggested by it1 prevent them from contracting a permanent and ostensible tie4 ,the necessary consequence is a great number of transient and clandestine connections4 ,nature secretly avenges herself for the constraint imposed upon her by the laws of man4 ,this is not so much the case when the equality of conditions has swept away all the imaginary1 or the real1 barriers which separated man from woman4 ,no girl then believes that she cannot become the wife of the man who loves her2 and this renders all breaches of morality before marriage very uncommon3 for1 whatever be the credulity of the passions1 a woman will hardly be able to persuade herself that she is beloved1 when her lover is perfectly free to marry her and does not4 ,the same cause operates1 though more indirectly1 on married life4 ,nothing better serves to justify an illicit passion1 either to the minds of those who have conceived it or to the world which looks on1 than compulsory or accidental marriages4 99b ,in a country in which a woman is always free to exercise her power of choosing1 and in which education has prepared her to choose rightly1 public opinion is inexorable to her faults4 ,the rigor of the ,americans arises in part from this cause4 ,they consider marriages as a covenant which is often onerous1 but every condition of which the parties are strictly bound to fulfil1 because they knew all those conditions beforehand1 and were perfectly free not to have contracted them4 ,footnote b3 ,the literature of ,europe sufficiently corroborates this remark4 ,when a ,european author wishes to depict in a work of imagination any of these great catastrophes in matrimony which so frequently occur amongst us1 he takes care to bespeak the compassion of the reader by bringing before him ill-assorted or compulsory marriages4 ,although habitual tolerance has long since relaxed our morals1 an author could hardly succeed in interesting us in the misfortunes of his characters1 if he did not first palliate their faults4 ,this artifice seldom fails3 the daily scenes we witness prepare us long beforehand to be indulgent4 ,but ,american writers could never render these palliations probable to their readers2 their customs and laws are opposed to it2 and as they despair of rendering levity of conduct pleasing1 they cease to depict it4 ,this is one of the causes to which must be attributed the small number of novels published in the ,united ,states4 ,the very circumstances which render matrimonial fidelity more obligatory also render it more easy4 ,in aristocratic countries the object of marriage is rather to unite property than persons2 hence the husband is sometimes at school and the wife at nurse when they are betrothed4 ,it cannot be wondered at if the conjugal tie which holds the fortunes of the pair united allows their hearts to rove2 this is the natural result of the nature of the contract4 ,when1 on the contrary1 a man always chooses a wife for himself1 without any external coercion or even guidance1 it is generally a conformity of tastes and opinions which brings a man and a woman together1 and this same conformity keeps and fixes them in close habits of intimacy4 ,our forefathers had conceived a very strange notion on the subject of marriage3 as they had remarked that the small number of love-matches which occurred in their time almost always turned out ill1 they resolutely inferred that it was exceedingly dangerous to listen to the dictates of the heart on the subject4 ,accident appeared to them to be a better guide than choice4 ,yet it was not very difficult to perceive that the examples which they witnessed did in fact prove nothing at all4 ,for in the first place1 if democratic nations leave a woman at liberty to choose her husband1 they take care to give her mind sufficient knowledge1 and her will sufficient strength1 to make so important a choice3 whereas the young women who1 amongst aristocratic nations1 furtively elope from the authority of their parents to throw themselves of their own accord into the arms of men whom they have had neither time to know1 nor ability to judge of1 are totally without those securities4 ,it is not surprising that they make a bad use of their freedom of action the first time they avail themselves of it2 nor that they fall into such cruel mistakes1 when1 not having received a democratic education1 they choose to marry in conformity to democratic customs4 ,but this is not all4 ,when a man and woman are bent upon marriage in spite of the differences of an aristocratic state of society1 the difficulties to be overcome are enormous4 ,having broken or relaxed the bonds of filial obedience1 they have then to emancipate themselves by a final effort from the sway of custom and the tyranny of opinion2 and when at length they have succeeded in this arduous task1 they stand estranged from their natural friends and kinsmen3 the prejudice they have crossed separates them from all1 and places them in a situation which soon breaks their courage and sours their hearts4 ,if1 then1 a couple married in this manner are first unhappy and afterwards criminal1 it ought not to be attributed to the freedom of their choice1 but rather to their living in a community in which this freedom of choice is not admitted4 ,moreover it should not be forgotten that the same effort which makes a man violently shake off a prevailing error1 commonly impels him beyond the bounds of reason2 that1 to dare to declare war1 in however just a cause1 against the opinion of one's age and country1 a violent and adventurous spirit is required1 and that men of this character seldom arrive at happiness or virtue1 whatever be the path they follow4 ,and this1 it may be observed by the way1 is the reason why in the most necessary and righteous revolutions1 it is so rare to meet with virtuous or moderate revolutionary characters4 ,there is then no just ground for surprise if a man1 who in an age of aristocracy chooses to consult nothing but his own opinion and his own taste in the choice of a wife1 soon finds that infractions of morality and domestic wretchedness invade his household3 but when this same line of action is in the natural and ordinary course of things1 when it is sanctioned by parental authority and backed by public opinion1 it cannot be doubted that the internal peace of families will be increased by it1 and conjugal fidelity more rigidly observed4 ,almost all men in democracies are engaged in public or professional life2 and on the other hand the limited extent of common incomes obliges a wife to confine herself to the house1 in order to watch in person and very closely over the details of domestic economy4 ,all these distinct and compulsory occupations are so many natural barriers1 which1 by keeping the two sexes asunder1 render the solicitations of the one less frequent and less ardent--the resistance of the other more easy4 ,not indeed that the equality of conditions can ever succeed in making men chaste1 but it may impart a less dangerous character to their breaches of morality4 ,as no one has then either sufficient time or opportunity to assail a virtue armed in self-defence1 there will be at the same time a great number of courtesans and a great number of virtuous women4 ,this state of things causes lamentable cases of individual hardship1 but it does not prevent the body of society from being strong and alert3 it does not destroy family ties1 or enervate the morals of the nation4 ,society is endangered not by the great profligacy of a few1 but by laxity of morals amongst all4 ,in the eyes of a legislator1 prostitution is less to be dreaded than intrigue4 ,the tumultuous and constantly harassed life which equality makes men lead1 not only distracts them from the passion of love1 by denying them time to indulge in it1 but it diverts them from it by another more secret but more certain road4 ,all men who live in democratic ages more or less contract the ways of thinking of the manufacturing and trading classes2 their minds take a serious1 deliberate1 and positive turn2 they are apt to relinquish the ideal1 in order to pursue some visible and proximate object1 which appears to be the natural and necessary aim of their desires4 ,thus the principle of equality does not destroy the imagination1 but lowers its flight to the level of the earth4 ,no men are less addicted to reverie than the citizens of a democracy2 and few of them are ever known to give way to those idle and solitary meditations which commonly precede and produce the great emotions of the heart4 ,it is true they attach great importance to procuring for themselves that sort of deep1 regular1 and quiet affection which constitutes the charm and safeguard of life1 but they are not apt to run after those violent and capricious sources of excitement which disturb and abridge it4 ,i am aware that all this is only applicable in its full extent to ,america1 and cannot at present be extended to ,europe4 ,in the course of the last half-century1 whilst laws and customs have impelled several ,european nations with unexampled force towards democracy1 we have not had occasion to observe that the relations of man and woman have become more orderly or more chaste4 ,in some places the very reverse may be detected3 some classes are more strict--the general morality of the people appears to be more lax4 ,i do not hesitate to make the remark1 for ,i am as little disposed to flatter my contemporaries as to malign them4 ,this fact must distress1 but it ought not to surprise us4 ,the propitious influence which a democratic state of society may exercise upon orderly habits1 is one of those tendencies which can only be discovered after a time4 ,if the equality of conditions is favorable to purity of morals1 the social commotion by which conditions are rendered equal is adverse to it4 ,in the last fifty years1 during which ,france has been undergoing this transformation1 that country has rarely had freedom1 always disturbance4 ,amidst this universal confusion of notions and this general stir of opinions--amidst this incoherent mixture of the just and unjust1 of truth and falsehood1 of right and might--public virtue has become doubtful1 and private morality wavering4 ,but all revolutions1 whatever may have been their object or their agents1 have at first produced similar consequences2 even those which have in the end drawn the bonds of morality more tightly began by loosening them4 ,the violations of morality which the ,french frequently witness do not appear to me to have a permanent character2 and this is already betokened by some curious signs of the times4 ,nothing is more wretchedly corrupt than an aristocracy which retains its wealth when it has lost its power1 and which still enjoys a vast deal of leisure after it is reduced to mere vulgar pastimes4 ,the energetic passions and great conceptions which animated it heretofore1 leave it then2 and nothing remains to it but a host of petty consuming vices1 which cling about it like worms upon a carcass4 ,no one denies that the ,french aristocracy of the last century was extremely dissolute2 whereas established habits and ancient belief still preserved some respect for morality amongst the other classes of society4 ,nor will it be contested that at the present day the remnants of that same aristocracy exhibit a certain severity of morals2 whilst laxity of morals appears to have spread amongst the middle and lower ranks4 ,so that the same families which were most profligate fifty years ago are nowadays the most exemplary1 and democracy seems only to have strengthened the morality of the aristocratic classes4 ,the ,french ,revolution1 by dividing the fortunes of the nobility1 by forcing them to attend assiduously to their affairs and to their families1 by making them live under the same roof with their children1 and in short by giving a more rational and serious turn to their minds1 has imparted to them1 almost without their being aware of it1 a reverence for religious belief1 a love of order1 of tranquil pleasures1 of domestic endearments1 and of comfort2 whereas the rest of the nation1 which had naturally these same tastes1 was carried away into excesses by the effort which was required to overthrow the laws and political habits of the country4 ,the old ,french aristocracy has undergone the consequences of the ,revolution1 but it neither felt the revolutionary passions nor shared in the anarchical excitement which produced that crisis2 it may easily be conceived that this aristocracy feels the salutary influence of the ,revolution in its manners1 before those who achieve it4 ,it may therefore be said1 though at first it seems paradoxical1 that1 at the present day1 the most anti-democratic classes of the nation principally exhibit the kind of morality which may reasonably be anticipated from democracy4 ,i cannot but think that when we shall have obtained all the effects of this democratic ,revolution1 after having got rid of the tumult it has caused1 the observations which are now only applicable to the few will gradually become true of the whole community4 ,chapter ,,xii3 ,how ,the ,americans ,understand ,the ,equality ,of ,the ,sexes ,i ,have shown how democracy destroys or modifies the different inequalities which originate in society2 but is this all8 or does it not ultimately affect that great inequality of man and woman which has seemed1 up to the present day1 to be eternally based in human nature8 ,i believe that the social changes which bring nearer to the same level the father and son1 the master and servant1 and superiors and inferiors generally speaking1 will raise woman and make her more and more the equal of man4 ,but here1 more than ever1 ,i feel the necessity of making myself clearly understood2 for there is no subject on which the coarse and lawless fancies of our age have taken a freer range4 ,there are people in ,europe who1 confounding together the different characteristics of the sexes1 would make of man and woman beings not only equal but alike4 ,they would give to both the same functions1 impose on both the same duties1 and grant to both the same rights2 they would mix them in all things--their occupations1 their pleasures1 their business4 ,it may readily be conceived1 that by thus attempting to make one sex equal to the other1 both are degraded2 and from so preposterous a medley of the works of nature nothing could ever result but weak men and disorderly women4 ,it is not thus that the ,americans understand that species of democratic equality which may be established between the sexes4 ,they admit1 that as nature has appointed such wide differences between the physical and moral constitution of man and woman1 her manifest design was to give a distinct employment to their various faculties2 and they hold that improvement does not consist in making beings so dissimilar do pretty nearly the same things1 but in getting each of them to fulfil their respective tasks in the best possible manner4 ,the ,americans have applied to the sexes the great principle of political economy which governs the manufactures of our age1 by carefully dividing the duties of man from those of woman1 in order that the great work of society may be the better carried on4 ,in no country has such constant care been taken as in ,america to trace two clearly distinct lines of action for the two sexes1 and to make them keep pace one with the other1 but in two pathways which are always different4 ,american women never manage the outward concerns of the family1 or conduct a business1 or take a part in political life2 nor are they1 on the other hand1 ever compelled to perform the rough labor of the fields1 or to make any of those laborious exertions which demand the exertion of physical strength4 ,no families are so poor as to form an exception to this rule4 ,if on the one hand an ,american woman cannot escape from the quiet circle of domestic employments1 on the other hand she is never forced to go beyond it4 ,hence it is that the women of ,america1 who often exhibit a masculine strength of understanding and a manly energy1 generally preserve great delicacy of personal appearance and always retain the manners of women1 although they sometimes show that they have the hearts and minds of men4 ,nor have the ,americans ever supposed that one consequence of democratic principles is the subversion of marital power1 of the confusion of the natural authorities in families4 ,they hold that every association must have a head in order to accomplish its object1 and that the natural head of the conjugal association is man4 ,they do not therefore deny him the right of directing his partner2 and they maintain1 that in the smaller association of husband and wife1 as well as in the great social community1 the object of democracy is to regulate and legalize the powers which are necessary1 not to subvert all power4 ,this opinion is not peculiar to one sex1 and contested by the other3 ,i never observed that the women of ,america consider conjugal authority as a fortunate usurpation of their rights1 nor that they thought themselves degraded by submitting to it4 ,it appeared to me1 on the contrary1 that they attach a sort of pride to the voluntary surrender of their own will1 and make it their boast to bend themselves to the yoke1 not to shake it off4 ,such at least is the feeling expressed by the most virtuous of their sex2 the others are silent2 and in the ,united ,states it is not the practice for a guilty wife to clamor for the rights of women1 whilst she is trampling on her holiest duties4 ,it has often been remarked that in ,europe a certain degree of contempt lurks even in the flattery which men lavish upon women3 although a ,european frequently affects to be the slave of woman1 it may be seen that he never sincerely thinks her his equal4 ,in the ,united ,states men seldom compliment women1 but they daily show how much they esteem them4 ,they constantly display an entire confidence in the understanding of a wife1 and a profound respect for her freedom2 they have decided that her mind is just as fitted as that of a man to discover the plain truth1 and her heart as firm to embrace it2 and they have never sought to place her virtue1 any more than his1 under the shelter of prejudice1 ignorance1 and fear4 ,it would seem that in ,europe1 where man so easily submits to the despotic sway of women1 they are nevertheless curtailed of some of the greatest qualities of the human species1 and considered as seductive but imperfect beings2 and 7what may well provoke astonishment7 women ultimately look upon themselves in the same light1 and almost consider it as a privilege that they are entitled to show themselves futile1 feeble1 and timid4 ,the women of ,america claim no such privileges4 ,again1 it may be said that in our morals we have reserved strange immunities to man2 so that there is1 as it were1 one virtue for his use1 and another for the guidance of his partner2 and that1 according to the opinion of the public1 the very same act may be punished alternately as a crime or only as a fault4 ,the ,americans know not this iniquitous division of duties and rights2 amongst them the seducer is as much dishonored as his victim4 ,it is true that the ,americans rarely lavish upon women those eager attentions which are commonly paid them in ,europe2 but their conduct to women always implies that they suppose them to be virtuous and refined2 and such is the respect entertained for the moral freedom of the sex1 that in the presence of a woman the most guarded language is used1 lest her ear should be offended by an expression4 ,in ,america a young unmarried woman may1 alone and without fear1 undertake a long journey4 ,the legislators of the ,united ,states1 who have mitigated almost all the penalties of criminal law1 still make rape a capital offence1 and no crime is visited with more inexorable severity by public opinion4 ,this may be accounted for2 as the ,americans can conceive nothing more precious than a woman's honor1 and nothing which ought so much to be respected as her independence1 they hold that no punishment is too severe for the man who deprives her of them against her will4 ,in ,france1 where the same offence is visited with far milder penalties1 it is frequently difficult to get a verdict from a jury against the prisoner4 ,is this a consequence of contempt of decency or contempt of women8 ,i cannot but believe that it is a contempt of one and of the other4 ,thus the ,americans do not think that man and woman have either the duty or the right to perform the same offices1 but they show an equal regard for both their respective parts2 and though their lot is different1 they consider both of them as beings of equal value4 ,they do not give to the courage of woman the same form or the same direction as to that of man2 but they never doubt her courage3 and if they hold that man and his partner ought not always to exercise their intellect and understanding in the same manner1 they at least believe the understanding of the one to be as sound as that of the other1 and her intellect to be as clear4 ,thus1 then1 whilst they have allowed the social inferiority of woman to subsist1 they have done all they could to raise her morally and intellectually to the level of man2 and in this respect they appear to me to have excellently understood the true principle of democratic improvement4 ,as for myself1 ,i do not hesitate to avow that1 although the women of the ,united ,states are confined within the narrow circle of domestic life1 and their situation is in some respects one of extreme dependence1 ,i have nowhere seen woman occupying a loftier position2 and if ,i were asked1 now that ,i am drawing to the close of this work1 in which ,i have spoken of so many important things done by the ,americans1 to what the singular prosperity and growing strength of that people ought mainly to be attributed1 ,i should reply--to the superiority of their women4 ,chapter ,,xiii3 ,that ,the ,principle ,of ,equality ,naturally ,divides ,the ,americans ,into ,a ,number ,of ,small ,private ,circles ,it may probably be supposed that the final consequence and necessary effect of democratic institutions is to confound together all the members of the community in private as well as in public life1 and to compel them all to live in common2 but this would be to ascribe a very coarse and oppressive form to the equality which originates in democracy4 ,no state of society or laws can render men so much alike1 but that education1 fortune1 and tastes will interpose some differences between them2 and1 though different men may sometimes find it their interest to combine for the same purposes1 they will never make it their pleasure4 ,they will therefore always tend to evade the provisions of legislation1 whatever they may be2 and departing in some one respect from the circle within which they were to be bounded1 they will set up1 close by the great political community1 small private circles1 united together by the similitude of their conditions1 habits1 and manners4 ,in the ,united ,states the citizens have no sort of pre-eminence over each other2 they owe each other no mutual obedience or respect2 they all meet for the administration of justice1 for the government of the ,state1 and in general to treat of the affairs which concern their common welfare2 but ,i never heard that attempts have been made to bring them all to follow the same diversions1 or to amuse themselves promiscuously in the same places of recreation4 ,the ,americans1 who mingle so readily in their political assemblies and courts of justice1 are wont on the contrary carefully to separate into small distinct circles1 in order to indulge by themselves in the enjoyments of private life4 ,each of them is willing to acknowledge all his fellow-citizens as his equals1 but he will only receive a very limited number of them amongst his friends or his guests4 ,this appears to me to be very natural4 ,in proportion as the circle of public society is extended1 it may be anticipated that the sphere of private intercourse will be contracted2 far from supposing that the members of modern society will ultimately live in common1 ,i am afraid that they may end by forming nothing but small coteries4 ,amongst aristocratic nations the different classes are like vast chambers1 out of which it is impossible to get1 into which it is impossible to enter4 ,these classes have no communication with each other1 but within their pale men necessarily live in daily contact2 even though they would not naturally suit1 the general conformity of a similar condition brings them nearer together4 ,but when neither law nor custom professes to establish frequent and habitual relations between certain men1 their intercourse originates in the accidental analogy of opinions and tastes2 hence private society is infinitely varied4 ,in democracies1 where the members of the community never differ much from each other1 and naturally stand in such propinquity that they may all at any time be confounded in one general mass1 numerous artificial and arbitrary distinctions spring up1 by means of which every man hopes to keep himself aloof1 lest he should be carried away in the crowd against his will4 ,this can never fail to be the case2 for human institutions may be changed1 but not man3 whatever may be the general endeavor of a community to render its members equal and alike1 the personal pride of individuals will always seek to rise above the line1 and to form somewhere an inequality to their own advantage4 ,in aristocracies men are separated from each other by lofty stationary barriers2 in democracies they are divided by a number of small and almost invisible threads1 which are constantly broken or moved from place to place4 ,thus1 whatever may be the progress of equality1 in democratic nations a great number of small private communities will always be formed within the general pale of political society2 but none of them will bear any resemblance in its manners to the highest class in aristocracies4 ,chapter ,,xiv3 ,some ,reflections ,on ,american ,manners ,nothing seems at first sight less important than the outward form of human actions1 yet there is nothing upon which men set more store3 they grow used to everything except to living in a society which has not their own manners4 ,the influence of the social and political state of a country upon manners is therefore deserving of serious examination4 ,manners are1 generally1 the product of the very basis of the character of a people1 but they are also sometimes the result of an arbitrary convention between certain men2 thus they are at once natural and acquired4 ,when certain men perceive that they are the foremost persons in society1 without contestation and without effort--when they are constantly engaged on large objects1 leaving the more minute details to others--and when they live in the enjoyment of wealth which they did not amass and which they do not fear to lose1 it may be supposed that they feel a kind of haughty disdain of the petty interests and practical cares of life1 and that their thoughts assume a natural greatness1 which their language and their manners denote4 ,in democratic countries manners are generally devoid of dignity1 because private life is there extremely petty in its character2 and they are frequently low1 because the mind has few opportunities of rising above the engrossing cares of domestic interests4 ,true dignity in manners consists in always taking one's proper station1 neither too high nor too low2 and this is as much within the reach of a peasant as of a prince4 ,in democracies all stations appear doubtful2 hence it is that the manners of democracies1 though often full of arrogance1 are commonly wanting in dignity1 and1 moreover1 they are never either well disciplined or accomplished4 ,the men who live in democracies are too fluctuating for a certain number of them ever to succeed in laying down a code of good breeding1 and in forcing people to follow it4 ,every man therefore behaves after his own fashion1 and there is always a certain incoherence in the manners of such times1 because they are moulded upon the feelings and notions of each individual1 rather than upon an ideal model proposed for general imitation4 ,this1 however1 is much more perceptible at the time when an aristocracy has just been overthrown than after it has long been destroyed4 ,new political institutions and new social elements then bring to the same places of resort1 and frequently compel to live in common1 men whose education and habits are still amazingly dissimilar1 and this renders the motley composition of society peculiarly visible4 ,the existence of a former strict code of good breeding is still remembered1 but what it contained or where it is to be found is already forgotten4 ,men have lost the common law of manners1 and they have not yet made up their minds to do without it2 but everyone endeavors to make to himself some sort of arbitrary and variable rule1 from the remnant of former usages2 so that manners have neither the regularity and the dignity which they often display amongst aristocratic nations1 nor the simplicity and freedom which they sometimes assume in democracies2 they are at once constrained and without constraint4 ,this1 however1 is not the normal state of things4 ,when the equality of conditions is long established and complete1 as all men entertain nearly the same notions and do nearly the same things1 they do not require to agree or to copy from one another in order to speak or act in the same manner3 their manners are constantly characterized by a number of lesser diversities1 but not by any great differences4 ,they are never perfectly alike1 because they do not copy from the same pattern2 they are never very unlike1 because their social condition is the same4 ,at first sight a traveller would observe that the manners of all the ,americans are exactly similar2 it is only upon close examination that the peculiarities in which they differ may be detected4 ,the ,english make game of the manners of the ,americans2 but it is singular that most of the writers who have drawn these ludicrous delineations belonged themselves to the middle classes in ,england1 to whom the same delineations are exceedingly applicable3 so that these pitiless censors for the most part furnish an example of the very thing they blame in the ,united ,states2 they do not perceive that they are deriding themselves1 to the great amusement of the aristocracy of their own country4 ,nothing is more prejudicial to democracy than its outward forms of behavior3 many men would willingly endure its vices1 who cannot support its manners4 ,i cannot1 however1 admit that there is nothing commendable in the manners of a democratic people4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 all who live within reach of the first class in society commonly strain to be like it1 which gives rise to ridiculous and insipid imitations4 ,as a democratic people does not possess any models of high breeding1 at least it escapes the daily necessity of seeing wretched copies of them4 ,in democracies manners are never so refined as amongst aristocratic nations1 but on the other hand they are never so coarse4 ,neither the coarse oaths of the populace1 nor the elegant and choice expressions of the nobility are to be heard there3 the manners of such a people are often vulgar1 but they are neither brutal nor mean4 ,i have already observed that in democracies no such thing as a regular code of good breeding can be laid down2 this has some inconveniences and some advantages4 ,in aristocracies the rules of propriety impose the same demeanor on everyone2 they make all the members of the same class appear alike1 in spite of their private inclinations2 they adorn and they conceal the natural man4 ,amongst a democratic people manners are neither so tutored nor so uniform1 but they are frequently more sincere4 ,they form1 as it were1 a light and loosely woven veil1 through which the real feelings and private opinions of each individual are easily discernible4 ,the form and the substance of human actions often1 therefore1 stand in closer relation2 and if the great picture of human life be less embellished1 it is more true4 ,thus it may be said1 in one sense1 that the effect of democracy is not exactly to give men any particular manners1 but to prevent them from having manners at all4 ,the feelings1 the passions1 the virtues1 and the vices of an aristocracy may sometimes reappear in a democracy1 but not its manners2 they are lost1 and vanish forever1 as soon as the democratic revolution is completed4 ,it would seem that nothing is more lasting than the manners of an aristocratic class1 for they are preserved by that class for some time after it has lost its wealth and its power--nor so fleeting1 for no sooner have they disappeared than not a trace of them is to be found2 and it is scarcely possible to say what they have been as soon as they have ceased to be4 ,a change in the state of society works this miracle1 and a few generations suffice to consummate it4 ,the principal characteristics of aristocracy are handed down by history after an aristocracy is destroyed1 but the light and exquisite touches of manners are effaced from men's memories almost immediately after its fall4 ,men can no longer conceive what these manners were when they have ceased to witness them2 they are gone1 and their departure was unseen1 unfelt2 for in order to feel that refined enjoyment which is derived from choice and distinguished manners1 habit and education must have prepared the heart1 and the taste for them is lost almost as easily as the practice of them4 ,thus not only a democratic people cannot have aristocratic manners1 but they neither comprehend nor desire them2 and as they never have thought of them1 it is to their minds as if such things had never been4 ,too much importance should not be attached to this loss1 but it may well be regretted4 ,i am aware that it has not unfrequently happened that the same men have had very high-bred manners and very low-born feelings3 the interior of courts has sufficiently shown what imposing externals may conceal the meanest hearts4 ,but though the manners of aristocracy did not constitute virtue1 they sometimes embellish virtue itself4 ,it was no ordinary sight to see a numerous and powerful class of men1 whose every outward action seemed constantly to be dictated by a natural elevation of thought and feeling1 by delicacy and regularity of taste1 and by urbanity of manners4 ,those manners threw a pleasing illusory charm over human nature2 and though the picture was often a false one1 it could not be viewed without a noble satisfaction4 ,chapter ,,xv3 ,of ,the ,gravity ,of ,the ,americans1 ,and ,why ,it ,does ,not ,prevent ,them ,from ,often ,committing ,inconsiderate ,actions ,men who live in democratic countries do not value the simple1 turbulent1 or coarse diversions in which the people indulge in aristocratic communities3 such diversions are thought by them to be puerile or insipid4 ,nor have they a greater inclination for the intellectual and refined amusements of the aristocratic classes4 ,they want something productive and substantial in their pleasures2 they want to mix actual fruition with their joy4 ,in aristocratic communities the people readily give themselves up to bursts of tumultuous and boisterous gayety1 which shake off at once the recollection of their privations3 the natives of democracies are not fond of being thus violently broken in upon1 and they never lose sight of their own selves without regret4 ,they prefer to these frivolous delights those more serious and silent amusements which are like business1 and which do not drive business wholly from their minds4 ,an ,american1 instead of going in a leisure hour to dance merrily at some place of public resort1 as the fellows of his calling continue to do throughout the greater part of ,europe1 shuts himself up at home to drink4 ,he thus enjoys two pleasures2 he can go on thinking of his business1 and he can get drunk decently by his own fireside4 ,i thought that the ,english constituted the most serious nation on the face of the earth1 but ,i have since seen the ,americans and have changed my opinion4 ,i do not mean to say that temperament has not a great deal to do with the character of the inhabitants of the ,united ,states1 but ,i think that their political institutions are a still more influential cause4 ,i believe the seriousness of the ,americans arises partly from their pride4 ,in democratic countries even poor men entertain a lofty notion of their personal importance3 they look upon themselves with complacency1 and are apt to suppose that others are looking at them1 too4 ,with this disposition they watch their language and their actions with care1 and do not lay themselves open so as to betray their deficiencies2 to preserve their dignity they think it necessary to retain their gravity4 ,but ,i detect another more deep-seated and powerful cause which instinctively produces amongst the ,americans this astonishing gravity4 ,under a despotism communities give way at times to bursts of vehement joy2 but they are generally gloomy and moody1 because they are afraid4 ,under absolute monarchies tempered by the customs and manners of the country1 their spirits are often cheerful and even1 because as they have some freedom and a good deal of security1 they are exempted from the most important cares of life2 but all free peoples are serious1 because their minds are habitually absorbed by the contemplation of some dangerous or difficult purpose4 ,this is more especially the case amongst those free nations which form democratic communities4 ,then there are in all classes a very large number of men constantly occupied with the serious affairs of the government2 and those whose thoughts are not engaged in the direction of the commonwealth are wholly engrossed by the acquisition of a private fortune4 ,amongst such a people a serious demeanor ceases to be peculiar to certain men1 and becomes a habit of the nation4 ,we are told of small democracies in the days of antiquity1 in which the citizens met upon the public places with garlands of roses1 and spent almost all their time in dancing and theatrical amusements4 ,i do not believe in such republics any more than in that of ,plato2 or1 if the things we read of really happened1 ,i do not hesitate to affirm that these supposed democracies were composed of very different elements from ours1 and that they had nothing in common with the latter except their name4 ,but it must not be supposed that1 in the midst of all their toils1 the people who live in democracies think themselves to be pitied2 the contrary is remarked to be the case4 ,no men are fonder of their own condition4 ,life would have no relish for them if they were delivered from the anxieties which harass them1 and they show more attachment to their cares than aristocratic nations to their pleasures4 ,i am next led to inquire how it is that these same democratic nations1 which are so serious1 sometimes act in so inconsiderate a manner4 ,the ,americans1 who almost always preserve a staid demeanor and a frigid air1 nevertheless frequently allow themselves to be borne away1 far beyond the bound of reason1 by a sudden passion or a hasty opinion1 and they sometimes gravely commit strange absurdities4 ,this contrast ought not to surprise us4 ,there is one sort of ignorance which originates in extreme publicity4 ,in despotic ,states men know not how to act1 because they are told nothing2 in democratic nations they often act at random1 because nothing is to be left untold4 ,the former do not know--the latter forget2 and the chief features of each picture are lost to them in a bewilderment of details4 ,it is astonishing what imprudent language a public man may sometimes use in free countries1 and especially in democratic ,states1 without being compromised2 whereas in absolute monarchies a few words dropped by accident are enough to unmask him forever1 and ruin him without hope of redemption4 ,this is explained by what goes before4 ,when a man speaks in the midst of a great crowd1 many of his words are not heard1 or are forthwith obliterated from the memories of those who hear them2 but amidst the silence of a mute and motionless throng the slightest whisper strikes the ear4 ,in democracies men are never stationary2 a thousand chances waft them to and fro1 and their life is always the sport of unforeseen or 7so to speak7 extemporaneous circumstances4 ,thus they are often obliged to do things which they have imperfectly learned1 to say things they imperfectly understand1 and to devote themselves to work for which they are unprepared by long apprenticeship4 ,in aristocracies every man has one sole object which he unceasingly pursues1 but amongst democratic nations the existence of man is more complex2 the same mind will almost always embrace several objects at the same time1 and these objects are frequently wholly foreign to each other3 as it cannot know them all well1 the mind is readily satisfied with imperfect notions of each4 ,when the inhabitant of democracies is not urged by his wants1 he is so at least by his desires2 for of all the possessions which he sees around him1 none are wholly beyond his reach4 ,he therefore does everything in a hurry1 he is always satisfied with pretty well1 and never pauses more than an instant to consider what he has been doing4 ,his curiosity is at once insatiable and cheaply satisfied2 for he cares more to know a great deal quickly than to know anything well3 he has no time and but little taste to search things to the bottom4 ,thus then democratic peoples are grave1 because their social and political condition constantly leads them to engage in serious occupations2 and they act inconsiderately1 because they give but little time and attention to each of these occupations4 ,the habit of inattention must be considered as the greatest bane of the democratic character4 ,chapter ,,xvi3 ,why ,the ,national ,vanity ,of ,the ,americans ,is ,more ,restless ,and ,captious ,than ,that ,of ,the ,english ,all free nations are vainglorious1 but national pride is not displayed by all in the same manner4 ,the ,americans in their intercourse with strangers appear impatient of the smallest censure and insatiable of praise4 ,the most slender eulogium is acceptable to them2 the most exalted seldom contents them2 they unceasingly harass you to extort praise1 and if you resist their entreaties they fall to praising themselves4 ,it would seem as if1 doubting their own merit1 they wished to have it constantly exhibited before their eyes4 ,their vanity is not only greedy1 but restless and jealous2 it will grant nothing1 whilst it demands everything1 but is ready to beg and to quarrel at the same time4 ,if ,i say to an ,american that the country he lives in is a fine one1 ,ay1 he replies1 there is not its fellow in the world4 ,if ,i applaud the freedom which its inhabitants enjoy1 he answers1 ,freedom is a fine thing1 but few nations are worthy to enjoy it4 ,if ,i remark the purity of morals which distinguishes the ,united ,states1 ,i can imagine1 says he1 that a stranger1 who has been struck by the corruption of all other nations1 is astonished at the difference4 ,at length ,i leave him to the contemplation of himself2 but he returns to the charge1 and does not desist till he has got me to repeat all ,i had just been saying4 ,it is impossible to conceive a more troublesome or more garrulous patriotism2 it wearies even those who are disposed to respect it4 99a ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,u4 ,such is not the case with the ,english4 ,an ,englishman calmly enjoys the real or imaginary advantages which in his opinion his country possesses4 ,if he grants nothing to other nations1 neither does he solicit anything for his own4 ,the censure of foreigners does not affect him1 and their praise hardly flatters him2 his position with regard to the rest of the world is one of disdainful and ignorant reserve3 his pride requires no sustenance1 it nourishes itself4 ,it is remarkable that two nations1 so recently sprung from the same stock1 should be so opposite to one another in their manner of feeling and conversing4 ,in aristocratic countries the great possess immense privileges1 upon which their pride rests1 without seeking to rely upon the lesser advantages which accrue to them4 ,as these privileges came to them by inheritance1 they regard them in some sort as a portion of themselves1 or at least as a natural right inherent in their own persons4 ,they therefore entertain a calm sense of their superiority2 they do not dream of vaunting privileges which everyone perceives and no one contests1 and these things are not sufficiently new to them to be made topics of conversation4 ,they stand unmoved in their solitary greatness1 well assured that they are seen of all the world without any effort to show themselves off1 and that no one will attempt to drive them from that position4 ,when an aristocracy carries on the public affairs1 its national pride naturally assumes this reserved1 indifferent1 and haughty form1 which is imitated by all the other classes of the nation4 ,when1 on the contrary1 social conditions differ but little1 the slightest privileges are of some importance2 as every man sees around himself a million of people enjoying precisely similar or analogous advantages1 his pride becomes craving and jealous1 he clings to mere trifles1 and doggedly defends them4 ,in democracies1 as the conditions of life are very fluctuating1 men have almost always recently acquired the advantages which they possess2 the consequence is that they feel extreme pleasure in exhibiting them1 to show others and convince themselves that they really enjoy them4 ,as at any instant these same advantages may be lost1 their possessors are constantly on the alert1 and make a point of showing that they still retain them4 ,men living in democracies love their country just as they love themselves1 and they transfer the habits of their private vanity to their vanity as a nation4 ,the restless and insatiable vanity of a democratic people originates so entirely in the equality and precariousness of social conditions1 that the members of the haughtiest nobility display the very same passion in those lesser portions of their existence in which there is anything fluctuating or contested4 ,an aristocratic class always differs greatly from the other classes of the nation1 by the extent and perpetuity of its privileges2 but it often happens that the only differences between the members who belong to it consist in small transient advantages1 which may any day be lost or acquired4 ,the members of a powerful aristocracy1 collected in a capital or a court1 have been known to contest with virulence those frivolous privileges which depend on the caprice of fashion or the will of their master4 ,these persons then displayed towards each other precisely the same puerile jealousies which animate the men of democracies1 the same eagerness to snatch the smallest advantages which their equals contested1 and the same desire to parade ostentatiously those of which they were in possession4 ,if national pride ever entered into the minds of courtiers1 ,i do not question that they would display it in the same manner as the members of a democratic community4 ,chapter ,,xvii3 ,that ,the ,aspect ,of ,society ,in ,the ,united ,states ,is ,at ,once ,excited ,and ,monotonous ,it would seem that nothing can be more adapted to stimulate and to feed curiosity than the aspect of the ,united ,states4 ,fortunes1 opinions1 and laws are there in ceaseless variation3 it is as if immutable nature herself were mutable1 such are the changes worked upon her by the hand of man4 ,yet in the end the sight of this excited community becomes monotonous1 and after having watched the moving pageant for a time the spectator is tired of it4 ,amongst aristocratic nations every man is pretty nearly stationary in his own sphere2 but men are astonishingly unlike each other--their passions1 their notions1 their habits1 and their tastes are essentially different3 nothing changey1 but everything differs4 ,in democracies1 on the contrary1 all men are alike and do things pretty nearly alike4 ,it is true that they are subject to great and frequent vicissitudes2 but as the same events of good or adverse fortune are continually recurring1 the name of the actors only is changed1 the piece is always the same4 ,the aspect of ,american society is animated1 because men and things are always changing2 but it is monotonous1 because all these changes are alike4 ,men living in democratic ages have many passions1 but most of their passions either end in the love of riches or proceed from it4 ,the cause of this is1 not that their souls are narrower1 but that the importance of money is really greater at such times4 ,when all the members of a community are independent of or indifferent to each other1 the co-operation of each of them can only be obtained by paying for it3 this infinitely multiplies the purposes to which wealth may be applied1 and increases its value4 ,when the reverence which belonged to what is old has vanished1 birth1 condition1 and profession no longer distinguish men1 or scarcely distinguish them at all3 hardly anything but money remains to create strongly marked differences between them1 and to raise some of them above the common level4 ,the distinction originating in wealth is increased by the disappearance and diminution of all other distinctions4 ,amongst aristocratic nations money only reaches to a few points on the vast circle of man's desires--in democracies it seems to lead to all4 ,the love of wealth is therefore to be traced1 either as a principal or an accessory motive1 at the bottom of all that the ,americans do3 this gives to all their passions a sort of family likeness1 and soon renders the survey of them exceedingly wearisome4 ,this perpetual recurrence of the same passion is monotonous2 the peculiar methods by which this passion seeks its own gratification are no less so4 ,in an orderly and constituted democracy like the ,united ,states1 where men cannot enrich themselves by war1 by public office1 or by political confiscation1 the love of wealth mainly drives them into business and manufactures4 ,although these pursuits often bring about great commotions and disasters1 they cannot prosper without strictly regular habits and a long routine of petty uniform acts4 ,the stronger the passion is1 the more regular are these habits1 and the more uniform are these acts4 ,it may be said that it is the vehemence of their desires which makes the ,americans so methodical2 it perturbs their minds1 but it disciplines their lives4 ,the remark ,i here apply to ,america may indeed be addressed to almost all our contemporaries4 ,variety is disappearing from the human race2 the same ways of acting1 thinking1 and feeling are to be met with all over the world4 ,this is not only because nations work more upon each other1 and are more faithful in their mutual imitation2 but as the men of each country relinquish more and more the peculiar opinions and feelings of a caste1 a profession1 or a family1 they simultaneously arrive at something nearer to the constitution of man1 which is everywhere the same4 ,thus they become more alike1 even without having imitated each other4 ,like travellers scattered about some large wood1 which is intersected by paths converging to one point1 if all of them keep1 their eyes fixed upon that point and advance towards it1 they insensibly draw nearer together--though they seek not1 though they see not1 though they know not each other2 and they will be surprised at length to find themselves all collected on the same spot4 ,all the nations which take1 not any particular man1 but man himself1 as the object of their researches and their imitations1 are tending in the end to a similar state of society1 like these travellers converging to the central plot of the forest4 ,chapter ,,xviii3 ,of ,honor ,in ,the ,united ,states ,and ,in ,democratic ,communities ,it would seem that men employ two very distinct methods in the public estimation 99a of the actions of their fellowmen2 at one time they judge them by those simple notions of right and wrong which are diffused all over the world2 at another they refer their decision to a few very special notions which belong exclusively to some particular age and country4 ,it often happens that these two rules differ2 they sometimes conflict3 but they are never either entirely identified or entirely annulled by one another4 ,honor1 at the periods of its greatest power1 sways the will more than the belief of men2 and even whilst they yield without hesitation and without a murmur to its dictates1 they feel notwithstanding1 by a dim but mighty instinct1 the existence of a more general1 more ancient1 and more holy law1 which they sometimes disobey although they cease not to acknowledge it4 ,some actions have been held to be at the same time virtuous and dishonorable--a refusal to fight a duel is a case in point4 ,footnote a3 ,the word honor is not always used in the same sense either in ,french or ,english4 ,i4 ,it first signifies the dignity1 glory1 or reverence which a man receives from his kind2 and in this sense a man is said to acquire honor4 #b4 ,honor signifies the aggregate of those rules by the assistance of which this dignity1 glory1 or reverence is obtained4 ,thus we say that a man has always strictly obeyed the laws of honor2 or a man has violated his honor4 ,in this chapter the word is always used in the latter sense4 ,i think these peculiarities may be otherwise explained than by the mere caprices of certain individuals and nations1 as has hitherto been the customary mode of reasoning on the subject4 ,mankind is subject to general and lasting wants that have engendered moral laws1 to the neglect of which men have ever and in all places attached the notion of censure and shame3 to infringe them was to do ill--to do well was to conform to them4 ,within the bosom of this vast association of the human race1 lesser associations have been formed which are called nations2 and amidst these nations further subdivisions have assumed the names of classes or castes4 ,each of these associations forms1 as it were1 a separate species of the human race2 and though it has no essential difference from the mass of mankind1 to a certain extent it stands apart and has certain wants peculiar to itself4 ,to these special wants must be attributed the modifications which affect in various degrees and in different countries the mode of considering human actions1 and the estimate which ought to be formed of them4 ,it is the general and permanent interest of mankind that men should not kill each other3 but it may happen to be the peculiar and temporary interest of a people or a class to justify1 or even to honor1 homicide4 ,honor is simply that peculiar rule1 founded upon a peculiar state of society1 by the application of which a people or a class allot praise or blame4 ,nothing is more unproductive to the mind than an abstract idea2 ,i therefore hasten to call in the aid of facts and examples to illustrate my meaning4 ,i select the most extraordinary kind of honor which was ever known in the world1 and that which we are best acquainted with1 viz41 aristocratic honor springing out of feudal society4 ,i shall explain it by means of the principle already laid down1 and ,i shall explain the principle by means of the illustration4 ,i am not here led to inquire when and how the aristocracy of the ,middle ,ages came into existence1 why it was so deeply severed from the remainder of the nation1 or what founded and consolidated its power4 ,i take its existence as an established fact1 and ,i am endeavoring to account for the peculiar view which it took of the greater part of human actions4 ,the first thing that strikes me is1 that in the feudal world actions were not always praised or blamed with reference to their intrinsic worth1 but that they were sometimes appreciated exclusively with reference to the person who was the actor or the object of them1 which is repugnant to the general conscience of mankind4 ,thus some of the actions which were indifferent on the part of a man in humble life1 dishonored a noble2 others changed their whole character according as the person aggrieved by them belonged or did not belong to the aristocracy4 ,when these different notions first arose1 the nobility formed a distinct body amidst the people1 which it commanded from the inaccessible heights where it was ensconced4 ,to maintain this peculiar position1 which constituted its strength1 it not only required political privileges1 but it required a standard of right and wrong for its own especial use4 ,that some particular virtue or vice belonged to the nobility rather than to the humble classes--that certain actions were guiltless when they affected the villain1 which were criminal when they touched the noble--these were often arbitrary matters2 but that honor or shame should be attached to a man's actions according to his condition1 was a result of the internal constitution of an aristocratic community4 ,this has been actually the case in all the countries which have had an aristocracy2 as long as a trace of the principle remains1 these peculiarities will still exist2 to debauch a woman of color scarcely injures the reputation of an ,american--to marry her dishonors him4 ,in some cases feudal honor enjoined revenge1 and stigmatized the forgiveness of insults2 in others it imperiously commanded men to conquer their own passions1 and imposed forgetfulness of self4 ,it did not make humanity or kindness its law1 but it extolled generosity2 it set more store on liberality than on benevolence2 it allowed men to enrich themselves by gambling or by war1 but not by labor2 it preferred great crimes to small earnings2 cupidity was less distasteful to it than avarice2 violence it often sanctioned1 but cunning and treachery it invariably reprobated as contemptible4 ,these fantastical notions did not proceed exclusively from the caprices of those who entertained them4 ,a class which has succeeded in placing itself at the head of and above all others1 and which makes perpetual exertions to maintain this lofty position1 must especially honor those virtues which are conspicuous for their dignity and splendor1 and which may be easily combined with pride and the love of power4 ,such men would not hesitate to invert the natural order of the conscience in order to give those virtues precedence before all others4 ,it may even be conceived that some of the more bold and brilliant vices would readily be set above the quiet1 unpretending virtues4 ,the very existence of such a class in society renders these things unavoidable4 ,the nobles of the ,middle ,ages placed military courage foremost amongst virtues1 and in lieu of many of them4 ,this was again a peculiar opinion which arose necessarily from the peculiarity of the state of society4 ,feudal aristocracy existed by war and for war2 its power had been founded by arms1 and by arms that power was maintained2 it therefore required nothing more than military courage1 and that quality was naturally exalted above all others2 whatever denoted it1 even at the expense of reason and humanity1 was therefore approved and frequently enjoined by the manners of the time4 ,such was the main principle2 the caprice of man was only to be traced in minuter details4 ,that a man should regard a tap on the cheek as an unbearable insult1 and should be obliged to kill in single combat the person who struck him thus lightly1 is an arbitrary rule2 but that a noble could not tranquilly receive an insult1 and was dishonored if he allowed himself to take a blow without fighting1 were direct consequences of the fundamental principles and the wants of military aristocracy4 ,thus it was true to a certain extent to assert that the laws of honor were capricious2 but these caprices of honor were always confined within certain necessary limits4 ,the peculiar rule1 which was called honor by our forefathers1 is so far from being an arbitrary law in my eyes1 that ,i would readily engage to ascribe its most incoherent and fantastical injunctions to a small number of fixed and invariable wants inherent in feudal society4 ,if ,i were to trace the notion of feudal honor into the domain of politics1 ,i should not find it more difficult to explain its dictates4 ,the state of society and the political institutions of the ,middle ,ages were such1 that the supreme power of the nation never governed the community directly4 ,that power did not exist in the eyes of the people3 every man looked up to a certain individual whom he was bound to obey2 by that intermediate personage he was connected with all the others4 ,thus in feudal society the whole system of the commonwealth rested upon the sentiment of fidelity to the person of the lord3 to destroy that sentiment was to open the sluices of anarchy4 ,fidelity to a political superior was1 moreover1 a sentiment of which all the members of the aristocracy had constant opportunities of estimating the importance2 for every one of them was a vassal as well as a lord1 and had to command as well as to obey4 ,to remain faithful to the lord1 to sacrifice one's self for him if called upon1 to share his good or evil fortunes1 to stand by him in his undertakings whatever they might be--such were the first injunctions of feudal honor in relation to the political institutions of those times4 ,the treachery of a vassal was branded with extraordinary severity by public opinion1 and a name of peculiar infamy was invented for the offence which was called felony4 ,on the contrary1 few traces are to be found in the ,middle ,ages of the passion which constituted the life of the nations of antiquity--,i mean patriotism2 the word itself is not of very ancient date in the language4 99b ,feudal institutions concealed the country at large from men's sight1 and rendered the love of it less necessary4 ,the nation was forgotten in the passions which attached men to persons4 ,hence it was no part of the strict law of feudal honor to remain faithful to one's country4 ,not indeed that the love of their country did not exist in the hearts of our forefathers2 but it constituted a dim and feeble instinct1 which has grown more clear and strong in proportion as aristocratic classes have been abolished1 and the supreme power of the nation centralized4 ,this may be clearly seen from the contrary judgments which ,european nations have passed upon the various events of their histories1 according to the generations by which such judgments have been formed4 ,the circumstance which most dishonored the ,constable de ,bourbon in the eyes of his contemporaries was that he bore arms against his king3 that which most dishonors him in our eyes1 is that he made war against his country2 we brand him as deeply as our forefathers did1 but for different reasons4 ,footnote b3 ,even the word patrie was not used by the ,french writers until the sixteenth century4 ,i have chosen the honor of feudal times by way of illustration of my meaning1 because its characteristics are more distinctly marked and more familiar to us than those of any other period2 but ,i might have taken an example elsewhere1 and ,i should have reached the same conclusion by a different road4 ,although we are less perfectly acquainted with the ,romans than with our own ancestors1 yet we know that certain peculiar notions of glory and disgrace obtained amongst them1 which were not solely derived from the general principles of right and wrong4 ,many human actions were judged differently1 according as they affected a ,roman citizen or a stranger1 a freeman or a slave2 certain vices were blazoned abroad1 certain virtues were extolled above all others4 ,in that age1 says ,plutarch in the life of ,coriolanus1 martial prowess was more honored and prized in ,rome than all the other virtues1 insomuch that it was called virtus1 the name of virtue itself1 by applying the name of the kind to this particular species2 so that virtue in ,latin was as much as to say valor4 ,can anyone fail to recognize the peculiar want of that singular community which was formed for the conquest of the world8 ,any nation would furnish us with similar grounds of observation2 for1 as ,i have already remarked1 whenever men collect together as a distinct community1 the notion of honor instantly grows up amongst them2 that is to say1 a system of opinions peculiar to themselves as to what is blamable or commendable2 and these peculiar rules always originate in the special habits and special interests of the community4 ,this is applicable to a certain extent to democratic communities as well as to others1 as we shall now proceed to prove by the example of the ,americans4 99c ,some loose notions of the old aristocratic honor of ,europe are still to be found scattered amongst the opinions of the ,americans2 but these traditional opinions are few in number1 they have but little root in the country1 and but little power4 ,they are like a religion which has still some temples left standing1 though men have ceased to believe in it4 ,but amidst these half-obliterated notions of exotic honor1 some new opinions have sprung up1 which constitute what may be termed in our days ,american honor4 ,i have shown how the ,americans are constantly driven to engage in commerce and industry4 ,their origin1 their social condition1 their political institutions1 and even the spot they inhabit1 urge them irresistibly in this direction4 ,their present condition is then that of an almost exclusively manufacturing and commercial association1 placed in the midst of a new and boundless country1 which their principal object is to explore for purposes of profit4 ,this is the characteristic which most peculiarly distinguishes the ,american people from all others at the present time4 ,all those quiet virtues which tend to give a regular movement to the community1 and to encourage business1 will therefore be held in peculiar honor by that people1 and to neglect those virtues will be to incur public contempt4 ,all the more turbulent virtues1 which often dazzle1 but more frequently disturb society1 will on the contrary occupy a subordinate rank in the estimation of this same people3 they may be neglected without forfeiting the esteem of the community--to acquire them would perhaps be to run a risk of losing it4 ,footnote c3 ,i speak here of the ,americans inhabiting those ,states where slavery does not exist2 they alone can be said to present a complete picture of democratic society4 ,the ,americans make a no less arbitrary classification of men's vices4 ,there are certain propensities which appear censurable to the general reason and the universal conscience of mankind1 but which happen to agree with the peculiar and temporary wants of the ,american community3 these propensities are lightly reproved1 sometimes even encouraged2 for instance1 the love of wealth and the secondary propensities connected with it may be more particularly cited4 ,to clear1 to till1 and to transform the vast uninhabited continent which is his domain1 the ,american requires the daily support of an energetic passion2 that passion can only be the love of wealth2 the passion for wealth is therefore not reprobated in ,america1 and provided it does not go beyond the bounds assigned to it for public security1 it is held in honor4 ,the ,american lauds as a noble and praiseworthy ambition what our own forefathers in the ,middle ,ages stigmatized as servile cupidity1 just as he treats as a blind and barbarous frenzy that ardor of conquest and martial temper which bore them to battle4 ,in the ,united ,states fortunes are lost and regained without difficulty2 the country is boundless1 and its resources inexhaustible4 ,the people have all the wants and cravings of a growing creature2 and whatever be their efforts1 they are always surrounded by more than they can appropriate4 ,it is not the ruin of a few individuals which may be soon repaired1 but the inactivity and sloth of the community at large which would be fatal to such a people4 ,boldness of enterprise is the foremost cause of its rapid progress1 its strength1 and its greatness4 ,commercial business is there like a vast lottery1 by which a small number of men continually lose1 but the ,state is always a gainer2 such a people ought therefore to encourage and do honor to boldness in commercial speculations4 ,but any bold speculation risks the fortune of the speculator and of all those who put their trust in him4 ,the ,americans1 who make a virtue of commercial temerity1 have no right in any case to brand with disgrace those who practise it4 ,hence arises the strange indulgence which is shown to bankrupts in the ,united ,states2 their honor does not suffer by such an accident4 ,in this respect the ,americans differ1 not only from the nations of ,europe1 but from all the commercial nations of our time1 and accordingly they resemble none of them in their position or their wants4 ,in ,america all those vices which tend to impair the purity of morals1 and to destroy the conjugal tie1 are treated with a degree of severity which is unknown in the rest of the world4 ,at first sight this seems strangely at variance with the tolerance shown there on other subjects1 and one is surprised to meet with a morality so relaxed and so austere amongst the selfsame people4 ,but these things are less incoherent than they seem to be4 ,public opinion in the ,united ,states very gently represses that love of wealth which promotes the commercial greatness and the prosperity of the nation1 and it especially condemns that laxity of morals which diverts the human mind from the pursuit of well-being1 and disturbs the internal order of domestic life which is so necessary to success in business4 ,to earn the esteem of their countrymen1 the ,americans are therefore constrained to adapt themselves to orderly habits--and it may be said in this sense that they make it a matter of honor to live chastely4 ,on one point ,american honor accords with the notions of honor acknowledged in ,europe2 it places courage as the highest virtue1 and treats it as the greatest of the moral necessities of man2 but the notion of courage itself assumes a different aspect4 ,in the ,united ,states martial valor is but little prized2 the courage which is best known and most esteemed is that which emboldens men to brave the dangers of the ocean1 in order to arrive earlier in port--to support the privations of the wilderness without complaint1 and solitude more cruel than privations--the courage which renders them almost insensible to the loss of a fortune laboriously acquired1 and instantly prompts to fresh exertions to make another4 ,courage of this kind is peculiarly necessary to the maintenance and prosperity of the ,american communities1 and it is held by them in peculiar honor and estimation2 to betray a want of it is to incur certain disgrace4 ,i have yet another characteristic point which may serve to place the idea of this chapter in stronger relief4 ,in a democratic society like that of the ,united ,states1 where fortunes are scanty and insecure1 everybody works1 and work opens a way to everything3 this has changed the point of honor quite round1 and has turned it against idleness4 ,i have sometimes met in ,america with young men of wealth1 personally disinclined to all laborious exertion1 but who had been compelled to embrace a profession4 ,their disposition and their fortune allowed them to remain without employment2 public opinion forbade it1 too imperiously to be disobeyed4 ,in the ,european countries1 on the contrary1 where aristocracy is still struggling with the flood which overwhelms it1 ,i have often seen men1 constantly spurred on by their wants and desires1 remain in idleness1 in order not to lose the esteem of their equals2 and ,i have known them submit to ennui and privations rather than to work4 ,no one can fail to perceive that these opposite obligations are two different rules of conduct1 both nevertheless originating in the notion of honor4 ,what our forefathers designated as honor absolutely was in reality only one of its forms2 they gave a generic name to what was only a species4 ,honor therefore is to be found in democratic as well as in aristocratic ages1 but it will not be difficult to show that it assumes a different aspect in the former4 ,not only are its injunctions different1 but we shall shortly see that they are less numerous1 less precise1 and that its dictates are less rigorously obeyed4 ,the position of a caste is always much more peculiar than that of a people4 ,nothing is so much out of the way of the world as a small community invariably composed of the same families 7as was for instance the aristocracy of the ,middle ,ages71 whose object is to concentrate and to retain1 exclusively and hereditarily1 education1 wealth1 and power amongst its own members4 ,but the more out of the way the position of a community happens to be1 the more numerous are its special wants1 and the more extensive are its notions of honor corresponding to those wants4 ,the rules of honor will therefore always be less numerous amongst a people not divided into castes than amongst any other4 ,if ever any nations are constituted in which it may even be difficult to find any peculiar classes of society1 the notion of honor will be confined to a small number of precepts1 which will be more and more in accordance with the moral laws adopted by the mass of mankind4 ,thus the laws of honor will be less peculiar and less multifarious amongst a democratic people than in an aristocracy4 ,they will also be more obscure2 and this is a necessary consequence of what goes before2 for as the distinguishing marks of honor are less numerous and less peculiar1 it must often be difficult to distinguish them4 ,to this1 other reasons may be added4 ,amongst the aristocratic nations of the ,middle ,ages1 generation succeeded generation in vain2 each family was like a never-dying1 ever-stationary man1 and the state of opinions was hardly more changeable than that of conditions4 ,everyone then had always the same objects before his eyes1 which he contemplated from the same point2 his eyes gradually detected the smallest details1 and his discernment could not fail to become in the end clear and accurate4 ,thus not only had the men of feudal times very extraordinary opinions in matters of honor1 but each of those opinions was present to their minds under a clear and precise form4 ,this can never be the case in ,america1 where all men are in constant motion2 and where society1 transformed daily by its own operations1 changes its opinions together with its wants4 ,in such a country men have glimpses of the rules of honor1 but they have seldom time to fix attention upon them4 ,but even if society were motionless1 it would still be difficult to determine the meaning which ought to be attached to the word honor4 ,in the ,middle ,ages1 as each class had its own honor1 the same opinion was never received at the same time by a large number of men2 and this rendered it possible to give it a determined and accurate form1 which was the more easy1 as all those by whom it was received1 having a perfectly identical and most peculiar position1 were naturally disposed to agree upon the points of a law which was made for themselves alone4 ,thus the code of honor became a complete and detailed system1 in which everything was anticipated and provided for beforehand1 and a fixed and always palpable standard was applied to human actions4 ,amongst a democratic nation1 like the ,americans1 in which ranks are identified1 and the whole of society forms one single mass1 composed of elements which are all analogous though not entirely similar1 it is impossible ever to agree beforehand on what shall or shall not be allowed by the laws of honor4 ,amongst that people1 indeed1 some national wants do exist which give rise to opinions common to the whole nation on points of honor2 but these opinions never occur at the same time1 in the same manner1 or with the same intensity to the minds of the whole community2 the law of honor exists1 but it has no organs to promulgate it4 ,the confusion is far greater still in a democratic country like ,france1 where the different classes of which the former fabric of society was composed1 being brought together but not yet mingled1 import day by day into each other's circles various and sometimes conflicting notions of honor--where every man1 at his own will and pleasure1 forsakes one portion of his forefathers' creed1 and retains another2 so that1 amidst so many arbitrary measures1 no common rule can ever be established1 and it is almost impossible to predict which actions will be held in honor and which will be thought disgraceful4 ,such times are wretched1 but they are of short duration4 ,as honor1 amongst democratic nations1 is imperfectly defined1 its influence is of course less powerful2 for it is difficult to apply with certainty and firmness a law which is not distinctly known4 ,public opinion1 the natural and supreme interpreter of the laws of honor1 not clearly discerning to which side censure or approval ought to lean1 can only pronounce a hesitating judgment4 ,sometimes the opinion of the public may contradict itself2 more frequently it does not act1 and lets things pass4 ,the weakness of the sense of honor in democracies also arises from several other causes4 ,in aristocratic countries1 the same notions of honor are always entertained by only a few persons1 always limited in number1 often separated from the rest of their fellow-citizens4 ,honor is easily mingled and identified in their minds with the idea of all that distinguishes their own position2 it appears to them as the chief characteristic of their own rank2 they apply its different rules with all the warmth of personal interest1 and they feel 7if ,i may use the expression7 a passion for complying with its dictates4 ,this truth is extremely obvious in the old black-letter lawbooks on the subject of trial by battel4 ,the nobles1 in their disputes1 were bound to use the lance and sword2 whereas the villains used only sticks amongst themselves1 inasmuch as1 to use the words of the old books1 villains have no honor4 ,this did not mean1 as it may be imagined at the present day1 that these people were contemptible2 but simply that their actions were not to be judged by the same rules which were applied to the actions of the aristocracy4 ,it is surprising1 at first sight1 that when the sense of honor is most predominant1 its injunctions are usually most strange2 so that the further it is removed from common reason the better it is obeyed2 whence it has sometimes been inferred that the laws of honor were strengthened by their own extravagance4 ,the two things indeed originate from the same source1 but the one is not derived from the other4 ,honor becomes fantastical in proportion to the peculiarity of the wants which it denotes1 and the paucity of the men by whom those wants are felt2 and it is because it denotes wants of this kind that its influence is great4 ,thus the notion of honor is not the stronger for being fantastical1 but it is fantastical and strong from the selfsame cause4 ,further1 amongst aristocratic nations each rank is different1 but all ranks are fixed2 every man occupies a place in his own sphere which he cannot relinquish1 and he lives there amidst other men who are bound by the same ties4 ,amongst these nations no man can either hope or fear to escape being seen2 no man is placed so low but that he has a stage of his own1 and none can avoid censure or applause by his obscurity4 ,in democratic ,states on the contrary1 where all the members of the community are mingled in the same crowd and in constant agitation1 public opinion has no hold on men2 they disappear at every instant1 and elude its power4 ,consequently the dictates of honor will be there less imperious and less stringent2 for honor acts solely for the public eye--differing in this respect from mere virtue1 which lives upon itself contented with its own approval4 ,if the reader has distinctly apprehended all that goes before1 he will understand that there is a close and necessary relation between the inequality of social conditions and what has here been styled honor--a relation which1 if ,i am not mistaken1 had not before been clearly pointed out4 ,i shall therefore make one more attempt to illustrate it satisfactorily4 ,suppose a nation stands apart from the rest of mankind3 independently of certain general wants inherent in the human race1 it will also have wants and interests peculiar to itself3 certain opinions of censure or approbation forthwith arise in the community1 which are peculiar to itself1 and which are styled honor by the members of that community4 ,now suppose that in this same nation a caste arises1 which1 in its turn1 stands apart from all the other classes1 and contracts certain peculiar wants1 which give rise in their turn to special opinions4 ,the honor of this caste1 composed of a medley of the peculiar notions of the nation1 and the still more peculiar notions of the caste1 will be as remote as it is possible to conceive from the simple and general opinions of men4 ,having reached this extreme point of the argument1 ,i now return4 ,when ranks are commingled and privileges abolished1 the men of whom a nation is composed being once more equal and alike1 their interests and wants become identical1 and all the peculiar notions which each caste styled honor successively disappear3 the notion of honor no longer proceeds from any other source than the wants peculiar to the nation at large1 and it denotes the individual character of that nation to the world4 ,lastly1 if it be allowable to suppose that all the races of mankind should be commingled1 and that all the peoples of earth should ultimately come to have the same interests1 the same wants1 undistinguished from each other by any characteristic peculiarities1 no conventional value whatever would then be attached to men's actions2 they would all be regarded by all in the same light2 the general necessities of mankind1 revealed by conscience to every man1 would become the common standard4 ,the simple and general notions of right and wrong only would then be recognized in the world1 to which1 by a natural and necessary tie1 the idea of censure or approbation would be attached4 ,thus1 to comprise all my meaning in a single proposition1 the dissimilarities and inequalities of men gave rise to the notion of honor2 that notion is weakened in proportion as these differences are obliterated1 and with them it would disappear4 ,chapter ,,xix3 ,why ,so ,many ,ambitious ,men ,and ,so ,little ,lofty ,ambition ,are ,to ,be ,found ,in ,the ,united ,states ,the first thing which strikes a traveller in the ,united ,states is the innumerable multitude of those who seek to throw off their original condition2 and the second is the rarity of lofty ambition to be observed in the midst of the universally ambitious stir of society4 ,no ,americans are devoid of a yearning desire to rise2 but hardly any appear to entertain hopes of great magnitude1 or to drive at very lofty aims4 ,all are constantly seeking to acquire property1 power1 and reputation--few contemplate these things upon a great scale2 and this is the more surprising1 as nothing is to be discerned in the manners or laws of ,america to limit desire1 or to prevent it from spreading its impulses in every direction4 ,it seems difficult to attribute this singular state of things to the equality of social conditions2 for at the instant when that same equality was established in ,france1 the flight of ambition became unbounded4 ,nevertheless1 ,i think that the principal cause which may be assigned to this fact is to be found in the social condition and democratic manners of the ,americans4 ,all revolutions enlarge the ambition of men3 this proposition is more peculiarly true of those revolutions which overthrow an aristocracy4 ,when the former barriers which kept back the multitude from fame and power are suddenly thrown down1 a violent and universal rise takes place towards that eminence so long coveted and at length to be enjoyed4 ,in this first burst of triumph nothing seems impossible to anyone3 not only are desires boundless1 but the power of satisfying them seems almost boundless1 too4 ,amidst the general and sudden renewal of laws and customs1 in this vast confusion of all men and all ordinances1 the various members of the community rise and sink again with excessive rapidity2 and power passes so quickly from hand to hand that none need despair of catching it in turn4 ,it must be recollected1 moreover1 that the people who destroy an aristocracy have lived under its laws2 they have witnessed its splendor1 and they have unconsciously imbibed the feelings and notions which it entertained4 ,thus at the moment when an aristocracy is dissolved1 its spirit still pervades the mass of the community1 and its tendencies are retained long after it has been defeated4 ,ambition is therefore always extremely great as long as a democratic revolution lasts1 and it will remain so for some time after the revolution is consummated4 ,the reminiscence of the extraordinary events which men have witnessed is not obliterated from their memory in a day4 ,the passions which a revolution has roused do not disappear at its close4 ,a sense of instability remains in the midst of re-established order3 a notion of easy success survives the strange vicissitudes which gave it birth2 desires still remain extremely enlarged1 when the means of satisfying them are diminished day by day4 ,the taste for large fortunes subsists1 though large fortunes are rare3 and on every side we trace the ravages of inordinate and hapless ambition kindled in hearts which they consume in secret and in vain4 ,at length1 however1 the last vestiges of the struggle are effaced2 the remains of aristocracy completely disappear2 the great events by which its fall was attended are forgotten2 peace succeeds to war1 and the sway of order is restored in the new realm2 desires are again adapted to the means by which they may be fulfilled2 the wants1 the opinions1 and the feelings of men cohere once more2 the level of the community is permanently determined1 and democratic society established4 ,a democratic nation1 arrived at this permanent and regular state of things1 will present a very different spectacle from that which we have just described2 and we may readily conclude that1 if ambition becomes great whilst the conditions of society are growing equal1 it loses that quality when they have grown so4 ,as wealth is subdivided and knowledge diffused1 no one is entirely destitute of education or of property2 the privileges and disqualifications of caste being abolished1 and men having shattered the bonds which held them fixed1 the notion of advancement suggests itself to every mind1 the desire to rise swells in every heart1 and all men want to mount above their station3 ambition is the universal feeling4 ,but if the equality of conditions gives some resources to all the members of the community1 it also prevents any of them from having resources of great extent1 which necessarily circumscribes their desires within somewhat narrow limits4 ,thus amongst democratic nations ambition is ardent and continual1 but its aim is not habitually lofty2 and life is generally spent in eagerly coveting small objects which are within reach4 ,what chiefly diverts the men of democracies from lofty ambition is not the scantiness of their fortunes1 but the vehemence of the exertions they daily make to improve them4 ,they strain their faculties to the utmost to achieve paltry results1 and this cannot fail speedily to limit their discernment and to circumscribe their powers4 ,they might be much poorer and still be greater4 ,the small number of opulent citizens who are to be found amidst a democracy do not constitute an exception to this rule4 ,a man who raises himself by degrees to wealth and power1 contracts1 in the course of this protracted labor1 habits of prudence and restraint which he cannot afterwards shake off4 ,a man cannot enlarge his mind as he would his house4 ,the same observation is applicable to the sons of such a man2 they are born1 it is true1 in a lofty position1 but their parents were humble2 they have grown up amidst feelings and notions which they cannot afterwards easily get rid of2 and it may be presumed that they will inherit the propensities of their father as well as his wealth4 ,it may happen1 on the contrary1 that the poorest scion of a powerful aristocracy may display vast ambition1 because the traditional opinions of his race and the general spirit of his order still buoy him up for some time above his fortune4 ,another thing which prevents the men of democratic periods from easily indulging in the pursuit of lofty objects1 is the lapse of time which they foresee must take place before they can be ready to approach them4 ,it is a great advantage1 says ,pascal1 to be a man of quality1 since it brings one man as forward at eighteen or twenty as another man would be at fifty1 which is a clear gain of thirty years4 ,those thirty years are commonly wanting to the ambitious characters of democracies4 ,the principle of equality1 which allows every man to arrive at everything1 prevents all men from rapid advancement4 ,in a democratic society1 as well as elsewhere1 there are only a certain number of great fortunes to be made2 and as the paths which lead to them are indiscriminately open to all1 the progress of all must necessarily be slackened4 ,as the candidates appear to be nearly alike1 and as it is difficult to make a selection without infringing the principle of equality1 which is the supreme law of democratic societies1 the first idea which suggests itself is to make them all advance at the same rate and submit to the same probation4 ,thus in proportion as men become more alike1 and the principle of equality is more peaceably and deeply infused into the institutions and manners of the country1 the rules of advancement become more inflexible1 advancement itself slower1 the difficulty of arriving quickly at a certain height far greater4 ,from hatred of privilege and from the embarrassment of choosing1 all men are at last constrained1 whatever may be their standard1 to pass the same ordeal2 all are indiscriminately subjected to a multitude of petty preliminary exercises1 in which their youth is wasted and their imagination quenched1 so that they despair of ever fully attaining what is held out to them2 and when at length they are in a condition to perform any extraordinary acts1 the taste for such things has forsaken them4 ,in ,china1 where the equality of conditions is exceedingly great and very ancient1 no man passes from one public office to another without undergoing a probationary trial4 ,this probation occurs afresh at every stage of his career2 and the notion is now so rooted in the manners of the people that ,i remember to have read a ,chinese novel1 in which the hero1 after numberless crosses1 succeeds at length in touching the heart of his mistress by taking honors4 ,a lofty ambition breathes with difficulty in such an atmosphere4 ,the remark ,i apply to politics extends to everything2 equality everywhere produces the same effects2 where the laws of a country do not regulate and retard the advancement of men by positive enactment1 competition attains the same end4 ,in a well-established democratic community great and rapid elevation is therefore rare2 it forms an exception to the common rule2 and it is the singularity of such occurrences that makes men forget how rarely they happen4 ,men living in democracies ultimately discover these things2 they find out at last that the laws of their country open a boundless field of action before them1 but that no one can hope to hasten across it4 ,between them and the final object of their desires1 they perceive a multitude of small intermediate impediments1 which must be slowly surmounted3 this prospect wearies and discourages their ambition at once4 ,they therefore give up hopes so doubtful and remote1 to search nearer to themselves for less lofty and more easy enjoyments4 ,their horizon is not bounded by the laws but narrowed by themselves4 ,i have remarked that lofty ambitions are more rare in the ages of democracy than in times of aristocracy3 ,i may add that when1 in spite of these natural obstacles1 they do spring into existence1 their character is different4 ,in aristocracies the career of ambition is often wide1 but its boundaries are determined4 ,in democracies ambition commonly ranges in a narrower field1 but if once it gets beyond that1 hardly any limits can be assigned to it4 ,as men are individually weak--as they live asunder1 and in constant motion--as precedents are of little authority and laws but of short duration1 resistance to novelty is languid1 and the fabric of society never appears perfectly erect or firmly consolidated4 ,so that1 when once an ambitious man has the power in his grasp1 there is nothing he may noted are2 and when it is gone from him1 he meditates the overthrow of the ,state to regain it4 ,this gives to great political ambition a character of revolutionary violence1 which it seldom exhibits to an equal degree in aristocratic communities4 ,the common aspect of democratic nations will present a great number of small and very rational objects of ambition1 from amongst which a few ill-controlled desires of a larger growth will at intervals break out3 but no such a thing as ambition conceived and contrived on a vast scale is to be met with there4 ,i have shown elsewhere by what secret influence the principle of equality makes the passion for physical gratifications and the exclusive love of the present predominate in the human heart3 these different propensities mingle with the sentiment of ambition1 and tinge it1 as it were1 with their hues4 ,i believe that ambitious men in democracies are less engrossed than any others with the interests and the judgment of posterity2 the present moment alone engages and absorbs them4 ,they are more apt to complete a number of undertakings with rapidity than to raise lasting monuments of their achievements2 and they care much more for success than for fame4 ,what they most ask of men is obedience--what they most covet is empire4 ,their manners have in almost all cases remained below the height of their station2 the consequence is that they frequently carry very low tastes into their extraordinary fortunes1 and that they seem to have acquired the supreme power only to minister to their coarse or paltry pleasures4 ,i think that in our time it is very necessary to cleanse1 to regulate1 and to adapt the feeling of ambition1 but that it would be extremely dangerous to seek to impoverish and to repress it over-much4 ,we should attempt to lay down certain extreme limits1 which it should never be allowed to outstep2 but its range within those established limits should not be too much checked4 ,i confess that ,i apprehend much less for democratic society from the boldness than from the mediocrity of desires4 ,what appears to me most to be dreaded is that1 in the midst of the small incessant occupations of private life1 ambition should lose its vigor and its greatness--that the passions of man should abate1 but at the same time be lowered1 so that the march of society should every day become more tranquil and less aspiring4 ,i think then that the leaders of modern society would be wrong to seek to lull the community by a state of too uniform and too peaceful happiness2 and that it is well to expose it from time to time to matters of difficulty and danger1 in order to raise ambition and to give it a field of action4 ,moralists are constantly complaining that the ruling vice of the present time is pride4 ,this is true in one sense1 for indeed no one thinks that he is not better than his neighbor1 or consents to obey his superior3 but it is extremely false in another2 for the same man who cannot endure subordination or equality1 has so contemptible an opinion of himself that he thinks he is only born to indulge in vulgar pleasures4 ,he willingly takes up with low desires1 without daring to embark in lofty enterprises1 of which he scarcely dreams4 ,thus1 far from thinking that humility ought to be preached to our contemporaries1 ,i would have endeavors made to give them a more enlarged idea of themselves and of their kind4 ,humility is unwholesome to them2 what they most want is1 in my opinion1 pride4 ,i would willingly exchange several of our small virtues for this one vice4 ,chapter ,,xx3 ,the ,trade ,of ,place-,hunting ,in ,certain ,democratic ,countries ,in the ,united ,states as soon as a man has acquired some education and pecuniary resources1 he either endeavors to get rich by commerce or industry1 or he buys land in the bush and turns pioneer4 ,all that he asks of the ,state is not to be disturbed in his toil1 and to be secure of his earnings4 ,amongst the greater part of ,european nations1 when a man begins to feel his strength and to extend his desires1 the first thing that occurs to him is to get some public employment4 ,these opposite effects1 originating in the same cause1 deserve our passing notice4 ,when public employments are few in number1 ill-paid and precarious1 whilst the different lines of business are numerous and lucrative1 it is to business1 and not to official duties1 that the new and eager desires engendered by the principle of equality turn from every side4 ,but if1 whilst the ranks of society are becoming more equal1 the education of the people remains incomplete1 or their spirit the reverse of bold--if commerce and industry1 checked in their growth1 afford only slow and arduous means of making a fortune--the various members of the community1 despairing of ameliorating their own condition1 rush to the head of the ,state and demand its assistance4 ,to relieve their own necessities at the cost of the public treasury1 appears to them to be the easiest and most open1 if not the only1 way they have to rise above a condition which no longer contents them2 place-hunting becomes the most generally followed of all trades4 ,this must especially be the case1 in those great centralized monarchies in which the number of paid offices is immense1 and the tenure of them tolerably secure1 so that no one despairs of obtaining a place1 and of enjoying it as undisturbedly as a hereditary fortune4 ,i shall not remark that the universal and inordinate desire for place is a great social evil2 that it destroys the spirit of independence in the citizen1 and diffuses a venal and servile humor throughout the frame of society2 that it stifles the manlier virtues3 nor shall ,i be at the pains to demonstrate that this kind of traffic only creates an unproductive activity1 which agitates the country without adding to its resources3 all these things are obvious4 ,but ,i would observe1 that a government which encourages this tendency risks its own tranquillity1 and places its very existence in great jeopardy4 ,i am aware that at a time like our own1 when the love and respect which formerly clung to authority are seen gradually to decline1 it may appear necessary to those in power to lay a closer hold on every man by his own interest1 and it may seem convenient to use his own passions to keep him in order and in silence2 but this cannot be so long1 and what may appear to be a source of strength for a certain time will assuredly become in the end a great cause of embarrassment and weakness4 ,amongst democratic nations1 as well as elsewhere1 the number of official appointments has in the end some limits2 but amongst those nations1 the number of aspirants is unlimited2 it perpetually increases1 with a gradual and irresistible rise in proportion as social conditions become more equal1 and is only checked by the limits of the population4 ,thus1 when public employments afford the only outlet for ambition1 the government necessarily meets with a permanent opposition at last2 for it is tasked to satisfy with limited means unlimited desires4 ,it is very certain that of all people in the world the most difficult to restrain and to manage are a people of solicitants4 ,whatever endeavors are made by rulers1 such a people can never be contented2 and it is always to be apprehended that they will ultimately overturn the constitution of the country1 and change the aspect of the ,state1 for the sole purpose of making a clearance of places4 ,the sovereigns of the present age1 who strive to fix upon themselves alone all those novel desires which are aroused by equality1 and to satisfy them1 will repent in the end1 if ,i am not mistaken1 that they ever embarked in this policy3 they will one day discover that they have hazarded their own power1 by making it so necessary2 and that the more safe and honest course would have been to teach their subjects the art of providing for themselves4 99a ,footnote a3 ,as a matter of fact1 more recent experience has shown that place-hunting is quite as intense in the ,united ,states as in any country in ,europe4 ,it is regarded by the ,americans themselves as one of the great evils of their social condition1 and it powerfully affects their political institutions4 ,but the ,american who seeks a place seeks not so much a means of subsistence as the distinction which office and public employment confer4 ,in the absence of any true aristocracy1 the public service creates a spurious one1 which is as much an object of ambition as the distinctions of rank in aristocratic countries4--,translator's ,note4 ,chapter ,,xxi3 ,why ,great ,revolutions ,will ,become ,more ,rare ,a people which has existed for centuries under a system of castes and classes can only arrive at a democratic state of society by passing through a long series of more or less critical transformations1 accomplished by violent efforts1 and after numerous vicissitudes2 in the course of which1 property1 opinions1 and power are rapidly transferred from one hand to another4 ,even after this great revolution is consummated1 the revolutionary habits engendered by it may long be traced1 and it will be followed by deep commotion4 ,as all this takes place at the very time at which social conditions are becoming more equal1 it is inferred that some concealed relation and secret tie exist between the principle of equality itself and revolution1 insomuch that the one cannot exist without giving rise to the other4 ,on this point reasoning may seem to lead to the same result as experience4 ,amongst a people whose ranks are nearly equal1 no ostensible bond connects men together1 or keeps them settled in their station4 ,none of them have either a permanent right or power to command--none are forced by their condition to obey2 but every man1 finding himself possessed of some education and some resources1 may choose his won path and proceed apart from all his fellow-men4 ,the same causes which make the members of the community independent of each other1 continually impel them to new and restless desires1 and constantly spur them onwards4 ,it therefore seems natural that1 in a democratic community1 men1 things1 and opinions should be forever changing their form and place1 and that democratic ages should be times of rapid and incessant transformation4 ,but is this really the case8 does the equality of social conditions habitually and permanently lead men to revolution8 does that state of society contain some perturbing principle which prevents the community from ever subsiding into calm1 and disposes the citizens to alter incessantly their laws1 their principles1 and their manners8 ,i do not believe it2 and as the subject is important1 ,i beg for the reader's close attention4 ,almost all the revolutions which have changed the aspect of nations have been made to consolidate or to destroy social inequality4 ,remove the secondary causes which have produced the great convulsions of the world1 and you will almost always find the principle of inequality at the bottom4 ,either the poor have attempted to plunder the rich1 or the rich to enslave the poor4 ,if then a state of society can ever be founded in which every man shall have something to keep1 and little to take from others1 much will have been done for the peace of the world4 ,i am aware that amongst a great democratic people there will always be some members of the community in great poverty1 and others in great opulence2 but the poor1 instead of forming the immense majority of the nation1 as is always the case in aristocratic communities1 are comparatively few in number1 and the laws do not bind them together by the ties of irremediable and hereditary penury4 ,the wealthy1 on their side1 are scarce and powerless2 they have no privileges which attract public observation2 even their wealth1 as it is no longer incorporated and bound up with the soil1 is impalpable1 and as it were invisible4 ,as there is no longer a race of poor men1 so there is no longer a race of rich men2 the latter spring up daily from the multitude1 and relapse into it again4 ,hence they do not form a distinct class1 which may be easily marked out and plundered2 and1 moreover1 as they are connected with the mass of their fellow-citizens by a thousand secret ties1 the people cannot assail them without inflicting an injury upon itself4 ,between these two extremes of democratic communities stand an innumerable multitude of men almost alike1 who1 without being exactly either rich or poor1 are possessed of sufficient property to desire the maintenance of order1 yet not enough to excite envy4 ,such men are the natural enemies of violent commotions3 their stillness keeps all beneath them and above them still1 and secures the balance of the fabric of society4 ,not indeed that even these men are contented with what they have gotten1 or that they feel a natural abhorrence for a revolution in which they might share the spoil without sharing the calamity2 on the contrary1 they desire1 with unexampled ardor1 to get rich1 but the difficulty is to know from whom riches can be taken4 ,the same state of society which constantly prompts desires1 restrains these desires within necessary limits3 it gives men more liberty of changing and less interest in change4 ,not only are the men of democracies not naturally desirous of revolutions1 but they are afraid of them4 ,all revolutions more or less threaten the tenure of property3 but most of those who live in democratic countries are possessed of property--not only are they possessed of property1 but they live in the condition of men who set the greatest store upon their property4 ,if we attentively consider each of the classes of which society is composed1 it is easy to see that the passions engendered by property are keenest and most tenacious amongst the middle classes4 ,the poor often care but little for what they possess1 because they suffer much more from the want of what they have not1 than they enjoy the little they have4 ,the rich have many other passions besides that of riches to satisfy2 and1 besides1 the long and arduous enjoyment of a great fortune sometimes makes them in the end insensible to its charms4 ,but the men who have a competency1 alike removed from opulence and from penury1 attach an enormous value to their possessions4 ,as they are still almost within the reach of poverty1 they see its privations near at hand1 and dread them2 between poverty and themselves there is nothing but a scanty fortune1 upon which they immediately fix their apprehensions and their hopes4 ,every day increases the interest they take in it1 by the constant cares which it occasions2 and they are the more attached to it by their continual exertions to increase the amount4 ,the notion of surrendering the smallest part of it is insupportable to them1 and they consider its total loss as the worst of misfortunes4 ,now these eager and apprehensive men of small property constitute the class which is constantly increased by the equality of conditions4 ,hence1 in democratic communities1 the majority of the people do not clearly see what they have to gain by a revolution1 but they continually and in a thousand ways feel that they might lose by one4 ,i have shown in another part of this work that the equality of conditions naturally urges men to embark in commercial and industrial pursuits1 and that it tends to increase and to distribute real property3 ,i have also pointed out the means by which it inspires every man with an eager and constant desire to increase his welfare4 ,nothing is more opposed to revolutionary passions than these things4 ,it may happen that the final result of a revolution is favorable to commerce and manufactures2 but its first consequence will almost always be the ruin of manufactures and mercantile men1 because it must always change at once the general principles of consumption1 and temporarily upset the existing proportion between supply and demand4 ,i know of nothing more opposite to revolutionary manners than commercial manners4 ,commerce is naturally adverse to all the violent passions2 it loves to temporize1 takes delight in compromise1 and studiously avoids irritation4 ,it is patient1 insinuating1 flexible1 and never has recourse to extreme measures until obliged by the most absolute necessity4 ,commerce renders men independent of each other1 gives them a lofty notion of their personal importance1 leads them to seek to conduct their own affairs1 and teaches how to conduct them well2 it therefore prepares men for freedom1 but preserves them from revolutions4 ,in a revolution the owners of personal property have more to fear than all others2 for on the one hand their property is often easy to seize1 and on the other it may totally disappear at any moment--a subject of alarm to which the owners of real property are less exposed1 since1 although they may lose the income of their estates1 they may hope to preserve the land itself through the greatest vicissitudes4 ,hence the former are much more alarmed at the symptoms of revolutionary commotion than the latter4 ,thus nations are less disposed to make revolutions in proportion as personal property is augmented and distributed amongst them1 and as the number of those possessing it increases4 ,moreover1 whatever profession men may embrace1 and whatever species of property they may possess1 one characteristic is common to them all4 ,no one is fully contented with his present fortune--all are perpetually striving in a thousand ways to improve it4 ,consider any one of them at any period of his life1 and he will be found engaged with some new project for the purpose of increasing what he has2 talk not to him of the interests and the rights of mankind3 this small domestic concern absorbs for the time all his thoughts1 and inclines him to defer political excitement to some other season4 ,this not only prevents men from making revolutions1 but deters men from desiring them4 ,violent political passions have but little hold on those who have devoted all their faculties to the pursuit of their well-being4 ,the ardor which they display in small matters calms their zeal for momentous undertakings4 ,from time to time indeed1 enterprising and ambitious men will arise in democratic communities1 whose unbounded aspirations cannot be contented by following the beaten track4 ,such men like revolutions and hail their approach2 but they have great difficulty in bringing them about1 unless unwonted events come to their assistance4 ,no man can struggle with advantage against the spirit of his age and country2 and1 however powerful he may be supposed to be1 he will find it difficult to make his contemporaries share in feelings and opinions which are repugnant to t all their feelings and desires4 ,it is a mistake to believe that1 when once the equality of conditions has become the old and uncontested state of society1 and has imparted its characteristics to the manners of a nation1 men will easily allow themselves to be thrust into perilous risks by an imprudent leader or a bold innovator4 ,not indeed that they will resist him openly1 by well-contrived schemes1 or even by a premeditated plan of resistance4 ,they will not struggle energetically against him1 sometimes they will even applaud him--but they do not follow him4 ,to his vehemence they secretly oppose their inertia2 to his revolutionary tendencies their conservative interests2 their homely tastes to his adventurous passions2 their good sense to the flights of his genius2 to his poetry their prose4 ,with immense exertion he raises them for an instant1 but they speedily escape from him1 and fall back1 as it were1 by their own weight4 ,he strains himself to rouse the indifferent and distracted multitude1 and finds at last that he is reduced to impotence1 not because he is conquered1 but because he is alone4 ,i do not assert that men living in democratic communities are naturally stationary2 ,i think1 on the contrary1 that a perpetual stir prevails in the bosom of those societies1 and that rest is unknown there2 but ,i think that men bestir themselves within certain limits beyond which they hardly ever go4 ,they are forever varying1 altering1 and restoring secondary matters2 but they carefully abstain from touching what is fundamental4 ,they love change1 but they dread revolutions4 ,although the ,americans are constantly modifying or abrogating some of their laws1 they by no means display revolutionary passions4 ,it may be easily seen1 from the promptitude with which they check and calm themselves when public excitement begins to grow alarming1 and at the very moment when passions seem most roused1 that they dread a revolution as the worst of misfortunes1 and that every one of them is inwardly resolved to make great sacrifices to avoid such a catastrophe4 ,in no country in the world is the love of property more active and more anxious than in the ,united ,states2 nowhere does the majority display less inclination for those principles which threaten to alter1 in whatever manner1 the laws of property4 ,i have often remarked that theories which are of a revolutionary nature1 since they cannot be put in practice without a complete and sometimes a sudden change in the state of property and persons1 are much less favorably viewed in the ,united ,states than in the great monarchical countries of ,europe3 if some men profess them1 the bulk of the people reject them with instinctive abhorrence4 ,i do not hesitate to say that most of the maxims commonly called democratic in ,france would be proscribed by the democracy of the ,united ,states4 ,this may easily be understood3 in ,america men have the opinions and passions of democracy1 in ,europe we have still the passions and opinions of revolution4 ,if ever ,america undergoes great revolutions1 they will be brought about by the presence of the black race on the soil of the ,united ,states--that is to say1 they will owe their origin1 not to the equality1 but to the inequality1 of conditions4 ,when social conditions are equal1 every man is apt to live apart1 centred in himself and forgetful of the public4 ,if the rulers of democratic nations were either to neglect to correct this fatal tendency1 or to encourage it from a notion that it weans men from political passions and thus wards off revolutions1 they might eventually produce the evil they seek to avoid1 and a time might come when the inordinate passions of a few men1 aided by the unintelligent selfishness or the pusillanimity of the greater number1 would ultimately compel society to pass through strange vicissitudes4 ,in democratic communities revolutions are seldom desired except by a minority2 but a minority may sometimes effect them4 ,i do not assert that democratic nations are secure from revolutions2 ,i merely say that the state of society in those nations does not lead to revolutions1 but rather wards them off4 ,a democratic people left to itself will not easily embark in great hazards2 it is only led to revolutions unawares2 it may sometimes undergo them1 but it does not make them2 and ,i will add that1 when such a people has been allowed to acquire sufficient knowledge and experience1 it will not suffer them to be made4 ,i am well aware that it this respect public institutions may themselves do much2 they may encourage or repress the tendencies which originate in the state of society4 ,i therefore do not maintain1 ,i repeat1 that a people is secure from revolutions simply because conditions are equal in the community2 but ,i think that1 whatever the institutions of such a people may be1 great revolutions will always be far less violent and less frequent than is supposed2 and ,i can easily discern a state of polity1 which1 when combined with the principle of equality1 would render society more stationary than it has ever been in our western apart of the world4 ,the observations ,i have here made on events may also be applied in part to opinions4 ,two things are surprising in the ,united ,states--the mutability of the greater part of human actions1 and the singular stability of certain principles4 ,men are in constant motion2 the mind of man appears almost unmoved4 ,when once an opinion has spread over the country and struck root there1 it would seem that no power on earth is strong enough to eradicate it4 ,in the ,united ,states1 general principles in religion1 philosophy1 morality1 and even politics1 do not vary1 or at least are only modified by a hidden and often an imperceptible process3 even the grossest prejudices are obliterated with incredible slowness1 amidst the continual friction of men and things4 ,i hear it said that it is in the nature and the habits of democracies to be constantly changing their opinions and feelings4 ,this may be true of small democratic nations1 like those of the ancient world1 in which the whole community could be assembled in a public place and then excited at will by an orator4 ,but ,i saw nothing of the kind amongst the great democratic people which dwells upon the opposite shores of the ,atlantic ,ocean4 ,what struck me in the ,united ,states was the difficulty in shaking the majority in an opinion once conceived1 or of drawing it off from a leader once adopted4 ,neither speaking nor writing can accomplish it2 nothing but experience will avail1 and even experience must be repeated4 ,this is surprising at first sight1 but a more attentive investigation explains the fact4 ,i do not think that it is as easy as is supposed to uproot the prejudices of a democratic people--to change its belief--to supersede principles once established1 by new principles in religion1 politics1 and morals--in a word1 to make great and frequent changes in men's minds4 ,not that the human mind is there at rest--it is in constant agitation2 but it is engaged in infinitely varying the consequences of known principles1 and in seeking for new consequences1 rather than in seeking for new principles4 ,its motion is one of rapid circumvolution1 rather than of straightforward impulse by rapid and direct effort2 it extends its orbit by small continual and hasty movements1 but it does not suddenly alter its position4 ,men who are equal in rights1 in education1 in fortune1 or1 to comprise all in one word1 in their social condition1 have necessarily wants1 habits1 and tastes which are hardly dissimilar4 ,as they look at objects under the same aspect1 their minds naturally tend to analogous conclusions2 and1 though each of them may deviate from his contemporaries and from opinions of his own1 they will involuntarily and unconsciously concur in a certain number of received opinions4 ,the more attentively ,i consider the effects of equality upon the mind1 the more am ,i persuaded that the intellectual anarchy which we witness about us is not1 as many men suppose1 the natural state of democratic nations4 ,i think it is rather to be regarded as an accident peculiar to their youth1 and that it only breaks out at that period of transition when men have already snapped the former ties which bound them together1 but are still amazingly different in origin1 education1 and manners2 so that1 having retained opinions1 propensities and tastes of great diversity1 nothing any longer prevents men from avowing them openly4 ,the leading opinions of men become similar in proportion as their conditions assimilate2 such appears to me to be the general and permanent law--the rest is casual and transient4 ,i believe that it will rarely happen to any man amongst a democratic community1 suddenly to frame a system of notions very remote from that which his contemporaries have adopted2 and if some such innovator appeared1 ,i apprehend that he would have great difficulty in finding listeners1 still more in finding believers4 ,when the conditions of men are almost equal1 they do not easily allow themselves to be persuaded by each other4 ,as they all live in close intercourse1 as they have learned the same things together1 and as they lead the same life1 they are not naturally disposed to take one of themselves for a guide1 and to follow him implicitly4 ,men seldom take the opinion of their equal1 or of a man like themselves1 upon trust4 ,not only is confidence in the superior attainments of certain individuals weakened amongst democratic nations1 as ,i have elsewhere remarked1 but the general notion of the intellectual superiority which any man whatsoever may acquire in relation to the rest of the community is soon overshadowed4 ,as men grow more like each other1 the doctrine of the equality of the intellect gradually infuses itself into their opinions2 and it becomes more difficult for any innovator to acquire or to exert much influence over the minds of a people4 ,in such communities sudden intellectual revolutions will therefore be rare2 for1 if we read aright the history of the world1 we shall find that great and rapid changes in human opinions have been produced far less by the force of reasoning than by the authority of a name4 ,observe1 too1 that as the men who live in democratic societies are not connected with each other by any tie1 each of them must be convinced individually2 whilst in aristocratic society it is enough to convince a few--the rest follow4 ,if ,luther had lived in an age of equality1 and had not had princes and potentates for his audience1 he would perhaps have found it more difficult to change the aspect of ,europe4 ,not indeed that the men of democracies are naturally strongly persuaded of the certainty of their opinions1 or are unwavering in belief2 they frequently entertain doubts which no one1 in their eyes1 can remove4 ,it sometimes happens at such times that the human mind would willingly change its position2 but as nothing urges or guides it forwards1 it oscillates to and fro without progressive motion4 99a ,footnote a3 ,if ,i inquire what state of society is most favorable to the great revolutions of the mind1 ,i find that it occurs somewhere between the complete equality of the whole community and the absolute separation of ranks4 ,under a system of castes generations succeed each other without altering men's positions2 some have nothing more1 others nothing better1 to hope for4 ,the imagination slumbers amidst this universal silence and stillness1 and the very idea of change fades from the human mind4 ,when ranks have been abolished and social conditions are almost equalized1 all men are in ceaseless excitement1 but each of them stands alone1 independent and weak4 ,this latter state of things is excessively different from the former one2 yet it has one point of analogy--great revolutions of the human mind seldom occur in it4 ,but between these two extremes of the history of nations is an intermediate period--a period as glorious as it is agitated--when the conditions of men are not sufficiently settled for the mind to be lulled in torpor1 when they are sufficiently unequal for men to exercise a vast power on the minds of one another1 and when some few may modify the convictions of all4 ,it is at such times that great reformers start up1 and new opinions suddenly change the face of the world4 ,even when the reliance of a democratic people has been won1 it is still no easy matter to gain their attention4 ,it is extremely difficult to obtain a hearing from men living in democracies1 unless it be to speak to them of themselves4 ,they do not attend to the things said to them1 because they are always fully engrossed with the things they are doing4 ,for indeed few men are idle in democratic nations2 life is passed in the midst of noise and excitement1 and men are so engaged in acting that little remains to them for thinking4 ,i would especially remark that they are not only employed1 but that they are passionately devoted to their employments4 ,they are always in action1 and each of their actions absorbs their faculties3 the zeal which they display in business puts out the enthusiasm they might otherwise entertain for idea4 ,i think that it is extremely difficult to excite the enthusiasm of a democratic people for any theory which has not a palpable1 direct1 and immediate connection with the daily occupations of life3 therefore they will not easily forsake their old opinions2 for it is enthusiasm which flings the minds of men out of the beaten track1 and effects the great revolutions of the intellect as well as the great revolutions of the political world4 ,thus democratic nations have neither time nor taste to go in search of novel opinions4 ,even when those they possess become doubtful1 they still retain them1 because it would take too much time and inquiry to change them--they retain them1 not as certain1 but as established4 ,there are yet other and more cogent reasons which prevent any great change from being easily effected in the principles of a democratic people4 ,i have already adverted to them at the commencement of this part of my work4 ,if the influence of individuals is weak and hardly perceptible amongst such a people1 the power exercised by the mass upon the mind of each individual is extremely great--,i have already shown for what reasons4 ,i would now observe that it is wrong to suppose that this depends solely upon the form of government1 and that the majority would lose its intellectual supremacy if it were to lose its political power4 ,in aristocracies men have often much greatness and strength of their own3 when they find themselves at variance with the greater number of their fellow-countrymen1 they withdraw to their own circle1 where they support and console themselves4 ,such is not the case in a democratic country2 there public favor seems as necessary as the air we breathe1 and to live at variance with the multitude is1 as it were1 not to live4 ,the multitude requires no laws to coerce those who think not like itself3 public disapprobation is enough2 a sense of their loneliness and impotence overtakes them and drives them to despair4 ,whenever social conditions are equal1 public opinion presses with enormous weight upon the mind of each individual2 it surrounds1 directs1 and oppresses him2 and this arises from the very constitution of society1 much more than from its political laws4 ,as men grow more alike1 each man feels himself weaker in regard to all the rest2 as he discerns nothing by which he is considerably raised above them1 or distinguished from them1 he mistrusts himself as soon as they assail him4 ,not only does he mistrust his strength1 but he even doubts of his right2 and he is very near acknowledging that he is in the wrong1 when the greater number of his countrymen assert that he is so4 ,the majority do not need to constrain him--they convince him4 ,in whatever way then the powers of a democratic community may be organized and balanced1 it will always be extremely difficult to believe what the bulk of the people reject1 or to profess what they condemn4 ,this circumstance is extraordinarily favorable to the stability of opinions4 ,when an opinion has taken root amongst a democratic people1 and established itself in the minds of the bulk of the community1 it afterwards subsists by itself and is maintained without effort1 because no one attacks it4 ,those who at first rejected it as false1 ultimately receive it as the general impression2 and those who still dispute it in their hearts1 conceal their dissent2 they are careful not to engage in a dangerous and useless conflict4 ,it is true1 that when the majority of a democratic people change their opinions1 they may suddenly and arbitrarily effect strange revolutions in men's minds2 but their opinions do not change without much difficulty1 and it is almost as difficult to show that they are changed4 ,time1 events1 or the unaided individual action of the mind1 will sometimes undermine or destroy an opinion1 without any outward sign of the change4 ,it has not been openly assailed1 no conspiracy has been formed to make war on it1 but its followers one by one noiselessly secede--day by day a few of them abandon it1 until last it is only professed by a minority4 ,in this state it will still continue to prevail4 ,as its enemies remain mute1 or only interchange their thoughts by stealth1 they are themselves unaware for a long period that a great revolution has actually been effected2 and in this state of uncertainly they take no steps--they observe each other and are silent4 ,the majority have ceased to believe what they believed before2 but they still affect to believe1 and this empty phantom of public opinion in strong enough to chill innovators1 and to keep them silent and at respectful distance4 ,we live at a time which has witnessed the most rapid changes of opinion in the minds of men2 nevertheless it may be that the leading opinions of society will ere long be more settled than they have been for several centuries in our history3 that time is not yet come1 but it may perhaps be approaching4 ,as ,i examine more closely the natural wants and tendencies of democratic nations1 ,i grow persuaded that if ever social equality is generally and permanently established in the world1 great intellectual and political revolutions will become more difficult and less frequent than is supposed4 ,because the men of democracies appear always excited1 uncertain1 eager1 changeable in their wills and in their positions1 it is imagined that they are suddenly to abrogate their laws1 to adopt new opinions1 and to assume new manners4 ,but if the principle of equality predisposes men to change1 it also suggests to them certain interests and tastes which cannot be satisfied without a settled order of things2 equality urges them on1 but at the same time it holds them back2 it spurs them1 but fastens them to earth2--it kindles their desires1 but limits their powers4 ,this1 however1 is not perceived at first2 the passions which tend to sever the citizens of a democracy are obvious enough2 but the hidden force which restrains and unites them is not discernible at a glance4 ,amidst the ruins which surround me1 shall ,i dare to say that revolutions are not what ,i most fear coming generations8 ,if men continue to shut themselves more closely within the narrow circle of domestic interests and to live upon that kind of excitement1 it is to be apprehended that they may ultimately become inaccessible to those great and powerful public emotions which perturb nations--but which enlarge them and recruit them4 ,when property becomes so fluctuating1 and the love of property so restless and so ardent1 ,i cannot but fear that men may arrive at such a state as to regard every new theory as a peril1 every innovation as an irksome toil1 every social improvement as a stepping-stone to revolution1 and so refuse to move altogether for fear of being moved too far4 ,i dread1 and ,i confess it1 lest they should at last so entirely give way to a cowardly love of present enjoyment1 as to lose sight of the interests of their future selves and of those of their descendants2 and to prefer to glide along the easy current of life1 rather than to make1 when it is necessary1 a strong and sudden effort to a higher purpose4 ,it is believed by some that modern society will be ever changing its aspect2 for myself1 ,i fear that it will ultimately be too invariably fixed in the same institutions1 the same prejudices1 the same manners1 so that mankind will be stopped and circumscribed2 that the mind will swing backwards and forwards forever1 without begetting fresh ideas2 that man will waste his strength in bootless and solitary trifling2 and1 though in continual motion1 that humanity will cease to advance4 ,chapter ,,xxii3 ,why ,democratic ,nations ,are ,naturally ,desirous ,of ,peace1 ,and ,democratic ,armies ,of ,war ,the same interests1 the same fears1 the same passions which deter democratic nations from revolutions1 deter them also from war2 the spirit of military glory and the spirit of revolution are weakened at the same time and by the same causes4 ,the ever-increasing numbers of men of property--lovers of peace1 the growth of personal wealth which war so rapidly consumes1 the mildness of manners1 the gentleness of heart1 those tendencies to pity which are engendered by the equality of conditions1 that coolness of understanding which renders men comparatively insensible to the violent and poetical excitement of arms--all these causes concur to quench the military spirit4 ,i think it may be admitted as a general and constant rule1 that1 amongst civilized nations1 the warlike passions will become more rare and less intense in proportion as social conditions shall be more equal4 ,war is nevertheless an occurrence to which all nations are subject1 democratic nations as well as others4 ,whatever taste they may have for peace1 they must hold themselves in readiness to repel aggression1 or in other words they must have an army4 ,fortune1 which has conferred so many peculiar benefits upon the inhabitants of the ,united ,states1 has placed them in the midst of a wilderness1 where they have1 so to speak1 no neighbors3 a few thousand soldiers are sufficient for their wants2 but this is peculiar to ,america1 not to democracy4 ,the equality of conditions1 and the manners as well as the institutions resulting from it1 do not exempt a democratic people from the necessity of standing armies1 and their armies always exercise a powerful influence over their fate4 ,it is therefore of singular importance to inquire what are the natural propensities of the men of whom these armies are composed4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 especially amongst those in which birth is the only source of rank1 the same inequality exists in the army as in the nation2 the officer is noble1 the soldier is a serf2 the one is naturally called upon to command1 the other to obey4 ,in aristocratic armies1 the private soldier's ambition is therefore circumscribed within very narrow limits4 ,nor has the ambition of the officer an unlimited range4 ,an aristocratic body not only forms a part of the scale of ranks in the nation1 but it contains a scale of ranks within itself3 the members of whom it is composed are placed one above another1 in a particular and unvarying manner4 ,thus one man is born to the command of a regiment1 another to that of a company2 when once they have reached the utmost object of their hopes1 they stop of their own accord1 and remain contented with their lot4 ,there is1 besides1 a strong cause1 which1 in aristocracies1 weakens the officer's desire of promotion4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 an officer1 independently of his rank in the army1 also occupies an elevated rank in society2 the former is almost always in his eyes only an appendage to the latter4 ,a nobleman who embraces the profession of arms follows it less from motives of ambition than from a sense of the duties imposed on him by his birth4 ,he enters the army in order to find an honorable employment for the idle years of his youth1 and to be able to bring back to his home and his peers some honorable recollections of military life2 but his principal object is not to obtain by that profession either property1 distinction1 or power1 for he possesses these advantages in his own right1 and enjoys them without leaving his home4 ,in democratic armies all the soldiers may become officers1 which makes the desire of promotion general1 and immeasurably extends the bounds of military ambition4 ,the officer1 on his part1 sees nothing which naturally and necessarily stops him at one grade more than at another2 and each grade has immense importance in his eyes1 because his rank in society almost always depends on his rank in the army4 ,amongst democratic nations it often happens that an officer has no property but his pay1 and no distinction but that of military honors3 consequently as often as his duties change1 his fortune changes1 and he becomes1 as it were1 a new man4 ,what was only an appendage to his position in aristocratic armies1 has thus become the main point1 the basis of his whole condition4 ,under the old ,french monarchy officers were always called by their titles of nobility2 they are now always called by the title of their military rank4 ,this little change in the forms of language suffices to show that a great revolution has taken place in the constitution of society and in that of the army4 ,in democratic armies the desire of advancement is almost universal3 it is ardent1 tenacious1 perpetual2 it is strengthened by all other desires1 and only extinguished with life itself4 ,but it is easy to see1 that of all armies in the world1 those in which advancement must be slowest in time of peace are the armies of democratic countries4 ,as the number of commissions is naturally limited1 whilst the number of competitors is almost unlimited1 and as the strict law of equality is over all alike1 none can make rapid progress--many can make no progress at all4 ,thus the desire of advancement is greater1 and the opportunities of advancement fewer1 there than elsewhere4 ,all the ambitious spirits of a democratic army are consequently ardently desirous of war1 because war makes vacancies1 and warrants the violation of that law of seniority which is the sole privilege natural to democracy4 ,we thus arrive at this singular consequence1 that of all armies those most ardently desirous of war are democratic armies1 and of all nations those most fond of peace are democratic nations3 and1 what makes these facts still more extraordinary1 is that these contrary effects are produced at the same time by the principle of equality4 ,all the members of the community1 being alike1 constantly harbor the wish1 and discover the possibility1 of changing their condition and improving their welfare3 this makes them fond of peace1 which is favorable to industry1 and allows every man to pursue his own little undertakings to their completion4 ,on the other hand1 this same equality makes soldiers dream of fields of battle1 by increasing the value of military honors in the eyes of those who follow the profession of arms1 and by rendering those honors accessible to all4 ,in either case the inquietude of the heart is the same1 the taste for enjoyment as insatiable1 the ambition of success as great--the means of gratifying it are alone different4 ,these opposite tendencies of the nation and the army expose democratic communities to great dangers4 ,when a military spirit forsakes a people1 the profession of arms immediately ceases to be held in honor1 and military men fall to the lowest rank of the public servants3 they are little esteemed1 and no longer understood4 ,the reverse of what takes place in aristocratic ages then occurs2 the men who enter the army are no longer those of the highest1 but of the lowest rank4 ,military ambition is only indulged in when no other is possible4 ,hence arises a circle of cause and consequence from which it is difficult to escape3 the best part of the nation shuns the military profession because that profession is not honored1 and the profession is not honored because the best part of the nation has ceased to follow it4 ,it is then no matter of surprise that democratic armies are often restless1 ill-tempered1 and dissatisfied with their lot1 although their physical condition is commonly far better1 and their discipline less strict than in other countries4 ,the soldier feels that he occupies an inferior position1 and his wounded pride either stimulates his taste for hostilities which would render his services necessary1 or gives him a turn for revolutions1 during which he may hope to win by force of arms the political influence and personal importance now denied him4 ,the composition of democratic armies makes this last-mentioned danger much to be feared4 ,in democratic communities almost every man has some property to preserve2 but democratic armies are generally led by men without property1 most of whom have little to lose in civil broils4 ,the bulk of the nation is naturally much more afraid of revolutions than in the ages of aristocracy1 but the leaders of the army much less so4 ,moreover1 as amongst democratic nations 7to repeat what ,i have just remarked7 the wealthiest1 the best educated1 and the most able men seldom adopt the military profession1 the army1 taken collectively1 eventually forms a small nation by itself1 where the mind is less enlarged1 and habits are more rude than in the nation at large4 ,now1 this small uncivilized nation has arms in its possession1 and alone knows how to use them3 for1 indeed1 the pacific temper of the community increases the danger to which a democratic people is exposed from the military and turbulent spirit of the army4 ,nothing is so dangerous as an army amidst an unwarlike nation2 the excessive love of the whole community for quiet continually puts its constitution at the mercy of the soldiery4 ,it may therefore be asserted1 generally speaking1 that if democratic nations are naturally prone to peace from their interests and their propensities1 they are constantly drawn to war and revolutions by their armies4 ,military revolutions1 which are scarcely ever to be apprehended in aristocracies1 are always to be dreaded amongst democratic nations4 ,these perils must be reckoned amongst the most formidable which beset their future fate1 and the attention of statesmen should be sedulously applied to find a remedy for the evil4 ,when a nation perceives that it is inwardly affected by the restless ambition of its army1 the first thought which occurs is to give this inconvenient ambition an object by going to war4 ,i speak no ill of war3 war almost always enlarges the mind of a people1 and raises their character4 ,in some cases it is the only check to the excessive growth of certain propensities which naturally spring out of the equality of conditions1 and it must be considered as a necessary corrective to certain inveterate diseases to which democratic communities are liable4 ,war has great advantages1 but we must not flatter ourselves that it can diminish the danger ,i have just pointed out4 ,that peril is only suspended by it1 to return more fiercely when the war is over2 for armies are much more impatient of peace after having tasted military exploits4 ,war could only be a remedy for a people which should always be athirst for military glory4 ,i foresee that all the military rulers who may rise up in great democratic nations1 will find it easier to conquer with their armies1 than to make their armies live at peace after conquest4 ,there are two things which a democratic people will always find very difficult--to begin a war1 and to end it4 ,again1 if war has some peculiar advantages for democratic nations1 on the other hand it exposes them to certain dangers which aristocracies have no cause to dread to an equal extent4 ,i shall only point out two of these4 ,although war gratifies the army1 it embarrasses and often exasperates that countless multitude of men whose minor passions every day require peace in order to be satisfied4 ,thus there is some risk of its causing1 under another form1 the disturbance it is intended to prevent4 ,no protracted war can fail to endanger the freedom of a democratic country4 ,not indeed that after every victory it is to be apprehended that the victorious generals will possess themselves by force of the supreme power1 after the manner of ,sylla and ,caesar3 the danger is of another kind4 ,war does not always give over democratic communities to military government1 but it must invariably and immeasurably increase the powers of civil government2 it must almost compulsorily concentrate the direction of all men and the management of all things in the hands of the administration4 ,if it lead not to despotism by sudden violence1 it prepares men for it more gently by their habits4 ,all those who seek to destroy the liberties of a democratic nation ought to know that war is the surest and the shortest means to accomplish it4 ,this is the first axiom of the science4 ,one remedy1 which appears to be obvious when the ambition of soldiers and officers becomes the subject of alarm1 is to augment the number of commissions to be distributed by increasing the army4 ,this affords temporary relief1 but it plunges the country into deeper difficulties at some future period4 ,to increase the army may produce a lasting effect in an aristocratic community1 because military ambition is there confined to one class of men1 and the ambition of each individual stops1 as it were1 at a certain limit2 so that it may be possible to satisfy all who feel its influence4 ,but nothing is gained by increasing the army amongst a democratic people1 because the number of aspirants always rises in exactly the same ratio as the army itself4 ,those whose claims have been satisfied by the creation of new commissions are instantly succeeded by a fresh multitude beyond all power of satisfaction2 and even those who were but now satisfied soon begin to crave more advancement2 for the same excitement prevails in the ranks of the army as in the civil classes of democratic society1 and what men want is not to reach a certain grade1 but to have constant promotion4 ,though these wants may not be very vast1 they are perpetually recurring4 ,thus a democratic nation1 by augmenting its army1 only allays for a time the ambition of the military profession1 which soon becomes even more formidable1 because the number of those who feel it is increased4 ,i am of opinion that a restless and turbulent spirit is an evil inherent in the very constitution of democratic armies1 and beyond hope of cure4 ,the legislators of democracies must not expect to devise any military organization capable by its influence of calming and restraining the military profession3 their efforts would exhaust their powers1 before the object is attained4 ,the remedy for the vices of the army is not to be found in the army itself1 but in the country4 ,democratic nations are naturally afraid of disturbance and of despotism2 the object is to turn these natural instincts into well-digested1 deliberate1 and lasting tastes4 ,when men have at last learned to make a peaceful and profitable use of freedom1 and have felt its blessings--when they have conceived a manly love of order1 and have freely submitted themselves to discipline--these same men1 if they follow the profession of arms1 bring into it1 unconsciously and almost against their will1 these same habits and manners4 ,the general spirit of the nation being infused into the spirit peculiar to the army1 tempers the opinions and desires engendered by military life1 or represses them by the mighty force of public opinion4 ,teach but the citizens to be educated1 orderly1 firm1 and free1 the soldiers will be disciplined and obedient4 ,any law which1 in repressing the turbulent spirit of the army1 should tend to diminish the spirit of freedom in the nation1 and to overshadow the notion of law and right1 would defeat its object3 it would do much more to favor1 than to defeat1 the establishment of military tyranny4 ,after all1 and in spite of all precautions1 a large army amidst a democratic people will always be a source of great danger2 the most effectual means of diminishing that danger would be to reduce the army1 but this is a remedy which all nations have it not in their power to use4 ,chapter ,,xxiii3 ,which ,is ,the ,most ,warlike ,and ,most ,revolutionary ,class ,in ,democratic ,armies8 ,it is a part of the essence of a democratic army to be very numerous in proportion to the people to which it belongs1 as ,i shall hereafter show4 ,on the other hand1 men living in democratic times seldom choose a military life4 ,democratic nations are therefore soon led to give up the system of voluntary recruiting for that of compulsory enlistment4 ,the necessity of their social condition compels them to resort to the latter means1 and it may easily be foreseen that they will all eventually adopt it4 ,when military service is compulsory1 the burden is indiscriminately and equally borne by the whole community4 ,this is another necessary consequence of the social condition of these nations1 and of their notions4 ,the government may do almost whatever it pleases1 provided it appeals to the whole community at once3 it is the unequal distribution of the weight1 not the weight itself1 which commonly occasions resistance4 ,but as military service is common to all the citizens1 the evident consequence is that each of them remains but for a few years on active duty4 ,thus it is in the nature of things that the soldier in democracies only passes through the army1 whilst among most aristocratic nations the military profession is one which the soldier adopts1 or which is imposed upon him1 for life4 ,this has important consequences4 ,amongst the soldiers of a democratic army1 some acquire a taste for military life1 but the majority1 being enlisted against their will1 and ever ready to go back to their homes1 do not consider themselves as seriously engaged in the military profession1 and are always thinking of quitting it4 ,such men do not contract the wants1 and only half partake in the passions1 which that mode of life engenders4 ,they adapt themselves to their military duties1 but their minds are still attached to the interests and the duties which engaged them in civil life4 ,they do not therefore imbibe the spirit of the army--or rather1 they infuse the spirit of the community at large into the army1 and retain it there4 ,amongst democratic nations the private soldiers remain most like civilians3 upon them the habits of the nation have the firmest hold1 and public opinion most influence4 ,it is by the instrumentality of the private soldiers especially that it may be possible to infuse into a democratic army the love of freedom and the respect of rights1 if these principles have once been successfully inculcated on the people at large4 ,the reverse happens amongst aristocratic nations1 where the soldiery have eventually nothing in common with their fellow-citizens1 and where they live amongst them as strangers1 and often as enemies4 ,in aristocratic armies the officers are the conservative element1 because the officers alone have retained a strict connection with civil society1 and never forego their purpose of resuming their place in it sooner or later3 in democratic armies the private soldiers stand in this position1 and from the same cause4 ,it often happens1 on the contrary1 that in these same democratic armies the officers contract tastes and wants wholly distinct from those of the nation--a fact which may be thus accounted for4 ,amongst democratic nations1 the man who becomes an officer severs all the ties which bound him to civil life2 he leaves it forever2 he has no interest to resume it4 ,his true country is the army1 since he owes all he has to the rank he has attained in it2 he therefore follows the fortunes of the army1 rises or sinks with it1 and henceforward directs all his hopes to that quarter only4 ,as the wants of an officer are distinct from those of the country1 he may perhaps ardently desire war1 or labor to bring about a revolution at the very moment when the nation is most desirous of stability and peace4 ,there are1 nevertheless1 some causes which allay this restless and warlike spirit4 ,though ambition is universal and continual amongst democratic nations1 we have seen that it is seldom great4 ,a man who1 being born in the lower classes of the community1 has risen from the ranks to be an officer1 has already taken a prodigious step4 ,he has gained a footing in a sphere above that which he filled in civil life1 and he has acquired rights which most democratic nations will ever consider as inalienable4 99a ,he is willing to pause after so great an effort1 and to enjoy what he has won4 ,the fear of risking what he has already obtained damps the desire of acquiring what he has not got4 ,having conquered the first and greatest impediment which opposed his advancement1 he resigns himself with less impatience to the slowness of his progress4 ,his ambition will be more and more cooled in proportion as the increasing distinction of his rank teaches him that he has more to put in jeopardy4 ,if ,i am not mistaken1 the least warlike1 and also the least revolutionary part1 of a democratic army1 will always be its chief commanders4 ,footnote a3 ,the position of officers is indeed much more secure amongst democratic nations than elsewhere2 the lower the personal standing of the man1 the greater is the comparative importance of his military grade1 and the more just and necessary is it that the enjoyment of that rank should be secured by the laws4 ,but the remarks ,i have just made on officers and soldiers are not applicable to a numerous class which in all armies fills the intermediate space between them--,i mean the class of non-commissioned officers4 ,this class of non-commissioned officers which have never acted a part in history until the present century1 is henceforward destined1 ,i think1 to play one of some importance4 ,like the officers1 non-commissioned officers have broken1 in their minds1 all the ties which bound them to civil life2 like the former1 they devote themselves permanently to the service1 and perhaps make it even more exclusively the object of all their desires3 but non-commissioned officers are men who have not yet reached a firm and lofty post at which they may pause and breathe more freely1 ere they can attain further promotion4 ,by the very nature of his duties1 which is invariable1 a non-commissioned officer is doomed to lead an obscure1 confined1 comfortless1 and precarious existence2 as yet he sees nothing of military life but its dangers2 he knows nothing but its privations and its discipline--more difficult to support than dangers3 he suffers the more from his present miseries1 from knowing that the constitution of society and of the army allow him to rise above them2 he may1 indeed1 at any time obtain his commission1 and enter at once upon command1 honors1 independence1 rights1 and enjoyments4 ,not only does this object of his hopes appear to him of immense importance1 but he is never sure of reaching it till it is actually his own2 the grade he fills is by no means irrevocable2 he is always entirely abandoned to the arbitrary pleasure of his commanding officer1 for this is imperiously required by the necessity of discipline3 a slight fault1 a whim1 may always deprive him in an instant of the fruits of many years of toil and endeavor2 until he has reached the grade to which he aspires he has accomplished nothing2 not till he reaches that grade does his career seem to begin4 ,a desperate ambition cannot fail to be kindled in a man thus incessantly goaded on by his youth1 his wants1 his passions1 the spirit of his age1 his hopes1 and his age1 his hopes1 and his fears4 ,non-commissioned officers are therefore bent on war--on war always1 and at any cost2 but if war be denied them1 then they desire revolutions to suspend the authority of established regulations1 and to enable them1 aided by the general confusion and the political passions of the time1 to get rid of their superior officers and to take their places4 ,nor is it impossible for them to bring about such a crisis1 because their common origin and habits give them much influence over the soldiers1 however different may be their passions and their desires4 ,it would be an error to suppose that these various characteristics of officers1 non-commissioned officers1 and men1 belong to any particular time or country2 they will always occur at all times1 and amongst all democratic nations4 ,in every democratic army the non-commissioned officers will be the worst representatives of the pacific and orderly spirit of the country1 and the private soldiers will be the best4 ,the latter will carry with them into military life the strength or weakness of the manners of the nation2 they will display a faithful reflection of the community3 if that community is ignorant and weak1 they will allow themselves to be drawn by their leaders into disturbances1 either unconsciously or against their will2 if it is enlightened and energetic1 the community will itself keep them within the bounds of order4 ,chapter ,,xxiv3 ,causes ,which ,render ,democratic ,armies ,weaker ,than ,other ,armies ,at ,the ,outset ,of ,a ,campaign1 ,and ,more ,formidable ,in ,protracted ,warfare ,any army is in danger of being conquered at the outset of a campaign1 after a long peace2 any army which has long been engaged in warfare has strong chances of victory3 this truth is peculiarly applicable to democratic armies4 ,in aristocracies the military profession1 being a privileged career1 is held in honor even in time of peace4 ,men of great talents1 great attainments1 and great ambition embrace it2 the army is in all respects on a level with the nation1 and frequently above it4 ,we have seen1 on the contrary1 that amongst a democratic people the choicer minds of the nation are gradually drawn away from the military profession1 to seek by other paths1 distinction1 power1 and especially wealth4 ,after a long peace--and in democratic ages the periods of peace are long--the army is always inferior to the country itself4 ,in this state it is called into active service2 and until war has altered it1 there is danger for the country as well as for the army4 ,i have shown that in democratic armies1 and in time of peace1 the rule of seniority is the supreme and inflexible law of advancement4 ,this is not only a consequence1 as ,i have before observed1 of the constitution of these armies1 but of the constitution of the people1 and it will always occur4 ,again1 as amongst these nations the officer derives his position in the country solely from his position in the army1 and as he draws all the distinction and the competency he enjoys from the same source1 he does not retire from his profession1 or is not super-annuated1 till towards the extreme close of life4 ,the consequence of these two causes is1 that when a democratic people goes to war after a long interval of peace all the leading officers of the army are old men4 ,i speak not only of the generals1 but of the non-commissioned officers1 who have most of them been stationary1 or have only advanced step by step4 ,it may be remarked with surprise1 that in a democratic army after a long peace all the soldiers are mere boys1 and all the superior officers in declining years2 so that the former are wanting in experience1 the latter in vigor4 ,this is a strong element of defeat1 for the first condition of successful generalship is youth3 ,i should not have ventured to say so if the greatest captain of modern times had not made the observation4 ,these two causes do not act in the same manner upon aristocratic armies3 as men are promoted in them by right of birth much more than by right of seniority1 there are in all ranks a certain number of young men1 who bring to their profession all the early vigor of body and mind4 ,again1 as the men who seek for military honors amongst an aristocratic people1 enjoy a settled position in civil society1 they seldom continue in the army until old age overtakes them4 ,after having devoted the most vigorous years of youth to the career of arms1 they voluntarily retire1 and spend at home the remainder of their maturer years4 ,a long peace not only fills democratic armies with elderly officers1 but it also gives to all the officers habits both of body and mind which render them unfit for actual service4 ,the man who has long lived amidst the calm and lukewarm atmosphere of democratic manners can at first ill adapt himself to the harder toils and sterner duties of warfare2 and if he has not absolutely lost the taste for arms1 at least he has assumed a mode of life which unfits him for conquest4 ,amongst aristocratic nations1 the ease of civil life exercises less influence on the manners of the army1 because amongst those nations the aristocracy commands the army3 and an aristocracy1 however plunged in luxurious pleasures1 has always many other passions besides that of its own well-being1 and to satisfy those passions more thoroughly its well-being will be readily sacrificed4 99a ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,v4 ,i have shown that in democratic armies1 in time of peace1 promotion is extremely slow4 ,the officers at first support this state of things with impatience1 they grow excited1 restless1 exasperated1 but in the end most of them make up their minds to it4 ,those who have the largest share of ambition and of resources quit the army2 others1 adapting their tastes and their desires to their scanty fortunes1 ultimately look upon the military profession in a civil point of view4 ,the quality they value most in it is the competency and security which attend it3 their whole notion of the future rests upon the certainty of this little provision1 and all they require is peaceably to enjoy it4 ,thus not only does a long peace fill an army with old men1 but it is frequently imparts the views of old men to those who are still in the prime of life4 ,i have also shown that amongst democratic nations in time of peace the military profession is held in little honor and indifferently followed4 ,this want of public favor is a heavy discouragement to the army2 it weighs down the minds of the troops1 and when war breaks out at last1 they cannot immediately resume their spring and vigor4 ,no similar cause of moral weakness occurs in aristocratic armies3 there the officers are never lowered either in their own eyes or in those of their countrymen1 because1 independently of their military greatness1 they are personally great4 ,but even if the influence of peace operated on the two kinds of armies in the same manner1 the results would still be different4 ,when the officers of an aristocratic army have lost their warlike spirit and the desire of raising themselves by service1 they still retain a certain respect for the honor of their class1 and an old habit of being foremost to set an example4 ,but when the officers of a democratic army have no longer the love of war and the ambition of arms1 nothing whatever remains to them4 ,i am therefore of opinion that1 when a democratic people engages in a war after a long peace1 it incurs much more risk of defeat than any other nation2 but it ought not easily to be cast down by its reverses1 for the chances of success for such an army are increased by the duration of the war4 ,when a war has at length1 by its long continuance1 roused the whole community from their peaceful occupations and ruined their minor undertakings1 the same passions which made them attach so much importance to the maintenance of peace will be turned to arms4 ,war1 after it has destroyed all modes of speculation1 becomes itself the great and sole speculation1 to which all the ardent and ambitious desires which equality engenders are exclusively directed4 ,hence it is that the selfsame democratic nations which are so reluctant to engage in hostilities1 sometimes perform prodigious achievements when once they have taken the field4 ,as the war attracts more and more of public attention1 and is seen to create high reputations and great fortunes in a short space of time1 the choicest spirits of the nation enter the military profession3 all the enterprising1 proud1 and martial minds1 no longer of the aristocracy solely1 but of the whole country1 are drawn in this direction4 ,as the number of competitors for military honors is immense1 and war drives every man to his proper level1 great generals are always sure to spring up4 ,a long war produces upon a democratic army the same effects that a revolution produces upon a people2 it breaks through regulations1 and allows extraordinary men to rise above the common level4 ,those officers whose bodies and minds have grown old in peace1 are removed1 or superannuated1 or they die4 ,in their stead a host of young men are pressing on1 whose frames are already hardened1 whose desires are extended and inflamed by active service4 ,they are bent on advancement at all hazards1 and perpetual advancement2 they are followed by others with the same passions and desires1 and after these are others yet unlimited by aught but the size of the army4 ,the principle of equality opens the door of ambition to all1 and death provides chances for ambition4 ,death is constantly thinning the ranks1 making vacancies1 closing and opening the career of arms4 ,there is moreover a secret connection between the military character and the character of democracies1 which war brings to light4 ,the men of democracies are naturally passionately eager to acquire what they covet1 and to enjoy it on easy conditions4 ,they for the most part worship chance1 and are much less afraid of death than of difficulty4 ,this is the spirit which they bring to commerce and manufactures2 and this same spirit1 carried with them to the field of battle1 induces them willingly to expose their lives in order to secure in a moment the rewards of victory4 ,no kind of greatness is more pleasing to the imagination of a democratic people than military greatness--a greatness of vivid and sudden lustre1 obtained without toil1 by nothing but the risk of life4 ,thus1 whilst the interests and the tastes of the members of a democratic community divert them from war1 their habits of mind fit them for carrying on war well2 they soon make good soldiers1 when they are roused from their business and their enjoyments4 ,if peace is peculiarly hurtful to democratic armies1 war secures to them advantages which no other armies ever possess2 and these advantages1 however little felt at first1 cannot fail in the end to give them the victory4 ,an aristocratic nation1 which in a contest with a democratic people does not succeed in ruining the latter at the outset of the war1 always runs a great risk of being conquered by it4 ,chapter ,,xxv3 ,of ,discipline ,in ,democratic ,armies ,it is a very general opinion1 especially in aristocratic countries1 that the great social equality which prevails in democracies ultimately renders the private soldier independent of the officer1 and thus destroys the bond of discipline4 ,this is a mistake1 for there are two kinds of discipline1 which it is important not to confound4 ,when the officer is noble and the soldier a serf--one rich1 the other poor--the former educated and strong1 the latter ignorant and weak--the strictest bond of obedience may easily be established between the two men4 ,the soldier is broken in to military discipline1 as it were1 before he enters the army2 or rather1 military discipline is nothing but an enhancement of social servitude4 ,in aristocratic armies the soldier will soon become insensible to everything but the orders of his superior officers2 he acts without reflection1 triumphs without enthusiasm1 and dies without complaint3 in this state he is no longer a man1 but he is still a most formidable animal trained for war4 ,a democratic people must despair of ever obtaining from soldiers that blind1 minute1 submissive1 and invariable obedience which an aristocratic people may impose on them without difficulty4 ,the state of society does not prepare them for it1 and the nation might be in danger of losing its natural advantages if it sought artificially to acquire advantages of this particular kind4 ,amongst democratic communities1 military discipline ought not to attempt to annihilate the free spring of the faculties2 all that can be done by discipline is to direct it2 the obedience thus inculcated is less exact1 but it is more eager and more intelligent4 ,it has its root in the will of him who obeys3 it rests not only on his instinct1 but on his reason2 and consequently it will often spontaneously become more strict as danger requires it4 ,the discipline of an aristocratic army is apt to be relaxed in war1 because that discipline is founded upon habits1 and war disturbs those habits4 ,the discipline of a democratic army on the contrary is strengthened in sight of the enemy1 because every soldier then clearly perceives that he must be silent and obedient in order to conquer4 ,the nations which have performed the greatest warlike achievements knew no other discipline than that which ,i speak of4 ,amongst the ancients none were admitted into the armies but freemen and citizens1 who differed but little from one another1 and were accustomed to treat each other as equals4 ,in this respect it may be said that the armies of antiquity were democratic1 although they came out of the bosom of aristocracy2 the consequence was that in those armies a sort of fraternal familiarity prevailed between the officers and the men4 ,plutarch's lives of great commanders furnish convincing instances of the fact3 the soldiers were in the constant habit of freely addressing their general1 and the general listened to and answered whatever the soldiers had to say3 they were kept in order by language and by example1 far more than by constraint or punishment2 the general was as much their companion as their chief4 ,i know not whether the soldiers of ,greece and ,rome ever carried the minutiae of military discipline to the same degree of perfection as the ,russians have done2 but this did not prevent ,alexander from conquering ,asia--and ,rome1 the world4 ,chapter ,,xxvi3 ,some ,considerations ,on ,war ,in ,democratic ,communities ,when the principle of equality is in growth1 not only amongst a single nation1 but amongst several neighboring nations at the same time1 as is now the case in ,europe1 the inhabitants of these different countries1 notwithstanding the dissimilarity of language1 of customs1 and of laws1 nevertheless resemble each other in their equal dread of war and their common love of peace4 99a ,it is in vain that ambition or anger puts arms in the hands of princes2 they are appeased in spite of themselves by a species of general apathy and goodwill1 which makes the sword drop from their grasp1 and wars become more rare4 ,as the spread of equality1 taking place in several countries at once1 simultaneously impels their various inhabitants to follow manufactures and commerce1 not only do their tastes grow alike1 but their interests are so mixed and entangled with one another that no nation can inflict evils on other nations without those evils falling back upon itself2 and all nations ultimately regard war as a calamity1 almost as severe to the conqueror as to the conquered4 ,thus1 on the one hand1 it is extremely difficult in democratic ages to draw nations into hostilities2 but on the other hand1 it is almost impossible that any two of them should go to war without embroiling the rest4 ,the interests of all are so interlaced1 their opinions and their wants so much alike1 that none can remain quiet when the others stir4 ,wars therefore become more rare1 but when they break out they spread over a larger field4 ,neighboring democratic nations not only become alike in some respects1 but they eventually grow to resemble each other in almost all4 99b ,this similitude of nations has consequences of great importance in relation to war4 ,footnote a3 ,it is scarcely necessary for me to observe that the dread of war displayed by the nations of ,europe is not solely attributable to the progress made by the principle of equality amongst them2 independently of this permanent cause several other accidental causes of great weight might be pointed out1 and ,i may mention before all the rest the extreme lassitude which the wars of the ,revolution and the ,empire have left behind them4 ,footnote b3 ,this is not only because these nations have the same social condition1 but it arises from the very nature of that social condition which leads men to imitate and identify themselves with each other4 ,when the members of a community are divided into castes and classes1 they not only differ from one another1 but they have no taste and no desire to be alike2 on the contrary1 everyone endeavors1 more and more1 to keep his own opinions undisturbed1 to retain his own peculiar habits1 and to remain himself4 ,the characteristics of individuals are very strongly marked4 ,when the state of society amongst a people is democratic--that is to say1 when there are no longer any castes or classes in the community1 and all its members are nearly equal in education and in property--the human mind follows the opposite direction4 ,men are much alike1 and they are annoyed1 as it were1 by any deviation from that likeness3 far from seeking to preserve their own distinguishing singularities1 they endeavor to shake them off1 in order to identify themselves with the general mass of the people1 which is the sole representative of right and of might to their eyes4 ,the characteristics of individuals are nearly obliterated4 ,in the ages of aristocracy even those who are naturally alike strive to create imaginary differences between themselves3 in the ages of democracy even those who are not alike seek only to become so1 and to copy each other--so strongly is the mind of every man always carried away by the general impulse of mankind4 ,something of the same kind may be observed between nations3 two nations having the same aristocratic social condition1 might remain thoroughly distinct and extremely different1 because the spirit of aristocracy is to retain strong individual characteristics2 but if two neighboring nations have the same democratic social condition1 they cannot fail to adopt similar opinions and manners1 because the spirit of democracy tends to assimilate men to each other4 ,if ,i inquire why it is that the ,helvetic ,confederacy made the greatest and most powerful nations of ,europe tremble in the fifteenth century1 whilst at the present day the power of that country is exactly proportioned to its population1 ,i perceive that the ,swiss are become like all the surrounding communities1 and those surrounding communities like the ,swiss3 so that as numerical strength now forms the only difference between them1 victory necessarily attends the largest army4 ,thus one of the consequences of the democratic revolution which is going on in ,europe is to make numerical strength preponderate on all fields of battle1 and to constrain all small nations to incorporate themselves with large ,states1 or at least to adopt the policy of the latter4 ,as numbers are the determining cause of victory1 each people ought of course to strive by all the means in its power to bring the greatest possible number of men into the field4 ,when it was possible to enlist a kind of troops superior to all others1 such as the ,swiss infantry or the ,french horse of the sixteenth century1 it was not thought necessary to raise very large armies2 but the case is altered when one soldier is as efficient as another4 ,the same cause which begets this new want also supplies means of satisfying it2 for1 as ,i have already observed1 when men are all alike1 they are all weak1 and the supreme power of the ,state is naturally much stronger amongst democratic nations than elsewhere4 ,hence1 whilst these nations are desirous of enrolling the whole male population in the ranks of the army1 they have the power of effecting this object3 the consequence is1 that in democratic ages armies seem to grow larger in proportion as the love of war declines4 ,in the same ages1 too1 the manner of carrying on war is likewise altered by the same causes4 ,machiavelli observes in ,the ,prince1 that it is much more difficult to subdue a people which has a prince and his barons for its leaders1 than a nation which is commanded by a prince and his slaves4 ,to avoid offence1 let us read public functionaries for slaves1 and this important truth will be strictly applicable to our own time4 ,a great aristocratic people cannot either conquer its neighbors1 or be conquered by them1 without great difficulty4 ,it cannot conquer them1 because all its forces can never be collected and held together for a considerable period3 it cannot be conquered1 because an enemy meets at every step small centres of resistance by which invasion is arrested4 ,war against an aristocracy may be compared to war in a mountainous country2 the defeated party has constant opportunities of rallying its forces to make a stand in a new position4 ,exactly the reverse occurs amongst democratic nations3 they easily bring their whole disposable force into the field1 and when the nation is wealthy and populous it soon becomes victorious2 but if ever it is conquered1 and its territory invaded1 it has few resources at command2 and if the enemy takes the capital1 the nation is lost4 ,this may very well be explained3 as each member of the community is individually isolated and extremely powerless1 no one of the whole body can either defend himself or present a rallying point to others4 ,nothing is strong in a democratic country except the ,state2 as the military strength of the ,state is destroyed by the destruction of the army1 and its civil power paralyzed by the capture of the chief city1 all that remains is only a multitude without strength or government1 unable to resist the organized power by which it is assailed4 ,i am aware that this danger may be lessened by the creation of provincial liberties1 and consequently of provincial powers1 but this remedy will always be insufficient4 ,for after such a catastrophe1 not only is the population unable to carry on hostilities1 but it may be apprehended that they will not be inclined to attempt it4 ,in accordance with the law of nations adopted in civilized countries1 the object of wars is not to seize the property of private individuals1 but simply to get possession of political power4 ,the destruction of private property is only occasionally resorted to for the purpose of attaining the latter object4 ,when an aristocratic country is invaded after the defeat of its army1 the nobles1 although they are at the same time the wealthiest members of the community1 will continue to defend themselves individually rather than submit2 for if the conqueror remained master of the country1 he would deprive them of their political power1 to which they cling even more closely than to their property4 ,they therefore prefer fighting to subjection1 which is to them the greatest of all misfortunes2 and they readily carry the people along with them because the people has long been used to follow and obey them1 and besides has but little to risk in the war4 ,amongst a nation in which equality of conditions prevails1 each citizen1 on the contrary1 has but slender share of political power1 and often has no share at all2 on the other hand1 all are independent1 and all have something to lose2 so that they are much less afraid of being conquered1 and much more afraid of war1 than an aristocratic people4 ,it will always be extremely difficult to decide a democratic population to take up arms1 when hostilities have reached its own territory4 ,hence the necessity of giving to such a people the rights and the political character which may impart to every citizen some of those interests that cause the nobles to act for the public welfare in aristocratic countries4 ,it should never be forgotten by the princes and other leaders of democratic nations1 that nothing but the passion and the habit of freedom can maintain an advantageous contest with the passion and the habit of physical well-being4 ,i can conceive nothing better prepared for subjection1 in case of defeat1 than a democratic people without free institutions4 ,formerly it was customary to take the field with a small body of troops1 to fight in small engagements1 and to make long1 regular sieges3 modern tactics consist in fighting decisive battles1 and1 as soon as a line of march is open before the army1 in rushing upon the capital city1 in order to terminate the war at a single blow4 ,napoleon1 it is said1 was the inventor of this new system2 but the invention of such a system did not depend on any individual man1 whoever he might be4 ,the mode in which ,napoleon carried on war was suggested to him by the state of society in his time2 that mode was successful1 because it was eminently adapted to that state of society1 and because he was the first to employ it4 ,napoleon was the first commander who marched at the head of an army from capital to capital1 but the road was opened for him by the ruin of feudal society4 ,it may fairly be believed that1 if that extraordinary man had been born three hundred years ago1 he would not have derived the same results from his method of warfare1 or1 rather1 that he would have had a different method4 ,i shall add but a few words on civil wars1 for fear of exhausting the patience of the reader4 ,most of the remarks which ,i have made respecting foreign wars are applicable a fortiori to civil wars4 ,men living in democracies are not naturally prone to the military character2 they sometimes assume it1 when they have been dragged by compulsion to the field2 but to rise in a body and voluntarily to expose themselves to the horrors of war1 and especially of civil war1 is a course which the men of democracies are not apt to adopt4 ,none but the most adventurous members of the community consent to run into such risks2 the bulk of the population remains motionless4 ,but even if the population were inclined to act1 considerable obstacles would stand in their way2 for they can resort to no old and well-established influence which they are willing to obey--no well-known leaders to rally the discontented1 as well as to discipline and to lead them--no political powers subordinate to the supreme power of the nation1 which afford an effectual support to the resistance directed against the government4 ,in democratic countries the moral power of the majority is immense1 and the physical resources which it has at its command are out of all proportion to the physical resources which may be combined against it4 ,therefore the party which occupies the seat of the majority1 which speaks in its name and wields its power1 triumphs instantaneously and irresistibly over all private resistance2 it does not even give such opposition time to exist1 but nips it in the bud4 ,those who in such nations seek to effect a revolution by force of arms have no other resource than suddenly to seize upon the whole engine of government as it stands1 which can better be done by a single blow than by a war2 for as soon as there is a regular war1 the party which represents the ,state is always certain to conquer4 ,the only case in which a civil war could arise is1 if the army should divide itself into two factions1 the one raising the standard of rebellion1 the other remaining true to its allegiance4 ,an army constitutes a small community1 very closely united together1 endowed with great powers of vitality1 and able to supply its own wants for some time4 ,such a war might be bloody1 but it could not be long2 for either the rebellious army would gain over the government by the sole display of its resources1 or by its first victory1 and then the war would be over2 or the struggle would take place1 and then that portion of the army which should not be supported by the organized powers of the ,state would speedily either disband itself or be destroyed4 ,it may therefore be admitted as a general truth1 that in ages of equality civil wars will become much less frequent and less protracted4 99c ,footnote c3 ,it should be borne in mind that ,i speak here of sovereign and independent democratic nations1 not of confederate democracies2 in confederacies1 as the preponderating power always resides1 in spite of all political fictions1 in the state governments1 and not in the federal government1 civil wars are in fact nothing but foreign wars in disguise4 ,book ,four3 ,influence ,of ,democratic ,opinions ,on ,political ,society ,chapter ,i3 ,that ,equality ,naturally ,gives ,men ,a ,taste ,for ,free ,institutions ,i should imperfectly fulfil the purpose of this book1 if1 after having shown what opinions and sentiments are suggested by the principle of equality1 ,i did not point out1 ere ,i conclude1 the general influence which these same opinions and sentiments may exercise upon the government of human societies4 ,to succeed in this object ,i shall frequently have to retrace my steps2 but ,i trust the reader will not refuse to follow me through paths already known to him1 which may lead to some new truth4 ,the principle of equality1 which makes men independent of each other1 gives them a habit and a taste for following1 in their private actions1 no other guide but their own will4 ,this complete independence1 which they constantly enjoy towards their equals and in the intercourse of private life1 tends to make them look upon all authority with a jealous eye1 and speedily suggests to them the notion and the love of political freedom4 ,men living at such times have a natural bias to free institutions4 ,take any one of them at a venture1 and search if you can his most deep-seated instincts2 you will find that of all governments he will soonest conceive and most highly value that government1 whose head he has himself elected1 and whose administration he may control4 ,of all the political effects produced by the equality of conditions1 this love of independence is the first to strike the observing1 and to alarm the timid2 nor can it be said that their alarm is wholly misplaced1 for anarchy has a more formidable aspect in democratic countries than elsewhere4 ,as the citizens have no direct influence on each other1 as soon as the supreme power of the nation fails1 which kept them all in their several stations1 it would seem that disorder must instantly reach its utmost pitch1 and that1 every man drawing aside in a different direction1 the fabric of society must at once crumble away4 ,i am1 however1 persuaded that anarchy is not the principal evil which democratic ages have to fear1 but the least4 ,for the principle of equality begets two tendencies2 the one leads men straight to independence1 and may suddenly drive them into anarchy2 the other conducts them by a longer1 more secret1 but more certain road1 to servitude4 ,nations readily discern the former tendency1 and are prepared to resist it2 they are led away by the latter1 without perceiving its drift2 hence it is peculiarly important to point it out4 ,for myself1 ,i am so far from urging as a reproach to the principle of equality that it renders men untractable1 that this very circumstance principally calls forth my approbation4 ,i admire to see how it deposits in the mind and heart of man the dim conception and instinctive love of political independence1 thus preparing the remedy for the evil which it engenders2 it is on this very account that ,i am attached to it4 ,chapter ,,ii3 ,that ,the ,notions ,of ,democratic ,nations ,on ,government ,are ,naturally ,favorable ,to ,the ,concentration ,of ,power ,the notion of secondary powers1 placed between the sovereign and his subjects1 occurred naturally to the imagination of aristocratic nations1 because those communities contained individuals or families raised above the common level1 and apparently destined to command by their birth1 their education1 and their wealth4 ,this same notion is naturally wanting in the minds of men in democratic ages1 for converse reasons3 it can only be introduced artificially1 it can only be kept there with difficulty2 whereas they conceive1 as it were1 without thinking upon the subject1 the notion of a sole and central power which governs the whole community by its direct influence4 ,moreover in politics1 as well as in philosophy and in religion1 the intellect of democratic nations is peculiarly open to simple and general notions4 ,complicated systems are repugnant to it1 and its favorite conception is that of a great nation composed of citizens all resembling the same pattern1 and all governed by a single power4 ,the very next notion to that of a sole and central power1 which presents itself to the minds of men in the ages of equality1 is the notion of uniformity of legislation4 ,as every man sees that he differs but little from those about him1 he cannot understand why a rule which is applicable to one man should not be equally applicable to all others4 ,hence the slightest privileges are repugnant to his reason2 the faintest dissimilarities in the political institutions of the same people offend him1 and uniformity of legislation appears to him to be the first condition of good government4 ,i find1 on the contrary1 that this same notion of a uniform rule1 equally binding on all the members of the community1 was almost unknown to the human mind in aristocratic ages2 it was either never entertained1 or it was rejected4 ,these contrary tendencies of opinion ultimately turn on either side to such blind instincts and such ungovernable habits that they still direct the actions of men1 in spite of particular exceptions4 ,notwithstanding the immense variety of conditions in the ,middle ,ages1 a certain number of persons existed at that period in precisely similar circumstances2 but this did not prevent the laws then in force from assigning to each of them distinct duties and different rights4 ,on the contrary1 at the present time all the powers of government are exerted to impose the same customs and the same laws on populations which have as yet but few points of resemblance4 ,as the conditions of men become equal amongst a people1 individuals seem of less importance1 and society of greater dimensions2 or rather1 every citizen1 being assimilated to all the rest1 is lost in the crowd1 and nothing stands conspicuous but the great and imposing image of the people at large4 ,this naturally gives the men of democratic periods a lofty opinion of the privileges of society1 and a very humble notion of the rights of individuals2 they are ready to admit that the interests of the former are everything1 and those of the latter nothing4 ,they are willing to acknowledge that the power which represents the community has far more information and wisdom than any of the members of that community2 and that it is the duty1 as well as the right1 of that power to guide as well as govern each private citizen4 ,if we closely scrutinize our contemporaries1 and penetrate to the root of their political opinions1 we shall detect some of the notions which ,i have just pointed out1 and we shall perhaps be surprised to find so much accordance between men who are so often at variance4 ,the ,americans hold1 that in every ,state the supreme power ought to emanate from the people2 but when once that power is constituted1 they can conceive1 as it were1 no limits to it1 and they are ready to admit that it has the right to do whatever it pleases4 ,they have not the slightest notion of peculiar privileges granted to cities1 families1 or persons3 their minds appear never to have foreseen that it might be possible not to apply with strict uniformity the same laws to every part1 and to all the inhabitants4 ,these same opinions are more and more diffused in ,europe2 they even insinuate themselves amongst those nations which most vehemently reject the principle of the sovereignty of the people4 ,such nations assign a different origin to the supreme power1 but they ascribe to that power the same characteristics4 ,amongst them all1 the idea of intermediate powers is weakened and obliterated3 the idea of rights inherent in certain individuals is rapidly disappearing from the minds of men2 the idea of the omnipotence and sole authority of society at large rises to fill its place4 ,these ideas take root and spread in proportion as social conditions become more equal1 and men more alike2 they are engendered by equality1 and in turn they hasten the progress of equality4 ,in ,france1 where the revolution of which ,i am speaking has gone further than in any other ,european country1 these opinions have got complete hold of the public mind4 ,if we listen attentively to the language of the various parties in ,france1 we shall find that there is not one which has not adopted them4 ,most of these parties censure the conduct of the government1 but they all hold that the government ought perpetually to act and interfere in everything that is done4 ,even those which are most at variance are nevertheless agreed upon this head4 ,the unity1 the ubiquity1 the omnipotence of the supreme power1 and the uniformity of its rules1 constitute the principal characteristics of all the political systems which have been put forward in our age4 ,they recur even in the wildest visions of political regeneration3 the human mind pursues them in its dreams4 ,if these notions spontaneously arise in the minds of private individuals1 they suggest themselves still more forcibly to the minds of princes4 ,whilst the ancient fabric of ,european society is altered and dissolved1 sovereigns acquire new conceptions of their opportunities and their duties2 they learn for the first time that the central power which they represent may and ought to administer by its own agency1 and on a uniform plan1 all the concerns of the whole community4 ,this opinion1 which1 ,i will venture to say1 was never conceived before our time by the monarchs of ,europe1 now sinks deeply into the minds of kings1 and abides there amidst all the agitation of more unsettled thoughts4 ,our contemporaries are therefore much less divided than is commonly supposed2 they are constantly disputing as to the hands in which supremacy is to be vested1 but they readily agree upon the duties and the rights of that supremacy4 ,the notion they all form of government is that of a sole1 simple1 providential1 and creative power4 ,all secondary opinions in politics are unsettled2 this one remains fixed1 invariable1 and consistent4 ,it is adopted by statesmen and political philosophers2 it is eagerly laid hold of by the multitude2 those who govern and those who are governed agree to pursue it with equal ardor3 it is the foremost notion of their minds1 it seems inborn4 ,it originates therefore in no caprice of the human intellect1 but it is a necessary condition of the present state of mankind4 ,chapter ,,iii3 ,that ,the ,sentiments ,of ,democratic ,nations ,accord ,with ,their ,opinions ,in ,leading ,them ,to ,concentrate ,political ,power ,if it be true that1 in ages of equality1 men readily adopt the notion of a great central power1 it cannot be doubted on the other hand that their habits and sentiments predispose them to recognize such a power and to give it their support4 ,this may be demonstrated in a few words1 as the greater part of the reasons1 to which the fact may be attributed1 have been previously stated4 99a ,as the men who inhabit democratic countries have no superiors1 no inferiors1 and no habitual or necessary partners in their undertakings1 they readily fall back upon themselves and consider themselves as beings apart4 ,i had occasion to point this out at considerable length in treating of individualism4 ,hence such men can never1 without an effort1 tear themselves from their private affairs to engage in public business2 their natural bias leads them to abandon the latter to the sole visible and permanent representative of the interests of the community1 that is to say1 to the ,state4 ,not only are they naturally wanting in a taste for public business1 but they have frequently no time to attend to it4 ,private life is so busy in democratic periods1 so excited1 so full of wishes and of work1 that hardly any energy or leisure remains to each individual for public life4 ,i am the last man to contend that these propensities are unconquerable1 since my chief object in writing this book has been to combat them4 ,i only maintain that at the present day a secret power is fostering them in the human heart1 and that if they are not checked they will wholly overgrow it4 ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,w4 ,i have also had occasion to show how the increasing love of well-being1 and the fluctuating character of property1 cause democratic nations to dread all violent disturbance4 ,the love of public tranquillity is frequently the only passion which these nations retain1 and it becomes more active and powerful amongst them in proportion as all other passions droop and die4 ,this naturally disposes the members of the community constantly to give or to surrender additional rights to the central power1 which alone seems to be interested in defending them by the same means that it uses to defend itself4 ,as in ages of equality no man is compelled to lend his assistance to his fellow-men1 and none has any right to expect much support from them1 everyone is at once independent and powerless4 ,these two conditions1 which must never be either separately considered or confounded together1 inspire the citizen of a democratic country with very contrary propensities4 ,his independence fills him with self-reliance and pride amongst his equals2 his debility makes him feel from time to time the want of some outward assistance1 which he cannot expect from any of them1 because they are all impotent and unsympathizing4 ,in this predicament he naturally turns his eyes to that imposing power which alone rises above the level of universal depression4 ,of that power his wants and especially his desires continually remind him1 until he ultimately views it as the sole and necessary support of his own weakness4 99b ,this may more completely explain what frequently takes place in democratic countries1 where the very men who are so impatient of superiors patiently submit to a master1 exhibiting at once their pride and their servility4 ,footnote b3 ,in democratic communities nothing but the central power has any stability in its position or any permanence in its undertakings4 ,all the members of society are in ceaseless stir and transformation4 ,now it is in the nature of all governments to seek constantly to enlarge their sphere of action2 hence it is almost impossible that such a government should not ultimately succeed1 because it acts with a fixed principle and a constant will1 upon men1 whose position1 whose notions1 and whose desires are in continual vacillation4 ,it frequently happens that the members of the community promote the influence of the central power without intending it4 ,democratic ages are periods of experiment1 innovation1 and adventure4 ,at such times there are always a multitude of men engaged in difficult or novel undertakings1 which they follow alone1 without caring for their fellowmen4 ,such persons may be ready to admit1 as a general principle1 that the public authority ought not to interfere in private concerns2 but1 by an exception to that rule1 each of them craves for its assistance in the particular concern on which he is engaged1 and seeks to draw upon the influence of the government for his own benefit1 though he would restrict it on all other occasions4 ,if a large number of men apply this particular exception to a great variety of different purposes1 the sphere of the central power extends insensibly in all directions1 although each of them wishes it to be circumscribed4 ,thus a democratic government increases its power simply by the fact of its permanence4 ,time is on its side2 every incident befriends it2 the passions of individuals unconsciously promote it2 and it may be asserted1 that the older a democratic community is1 the more centralized will its government become4 ,the hatred which men bear to privilege increases in proportion as privileges become more scarce and less considerable1 so that democratic passions would seem to burn most fiercely at the very time when they have least fuel4 ,i have already given the reason of this phenomenon4 ,when all conditions are unequal1 no inequality is so great as to offend the eye2 whereas the slightest dissimilarity is odious in the midst of general uniformity3 the more complete is this uniformity1 the more insupportable does the sight of such a difference become4 ,hence it is natural that the love of equality should constantly increase together with equality itself1 and that it should grow by what it feeds upon4 ,this never-dying1 ever-kindling hatred1 which sets a democratic people against the smallest privileges1 is peculiarly favorable to the gradual concentration of all political rights in the hands of the representative of the ,state alone4 ,the sovereign1 being necessarily and incontestably above all the citizens1 excites not their envy1 and each of them thinks that he strips his equals of the prerogative which he concedes to the crown4 ,the man of a democratic age is extremely reluctant to obey his neighbor who is his equal2 he refuses to acknowledge in such a person ability superior to his own2 he mistrusts his justice1 and is jealous of his power2 he fears and he contemns him2 and he loves continually to remind him of the common dependence in which both of them stand to the same master4 ,every central power which follows its natural tendencies courts and encourages the principle of equality2 for equality singularly facilitates1 extends1 and secures the influence of a central power4 ,in like manner it may be said that every central government worships uniformity3 uniformity relieves it from inquiry into an infinite number of small details which must be attended to if rules were to be adapted to men1 instead of indiscriminately subjecting men to rules3 thus the government likes what the citizens like1 and naturally hates what they hate4 ,these common sentiments1 which1 in democratic nations1 constantly unite the sovereign and every member of the community in one and the same conviction1 establish a secret and lasting sympathy between them4 ,the faults of the government are pardoned for the sake of its tastes2 public confidence is only reluctantly withdrawn in the midst even of its excesses and its errors1 and it is restored at the first call4 ,democratic nations often hate those in whose hands the central power is vested2 but they always love that power itself4 ,thus1 by two separate paths1 ,i have reached the same conclusion4 ,i have shown that the principle of equality suggests to men the notion of a sole1 uniform1 and strong government3 ,i have now shown that the principle of equality imparts to them a taste for it4 ,to governments of this kind the nations of our age are therefore tending4 ,they are drawn thither by the natural inclination of mind and heart2 and in order to reach that result1 it is enough that they do not check themselves in their course4 ,i am of opinion1 that1 in the democratic ages which are opening upon us1 individual independence and local liberties will ever be the produce of artificial contrivance2 that centralization will be the natural form of government4 99c ,footnote c3 ,see ,appendix ,x4 ,chapter ,,iv3 ,of ,certain ,peculiar ,and ,accidental ,causes ,which ,either ,lead ,a ,people ,to ,complete ,centralization ,of ,government1 ,or ,which ,divert ,them ,from ,it ,if all democratic nations are instinctively led to the centralization of government1 they tend to this result in an unequal manner4 ,this depends on the particular circumstances which may promote or prevent the natural consequences of that state of society--circumstances which are exceedingly numerous2 but ,i shall only advert to a few of them4 ,amongst men who have lived free long before they became equal1 the tendencies derived from free institutions combat1 to a certain extent1 the propensities superinduced by the principle of equality2 and although the central power may increase its privileges amongst such a people1 the private members of such a community will never entirely forfeit their independence4 ,but when the equality of conditions grows up amongst a people which has never known1 or has long ceased to know1 what freedom is 7and such is the case upon the ,continent of ,europe71 as the former habits of the nation are suddenly combined1 by some sort of natural attraction1 with the novel habits and principles engendered by the state of society1 all powers seem spontaneously to rush to the centre4 ,these powers accumulate there with astonishing rapidity1 and the ,state instantly attains the utmost limits of its strength1 whilst private persons allow themselves to sink as suddenly to the lowest degree of weakness4 ,the ,english who emigrated three hundred years ago to found a democratic commonwealth on the shores of the ,new ,world1 had all learned to take a part in public affairs in their mother-country2 they were conversant with trial by jury2 they were accustomed to liberty of speech and of the press--to personal freedom1 to the notion of rights and the practice of asserting them4 ,they carried with them to ,america these free institutions and manly customs1 and these institutions preserved them against the encroachments of the ,state4 ,thus amongst the ,americans it is freedom which is old--equality is of comparatively modern date4 ,the reverse is occurring in ,europe1 where equality1 introduced by absolute power and under the rule of kings1 was already infused into the habits of nations long before freedom had entered into their conceptions4 ,i have said that amongst democratic nations the notion of government naturally presents itself to the mind under the form of a sole and central power1 and that the notion of intermediate powers is not familiar to them4 ,this is peculiarly applicable to the democratic nations which have witnessed the triumph of the principle of equality by means of a violent revolution4 ,as the classes which managed local affairs have been suddenly swept away by the storm1 and as the confused mass which remains has as yet neither the organization nor the habits which fit it to assume the administration of these same affairs1 the ,state alone seems capable of taking upon itself all the details of government1 and centralization becomes1 as it were1 the unavoidable state of the country4 ,napoleon deserves neither praise nor censure for having centred in his own hands almost all the administrative power of ,france2 for1 after the abrupt disappearance of the nobility and the higher rank of the middle classes1 these powers devolved on him of course3 it would have been almost as difficult for him to reject as to assume them4 ,but no necessity of this kind has ever been felt by the ,americans1 who1 having passed through no revolution1 and having governed themselves from the first1 never had to call upon the ,state to act for a time as their guardian4 ,thus the progress of centralization amongst a democratic people depends not only on the progress of equality1 but on the manner in which this equality has been established4 ,at the commencement of a great democratic revolution1 when hostilities have but just broken out between the different classes of society1 the people endeavors to centralize the public administration in the hands of the government1 in order to wrest the management of local affairs from the aristocracy4 ,towards the close of such a revolution1 on the contrary1 it is usually the conquered aristocracy that endeavors to make over the management of all affairs to the ,state1 because such an aristocracy dreads the tyranny of a people which has become its equal1 and not unfrequently its master4 ,thus it is not always the same class of the community which strives to increase the prerogative of the government2 but as long as the democratic revolution lasts there is always one class in the nation1 powerful in numbers or in wealth1 which is induced1 by peculiar passions or interests1 to centralize the public administration1 independently of that hatred of being governed by one's neighbor1 which is a general and permanent feeling amongst democratic nations4 ,it may be remarked1 that at the present day the lower orders in ,england are striving with all their might to destroy local independence1 and to transfer the administration from all points of the circumference to the centre2 whereas the higher classes are endeavoring to retain this administration within its ancient boundaries4 ,i venture to predict that a time will come when the very reverse will happen4 ,these observations explain why the supreme power is always stronger1 and private individuals weaker1 amongst a democratic people which has passed through a long and arduous struggle to reach a state of equality than amongst a democratic community in which the citizens have been equal from the first4 ,the example of the ,americans completely demonstrates the fact4 ,the inhabitants of the ,united ,states were never divided by any privileges2 they have never known the mutual relation of master and inferior1 and as they neither dread nor hate each other1 they have never known the necessity of calling in the supreme power to manage their affairs4 ,the lot of the ,americans is singular3 they have derived from the aristocracy of ,england the notion of private rights and the taste for local freedom2 and they have been able to retain both the one and the other1 because they have had no aristocracy to combat4 ,if at all times education enables men to defend their independence1 this is most especially true in democratic ages4 ,when all men are alike1 it is easy to found a sole and all-powerful government1 by the aid of mere instinct4 ,but men require much intelligence1 knowledge1 and art to organize and to maintain secondary powers under similar circumstances1 and to create amidst the independence and individual weakness of the citizens such free associations as may be in a condition to struggle against tyranny without destroying public order4 ,hence the concentration of power and the subjection of individuals will increase amongst democratic nations1 not only in the same proportion as their equality1 but in the same proportion as their ignorance4 ,it is true1 that in ages of imperfect civilization the government is frequently as wanting in the knowledge required to impose a despotism upon the people as the people are wanting in the knowledge required to shake it off2 but the effect is not the same on both sides4 ,however rude a democratic people may be1 the central power which rules it is never completely devoid of cultivation1 because it readily draws to its own uses what little cultivation is to be found in the country1 and1 if necessary1 may seek assistance elsewhere4 ,hence1 amongst a nation which is ignorant as well as democratic1 an amazing difference cannot fail speedily to arise between the intellectual capacity of the ruler and that of each of his subjects4 ,this completes the easy concentration of all power in his hands3 the administrative function of the ,state is perpetually extended1 because the ,state alone is competent to administer the affairs of the country4 ,aristocratic nations1 however unenlightened they may be1 never afford the same spectacle1 because in them instruction is nearly equally diffused between the monarch and the leading members of the community4 ,the pacha who now rules in ,egypt found the population of that country composed of men exceedingly ignorant and equal1 and he has borrowed the science and ability of ,europe to govern that people4 ,as the personal attainments of the sovereign are thus combined with the ignorance and democratic weakness of his subjects1 the utmost centralization has been established without impediment1 and the pacha has made the country his manufactory1 and the inhabitants his workmen4 ,i think that extreme centralization of government ultimately enervates society1 and thus after a length of time weakens the government itself2 but ,i do not deny that a centralized social power may be able to execute great undertakings with facility in a given time and on a particular point4 ,this is more especially true of war1 in which success depends much more on the means of transferring all the resources of a nation to one single point1 than on the extent of those resources4 ,hence it is chiefly in war that nations desire and frequently require to increase the powers of the central government4 ,all men of military genius are fond of centralization1 which increases their strength2 and all men of centralizing genius are fond of war1 which compels nations to combine all their powers in the hands of the government4 ,thus the democratic tendency which leads men unceasingly to multiply the privileges of the ,state1 and to circumscribe the rights of private persons1 is much more rapid and constant amongst those democratic nations which are exposed by their position to great and frequent wars1 than amongst all others4 ,i have shown how the dread of disturbance and the love of well-being insensibly lead democratic nations to increase the functions of central government1 as the only power which appears to be intrinsically sufficiently strong1 enlightened1 and secure1 to protect them from anarchy4 ,i would now add1 that all the particular circumstances which tend to make the state of a democratic community agitated and precarious1 enhance this general propensity1 and lead private persons more and more to sacrifice their rights to their tranquility4 ,a people is therefore never so disposed to increase the functions of central government as at the close of a long and bloody revolution1 which1 after having wrested property from the hands of its former possessors1 has shaken all belief1 and filled the nation with fierce hatreds1 conflicting interests1 and contending factions4 ,the love of public tranquillity becomes at such times an indiscriminating passion1 and the members of the community are apt to conceive a most inordinate devotion to order4 ,i have already examined several of the incidents which may concur to promote the centralization of power1 but the principal cause still remains to be noticed4 ,the foremost of the incidental causes which may draw the management of all affairs into the hands of the ruler in democratic countries1 is the origin of that ruler himself1 and his own propensities4 ,men who live in the ages of equality are naturally fond of central power1 and are willing to extend its privileges2 but if it happens that this same power faithfully represents their own interests1 and exactly copies their own inclinations1 the confidence they place in it knows no bounds1 and they think that whatever they bestow upon it is bestowed upon themselves4 ,the attraction of administrative powers to the centre will always be less easy and less rapid under the reign of kings who are still in some way connected with the old aristocratic order1 than under new princes1 the children of their own achievements1 whose birth1 prejudices1 propensities1 and habits appear to bind them indissolubly to the cause of equality4 ,i do not mean that princes of aristocratic origin who live in democratic ages do not attempt to centralize2 ,i believe they apply themselves to that object as diligently as any others4 ,for them1 the sole advantages of equality lie in that direction2 but their opportunities are less great1 because the community1 instead of volunteering compliance with their desires1 frequently obeys them with reluctance4 ,in democratic communities the rule is that centralization must increase in proportion as the sovereign is less aristocratic4 ,when an ancient race of kings stands at the head of an aristocracy1 as the natural prejudices of the sovereign perfectly accord with the natural prejudices of the nobility1 the vices inherent in aristocratic communities have a free course1 and meet with no corrective4 ,the reverse is the case when the scion of a feudal stock is placed at the head of a democratic people4 ,the sovereign is constantly led1 by his education1 his habits1 and his associations1 to adopt sentiments suggested by the inequality of conditions1 and the people tend as constantly1 by their social condition1 to those manners which are engendered by equality4 ,at such times it often happens that the citizens seek to control the central power far less as a tyrannical than as an aristocratical power1 and that they persist in the firm defence of their independence1 not only because they would remain free1 but especially because they are determined to remain equal4 ,a revolution which overthrows an ancient regal family1 in order to place men of more recent growth at the head of a democratic people1 may temporarily weaken the central power2 but however anarchical such a revolution may appear at first1 we need not hesitate to predict that its final and certain consequence will be to extend and to secure the prerogatives of that power4 ,the foremost or indeed the sole condition which is required in order to succeed in centralizing the supreme power in a democratic community1 is to love equality1 or to get men to believe you love it4 ,thus the science of despotism1 which was once so complex1 is simplified1 and reduced as it were to a single principle4 ,chapter ,v3 ,that ,amongst ,the ,european ,nations ,of ,our ,time ,the ,power ,of ,governments ,is ,increasing1 ,although ,the ,persons ,who ,govern ,are ,less ,stable ,on reflecting upon what has already been said1 the reader will be startled and alarmed to find that in ,europe everything seems to conduce to the indefinite extension of the prerogatives of government1 and to render all that enjoyed the rights of private independence more weak1 more subordinate1 and more precarious4 ,the democratic nations of ,europe have all the general and permanent tendencies which urge the ,americans to the centralization of government1 and they are moreover exposed to a number of secondary and incidental causes with which the ,americans are unacquainted4 ,it would seem as if every step they make towards equality brings them nearer to despotism4 ,and indeed if we do but cast our looks around1 we shall be convinced that such is the fact4 ,during the aristocratic ages which preceded the present time1 the sovereigns of ,europe had been deprived of1 or had relinquished1 many of the rights inherent in their power4 ,not a hundred years ago1 amongst the greater part of ,european nations1 numerous private persons and corporations were sufficiently independent to administer justice1 to raise and maintain troops1 to levy taxes1 and frequently even to make or interpret the law4 ,the ,state has everywhere resumed to itself alone these natural attributes of sovereign power2 in all matters of government the ,state tolerates no intermediate agent between itself and the people1 and in general business it directs the people by its own immediate influence4 ,i am far from blaming this concentration of power1 ,i simply point it out4 ,at the same period a great number of secondary powers existed in ,europe1 which represented local interests and administered local affairs4 ,most of these local authorities have already disappeared2 all are speedily tending to disappear1 or to fall into the most complete dependence4 ,from one end of ,europe to the other the privileges of the nobility1 the liberties of cities1 and the powers of provincial bodies1 are either destroyed or upon the verge of destruction4 ,europe has endured1 in the course of the last half-century1 many revolutions and counter-revolutions which have agitated it in opposite directions3 but all these perturbations resemble each other in one respect--they have all shaken or destroyed the secondary powers of government4 ,the local privileges which the ,french did not abolish in the countries they conquered1 have finally succumbed to the policy of the princes who conquered the ,french4 ,those princes rejected all the innovations of the ,french ,revolution except centralization3 that is the only principle they consented to receive from such a source4 ,my object is to remark1 that all these various rights1 which have been successively wrested1 in our time1 from classes1 corporations1 and individuals1 have not served to raise new secondary powers on a more democratic basis1 but have uniformly been concentrated in the hands of the sovereign4 ,everywhere the ,state acquires more and more direct control over the humblest members of the community1 and a more exclusive power of governing each of them in his smallest concerns4 99a ,almost all the charitable establishments of ,europe were formerly in the hands of private persons or of corporations2 they are now almost all dependent on the supreme government1 and in many countries are actually administered by that power4 ,the ,state almost exclusively undertakes to supply bread to the hungry1 assistance and shelter to the sick1 work to the idle1 and to act as the sole reliever of all kinds of misery4 ,education1 as well as charity1 is become in most countries at the present day a national concern4 ,the ,state receives1 and often takes1 the child from the arms of the mother1 to hand it over to official agents3 the ,state undertakes to train the heart and to instruct the mind of each generation4 ,uniformity prevails in the courses of public instruction as in everything else2 diversity1 as well as freedom1 is disappearing day by day4 ,nor do ,i hesitate to affirm1 that amongst almost all the ,christian nations of our days1 ,catholic as well as ,protestant1 religion is in danger of falling into the hands of the government4 ,not that rulers are over-jealous of the right of settling points of doctrine1 but they get more and more hold upon the will of those by whom doctrines are expounded2 they deprive the clergy of their property1 and pay them by salaries2 they divert to their own use the influence of the priesthood1 they make them their own ministers--often their own servants--and by this alliance with religion they reach the inner depths of the soul of man4 99b ,footnote a3 ,this gradual weakening of individuals in relation to society at large may be traced in a thousand ways4 ,i shall select from amongst these examples one derived from the law of wills4 ,in aristocracies it is common to profess the greatest reverence for the last testamentary dispositions of a man2 this feeling sometimes even became superstitious amongst the older nations of ,europe3 the power of the ,state1 far from interfering with the caprices of a dying man1 gave full force to the very least of them1 and insured to him a perpetual power4 ,when all living men are enfeebled1 the will of the dead is less respected3 it is circumscribed within a narrow range1 beyond which it is annulled or checked by the supreme power of the laws4 ,in the ,middle ,ages1 testamentary power had1 so to speak1 no limits3 amongst the ,french at the present day1 a man cannot distribute his fortune amongst his children without the interference of the ,state2 after having domineered over a whole life1 the law insists upon regulating the very last act of it4 ,footnote b3 ,in proportion as the duties of the central power are augmented1 the number of public officers by whom that power is represented must increase also4 ,they form a nation in each nation2 and as they share the stability of the government1 they more and more fill up the place of an aristocracy4 ,in almost every part of ,europe the government rules in two ways2 it rules one portion of the community by the fear which they entertain of its agents1 and the other by the hope they have of becoming its agents4 ,but this is as yet only one side of the picture4 ,the authority of government has not only spread1 as we have just seen1 throughout the sphere of all existing powers1 till that sphere can no longer contain it1 but it goes further1 and invades the domain heretofore reserved to private independence4 ,a multitude of actions1 which were formerly entirely beyond the control of the public administration1 have been subjected to that control in our time1 and the number of them is constantly increasing4 ,amongst aristocratic nations the supreme government usually contented itself with managing and superintending the community in whatever directly and ostensibly concerned the national honor2 but in all other respects the people were left to work out their own free will4 ,amongst these nations the government often seemed to forget that there is a point at which the faults and the sufferings of private persons involve the general prosperity1 and that to prevent the ruin of a private individual must sometimes be a matter of public importance4 ,the democratic nations of our time lean to the opposite extreme4 ,it is evident that most of our rulers will not content themselves with governing the people collectively3 it would seem as if they thought themselves responsible for the actions and private condition of their subjects--as if they had undertaken to guide and to instruct each of them in the various incidents of life1 and to secure their happiness quite independently of their own consent4 ,on the other hand private individuals grow more and more apt to look upon the supreme power in the same light2 they invoke its assistance in all their necessities1 and they fix their eyes upon the administration as their mentor or their guide4 ,i assert that there is no country in ,europe in which the public administration has not become1 not only more centralized1 but more inquisitive and more minute it everywhere interferes in private concerns more than it did2 it regulates more undertakings1 and undertakings of a lesser kind2 and it gains a firmer footing every day about1 above1 and around all private persons1 to assist1 to advise1 and to coerce them4 ,formerly a sovereign lived upon the income of his lands1 or the revenue of his taxes2 this is no longer the case now that his wants have increased as well as his power4 ,under the same circumstances which formerly compelled a prince to put on a new tax1 he now has recourse to a loan4 ,thus the ,state gradually becomes the debtor of most of the wealthier members of the community1 and centralizes the largest amounts of capital in its own hands4 ,small capital is drawn into its keeping by another method4 ,as men are intermingled and conditions become more equal1 the poor have more resources1 more education1 and more desires2 they conceive the notion of bettering their condition1 and this teaches them to save4 ,these savings are daily producing an infinite number of small capitals1 the slow and gradual produce of labor1 which are always increasing4 ,but the greater part of this money would be unproductive if it remained scattered in the hands of its owners4 ,this circumstance has given rise to a philanthropic institution1 which will soon become1 if ,i am not mistaken1 one of our most important political institutions4 ,some charitable persons conceived the notion of collecting the savings of the poor and placing them out at interest4 ,in some countries these benevolent associations are still completely distinct from the ,state2 but in almost all they manifestly tend to identify themselves with the government2 and in some of them the government has superseded them1 taking upon itself the enormous task of centralizing in one place1 and putting out at interest on its own responsibility1 the daily savings of many millions of the working classes4 ,thus the ,state draws to itself the wealth of the rich by loans1 and has the poor man's mite at its disposal in the savings banks4 ,the wealth of the country is perpetually flowing around the government and passing through its hands2 the accumulation increases in the same proportion as the equality of conditions2 for in a democratic country the ,state alone inspires private individuals with confidence1 because the ,state alone appears to be endowed with strength and durability4 99c ,thus the sovereign does not confine himself to the management of the public treasury2 he interferes in private money matters2 he is the superior1 and often the master1 of all the members of the community2 and1 in addition to this1 he assumes the part of their steward and paymaster4 ,footnote c3 ,on the one hand the taste for worldly welfare is perpetually increasing1 and on the other the government gets more and more complete possession of the sources of that welfare4 ,thus men are following two separate roads to servitude3 the taste for their own welfare withholds them from taking a part in the government1 and their love of that welfare places them in closer dependence upon those who govern4 ,the central power not only fulfils of itself the whole of the duties formerly discharged by various authorities--extending those duties1 and surpassing those authorities--but it performs them with more alertness1 strength1 and independence than it displayed before4 ,all the governments of ,europe have in our time singularly improved the science of administration3 they do more things1 and they do everything with more order1 more celerity1 and at less expense2 they seem to be constantly enriched by all the experience of which they have stripped private persons4 ,from day to day the princes of ,europe hold their subordinate officers under stricter control1 and they invent new methods for guiding them more closely1 and inspecting them with less trouble4 ,not content with managing everything by their agents1 they undertake to manage the conduct of their agents in everything2 so that the public administration not only depends upon one and the same power1 but it is more and more confined to one spot and concentrated in the same hands4 ,the government centralizes its agency whilst it increases its prerogative--hence a twofold increase of strength4 ,in examining the ancient constitution of the judicial power1 amongst most ,european nations1 two things strike the mind--the independence of that power1 and the extent of its functions4 ,not only did the courts of justice decide almost all differences between private persons1 but in very many cases they acted as arbiters between private persons and the ,state4 ,i do not here allude to the political and administrative offices which courts of judicature had in some countries usurped1 but the judicial office common to them all4 ,in most of the countries of ,europe1 there were1 and there still are1 many private rights1 connected for the most part with the general right of property1 which stood under the protection of the courts of justice1 and which the ,state could not violate without their sanction4 ,it was this semi-political power which mainly distinguished the ,european courts of judicature from all others2 for all nations have had judges1 but all have not invested their judges with the same privileges4 ,upon examining what is now occurring amongst the democratic nations of ,europe which are called free1 as well as amongst the others1 it will be observed that new and more dependent courts are everywhere springing up by the side of the old ones1 for the express purpose of deciding1 by an extraordinary jurisdiction1 such litigated matters as may arise between the government and private persons4 ,the elder judicial power retains its independence1 but its jurisdiction is narrowed2 and there is a growing tendency to reduce it to be exclusively the arbiter between private interests4 ,the number of these special courts of justice is continually increasing1 and their functions increase likewise4 ,thus the government is more and more absolved from the necessity of subjecting its policy and its rights to the sanction of another power4 ,as judges cannot be dispensed with1 at least the ,state is to select them1 and always to hold them under its control2 so that1 between the government and private individuals1 they place the effigy of justice rather than justice itself4 ,the ,state is not satisfied with drawing all concerns to itself1 but it acquires an ever-increasing power of deciding on them all without restriction and without appeal4 99d ,footnote d3 ,a strange sophism has been made on this head in ,france4 ,when a suit arises between the government and a private person1 it is not to be tried before an ordinary judge--in order1 they say1 not to mix the administrative and the judicial powers2 as if it were not to mix those powers1 and to mix them in the most dangerous and oppressive manner1 to invest the government with the office of judging and administering at the same time4 ,there exists amongst the modern nations of ,europe one great cause1 independent of all those which have already been pointed out1 which perpetually contributes to extend the agency or to strengthen the prerogative of the supreme power1 though it has not been sufficiently attended to3 ,i mean the growth of manufactures1 which is fostered by the progress of social equality4 ,manufactures generally collect a multitude of men of the same spot1 amongst whom new and complex relations spring up4 ,these men are exposed by their calling to great and sudden alternations of plenty and want1 during which public tranquillity is endangered4 ,it may also happen that these employments sacrifice the health1 and even the life1 of those who gain by them1 or of those who live by them4 ,thus the manufacturing classes require more regulation1 superintendence1 and restraint than the other classes of society1 and it is natural that the powers of government should increase in the same proportion as those classes4 ,this is a truth of general application2 what follows more especially concerns the nations of ,europe4 ,in the centuries which preceded that in which we live1 the aristocracy was in possession of the soil1 and was competent to defend it3 landed property was therefore surrounded by ample securities1 and its possessors enjoyed great independence4 ,this gave rise to laws and customs which have been perpetuated1 notwithstanding the subdivision of lands and the ruin of the nobility2 and1 at the present time1 landowners and agriculturists are still those amongst the community who must easily escape from the control of the supreme power4 ,in these same aristocratic ages1 in which all the sources of our history are to be traced1 personal property was of small importance1 and those who possessed it were despised and weak3 the manufacturing class formed an exception in the midst of those aristocratic communities2 as it had no certain patronage1 it was not outwardly protected1 and was often unable to protect itself4 ,hence a habit sprung up of considering manufacturing property as something of a peculiar nature1 not entitled to the same deference1 and not worthy of the same securities as property in general2 and manufacturers were looked upon as a small class in the bulk of the people1 whose independence was of small importance1 and who might with propriety be abandoned to the disciplinary passions of princes4 ,on glancing over the codes of the middle ages1 one is surprised to see1 in those periods of personal independence1 with what incessant royal regulations manufactures were hampered1 even in their smallest details3 on this point centralization was as active and as minute as it can ever be4 ,since that time a great revolution has taken place in the world2 manufacturing property1 which was then only in the germ1 has spread till it covers ,europe3 the manufacturing class has been multiplied and enriched by the remnants of all other ranks2 it has grown and is still perpetually growing in number1 in importance1 in wealth4 ,almost all those who do not belong to it are connected with it at least on some one point2 after having been an exception in society1 it threatens to become the chief1 if not the only1 class2 nevertheless the notions and political precedents engendered by it of old still cling about it4 ,these notions and these precedents remain unchanged1 because they are old1 and also because they happen to be in perfect accordance with the new notions and general habits of our contemporaries4 ,manufacturing property then does not extend its rights in the same ratio as its importance4 ,the manufacturing classes do not become less dependent1 whilst they become more numerous2 but1 on the contrary1 it would seem as if despotism lurked within them1 and naturally grew with their growth4 99e ,as a nation becomes more engaged in manufactures1 the want of roads1 canals1 harbors1 and other works of a semi-public nature1 which facilitate the acquisition of wealth1 is more strongly felt2 and as a nation becomes more democratic1 private individuals are less able1 and the ,state more able1 to execute works of such magnitude4 ,i do not hesitate to assert that the manifest tendency of all governments at the present time is to take upon themselves alone the execution of these undertakings2 by which means they daily hold in closer dependence the population which they govern4 ,footnote e3 ,i shall quote a few facts in corroboration of this remark4 ,mines are the natural sources of manufacturing wealth3 as manufactures have grown up in ,europe1 as the produce of mines has become of more general importance1 and good mining more difficult from the subdivision of property which is a consequence of the equality of conditions1 most governments have asserted a right of owning the soil in which the mines lie1 and of inspecting the works2 which has never been the case with any other kind of property4 ,thus mines1 which were private property1 liable to the same obligations and sheltered by the same guarantees as all other landed property1 have fallen under the control of the ,state4 ,the ,state either works them or farms them2 the owners of them are mere tenants1 deriving their rights from the ,state2 and1 moreover1 the ,state almost everywhere claims the power of directing their operations3 it lays down rules1 enforces the adoption of particular methods1 subjects the mining adventurers to constant superintendence1 and1 if refractory1 they are ousted by a government court of justice1 and the government transfers their contract to other hands2 so that the government not only possesses the mines1 but has all the adventurers in its power4 ,nevertheless1 as manufactures increase1 the working of old mines increases also2 new ones are opened1 the mining population extends and grows up2 day by day governments augment their subterranean dominions1 and people them with their agents4 ,on the other hand1 in proportion as the power of a ,state increases1 and its necessities are augmented1 the ,state consumption of manufactured produce is always growing larger1 and these commodities are generally made in the arsenals or establishments of the government4 ,thus1 in every kingdom1 the ruler becomes the principal manufacturer2 he collects and retains in his service a vast number of engineers1 architects1 mechanics1 and handicraftsmen4 ,not only is he the principal manufacturer1 but he tends more and more to become the chief1 or rather the master of all other manufacturers4 ,as private persons become more powerless by becoming more equal1 they can effect nothing in manufactures without combination2 but the government naturally seeks to place these combinations under its own control4 ,it must be admitted that these collective beings1 which are called combinations1 are stronger and more formidable than a private individual can ever be1 and that they have less of the responsibility of their own actions2 whence it seems reasonable that they should not be allowed to retain so great an independence of the supreme government as might be conceded to a private individual4 ,rulers are the more apt to follow this line of policy1 as their own inclinations invite them to it4 ,amongst democratic nations it is only by association that the resistance of the people to the government can ever display itself3 hence the latter always looks with ill-favor on those associations which are not in its own power2 and it is well worthy of remark1 that amongst democratic nations1 the people themselves often entertain a secret feeling of fear and jealousy against these very associations1 which prevents the citizens from defending the institutions of which they stand so much in need4 ,the power and the duration of these small private bodies1 in the midst of the weakness and instability of the whole community1 astonish and alarm the people2 and the free use which each association makes of its natural powers is almost regarded as a dangerous privilege4 ,all the associations which spring up in our age are1 moreover1 new corporate powers1 whose rights have not been sanctioned by time2 they come into existence at a time when the notion of private rights is weak1 and when the power of government is unbounded2 hence it is not surprising that they lose their freedom at their birth4 ,amongst all ,european nations there are some kinds of associations which cannot be formed until the ,state has examined their by-laws1 and authorized their existence4 ,in several others1 attempts are made to extend this rule to all associations2 the consequences of such a policy1 if it were successful1 may easily be foreseen4 ,if once the sovereign had a general right of authorizing associations of all kinds upon certain conditions1 he would not be long without claiming the right of superintending and managing them1 in order to prevent them from departing from the rules laid down by himself4 ,in this manner1 the ,state1 after having reduced all who are desirous of forming associations into dependence1 would proceed to reduce into the same condition all who belong to associations already formed--that is to say1 almost all the men who are now in existence4 ,governments thus appropriate to themselves1 and convert to their own purposes1 the greater part of this new power which manufacturing interests have in our time brought into the world4 ,manufacturers govern us--they govern manufactures4 ,i attach so much importance to all that ,i have just been saying1 that ,i am tormented by the fear of having impaired my meaning in seeking to render it more clear4 ,if the reader thinks that the examples ,i have adduced to support my observations are insufficient or ill-chosen--if he imagines that ,i have anywhere exaggerated the encroachments of the supreme power1 and1 on the other hand1 that ,i have underrated the extent of the sphere which still remains open to the exertions of individual independence1 ,i entreat him to lay down the book for a moment1 and to turn his mind to reflect for himself upon the subjects ,i have attempted to explain4 ,let him attentively examine what is taking place in ,france and in other countries--let him inquire of those about him--let him search himself1 and ,i am much mistaken if he does not arrive1 without my guidance1 and by other paths1 at the point to which ,i have sought to lead him4 ,he will perceive that for the last half-century1 centralization has everywhere been growing up in a thousand different ways4 ,wars1 revolutions1 conquests1 have served to promote it3 all men have labored to increase it4 ,in the course of the same period1 during which men have succeeded each other with singular rapidity at the head of affairs1 their notions1 interests1 and passions have been infinitely diversified2 but all have by some means or other sought to centralize4 ,this instinctive centralization has been the only settled point amidst the extreme mutability of their lives and of their thoughts4 ,if the reader1 after having investigated these details of human affairs1 will seek to survey the wide prospect as a whole1 he will be struck by the result4 ,on the one hand the most settled dynasties shaken or overthrown--the people everywhere escaping by violence from the sway of their laws--abolishing or limiting the authority of their rulers or their princes--the nations1 which are not in open revolution1 restless at least1 and excited--all of them animated by the same spirit of revolt3 and on the other hand1 at this very period of anarchy1 and amongst these untractable nations1 the incessant increase of the prerogative of the supreme government1 becoming more centralized1 more adventurous1 more absolute1 more extensive--the people perpetually falling under the control of the public administration--led insensibly to surrender to it some further portion of their individual independence1 till the very men1 who from time to time upset a throne and trample on a race of kings1 bend more and more obsequiously to the slightest dictate of a clerk4 ,thus two contrary revolutions appear in our days to be going on2 the one continually weakening the supreme power1 the other as continually strengthening it3 at no other period in our history has it appeared so weak or so strong4 ,but upon a more attentive examination of the state of the world1 it appears that these two revolutions are intimately connected together1 that they originate in the same source1 and that after having followed a separate course1 they lead men at last to the same result4 ,i may venture once more to repeat what ,i have already said or implied in several parts of this book3 great care must be taken not to confound the principle of equality itself with the revolution which finally establishes that principle in the social condition and the laws of a nation3 here lies the reason of almost all the phenomena which occasion our astonishment4 ,all the old political powers of ,europe1 the greatest as well as the least1 were founded in ages of aristocracy1 and they more or less represented or defended the principles of inequality and of privilege4 ,to make the novel wants and interests1 which the growing principle of equality introduced1 preponderate in government1 our contemporaries had to overturn or to coerce the established powers4 ,this led them to make revolutions1 and breathed into many of them1 that fierce love of disturbance and independence1 which all revolutions1 whatever be their object1 always engender4 ,i do not believe that there is a single country in ,europe in which the progress of equality has not been preceded or followed by some violent changes in the state of property and persons2 and almost all these changes have been attended with much anarchy and license1 because they have been made by the least civilized portion of the nation against that which is most civilized4 ,hence proceeded the two-fold contrary tendencies which ,i have just pointed out4 ,as long as the democratic revolution was glowing with heat1 the men who were bent upon the destruction of old aristocratic powers hostile to that revolution1 displayed a strong spirit of independence2 but as the victory or the principle of equality became more complete1 they gradually surrendered themselves to the propensities natural to that condition of equality1 and they strengthened and centralized their governments4 ,they had sought to be free in order to make themselves equal2 but in proportion as equality was more established by the aid of freedom1 freedom itself was thereby rendered of more difficult attainment4 ,these two states of a nation have sometimes been contemporaneous3 the last generation in ,france showed how a people might organize a stupendous tyranny in the community1 at the very time when they were baffling the authority of the nobility and braving the power of all kings--at once teaching the world the way to win freedom1 and the way to lose it4 ,in our days men see that constituted powers are dilapidated on every side--they see all ancient authority gasping away1 all ancient barriers tottering to their fall1 and the judgment of the wisest is troubled at the sight3 they attend only to the amazing revolution which is taking place before their eyes1 and they imagine that mankind is about to fall into perpetual anarchy3 if they looked to the final consequences of this revolution1 their fears would perhaps assume a different shape4 ,for myself1 ,i confess that ,i put no trust in the spirit of freedom which appears to animate my contemporaries4 ,i see well enough that the nations of this age are turbulent1 but ,i do not clearly perceive that they are liberal2 and ,i fear lest1 at the close of those perturbations which rock the base of thrones1 the domination of sovereigns may prove more powerful than it ever was before4 ,chapter ,,vi3 ,what ,sort ,of ,despotism ,democratic ,nations ,have ,to ,fear ,i had remarked during my stay in the ,united ,states1 that a democratic state of society1 similar to that of the ,americans1 might offer singular facilities for the establishment of despotism2 and ,i perceived1 upon my return to ,europe1 how much use had already been made by most of our rulers1 of the notions1 the sentiments1 and the wants engendered by this same social condition1 for the purpose of extending the circle of their power4 ,this led me to think that the nations of ,christendom would perhaps eventually undergo some sort of oppression like that which hung over several of the nations of the ancient world4 ,a more accurate examination of the subject1 and five years of further meditations1 have not diminished my apprehensions1 but they have changed the object of them4 ,no sovereign ever lived in former ages so absolute or so powerful as to undertake to administer by his own agency1 and without the assistance of intermediate powers1 all the parts of a great empire3 none ever attempted to subject all his subjects indiscriminately to strict uniformity of regulation1 and personally to tutor and direct every member of the community4 ,the notion of such an undertaking never occurred to the human mind2 and if any man had conceived it1 the want of information1 the imperfection of the administrative system1 and above all1 the natural obstacles caused by the inequality of conditions1 would speedily have checked the execution of so vast a design4 ,when the ,roman emperors were at the height of their power1 the different nations of the empire still preserved manners and customs of great diversity2 although they were subject to the same monarch1 most of the provinces were separately administered2 they abounded in powerful and active municipalities2 and although the whole government of the empire was centred in the hands of the emperor alone1 and he always remained1 upon occasions1 the supreme arbiter in all matters1 yet the details of social life and private occupations lay for the most part beyond his control4 ,the emperors possessed1 it is true1 an immense and unchecked power1 which allowed them to gratify all their whimsical tastes1 and to employ for that purpose the whole strength of the ,state4 ,they frequently abused that power arbitrarily to deprive their subjects of property or of life3 their tyranny was extremely onerous to the few1 but it did not reach the greater number2 it was fixed to some few main objects1 and neglected the rest2 it was violent1 but its range was limited4 ,but it would seem that if despotism were to be established amongst the democratic nations of our days1 it might assume a different character2 it would be more extensive and more mild2 it would degrade men without tormenting them4 ,i do not question1 that in an age of instruction and equality like our own1 sovereigns might more easily succeed in collecting all political power into their own hands1 and might interfere more habitually and decidedly within the circle of private interests1 than any sovereign of antiquity could ever do4 ,but this same principle of equality which facilitates despotism1 tempers its rigor4 ,we have seen how the manners of society become more humane and gentle in proportion as men become more equal and alike4 ,when no member of the community has much power or much wealth1 tyranny is1 as it were1 without opportunities and a field of action4 ,as all fortunes are scanty1 the passions of men are naturally circumscribed--their imagination limited1 their pleasures simple4 ,this universal moderation moderates the sovereign himself1 and checks within certain limits the inordinate extent of his desires4 ,independently of these reasons drawn from the nature of the state of society itself1 ,i might add many others arising from causes beyond my subject2 but ,i shall keep within the limits ,i have laid down to myself4 ,democratic governments may become violent and even cruel at certain periods of extreme effervescence or of great danger3 but these crises will be rare and brief4 ,when ,i consider the petty passions of our contemporaries1 the mildness of their manners1 the extent of their education1 the purity of their religion1 the gentleness of their morality1 their regular and industrious habits1 and the restraint which they almost all observe in their vices no less than in their virtues1 ,i have no fear that they will meet with tyrants in their rulers1 but rather guardians4 99a ,i think then that the species of oppression by which democratic nations are menaced is unlike anything which ever before existed in the world3 our contemporaries will find no prototype of it in their memories4 ,i am trying myself to choose an expression which will accurately convey the whole of the idea ,i have formed of it1 but in vain2 the old words despotism and tyranny are inappropriate3 the thing itself is new2 and since ,i cannot name it1 ,i must attempt to define it4 ,footnote a3 ,see ,appendix ,y4 ,i seek to trace the novel features under which despotism may appear in the world4 ,the first thing that strikes the observation is an innumerable multitude of men all equal and alike1 incessantly endeavoring to procure the petty and paltry pleasures with which they glut their lives4 ,each of them1 living apart1 is as a stranger to the fate of all the rest--his children and his private friends constitute to him the whole of mankind2 as for the rest of his fellow-citizens1 he is close to them1 but he sees them not--he touches them1 but he feels them not2 he exists but in himself and for himself alone2 and if his kindred still remain to him1 he may be said at any rate to have lost his country4 ,above this race of men stands an immense and tutelary power1 which takes upon itself alone to secure their gratifications1 and to watch over their fate4 ,that power is absolute1 minute1 regular1 provident1 and mild4 ,it would be like the authority of a parent1 if1 like that authority1 its object was to prepare men for manhood2 but it seeks on the contrary to keep them in perpetual childhood3 it is well content that the people should rejoice1 provided they think of nothing but rejoicing4 ,for their happiness such a government willingly labors1 but it chooses to be the sole agent and the only arbiter of that happiness3 it provides for their security1 foresees and supplies their necessities1 facilitates their pleasures1 manages their principal concerns1 directs their industry1 regulates the descent of property1 and subdivides their inheritances--what remains1 but to spare them all the care of thinking and all the trouble of living8 ,thus it every day renders the exercise of the free agency of man less useful and less frequent2 it circumscribes the will within a narrower range1 and gradually robs a man of all the uses of himself4 ,the principle of equality has prepared men for these things3 it has predisposed men to endure them1 and oftentimes to look on them as benefits4 ,after having thus successively taken each member of the community in its powerful grasp1 and fashioned them at will1 the supreme power then extends its arm over the whole community4 ,it covers the surface of society with a net-work of small complicated rules1 minute and uniform1 through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate1 to rise above the crowd4 ,the will of man is not shattered1 but softened1 bent1 and guided3 men are seldom forced by it to act1 but they are constantly restrained from acting3 such a power does not destroy1 but it prevents existence2 it does not tyrannize1 but it compresses1 enervates1 extinguishes1 and stupefies a people1 till each nation is reduced to be nothing better than a flock of timid and industrious animals1 of which the government is the shepherd4 ,i have always thought that servitude of the regular1 quiet1 and gentle kind which ,i have just described1 might be combined more easily than is commonly believed with some of the outward forms of freedom2 and that it might even establish itself under the wing of the sovereignty of the people4 ,our contemporaries are constantly excited by two conflicting passions2 they want to be led1 and they wish to remain free3 as they cannot destroy either one or the other of these contrary propensities1 they strive to satisfy them both at once4 ,they devise a sole1 tutelary1 and all-powerful form of government1 but elected by the people4 ,they combine the principle of centralization and that of popular sovereignty2 this gives them a respite2 they console themselves for being in tutelage by the reflection that they have chosen their own guardians4 ,every man allows himself to be put in leading-strings1 because he sees that it is not a person or a class of persons1 but the people at large that holds the end of his chain4 ,by this system the people shake off their state of dependence just long enough to select their master1 and then relapse into it again4 ,a great many persons at the present day are quite contented with this sort of compromise between administrative despotism and the sovereignty of the people2 and they think they have done enough for the protection of individual freedom when they have surrendered it to the power of the nation at large4 ,this does not satisfy me3 the nature of him ,i am to obey signifies less to me than the fact of extorted obedience4 ,i do not however deny that a constitution of this kind appears to me to be infinitely preferable to one1 which1 after having concentrated all the powers of government1 should vest them in the hands of an irresponsible person or body of persons4 ,of all the forms which democratic despotism could assume1 the latter would assuredly be the worst4 ,when the sovereign is elective1 or narrowly watched by a legislature which is really elective and independent1 the oppression which he exercises over individuals is sometimes greater1 but it is always less degrading2 because every man1 when he is oppressed and disarmed1 may still imagine1 that whilst he yields obedience it is to himself he yields it1 and that it is to one of his own inclinations that all the rest give way4 ,in like manner ,i can understand that when the sovereign represents the nation1 and is dependent upon the people1 the rights and the power of which every citizen is deprived1 not only serve the head of the ,state1 but the ,state itself2 and that private persons derive some return from the sacrifice of their independence which they have made to the public4 ,to create a representation of the people in every centralized country1 is therefore1 to diminish the evil which extreme centralization may produce1 but not to get rid of it4 ,i admit that by this means room is left for the intervention of individuals in the more important affairs2 but it is not the less suppressed in the smaller and more private ones4 ,it must not be forgotten that it is especially dangerous to enslave men in the minor details of life4 ,for my own part1 ,i should be inclined to think freedom less necessary in great things than in little ones1 if it were possible to be secure of the one without possessing the other4 ,subjection in minor affairs breaks out every day1 and is felt by the whole community indiscriminately4 ,it does not drive men to resistance1 but it crosses them at every turn1 till they are led to surrender the exercise of their will4 ,thus their spirit is gradually broken and their character enervated2 whereas that obedience1 which is exacted on a few important but rare occasions1 only exhibits servitude at certain intervals1 and throws the burden of it upon a small number of men4 ,it is in vain to summon a people1 which has been rendered so dependent on the central power1 to choose from time to time the representatives of that power2 this rare and brief exercise of their free choice1 however important it may be1 will not prevent them from gradually losing the faculties of thinking1 feeling1 and acting for themselves1 and thus gradually falling below the level of humanity4 99b ,i add that they will soon become incapable of exercising the great and only privilege which remains to them4 ,the democratic nations which have introduced freedom into their political constitution1 at the very time when they were augmenting the despotism of their administrative constitution1 have been led into strange paradoxes4 ,to manage those minor affairs in which good sense is all that is wanted--the people are held to be unequal to the task1 but when the government of the country is at stake1 the people are invested with immense powers2 they are alternately made the playthings of their ruler1 and his masters--more than kings1 and less than men4 ,after having exhausted all the different modes of election1 without finding one to suit their purpose1 they are still amazed1 and still bent on seeking further2 as if the evil they remark did not originate in the constitution of the country far more than in that of the electoral body4 ,it is1 indeed1 difficult to conceive how men who have entirely given up the habit of self-government should succeed in making a proper choice of those by whom they are to be governed2 and no one will ever believe that a liberal1 wise1 and energetic government can spring from the suffrages of a subservient people4 ,a constitution1 which should be republican in its head and ultra-monarchical in all its other parts1 has ever appeared to me to be a short-lived monster4 ,the vices of rulers and the ineptitude of the people would speedily bring about its ruin2 and the nation1 weary of its representatives and of itself1 would create freer institutions1 or soon return to stretch itself at the feet of a single master4 ,footnote b3 ,see ,appendix ,z4 ,chapter ,,vii3 ,continuation ,of ,the ,preceding ,chapters ,i believe that it is easier to establish an absolute and despotic government amongst a people in which the conditions of society are equal1 than amongst any other2 and ,i think that if such a government were once established amongst such a people1 it would not only oppress men1 but would eventually strip each of them of several of the highest qualities of humanity4 ,despotism therefore appears to me peculiarly to be dreaded in democratic ages4 ,i should have loved freedom1 ,i believe1 at all times1 but in the time in which we live ,i am ready to worship it4 ,on the other hand1 ,i am persuaded that all who shall attempt1 in the ages upon which we are entering1 to base freedom upon aristocratic privilege1 will fail--that all who shall attempt to draw and to retain authority within a single class1 will fail4 ,at the present day no ruler is skilful or strong enough to found a despotism1 by re-establishing permanent distinctions of rank amongst his subjects3 no legislator is wise or powerful enough to preserve free institutions1 if he does not take equality for his first principle and his watchword4 ,all those of our contemporaries who would establish or secure the independence and the dignity of their fellow-men1 must show themselves the friends of equality2 and the only worthy means of showing themselves as such1 is to be so3 upon this depends the success of their holy enterprise4 ,thus the question is not how to reconstruct aristocratic society1 but how to make liberty proceed out of that democratic state of society in which ,god has placed us4 ,these two truths appear to me simple1 clear1 and fertile in consequences2 and they naturally lead me to consider what kind of free government can be established amongst a people in which social conditions are equal4 ,it results from the very constitution of democratic nations and from their necessities1 that the power of government amongst them must be more uniform1 more centralized1 more extensive1 more searching1 and more efficient than in other countries4 ,society at large is naturally stronger and more active1 individuals more subordinate and weak2 the former does more1 the latter less2 and this is inevitably the case4 ,it is not therefore to be expected that the range of private independence will ever be as extensive in democratic as in aristocratic countries--nor is this to be desired2 for1 amongst aristocratic nations1 the mass is often sacrificed to the individual1 and the prosperity of the greater number to the greatness of the few4 ,it is both necessary and desirable that the government of a democratic people should be active and powerful3 and our object should not be to render it weak or indolent1 but solely to prevent it from abusing its aptitude and its strength4 ,the circumstance which most contributed to secure the independence of private persons in aristocratic ages1 was1 that the supreme power did not affect to take upon itself alone the government and administration of the community2 those functions were necessarily partially left to the members of the aristocracy3 so that as the supreme power was always divided1 it never weighed with its whole weight and in the same manner on each individual4 ,not only did the government not perform everything by its immediate agency2 but as most of the agents who discharged its duties derived their power not from the ,state1 but from the circumstance of their birth1 they were not perpetually under its control4 ,the government could not make or unmake them in an instant1 at pleasure1 nor bend them in strict uniformity to its slightest caprice--this was an additional guarantee of private independence4 ,i readily admit that recourse cannot be had to the same means at the present time3 but ,i discover certain democratic expedients which may be substituted for them4 ,instead of vesting in the government alone all the administrative powers of which corporations and nobles have been deprived1 a portion of them may be entrusted to secondary public bodies1 temporarily composed of private citizens3 thus the liberty of private persons will be more secure1 and their equality will not be diminished4 ,the ,americans1 who care less for words than the ,french1 still designate by the name of county the largest of their administrative districts3 but the duties of the count or lord-lieutenant are in part performed by a provincial assembly4 ,at a period of equality like our own it would be unjust and unreasonable to institute hereditary officers2 but there is nothing to prevent us from substituting elective public officers to a certain extent4 ,election is a democratic expedient which insures the independence of the public officer in relation to the government1 as much and even more than hereditary rank can insure it amongst aristocratic nations4 ,aristocratic countries abound in wealthy and influential persons who are competent to provide for themselves1 and who cannot be easily or secretly oppressed3 such persons restrain a government within general habits of moderation and reserve4 ,i am very well aware that democratic countries contain no such persons naturally2 but something analogous to them may be created by artificial means4 ,i firmly believe that an aristocracy cannot again be founded in the world2 but ,i think that private citizens1 by combining together1 may constitute bodies of great wealth1 influence1 and strength1 corresponding to the persons of an aristocracy4 ,by this means many of the greatest political advantages of aristocracy would be obtained without its injustice or its dangers4 ,an association for political1 commercial1 or manufacturing purposes1 or even for those of science and literature1 is a powerful and enlightened member of the community1 which cannot be disposed of at pleasure1 or oppressed without remonstrance2 and which1 by defending its own rights against the encroachments of the government1 saves the common liberties of the country4 ,in periods of aristocracy every man is always bound so closely to many of his fellow-citizens1 that he cannot be assailed without their coming to his assistance4 ,in ages of equality every man naturally stands alone2 he has no hereditary friends whose co-operation he may demand--no class upon whose sympathy he may rely3 he is easily got rid of1 and he is trampled on with impunity4 ,at the present time1 an oppressed member of the community has therefore only one method of self-defence--he may appeal to the whole nation2 and if the whole nation is deaf to his complaint1 he may appeal to mankind3 the only means he has of making this appeal is by the press4 ,thus the liberty of the press is infinitely more valuable amongst democratic nations than amongst all others2 it is the only cure for the evils which equality may produce4 ,equality sets men apart and weakens them2 but the press places a powerful weapon within every man's reach1 which the weakest and loneliest of them all may use4 ,equality deprives a man of the support of his connections2 but the press enables him to summon all his fellow-countrymen and all his fellow-men to his assistance4 ,printing has accelerated the progress of equality1 and it is also one of its best correctives4 ,i think that men living in aristocracies may1 strictly speaking1 do without the liberty of the press3 but such is not the case with those who live in democratic countries4 ,to protect their personal independence ,i trust not to great political assemblies1 to parliamentary privilege1 or to the assertion of popular sovereignty4 ,all these things may1 to a certain extent1 be reconciled with personal servitude--but that servitude cannot be complete if the press is free3 the press is the chiefest democratic instrument of freedom4 ,something analogous may be said of the judicial power4 ,it is a part of the essence of judicial power to attend to private interests1 and to fix itself with predilection on minute objects submitted to its observation2 another essential quality of judicial power is never to volunteer its assistance to the oppressed1 but always to be at the disposal of the humblest of those who solicit it2 their complaint1 however feeble they may themselves be1 will force itself upon the ear of justice and claim redress1 for this is inherent in the very constitution of the courts of justice4 ,a power of this kind is therefore peculiarly adapted to the wants of freedom1 at a time when the eye and finger of the government are constantly intruding into the minutest details of human actions1 and when private persons are at once too weak to protect themselves1 and too much isolated for them to reckon upon the assistance of their fellows4 ,the strength of the courts of law has ever been the greatest security which can be offered to personal independence2 but this is more especially the case in democratic ages3 private rights and interests are in constant danger1 if the judicial power does not grow more extensive and more strong to keep pace with the growing equality of conditions4 ,equality awakens in men several propensities extremely dangerous to freedom1 to which the attention of the legislator ought constantly to be directed4 ,i shall only remind the reader of the most important amongst them4 ,men living in democratic ages do not readily comprehend the utility of forms3 they feel an instinctive contempt for them--,i have elsewhere shown for what reasons4 ,forms excite their contempt and often their hatred2 as they commonly aspire to none but easy and present gratifications1 they rush onwards to the object of their desires1 and the slightest delay exasperates them4 ,this same temper1 carried with them into political life1 renders them hostile to forms1 which perpetually retard or arrest them in some of their projects4 ,yet this objection which the men of democracies make to forms is the very thing which renders forms so useful to freedom2 for their chief merit is to serve as a barrier between the strong and the weak1 the ruler and the people1 to retard the one1 and give the other time to look about him4 ,forms become more necessary in proportion as the government becomes more active and more powerful1 whilst private persons are becoming more indolent and more feeble4 ,thus democratic nations naturally stand more in need of forms than other nations1 and they naturally respect them less4 ,this deserves most serious attention4 ,nothing is more pitiful than the arrogant disdain of most of our contemporaries for questions of form2 for the smallest questions of form have acquired in our time an importance which they never had before3 many of the greatest interests of mankind depend upon them4 ,i think that if the statesmen of aristocratic ages could sometimes contemn forms with impunity1 and frequently rise above them1 the statesmen to whom the government of nations is now confided ought to treat the very least among them with respect1 and not neglect them without imperious necessity4 ,in aristocracies the observance of forms was superstitious2 amongst us they ought to be kept with a deliberate and enlightened deference4 ,another tendency1 which is extremely natural to democratic nations and extremely dangerous1 is that which leads them ta despise and undervalue the rights of private persons4 ,the attachment which men feel to a right1 and the respect which they display for it1 is generally proportioned to its importance1 or to the length of time during which they have enjoyed it4 ,the rights of private persons amongst democratic nations are commonly of small importance1 of recent growth1 and extremely precarious--the consequence is that they are often sacrificed without regret1 and almost always violated without remorse4 ,but it happens that at the same period and amongst the same nations in which men conceive a natural contempt for the rights of private persons1 the rights of society at large are naturally extended and consolidated3 in other words1 men become less attached to private rights at the very time at which it would be most necessary to retain and to defend what little remains of them4 ,it is therefore most especially in the present democratic ages1 that the true friends of the liberty and the greatness of man ought constantly to be on the alert to prevent the power of government from lightly sacrificing the private rights of individuals to the general execution of its designs4 ,at such times no citizen is so obscure that it is not very dangerous to allow him to be oppressed--no private rights are so unimportant that they can be surrendered with impunity to the caprices of a government4 ,the reason is plain3--if the private right of an individual is violated at a time when the human mind is fully impressed with the importance and the sanctity of such rights1 the injury done is confined to the individual whose right is infringed2 but to violate such a right1 at the present day1 is deeply to corrupt the manners of the nation and to put the whole community in jeopardy1 because the very notion of this kind of right constantly tends amongst us to be impaired and lost4 ,there are certain habits1 certain notions1 and certain vices which are peculiar to a state of revolution1 and which a protracted revolution cannot fail to engender and to propagate1 whatever be1 in other respects1 its character1 its purpose1 and the scene on which it takes place4 ,when any nation has1 within a short space of time1 repeatedly varied its rulers1 its opinions1 and its laws1 the men of whom it is composed eventually contract a taste for change1 and grow accustomed to see all changes effected by sudden violence4 ,thus they naturally conceive a contempt for forms which daily prove ineffectual2 and they do not support without impatience the dominion of rules which they have so often seen infringed4 ,as the ordinary notions of equity and morality no longer suffice to explain and justify all the innovations daily begotten by a revolution1 the principle of public utility is called in1 the doctrine of political necessity is conjured up1 and men accustom themselves to sacrifice private interests without scruple1 and to trample on the rights of individuals in order more speedily to accomplish any public purpose4 ,these habits and notions1 which ,i shall call revolutionary1 because all revolutions produce them1 occur in aristocracies just as much as amongst democratic nations2 but amongst the former they are often less powerful and always less lasting1 because there they meet with habits1 notions1 defects1 and impediments1 which counteract them3 they consequently disappear as soon as the revolution is terminated1 and the nation reverts to its former political courses4 ,this is not always the case in democratic countries1 in which it is ever to be feared that revolutionary tendencies1 becoming more gentle and more regular1 without entirely disappearing from society1 will be gradually transformed into habits of subjection to the administrative authority of the government4 ,i know of no countries in which revolutions re more dangerous than in democratic countries2 because1 independently of the accidental and transient evils which must always attend them1 they may always create some evils which are permanent and unending4 ,i believe that there are such things as justifiable resistance and legitimate rebellion3 ,i do not therefore assert1 as an absolute proposition1 that the men of democratic ages ought never to make revolutions2 but ,i think that they have especial reason to hesitate before they embark in them1 and that it is far better to endure many grievances in their present condition than to have recourse to so perilous a remedy4 ,i shall conclude by one general idea1 which comprises not only all the particular ideas which have been expressed in the present chapter1 but also most of those which it is the object of this book to treat of4 ,in the ages of aristocracy which preceded our own1 there were private persons of great power1 and a social authority of extreme weakness4 ,the outline of society itself was not easily discernible1 and constantly confounded with the different powers by which the community was ruled4 ,the principal efforts of the men of those times were required to strengthen1 aggrandize1 and secure the supreme power2 and on the other hand1 to circumscribe individual independence within narrower limits1 and to subject private interests to the interests of the public4 ,other perils and other cares await the men of our age4 ,amongst the greater part of modern nations1 the government1 whatever may be its origin1 its constitution1 or its name1 has become almost omnipotent1 and private persons are falling1 more and more1 into the lowest stage of weakness and dependence4 ,in olden society everything was different2 unity and uniformity were nowhere to be met with4 ,in modern society everything threatens to become so much alike1 that the peculiar characteristics of each individual will soon be entirely lost in the general aspect of the world4 ,our forefathers were ever prone to make an improper use of the notion1 that private rights ought to be respected2 and we are naturally prone on the other hand to exaggerate the idea that the interest of a private individual ought always to bend to the interest of the many4 ,the political world is metamorphosed3 new remedies must henceforth be sought for new disorders4 ,to lay down extensive1 but distinct and settled limits1 to the action of the government2 to confer certain rights on private persons1 and to secure to them the undisputed enjoyment of those rights2 to enable individual man to maintain whatever independence1 strength1 and original power he still possesses2 to raise him by the side of society at large1 and uphold him in that position--these appear to me the main objects of legislators in the ages upon which we are now entering4 ,it would seem as if the rulers of our time sought only to use men in order to make things great2 ,i wish that they would try a little more to make great men2 that they would set less value on the work1 and more upon the workman2 that they would never forget that a nation cannot long remain strong when every man belonging to it is individually weak1 and that no form or combination of social polity has yet been devised1 to make an energetic people out of a community of pusillanimous and enfeebled citizens4 ,i trace amongst our contemporaries two contrary notions which are equally injurious4 ,one set of men can perceive nothing in the principle of equality but the anarchical tendencies which it engenders3 they dread their own free agency--they fear themselves4 ,other thinkers1 less numerous but more enlightened1 take a different view3 besides that track which starts from the principle of equality to terminate in anarchy1 they have at last discovered the road which seems to lead men to inevitable servitude4 ,they shape their souls beforehand to this necessary condition2 and1 despairing of remaining free1 they already do obeisance in their hearts to the master who is soon to appear4 ,the former abandon freedom1 because they think it dangerous2 the latter1 because they hold it to be impossible4 ,if ,i had entertained the latter conviction1 ,i should not have written this book1 but ,i should have confined myself to deploring in secret the destiny of mankind4 ,i have sought to point out the dangers to which the principle of equality exposes the independence of man1 because ,i firmly believe that these dangers are the most formidable1 as well as the least foreseen1 of all those which futurity holds in store3 but ,i do not think that they are insurmountable4 ,the men who live in the democratic ages upon which we are entering have naturally a taste for independence3 they are naturally impatient of regulation1 and they are wearied by the permanence even of the condition they themselves prefer4 ,they are fond of power2 but they are prone to despise and hate those who wield it1 and they easily elude its grasp by their own mobility and insignificance4 ,these propensities will always manifest themselves1 because they originate in the groundwork of society1 which will undergo no change3 for a long time they will prevent the establishment of any despotism1 and they will furnish fresh weapons to each succeeding generation which shall struggle in favor of the liberty of mankind4 ,let us then look forward to the future with that salutary fear which makes men keep watch and ward for freedom1 not with that faint and idle terror which depresses and enervates the heart4 ,chapter ,,viii3 ,general ,survey ,of ,the ,subject ,before ,i close forever the theme that has detained me so long1 ,i would fain take a parting survey of all the various characteristics of modern society1 and appreciate at last the general influence to be exercised by the principle of equality upon the fate of mankind2 but ,i am stopped by the difficulty of the task1 and in presence of so great an object my sight is troubled1 and my reason fails4 ,the society of the modern world which ,i have sought to delineate1 and which ,i seek to judge1 has but just come into existence4 ,time has not yet shaped it into perfect form3 the great revolution by which it has been created is not yet over3 and amidst the occurrences of our time1 it is almost impossible to discern what will pass away with the revolution itself1 and what will survive its close4 ,the world which is rising into existence is still half encumbered by the remains of the world which is waning into decay2 and amidst the vast perplexity of human affairs1 none can say how much of ancient institutions and former manners will remain1 or how much will completely disappear4 ,although the revolution which is taking place in the social condition1 the laws1 the opinions1 and the feelings of men1 is still very far from being terminated1 yet its results already admit of no comparison with anything that the world has ever before witnessed4 ,i go back from age to age up to the remotest antiquity2 but ,i find no parallel to what is occurring before my eyes3 as the past has ceased to throw its light upon the future1 the mind of man wanders in obscurity4 ,nevertheless1 in the midst of a prospect so wide1 so novel and so confused1 some of the more prominent characteristics may already be discerned and pointed out4 ,the good things and the evils of life are more equally distributed in the world3 great wealth tends to disappear1 the number of small fortunes to increase2 desires and gratifications are multiplied1 but extraordinary prosperity and irremediable penury are alike unknown4 ,the sentiment of ambition is universal1 but the scope of ambition is seldom vast4 ,each individual stands apart in solitary weakness2 but society at large is active1 provident1 and powerful3 the performances of private persons are insignificant1 those of the ,state immense4 ,there is little energy of character2 but manners are mild1 and laws humane4 ,if there be few instances of exalted heroism or of virtues of the highest1 brightest1 and purest temper1 men's habits are regular1 violence is rare1 and cruelty almost unknown4 ,human existence becomes longer1 and property more secure3 life is not adorned with brilliant trophies1 but it is extremely easy and tranquil4 ,few pleasures are either very refined or very coarse2 and highly polished manners are as uncommon as great brutality of tastes4 ,neither men of great learning1 nor extremely ignorant communities1 are to be met with2 genius becomes more rare1 information more diffused4 ,the human mind is impelled by the small efforts of all mankind combined together1 not by the strenuous activity of certain men4 ,there is less perfection1 but more abundance1 in all the productions of the arts4 ,the ties of race1 of rank1 and of country are relaxed2 the great bond of humanity is strengthened4 ,if ,i endeavor to find out the most general and the most prominent of all these different characteristics1 ,i shall have occasion to perceive1 that what is taking place in men's fortunes manifests itself under a thousand other forms4 ,almost all extremes are softened or blunted3 all that was most prominent is superseded by some mean term1 at once less lofty and less low1 less brilliant and less obscure1 than what before existed in the world4 ,when ,i survey this countless multitude of beings1 shaped in each other's likeness1 amidst whom nothing rises and nothing falls1 the sight of such universal uniformity saddens and chills me1 and ,i am tempted to regret that state of society which has ceased to be4 ,when the world was full of men of great importance and extreme insignificance1 of great wealth and extreme poverty1 of great learning and extreme ignorance1 ,i turned aside from the latter to fix my observation on the former alone1 who gratified my sympathies4 ,but ,i admit that this gratification arose from my own weakness3 it is because ,i am unable to see at once all that is around me1 that ,i am allowed thus to select and separate the objects of my predilection from among so many others4 ,such is not the case with that almighty and eternal ,being whose gaze necessarily includes the whole of created things1 and who surveys distinctly1 though at once1 mankind and man4 ,we may naturally believe that it is not the singular prosperity of the few1 but the greater well-being of all1 which is most pleasing in the sight of the ,creator and ,preserver of men4 ,what appears to me to be man's decline1 is to ,his eye advancement2 what afflicts me is acceptable to ,him4 ,a state of equality is perhaps less elevated1 but it is more just2 and its justice constitutes its greatness and its beauty4 ,i would strive then to raise myself to this point of the divine contemplation1 and thence to view and to judge the concerns of men4 ,no man1 upon the earth1 can as yet affirm absolutely and generally1 that the new state of the world is better than its former one2 but it is already easy to perceive that this state is different4 ,some vices and some virtues were so inherent in the constitution of an aristocratic nation1 and are so opposite to the character of a modern people1 that they can never be infused into it2 some good tendencies and some bad propensities which were unknown to the former1 are natural to the latter2 some ideas suggest themselves spontaneously to the imagination of the one1 which are utterly repugnant to the mind of the other4 ,they are like two distinct orders of human beings1 each of which has its own merits and defects1 its own advantages and its own evils4 ,care must therefore be taken not to judge the state of society1 which is now coming into existence1 by notions derived from a state of society which no longer exists2 for as these states of society are exceedingly different in their structure1 they cannot be submitted to a just or fair comparison4 ,it would be scarcely more reasonable to require of our own contemporaries the peculiar virtues which originated in the social condition of their forefathers1 since that social condition is itself fallen1 and has drawn into one promiscuous ruin the good and evil which belonged to it4 ,but as yet these things are imperfectly understood4 ,i find that a great number of my contemporaries undertake to make a certain selection from amongst the institutions1 the opinions1 and the ideas which originated in the aristocratic constitution of society as it was3 a portion of these elements they would willingly relinquish1 but they would keep the remainder and transplant them into their new world4 ,i apprehend that such men are wasting their time and their strength in virtuous but unprofitable efforts4 ,the object is not to retain the peculiar advantages which the inequality of conditions bestows upon mankind1 but to secure the new benefits which equality may supply4 ,we have not to seek to make ourselves like our progenitors1 but to strive to work out that species of greatness and happiness which is our own4 ,for myself1 who now look back from this extreme limit of my task1 and discover from afar1 but at once1 the various objects which have attracted my more attentive investigation upon my way1 ,i am full of apprehensions and of hopes4 ,i perceive mighty dangers which it is possible to ward off--mighty evils which may be avoided or alleviated2 and ,i cling with a firmer hold to the belief1 that for democratic nations to be virtuous and prosperous they require but to will it4 ,i am aware that many of my contemporaries maintain that nations are never their own masters here below1 and that they necessarily obey some insurmountable and unintelligent power1 arising from anterior events1 from their race1 or from the soil and climate of their country4 ,such principles are false and cowardly2 such principles can never produce aught but feeble men and pusillanimous nations4 ,providence has not created mankind entirely independent or entirely free4 ,it is true that around every man a fatal circle is traced1 beyond which he cannot pass2 but within the wide verge of that circle he is powerful and free3 as it is with man1 so with communities4 ,the nations of our time cannot prevent the conditions of men from becoming equal2 but it depends upon themselves whether the principle of equality is to lead them to servitude or freedom1 to knowledge or barbarism1 to prosperity or to wretchedness4 ,part ,i4 ,appendix ,a ,for information concerning all the countries of the ,west which have not been visited by ,europeans1 consult the account of two expeditions undertaken at the expense of ,congress by ,major ,long4 ,this traveller particularly mentions1 on the subject of the great ,american desert1 that a line may be drawn nearly parallel to the #bjth degree of longitude 99a 7meridian of ,washington71 beginning from the ,red ,river and ending at the ,river ,platte4 ,from this imaginary line to the ,rocky ,mountains1 which bound the valley of the ,mississippi on the west1 lie immense plains1 which are almost entirely covered with sand1 incapable of cultivation1 or scattered over with masses of granite4 ,in summer1 these plains are quite destitute of water1 and nothing is to be seen on them but herds of buffaloes and wild horses4 ,some hordes of ,indians are also found there1 but in no great numbers4 ,major ,long was told that in travelling northwards from the ,river ,platte you find the same desert lying constantly on the left2 but he was unable to ascertain the truth of this report4 ,however worthy of confidence may be the narrative of ,major ,long1 it must be remembered that he only passed through the country of which he speaks1 without deviating widely from the line which he had traced out for his journey4 ,footnote a3 ,the #bjth degree of longitude1 according to the meridian of ,washington1 agrees very nearly with the #igth degree on the meridian of ,greenwich4 ,appendix ,b ,south ,america1 in the region between the tropics1 produces an incredible profusion of climbing plants1 of which the flora of the ,antilles alone presents us with forty different species4 ,among the most graceful of these shrubs is the passion-flower1 which1 according to ,descourtiz1 grows with such luxuriance in the ,antilles1 as to climb trees by means of the tendrils with which it is provided1 and form moving bowers of rich and elegant festoons1 decorated with blue and purple flowers1 and fragrant with perfume4 ,the ,mimosa scandens 7,acacia a grandes gousses7 is a creeper of enormous and rapid growth1 which climbs from tree to tree1 and sometimes covers more than half a league4 ,appendix ,c ,the languages which are spoken by the ,indians of ,america1 from the ,pole to ,cape ,horn1 are said to be all formed upon the same model1 and subject to the same grammatical rules2 whence it may fairly be concluded that all the ,indian nations sprang from the same stock4 ,each tribe of the ,american continent speaks a different dialect2 but the number of languages1 properly so called1 is very small1 a fact which tends to prove that the nations of the ,new ,world had not a very remote origin4 ,moreover1 the languages of ,america have a great degree of regularity1 from which it seems probable that the tribes which employ them had not undergone any great revolutions1 or been incorporated voluntarily or by constraint1 with foreign nations4 ,for it is generally the union of several languages into one which produces grammatical irregularities4 ,it is not long since the ,american languages1 especially those of the ,north1 first attracted the serious attention of philologists1 when the discovery was made that this idiom of a barbarous people was the product of a complicated system of ideas and very learned combinations4 ,these languages were found to be very rich1 and great pains had been taken at their formation to render them agreeable to the ear4 ,the grammatical system of the ,americans differs from all others in several points1 but especially in the following3--,some nations of ,europe1 amongst others the ,germans1 have the power of combining at pleasure different expressions1 and thus giving a complex sense to certain words4 ,the ,indians have given a most surprising extension to this power1 so as to arrive at the means of connecting a great number of ideas with a single term4 ,this will be easily understood with the help of an example quoted by ,mr4 ,duponceau1 in the ,memoirs of the ,philosophical ,society of ,america3 ,a ,delaware woman playing with a cat or a young dog1 says this writer1 is heard to pronounce the word kuligatschis1 which is thus composed3 k is the sign of the second person1 and signifies thou or thy2 uli is a part of the word wulit1 which signifies beautiful1 pretty2 gat is another fragment1 of the word wichgat1 which means paw2 and1 lastly1 schis is a diminutive giving the idea of smallness4 ,thus in one word the ,indian woman has expressed ,thy pretty little paw4 ,take another example of the felicity with which the savages of ,america have composed their words4 ,a young man of ,delaware is called pilape4 ,this word is formed from pilsit1 chaste1 innocent2 and lenape1 man2 viz41 man in his purity and innocence4 ,this facility of combining words is most remarkable in the strange formation of their verbs4 ,the most complex action is often expressed by a single verb1 which serves to convey all the shades of an idea by the modification of its construction4 ,those who may wish to examine more in detail this subject1 which ,i have only glanced at superficially1 should read3-- #a4 ,the correspondence of ,mr4 ,duponceau and the ,rev4 ,mr4 ,hecwelder relative to the ,indian languages1 which is to be found in the first volume of the ,memoirs of the ,philosophical ,society of ,america1 published at ,philadelphia1 #ahai1 by ,abraham ,small2 vol4 i4 p4 #cef-dfd4 #b4 ,the ,grammar of the ,delaware or the ,lenape ,language1 by ,geiberger1 and the preface of ,mr4 ,duponceau4 ,all these are in the same collection1 vol4 iii4 #c4 ,an excellent account of these works1 which is at the end of the sixth volume of the ,american ,encyclopaedia4 ,appendix ,d ,see in ,charlevoix1 vol4 i4 p4 #bce1 the history of the first war which the ,french inhabitants of ,canada carried on1 in #afaj1 against the ,iroquois4 ,the latter1 armed with bows and arrows1 offered a desperate resistance to the ,french and their allies4 ,charlevoix is not a great painter1 yet he exhibits clearly enough1 in this narrative1 the contrast between the ,european manners and those of savages1 as well as the different way in which the two races of men understood the sense of honor4 ,when the ,french1 says he1 seized upon the beaver-skins which covered the ,indians who had fallen1 the ,hurons1 their allies1 were greatly offended at this proceeding2 but without hesitation they set to work in their usual manner1 inflicting horrid cruelties upon the prisoners1 and devouring one of those who had been killed1 which made the ,frenchmen shudder4 ,the barbarians prided themselves upon a scrupulousness which they were surprised at not finding in our nation1 and could not understand that there was less to reprehend in the stripping of dead bodies than in the devouring of their flesh like wild beasts4 ,charlevoix1 in another place 7vol4 i4 p4 #bcj71 thus describes the first torture of which ,champlain was an eyewitness1 and the return of the ,hurons into their own village4 ,having proceeded about eight leagues1 says he1 our allies halted2 and having singled out one of their captives1 they reproached him with all the cruelties which he had practised upon the warriors of their nation who had fallen into his hands1 and told him that he might expect to be treated in like manner2 adding1 that if he had any spirit he would prove it by singing4 ,he immediately chanted forth his death-song1 and then his war-song1 and all the songs he knew1 but in a very mournful strain1 says ,champlain1 who was not then aware that all savage music has a melancholy character4 ,the tortures which succeeded1 accompanied by all the horrors which we shall mention hereafter1 terrified the ,french1 who made every effort to put a stop to them1 but in vain4 ,the following night1 one of the ,hurons having dreamt that they were pursued1 the retreat was changed to a real flight1 and the savages never stopped until they were out of the reach of danger4 ,the moment they perceived the cabins of their own village1 they cut themselves long sticks1 to which they fastened the scalps which had fallen to their share1 and carried them in triumph4 ,at this sight1 the women swam to the canoes1 where they received the bloody scalps from the hands of their husbands1 and tied them round their necks4 ,the warriors offered one of these horrible trophies to ,champlain2 they also presented him with some bows and arrows--the only spoils of the ,iroquois which they had ventured to seize--entreating him to show them to the ,king of ,france4 ,champlain lived a whole winter quite alone among these barbarians1 without being under any alarm for his person or property4 ,appendix ,e ,although the ,puritanical strictness which presided over the establishment of the ,english colonies in ,america is now much relaxed1 remarkable traces of it are still found in their habits and their laws4 ,in #agib1 at the very time when the anti-,christian republic of ,france began its ephemeral existence1 the legislative body of ,massachusetts promulgated the following law1 to compel the citizens to observe the ,sabbath4 ,we give the preamble and the principal articles of this law1 which is worthy of the reader's attention3 ,whereas1 says the legislator1 the observation of the ,sunday is an affair of public interest2 inasmuch as it produces a necessary suspension of labor1 leads men to reflect upon the duties of life1 and the errors to which human nature is liable1 and provides for the public and private worship of ,god1 the creator and governor of the universe1 and for the performance of such acts of charity as are the ornament and comfort of ,christian societies3--,whereas irreligious or light-minded persons1 forgetting the duties which the ,sabbath imposes1 and the benefits which these duties confer on society1 are known to profane its sanctity1 by following their pleasures or their affairs2 this way of acting being contrary to their own interest as ,christians1 and calculated to annoy those who do not follow their example2 being also of great injury to society at large1 by spreading a taste for dissipation and dissolute manners2 ,be it enacted and ordained by the ,governor1 ,council1 and ,representatives convened in ,general ,court of ,assembly1 that all and every person and persons shall on that day carefully apply themselves to the duties of religion and piety1 that no tradesman or labourer shall exercise his ordinary calling1 and that no game or recreation shall be used on the ,lord's ,day1 upon pain of forfeiting ten shillings4 ,that no one shall travel on that day1 or any part thereof1 under pain of forfeiting twenty shillings2 that no vessel shall leave a harbour of the colony2 that no persons shall keep outside the meeting-house during the time of public worship1 or profane the time by playing or talking1 on penalty of five shillings4 ,public-houses shall not entertain any other than strangers or lodgers1 under penalty of five shillings for every person found drinking and abiding therein4 ,any person in health1 who1 without sufficient reason1 shall omit to worship ,god in public during three months1 shall be condemned to a fine of ten shillings4 ,any person guilty of misbehaviour in a place of public worship1 shall be fined from five to forty shillings4 ,these laws are to be enforced by the tything-men of each township1 who have authority to visit public-houses on the ,sunday4 ,the innkeeper who shall refuse them admittance1 shall be fined forty shillings for such offence4 ,the tything-men are to stop travellers1 and require of them their reason for being on the road on ,sunday2 anyone refusing to answer1 shall be sentenced to pay a fine not exceeding five pounds sterling4 ,if the reason given by the traveller be not deemed by the tything-man sufficient1 he may bring the traveller before the justice of the peace of the district4 7,law of ,march #h1 #agib2 ,general ,laws of ,massachusetts1 vol4 i4 p4 #daj47 ,on ,march #aa1 #agig1 a new law increased the amount of fines1 half of which was to be given to the informer4 7,same collection1 vol4 ii4 p4 #ebe47 ,on ,february #af1 #ahaf1 a new law confirmed these same measures4 7,same collection1 vol4 ii4 p4 #dje47 ,similar enactments exist in the laws of the ,state of ,new ,york1 revised in #ahbg and #ahbh4 7,see ,revised ,statutes1 ,part ,i4 chapter #bj1 p4 #fge47 ,in these it is declared that no one is allowed on the ,sabbath to sport1 to fish1 to play at games1 or to frequent houses where liquor is sold4 ,no one can travel1 except in case of necessity4 ,and this is not the only trace which the religious strictness and austere manners of the first emigrants have left behind them in the ,american laws4 ,in the ,revised ,statutes of the ,state of ,new ,york1 vol4 i4 p4 #ffb1 is the following clause3-- ,whoever shall win or lose in the space of twenty-four hours1 by gaming or betting1 the sum of twenty-five dollars1 shall be found guilty of a misdemeanour1 and upon conviction shall be condemned to pay a fine equal to at least five times the value of the sum lost or won2 which shall be paid to the inspector of the poor of the township4 ,he that loses twenty-five dollars or more may bring an action to recover them2 and if he neglects to do so the inspector of the poor may prosecute the winner1 and oblige him to pay into the poor's box both the sum he has gained and three times as much besides4 ,the laws we quote from are of recent date2 but they are unintelligible without going back to the very origin of the colonies4 ,i have no doubt that in our days the penal part of these laws is very rarely applied4 ,laws preserve their inflexibility1 long after the manners of a nation have yielded to the influence of time4 ,it is still true1 however1 that nothing strikes a foreigner on his arrival in ,america more forcibly than the regard paid to the ,sabbath4 ,there is one1 in particular1 of the large ,american cities1 in which all social movements begin to be suspended even on ,saturday evening4 ,you traverse its streets at the hour at which you expect men in the middle of life to be engaged in business1 and young people in pleasure2 and you meet with solitude and silence4 ,not only have all ceased to work1 but they appear to have ceased to exist4 ,neither the movements of industry are heard1 nor the accents of joy1 nor even the confused murmur which arises from the midst of a great city4 ,chains are hung across the streets in the neighborhood of the churches2 the half-closed shutters of the houses scarcely admit a ray of sun into the dwellings of the citizens4 ,now and then you perceive a solitary individual who glides silently along the deserted streets and lanes4 ,next day1 at early dawn1 the rolling of carriages1 the noise of hammers1 the cries of the population1 begin to make themselves heard again4 ,the city is awake4 ,an eager crowd hastens towards the resort of commerce and industry2 everything around you bespeaks motion1 bustle1 hurry4 ,a feverish activity succeeds to the lethargic stupor of yesterday2 you might almost suppose that they had but one day to acquire wealth and to enjoy it4 ,appendix ,f ,it is unnecessary for me to say1 that in the chapter which has just been read1 ,i have not had the intention of giving a history of ,america4 ,my only object was to enable the reader to appreciate the influence which the opinions and manners of the first emigrants had exercised upon the fate of the different colonies1 and of the ,union in general4 ,i have therefore confined myself to the quotation of a few detached fragments4 ,i do not know whether ,i am deceived1 but it appears to me that1 by pursuing the path which ,i have merely pointed out1 it would be easy to present such pictures of the ,american republics as would not be unworthy the attention of the public1 and could not fail to suggest to the statesman matter for reflection4 ,not being able to devote myself to this labor1 ,i am anxious to render it easy to others2 and1 for this purpose1 ,i subjoin a short catalogue and analysis of the works which seem to me the most important to consult4 ,at the head of the general documents which it would be advantageous to examine ,i place the work entitled ,an ,historical ,collection of ,state ,papers1 and other authentic ,documents1 intended as ,materials for a ,history of the ,united ,states of ,america1 by ,ebenezer ,hasard4 ,the first volume of this compilation1 which was printed at ,philadelphia in #agib1 contains a literal copy of all the charters granted by the ,crown of ,england to the emigrants1 as well as the principal acts of the colonial governments1 during the commencement of their existence4 ,amongst other authentic documents1 we here find a great many relating to the affairs of ,new ,england and ,virginia during this period4 ,the second volume is almost entirely devoted to the acts of the ,confederation of #afdc4 ,this federal compact1 which was entered into by the colonies of ,new ,england with the view of resisting the ,indians1 was the first instance of union afforded by the ,anglo-,americans4 ,there were besides many other confederations of the same nature1 before the famous one of #aggf1 which brought about the independence of the colonies4 ,each colony has1 besides1 its own historic monuments1 some of which are extremely curious2 beginning with ,virginia1 the ,state which was first peopled4 ,the earliest historian of ,virginia was its founder1 ,captain ,john ,smith4 ,captain ,smith has left us an octavo volume1 entitled ,the generall ,historie of ,virginia and ,new ,england1 by ,captain ,john ,smith1 sometymes ,governor in those ,countryes1 and ,admirall of ,new ,england2 printed at ,london in #afbg4 ,the work is adorned with curious maps and engravings of the time when it appeared2 the narrative extends from the year #aehd to #afbf4 ,smith's work is highly and deservedly esteemed4 ,the author was one of the most celebrated adventurers of a period of remarkable adventure2 his book breathes that ardor for discovery1 that spirit of enterprise1 which characterized the men of his time1 when the manners of chivalry were united to zeal for commerce1 and made subservient to the acquisition of wealth4 ,but ,captain ,smith is most remarkable for uniting to the virtues which characterized his contemporaries several qualities to which they were generally strangers2 his style is simple and concise1 his narratives bear the stamp of truth1 and his descriptions are free from false ornament4 ,this author throws most valuable light upon the state and condition of the ,indians at the time when ,north ,america was first discovered4 ,the second historian to consult is ,beverley1 who commences his narrative with the year #aehe1 and ends it with #agjj4 ,the first part of his book contains historical documents1 properly so called1 relative to the infancy of the colony4 ,the second affords a most curious picture of the state of the ,indians at this remote period4 ,the third conveys very clear ideas concerning the manners1 social conditions1 laws1 and political customs of the ,virginians in the author's lifetime4 ,beverley was a native of ,virginia1 which occasions him to say at the beginning of his book1 that he entreats his readers not to exercise their critical severity upon it1 since1 having been born in the ,indies1 he does not aspire to purity of language4 ,notwithstanding this colonial modesty1 the author shows throughout his book the impatience with which he endures the supremacy of the mother-country4 ,in this work of ,beverley are also found numerous traces of that spirit of civil liberty which animated the ,english colonies of ,america at the time when he wrote4 ,he also shows the dissensions which existed among them1 and retarded their independence4 ,beverley detests his ,catholic neighbors of ,maryland even more than he hates the ,english government3 his style is simple1 his narrative interesting1 and apparently trustworthy4 ,i saw in ,america another work which ought to be consulted1 entitled ,the ,history of ,virginia1 by ,william ,stith4 ,this book affords some curious details1 but ,i thought it long and diffuse4 ,the most ancient as well as the best document to be consulted on the history of ,carolina1 is a work in small quarto1 entitled ,the ,history of ,carolina1 by ,john ,lawson1 printed at ,london in #agah4 ,this work contains1 in the first part1 a journey of discovery in the west of ,carolina2 the account of which1 given in the form of a journal1 is in general confused and superficial2 but it contains a very striking description of the mortality caused among the savages of that time both by the smallpox and the immoderate use of brandy2 with a curious picture of the corruption of manners prevalent amongst them1 which was increased by the presence of ,europeans4 ,the second part of ,lawson's book is taken up with a description of the physical condition of ,carolina1 and its productions4 ,in the third part1 the author gives an interesting account of the manners1 customs1 and government of the ,indians at that period4 ,there is a good deal of talent and originality in this part of the work4 ,lawson concludes his history with a copy of the charter granted to the ,carolinas in the reign of ,charles ,,ii4 ,the general tone of this work is light1 and often licentious1 forming a perfect contrast to the solemn style of the works published at the same period in ,new ,england4 ,lawson's history is extremely scarce in ,america1 and cannot be procured in ,europe4 ,there is1 however1 a copy of it in the ,royal ,library at ,paris4 ,from the southern extremity of the ,united ,states1 ,i pass at once to the northern limit2 as the intermediate space was not peopled till a later period4 ,i must first point out a very curious compilation1 entitled ,collection of the ,massachusetts ,historical ,society1 printed for the first time at ,boston in #agib1 and reprinted in #ahjf4 ,the collection of which ,i speak1 and which is continued to the present day1 contains a great number of very valuable documents relating to the history of the different ,states in ,new ,england4 ,among them are letters which have never been published1 and authentic pieces which had been buried in provincial archives4 ,the whole work of ,gookin1 concerning the ,indians1 is inserted there4 ,i have mentioned several times in the chapter to which this note relates1 the work of ,nathaniel ,norton entitled ,new ,england's ,memorial2 sufficiently1 perhaps1 to prove that it deserves the attention of those who would be conversant with the history of ,new ,england4 ,this book is in octavo1 and was reprinted at ,boston in #ahbf4 ,the most valuable and important authority which exists upon the history of ,new ,england1 is the work of the ,rev4 ,cotton ,mather1 entitled ,magnalia ,christi ,americana1 or the ,ecclesiastical ,history of ,new ,england1 #afbj-afih1 #b vols4 #hvo1 reprinted at ,hartford1 ,united ,states1 in #ahbj4 99b ,the author divided his work into seven books4 ,the first presents the history of the events which prepared and brought about the establishment of ,new ,england4 ,the second contains the lives of the first governors and chief magistrates who presided over the country4 ,the third is devoted to the lives and labors of the evangelical ministers who1 during the same period1 had the care of souls4 ,in the fourth the author relates the institution and progress of the ,university of ,cambridge 7,massachusetts74 ,in the fifth he describes the principles and the discipline of the ,church of ,new ,england4 ,the sixth is taken up in retracing certain facts1 which1 in the opinion of ,mather1 prove the merciful interposition of ,providence in behalf of the inhabitants of ,new ,england4 ,lastly1 in the seventh1 the author gives an account of the heresies and the troubles to which the ,church of ,new ,england was exposed4 ,cotton ,mather was an evangelical minister who was born at ,boston1 and passed his life there4 ,his narratives are distinguished by the same ardor and religious zeal which led to the foundation of the colonies of ,new ,england4 ,traces of bad taste sometimes occur in his manner of writing2 but he interests1 because he is full of enthusiasm4 ,he is often intolerant1 still oftener credulous1 but he never betrays an intention to deceive4 ,sometimes his book contains fine passages1 and true and profound reflections1 such as the following3-- ,before the arrival of the ,puritans1 says he 7vol4 i4 chap4 iv471 there were more than a few attempts of the ,english to people and improve the parts of ,new ,england which were to the northward of ,new ,plymouth2 but the designs of those attempts being aimed no higher than the advancement of some worldly interests1 a constant series of disasters has confounded them1 until there was a plantation erected upon the nobler designs of ,christianity3 and that plantation though it has had more adversaries than perhaps any one upon earth1 yet1 having obtained help from ,god1 it continues to this day4 ,mather occasionally relieves the austerity of his descriptions with images full of tender feeling3 after having spoken of an ,english lady whose religious ardor had brought her to ,america with her husband1 and who soon after sank under the fatigues and privations of exile1 he adds1 ,as for her virtuous husband1 ,isaac ,johnson1 ,he tryed ,to live without her1 liked it not1 and dyed4 ,footnote b3 ,a folio edition of this work was published in ,london in #agjb4 ,mather's work gives an admirable picture of the time and country which he describes4 ,in his account of the motives which led the ,puritans to seek an asylum beyond seas1 he says3--,the ,god of ,heaven served1 as it were1 a summons upon the spirits of his people in the ,english nation1 stirring up the spirits of thousands which never saw the faces of each other1 with a most unanimous inclination to leave all the pleasant accommodations of their native country1 and go over a terrible ocean1 into a more terrible desert1 for the pure enjoyment of all his ordinances4 ,it is now reasonable that1 before we pass any further1 the reasons of his undertaking should be more exactly made known unto posterity1 especially unto the posterity of those that were the undertakers1 lest they come at length to forget and neglect the true interest of ,new ,england4 ,wherefore ,i shall now transcribe some of them from a manuscript1 wherein they were then tendered unto consideration3 ,general ,considerations for the ,plantation of ,new ,england ,first1 ,it will be a service unto the ,church of great consequence1 to carry the ,gospel unto those parts of the world1 and raise a bulwark against the kingdom of ,antichrist1 which the ,jesuits labour to rear up in all parts of the world4 ,secondly1 ,all other ,churches of ,europe have been brought under desolations2 and it may be feared that the like judgments are coming upon us2 and who knows but ,god hath provided this place to be a refuge for many whom he means to save out of the general destruction8 ,thirdly1 ,the land grows weary of her inhabitants1 insomuch that man1 which is the most precious of all creatures1 is here more vile and base than the earth he treads upon2 children1 neighbours1 and friends1 especially the poor1 are counted the greatest burdens1 which1 if things were right1 would be the chiefest of earthly blessings4 ,fourthly1 ,we are grown to that intemperance in all excess of riot1 as no mean estate almost will suffice a man to keep sail with his equals1 and he that fails in it must live in scorn and contempt3 hence it comes to pass1 that all arts and trades are carried in that deceitful manner and unrighteous course1 as it is almost impossible for a good upright man to maintain his constant charge and live comfortably in them4 ,fifthly1 ,the schools of learning and religion are so corrupted1 as 7besides the unsupportable charge of education7 most children1 even the best1 wittiest1 and of the fairest hopes1 are perverted1 corrupted1 and utterly overthrown by the multitude of evil examples and licentious behaviours in these seminaries4 ,sixthly1 ,the whole earth is the ,lord's garden1 and he hath given it to the sons of ,adam1 to be tilled and improved by them3 why1 then1 should we stand starving here for places of habitation1 and in the meantime suffer whole countries1 as profitable for the use of man1 to lie waste without any improvement8 ,seventhly1 ,what can be a better or nobler work1 and more worthy of a ,christian1 than to erect and support a reformed particular ,church in its infancy1 and unite our forces with such a company of faithful people1 as by timely assistance may grow stronger and prosper2 but for want of it1 may be put to great hazards1 if not be wholly ruined8 ,eighthly1 ,if any such as are known to be godly1 and live in wealth and prosperity here1 shall forsake all this to join with this reformed ,church1 and with it run the hazard of an hard and mean condition1 it will be an example of great use1 both for the removing of scandal and to give more life unto the faith of ,god's people in their prayers for the plantation1 and also to encourage others to join the more willingly in it4 ,further on1 when he declares the principles of the ,church of ,new ,england with respect to morals1 ,mather inveighs with violence against the custom of drinking healths at table1 which he denounces as a pagan and abominable practice4 ,he proscribes with the same rigor all ornaments for the hair used by the female sex1 as well as their custom of having the arms and neck uncovered4 ,in another part of his work he relates several instances of witchcraft which had alarmed ,new ,england4 ,it is plain that the visible action of the devil in the affairs of this world appeared to him an incontestable and evident fact4 ,this work of ,cotton ,mather displays1 in many places1 the spirit of civil liberty and political independence which characterized the times in which he lived4 ,their principles respecting government are discoverable at every page4 ,thus1 for instance1 the inhabitants of ,massachusetts1 in the year #afcj1 ten years after the foundation of ,plymouth1 are found to have devoted ,pound #djj sterling to the establishment of the ,university of ,cambridge4 ,in passing from the general documents relative to the history of ,new ,england to those which describe the several ,states comprised within its limits1 ,i ought first to notice ,the ,history of the ,colony of ,massachusetts1 by ,hutchinson1 ,lieutenant-,governor of the ,massachusetts ,province1 #b vols4 #hvo4 ,the history of ,hutchinson1 which ,i have several times quoted in the chapter to which this note relates1 commences in the year #afbh1 and ends in #agej4 ,throughout the work there is a striking air of truth and the greatest simplicity of style3 it is full of minute details4 ,the best history to consult concerning ,connecticut is that of ,benjamin ,trumbull1 entitled ,a ,complete ,history of ,connecticut1 ,civil and ,ecclesiastical1 #afcj-agfd1 #b vols4 #hvo1 printed in #ahah at ,new ,haven4 ,this history contains a clear and calm account of all the events which happened in ,connecticut during the period given in the title4 ,the author drew from the best sources1 and his narrative bears the stamp of truth4 ,all that he says of the early days of ,connecticut is extremely curious4 ,see especially the ,constitution of #afci1 vol4 i4 ch4 vi4 p4 #ajj2 and also the ,penal ,laws of ,connecticut1 vol4 i4 ch4 vii4 p4 #abc4 ,the ,history of ,new ,hampshire1 by ,jeremy ,belknap1 is a work held in merited estimation4 ,it was printed at ,boston in #agib1 in #b vols4 #hvo4 ,the third chapter of the first volume is particularly worthy of attention for the valuable details it affords on the political and religious principles of the ,puritans1 on the causes of their emigration1 and on their laws4 ,the following curious quotation is given from a sermon delivered in #affc3--;,it concerneth ,new ,england always to remember that they are a plantation religious1 not a plantation of trade4 ,the profession of the purity of doctrine1 worship1 and discipline1 is written upon her forehead4 ,let merchants1 and such as are increasing cent4 per cent41 remember this1 that worldly gain was not the end and design of the people of ,new ,england1 but religion4 ,and if any man among us make religion as twelve1 and the world as thirteen1 such an one hath not the spirit of a true ,new ,englishman4 ,the reader of ,belknap will find in his work more general ideas1 and more strength of thought1 than are to be met with in the ,american historians even to the present day4 ,among the ,central ,states which deserve our attention for their remote origin1 ,new ,york and ,pennsylvania are the foremost4 ,the best history we have of the former is entitled ,a ,history of ,new ,york1 by ,william ,smith1 printed at ,london in #ageg4 ,smith gives us important details of the wars between the ,french and ,english in ,america4 ,his is the best account of the famous confederation of the ,iroquois4 ,with respect to ,pennsylvania1 ,i cannot do better than point out the work of ,proud1 entitled ,the ,history of ,pennsylvania1 from the original ,institution and ,settlement of that ,province1 under the first ,proprietor and ,governor1 ,william ,penn1 in #afha1 till after the year #agdb1 by ,robert ,proud1 #b vols4 #hvo1 printed at ,philadelphia in #agig4 ,this work is deserving of the especial attention of the reader2 it contains a mass of curious documents concerning ,penn1 the doctrine of the ,quakers1 and the character1 manners1 and customs of the first inhabitants of ,pennsylvania4 ,i need not add that among the most important documents relating to this ,state are the works of ,penn himself1 and those of ,franklin4 ,part ,,ii4 ,appendix ,g ,we read in ,jefferson's ,memoirs as follows3-- ,at the time of the first settlement of the ,english in ,virginia1 when land was to be had for little or nothing1 some provident persons having obtained large grants of it1 and being desirous of maintaining the splendor of their families1 entailed their property upon their descendants4 ,the transmission of these estates from generation to generation1 to men who bore the same name1 had the effect of raising up a distinct class of families1 who1 possessing by law the privilege of perpetuating their wealth1 formed by these means a sort of patrician order1 distinguished by the grandeur and luxury of their establishments4 ,from this order it was that the ,king usually chose his councillors of state4 99c ,footnote c3 ,this passage is extracted and translated from ,m4 ,conseil's work upon the life of ,jefferson1 entitled ,melanges ,politiques et ,philosophiques de ,jefferson4 ,in the ,united ,states1 the principal clauses of the ,english law respecting descent have been universally rejected4 ,the first rule that we follow1 says ,mr4 ,kent1 touching inheritance1 is the following3--,if a man dies intestate1 his property goes to his heirs in a direct line4 ,if he has but one heir or heiress1 he or she succeeds to the whole4 ,if there are several heirs of the same degree1 they divide the inheritance equally amongst them1 without distinction of sex4 ,this rule was prescribed for the first time in the ,state of ,new ,york by a statute of ,february #bc1 #aghf4 7,see ,revised ,statutes1 vol4 iii4 ,appendix1 p4 #dh47 ,it has since then been adopted in the ,revised ,statutes of the same ,state4 ,at the present day this law holds good throughout the whole of the ,united ,states1 with the exception of the ,state of ,vermont1 where the male heir inherits a double portion4 7,kent's ,commentaries1 vol4 iv4 p4 #cgj47 ,mr4 ,kent1 in the same work1 vol4 iv4 p4 #a-bb1 gives a historical account of ,american legislation on the subject of entail3 by this we learn that1 previous to the ,revolution1 the colonies followed the ,english law of entail4 ,estates tail were abolished in ,virginia in #aggf1 on a motion of ,mr4 ,jefferson4 ,they were suppressed in ,new ,york in #aghf1 and have since been abolished in ,north ,carolina1 ,kentucky1 ,tennessee1 ,georgia1 and ,missouri4 ,in ,vermont1 ,indiana1 ,illinois1 ,south ,carolina1 and ,louisiana1 entail was never introduced4 ,those ,states which thought proper to preserve the ,english law of entail1 modified it in such a way as to deprive it of its most aristocratic tendencies4 ,our general principles on the subject of government1 says ,mr4 ,kent1 tend to favor the free circulation of property4 ,it cannot fail to strike the ,french reader who studies the law of inheritance1 that on these questions the ,french legislation is infinitely more democratic even than the ,american4 ,the ,american law makes an equal division of the father's property1 but only in the case of his will not being known2 for every man1 says the law1 in the ,state of ,new ,york 7,revised ,statutes1 vol4 iii4 ,appendix1 p4 #ea71 has entire liberty1 power1 and authority1 to dispose of his property by will1 to leave it entire1 or divided in favor of any persons he chooses as his heirs1 provided he do not leave it to a political body or any corporation4 ,the ,french law obliges the testator to divide his property equally1 or nearly so1 among his heirs4 ,most of the ,american republics still admit of entails1 under certain restrictions2 but the ,french law prohibits entail in all cases4 ,if the social condition of the ,americans is more democratic than that of the ,french1 the laws of the latter are the most democratic of the two4 ,this may be explained more easily than at first appears to be the case4 ,in ,france1 democracy is still occupied in the work of destruction2 in ,america1 it reigns quietly over the ruins it has made4 ,appendix ,h ,summary ,of ,the ,qualifications ,of ,voters ,in ,the ,united ,states ,as ,they ,existed ,in #ahcb ,all the ,states agree in granting the right of voting at the age of twenty-one4 ,in all of them it is necessary to have resided for a certain time in the district where the vote is given4 ,this period varies from three months to two years4 ,as to the qualification3 in the ,state of ,massachusetts it is necessary to have an income of ,pound #c or a capital of ,pound #fj4 ,in ,rhode ,island1 a man must possess landed property to the amount of #acc4 ,in ,connecticut1 he must have a property which gives an income of #ag4 ,a year of service in the militia also gives the elective privilege4 ,in ,new ,jersey1 an elector must have a property of ,pound #ej a year4 ,in ,south ,carolina and ,maryland1 the elector must possess fifty acres of land4 ,in ,tennessee1 he must possess some property4 ,in the ,states of ,mississippi1 ,ohio1 ,georgia1 ,virginia1 ,pennsylvania1 ,delaware1 ,new ,york1 the only necessary qualification for voting is that of paying the taxes2 and in most of the ,states1 to serve in the militia is equivalent to the payment of taxes4 ,in ,maine and ,new ,hampshire any man can vote who is not on the pauper list4 ,lastly1 in the ,states of ,missouri1 ,alabama1 ,illinois1 ,louisiana1 ,indiana1 ,kentucky1 and ,vermont1 the conditions of voting have no reference to the property of the elector4 ,i believe there is no other ,state besides that of ,north ,carolina in which different conditions are applied to the voting for the ,senate and the electing the ,house of ,representatives4 ,the electors of the former1 in this case1 should possess in property fifty acres of land2 to vote for the latter1 nothing more is required than to pay taxes4 ,appendix ,i ,the small number of custom-house officers employed in the ,united ,states1 compared with the extent of the coast1 renders smuggling very easy2 notwithstanding which1 it is less practised than elsewhere1 because everybody endeavors to repress it4 ,in ,america there is no police for the prevention of fires1 and such accidents are more frequent than in ,europe2 but in general they are more speedily extinguished1 because the surrounding population is prompt in lending assistance4 ,appendix ,k ,it is incorrect to assert that centralization was produced by the ,french ,revolution2 the revolution brought it to perfection1 but did not create it4 ,the mania for centralization and government regulations dates from the time when jurists began to take a share in the government1 in the time of ,philippele-,bel2 ever since which period they have been on the increase4 ,in the year #agge1 ,m4 de ,malesherbes1 speaking in the name of the ,cour des ,aides1 said to ,louis ,,xiv3-- 99d ,footnote d3 ,see ,memoires pour servir a l',histoire du ,droit ,public de la ,france en matiere d'impots1 p4 #fed1 printed at ,brussels in #aggi4 4 4 4 ,every corporation and every community of citizens retained the right of administering its own affairs2 a right which not only forms part of the primitive constitution of the kingdom1 but has a still higher origin2 for it is the right of nature1 and of reason4 ,nevertheless1 your subjects1 ,sire1 have been deprived of it2 and we cannot refrain from saying that in this respect your government has fallen into puerile extremes4 ,from the time when powerful ministers made it a political principle to prevent the convocation of a national assembly1 one consequence has succeeded another1 until the deliberations of the inhabitants of a village are declared null when they have not been authorized by the ,intendant4 ,of course1 if the community has an expensive undertaking to carry through1 it must remain under the control of the sub-delegate of the ,intendant1 and1 consequently1 follow the plan he proposes1 employ his favorite workmen1 pay them according to his pleasure2 and if an action at law is deemed necessary1 the ,intendant's permission must be obtained4 ,the cause must be pleaded before this first tribunal1 previous to its being carried into a public court2 and if the opinion of the ,intendant is opposed to that of the inhabitants1 or if their adversary enjoys his favor1 the community is deprived of the power of defending its rights4 ,such are the means1 ,sire1 which have been exerted to extinguish the municipal spirit in ,france2 and to stifle1 if possible1 the opinions of the citizens4 ,the nation may be said to lie under an interdict1 and to be in wardship under guardians4 ,what could be said more to the purpose at the present day1 when the ,revolution has achieved what are called its victories in centralization8 ,in #aghi1 ,jefferson wrote from ,paris to one of his friends3--,there is no country where the mania for over-governing has taken deeper root than in ,france1 or been the source of greater mischief4 7,letter to ,madison1 ,august #bh1 #aghi47 ,the fact is1 that for several centuries past the central power of ,france has done everything it could to extend central administration2 it has acknowledged no other limits than its own strength4 ,the central power to which the ,revolution gave birth made more rapid advances than any of its predecessors1 because it was stronger and wiser than they had been2 ,louis ,,xiv committed the welfare of such communities to the caprice of an intendant2 ,napoleon left them to that of the ,minister4 ,the same principle governed both1 though its consequences were more or less remote4 ,appendix ,l ,the immutability of the constitution of ,france is a necessary consequence of the laws of that country4 ,to begin with the most important of all the laws1 that which decides the order of succession to the throne2 what can be more immutable in its principle than a political order founded upon the natural succession of father to son8 ,in #ahad1 ,louis ,,xviii had established the perpetual law of hereditary succession in favor of his own family4 ,the individuals who regulated the consequences of the ,revolution of #ahcj followed his example2 they merely established the perpetuity of the law in favor of another family4 ,in this respect they imitated the ,chancellor ,meaupou1 who1 when he erected the new ,parliament upon the ruins of the old1 took care to declare in the same ordinance that the rights of the new magistrates should be as inalienable as those of their predecessors had been4 ,the laws of #ahcj1 like those of #ahad1 point out no way of changing the constitution3 and it is evident that the ordinary means of legislation are insufficient for this purpose4 ,as the ,king1 the ,peers1 and the ,deputies1 all derive their authority from the constitution1 these three powers united cannot alter a law by virtue of which alone they govern4 ,out of the pale of the constitution they are nothing3 where1 when1 could they take their stand to effect a change in its provisions8 ,the alternative is clear3 either their efforts are powerless against the charter1 which continues to exist in spite of them1 in which case they only reign in the name of the charter2 or they succeed in changing the charter1 and then1 the law by which they existed being annulled1 they themselves cease to exist4 ,by destroying the charter1 they destroy themselves4 ,this is much more evident in the laws of #ahcj than in those of #ahad4 ,in #ahad1 the royal prerogative took its stand above and beyond the constitution2 but in #ahcj1 it was avowedly created by1 and dependent on1 the constitution4 ,a part1 therefore1 of the ,french constitution is immutable1 because it is united to the destiny of a family2 and the body of the constitution is equally immutable1 because there appear to be no legal means of changing it4 ,these remarks are not applicable to ,england4 ,that country having no written constitution1 who can assert when its constitution is changed8 ,appendix ,m ,the most esteemed authors who have written upon the ,english ,constitution agree with each other in establishing the omnipotence of the ,parliament4 ,delolme says3 ,it is a fundamental principle with the ,english lawyers1 that ,parliament can do everything except making a woman a man1 or a man a woman4 ,blackstone expresses himself more in detail1 if not more energetically1 than ,delolme1 in the following terms3--,the power and jurisdiction of ,parliament1 says ,sir ,edward ,coke 7#d ,inst4 #cf71 'is so transcendent and absolute that it cannot be confined1 either for causes or persons1 within any bounds4' ,and of this ,high ,court1 he adds1 may be truly said1 ',si antiquitatem spectes1 est vetustissima2 si dignitatem1 est honoratissima2 si jurisdictionem1 est capacissima4' ,it hath sovereign and uncontrollable authority in the making1 confirming1 enlarging1 restraining1 abrogating1 repealing1 reviving1 and expounding of laws1 concerning matters of all possible denominations2 ecclesiastical or temporal2 civil1 military1 maritime1 or criminal2 this being the place where that absolute despotic power which must1 in all governments1 reside somewhere1 is intrusted by the constitution of these kingdoms4 ,all mischiefs and grievances1 operations and remedies1 that transcend the ordinary course of the laws1 are within the reach of this extraordinary tribunal4 ,it can regulate or new-model the succession to the ,crown2 as was done in the reign of ,henry ,,viii and ,william ,,iii4 ,it can alter the established religion of the land2 as was done in a variety of instances in the reigns of ,king ,henry ,,viii and his three children4 ,it can change and create afresh even the constitution of the kingdom1 and of parliaments themselves2 as was done by the ,act of ,union and the several statutes for triennial and septennial elections4 ,it can1 in short1 do everything that is not naturally impossible to be done2 and1 therefore some have not scrupled to call its power1 by a figure rather too bold1 the omnipotence of ,parliament4 ,appendix ,n ,there is no question upon which the ,american constitutions agree more fully than upon that of political jurisdiction4 ,all the constitutions which take cognizance of this matter1 give to the ,house of ,delegates the exclusive right of impeachment2 excepting only the constitution of ,north ,carolina1 which grants the same privilege to grand juries4 7,article #bc47 ,almost all the constitutions give the exclusive right of pronouncing sentence to the ,senate1 or to the ,assembly which occupies its place4 ,the only punishments which the political tribunals can inflict are removal1 or the interdiction of public functions for the future4 ,there is no other constitution but that of ,virginia 7p4 #aeb71 which enables them to inflict every kind of punishment4 ,the crimes which are subject to political jurisdiction are1 in the federal constitution 7,section #d1 ,art4 #a72 in that of ,indiana 7,art4 #c1 paragraphs #bc and #bd72 of ,new ,york 7,art4 #e72 of ,delaware 7,art4 #e71 high treason1 bribery1 and other high crimes or offences4 ,in the ,constitution of ,massachusetts 7,chap4 ,i1 ,section #b72 that of ,north ,carolina 7,art4 #bc72 of ,virginia 7p4 #beb71 misconduct and maladministration4 ,in the constitution of ,new ,hampshire 7p4 #aje71 corruption1 intrigue1 and maladministration4 ,in ,vermont 7,chap4 #b1 ,art4 #bd71 maladministration4 ,in ,south ,carolina 7,art4 #e72 ,kentucky 7,art4 #e72 ,tennessee 7,art4 #d72 ,ohio 7,art4 #a1 #bc1 #bd72 ,louisiana 7,art4 #e72 ,mississippi 7,art4 #e72 ,alabama 7,art4 #f72 ,pennsylvania 7,art4 #d71 crimes committed in the non-performance of official duties4 ,in the ,states of ,illinois1 ,georgia1 ,maine1 and ,connecticut1 no particular offences are specified4 ,appendix ,o ,it is true that the powers of ,europe may carry on maritime wars with the ,union2 but there is always greater facility and less danger in supporting a maritime than a continental war4 ,maritime warfare only requires one species of effort4 ,a commercial people which consents to furnish its government with the necessary funds1 is sure to possess a fleet4 ,and it is far easier to induce a nation to part with its money1 almost unconsciously1 than to reconcile it to sacrifices of men and personal efforts4 ,moreover1 defeat by sea rarely compromises the existence or independence of the people which endures it4 ,as for continental wars1 it is evident that the nations of ,europe cannot be formidable in this way to the ,american ,union4 ,it would be very difficult to transport and maintain in ,america more than #be1jjj soldiers2 an army which may be considered to represent a nation of about #b1jjj1jjj of men4 ,the most populous nation of ,europe contending in this way against the ,union1 is in the position of a nation of #b1jjj1jjj of inhabitants at war with one of #ab1jjj1jjj4 ,add to this1 that ,america has all its resources within reach1 whilst the ,european is at #d1jjj miles distance from his2 and that the immensity of the ,american continent would of itself present an insurmountable obstacle to its conquest4 ,appendix ,p ,the first ,american journal appeared in ,april1 #agjd1 and was published at ,boston4 ,see ,collection of the ,historical ,society of ,massachusetts1 vol4 vi4 p4 #ff4 ,it would be a mistake to suppose that the periodical press has always been entirely free in the ,american colonies3 an attempt was made to establish something analogous to a censorship and preliminary security4 ,consult the ,legislative ,documents of ,massachusetts of ,january #ad1 #agbb4 ,the ,committee appointed by the ,general ,assembly 7the legislative body of the province7 for the purpose of examining into circumstances connected with a paper entitled ,the ,new ,england ,courier1 expresses its opinion that the tendency of the said journal is to turn religion into derision and bring it into contempt2 that it mentions the sacred writers in a profane and irreligious manner2 that it puts malicious interpretations upon the conduct of the ministers of the ,gospel2 and that the ,government of his ,majesty is insulted1 and the peace and tranquillity of the province disturbed by the said journal4 ,the ,committee is consequently of opinion that the printer and publisher1 ,james ,franklin1 should be forbidden to print and publish the said journal or any other work in future1 without having previously submitted it to the ,secretary of the province2 and that the justices of the peace for the county of ,suffolk should be commissioned to require bail of the said ,james ,franklin for his good conduct during the ensuing year4 ,the suggestion of the ,committee was adopted and passed into a law1 but the effect of it was null1 for the journal eluded the prohibition by putting the name of ,benjamin ,franklin instead of ,james ,franklin at the bottom of its columns1 and this manoeuvre was supported by public opinion4 ,appendix ,q ,the ,federal ,constitution has introduced the jury into the tribunals of the ,union in the same way as the ,states had introduced it into their own several courts2 but as it has not established any fixed rules for the choice of jurors1 the federal courts select them from the ordinary jury list which each ,state makes for itself4 ,the laws of the ,states must therefore be examined for the theory of the formation of juries4 ,see ,story's ,commentaries on the ,constitution1 ,b4 iii4 chap4 #ch1 p4 #fed-fei2 ,sergeant's ,constitutional ,law1 p4 #afe4 ,see also the ,federal ,laws of the years #aghi1 #ahjj1 and #ahjb1 upon the subject4 ,for the purpose of thoroughly understanding the ,american principles with respect to the formation of juries1 ,i examined the laws of ,states at a distance from one another1 and the following observations were the result of my inquiries4 ,in ,america1 all the citizens who exercise the elective franchise have the right of serving upon a jury4 ,the great ,state of ,new ,york1 however1 has made a slight difference between the two privileges1 but in a spirit quite contrary to that of the laws of ,france2 for in the ,state of ,new ,york there are fewer persons eligible as jurymen than there are electors4 ,it may be said in general that the right of forming part of a jury1 like the right of electing representatives1 is open to all the citizens3 the exercise of this right1 however1 is not put indiscriminately into any hands4 ,every year a body of municipal or county magistrates--called selectmen in ,new ,england1 supervisors in ,new ,york1 trustees in ,ohio1 and sheriffs of the parish in ,louisiana--choose for each county a certain number of citizens who have the right of serving as jurymen1 and who are supposed to be capable of exercising their functions4 ,these magistrates1 being themselves elective1 excite no distrust2 their powers1 like those of most republican magistrates1 are very extensive and very arbitrary1 and they frequently make use of them to remove unworthy or incompetent jurymen4 ,the names of the jurymen thus chosen are transmitted to the ,county ,court2 and the jury who have to decide any affair are drawn by lot from the whole list of names4 ,the ,americans have contrived in every way to make the common people eligible to the jury1 and to render the service as little onerous as possible4 ,the sessions are held in the chief town of every county1 and the jury are indemnified for their attendance either by the ,state or the parties concerned4 ,they receive in general a dollar per day1 besides their travelling expenses4 ,in ,america1 the being placed upon the jury is looked upon as a burden1 but it is a burden which is very supportable4 ,see ,brevard's ,digest of the ,public ,statute ,law of ,south ,carolina1 vol4 i4 pp4 #ddf and #ded1 vol4 ii4 pp4 #bah and #cch2 ,the ,general ,laws of ,massachusetts1 revised and published by authority of the ,legislature1 vol4 ii4 pp4 #ahg and #cca2 ,the ,revised ,statutes of the ,state of ,new ,york1 vol4 ii4 pp4 #daa1 #fdc1 #gag1 #gbj2 ,the ,statute ,law of the ,state of ,tennessee1 vol4 i4 p4 #bji2 ,acts of the ,state of ,ohio1 pp4 #ie and #baj2 and ,digeste general des ,actes de la ,legislature de la ,louisiane4 ,appendix ,r ,if we attentively examine the constitution of the jury as introduced into civil proceedings in ,england1 we shall readily perceive that the jurors are under the immediate control of the judge4 ,it is true that the verdict of the jury1 in civil as well as in criminal cases1 comprises the question of fact and the question of right in the same reply2 thus--a house is claimed by ,peter as having been purchased by him3 this is the fact to be decided4 ,the defendant puts in a plea of incompetency on the part of the vendor3 this is the legal question to be resolved4 ,but the jury do not enjoy the same character of infallibility in civil cases1 according to the practice of the ,english courts1 as they do in criminal cases4 ,the judge may refuse to receive the verdict2 and even after the first trial has taken place1 a second or new trial may be awarded by the ,court4 ,see ,blackstone's ,commentaries1 book iii4 ch4 #bd4 ,appendix ,s ,i find in my travelling journal a passage which may serve to convey a more complete notion of the trials to which the women of ,america1 who consent to follow their husbands into the wilds1 are often subjected4 ,this description has nothing to recommend it to the reader but its strict accuracy3 4 4 4 ,from time to time we come to fresh clearings2 all these places are alike2 ,i shall describe the one at which we have halted to-night1 for it will serve to remind me of all the others4 ,the bell which the pioneers hang round the necks of their cattle1 in order to find them again in the woods1 announced our approach to a clearing1 when we were yet a long way off2 and we soon afterwards heard the stroke of the hatchet1 hewing down the trees of the forest4 ,as we came nearer1 traces of destruction marked the presence of civilized man2 the road was strewn with shattered boughs2 trunks of trees1 half consumed by fire1 or cleft by the wedge1 were still standing in the track we were following4 ,we continued to proceed till we reached a wood in which all the trees seemed to have been suddenly struck dead2 in the height of summer their boughs were as leafless as in winter2 and upon closer examination we found that a deep circle had been cut round the bark1 which1 by stopping the circulation of the sap1 soon kills the tree4 ,we were informed that this is commonly the first thing a pioneer does2 as he cannot in the first year cut down all the trees which cover his new parcel of land1 he sows ,indian corn under their branches1 and puts the trees to death in order to prevent them from injuring his crop4 ,beyond this field1 at present imperfectly traced out1 we suddenly came upon the cabin of its owner1 situated in the centre of a plot of ground more carefully cultivated than the rest1 but where man was still waging unequal warfare with the forest2 there the trees were cut down1 but their roots were not removed1 and the trunks still encumbered the ground which they so recently shaded4 ,around these dry blocks1 wheat1 suckers of trees1 and plants of every kind1 grow and intertwine in all the luxuriance of wild1 untutored nature4 ,amidst this vigorous and various vegetation stands the house of the pioneer1 or1 as they call it1 the log house4 ,like the ground about it1 this rustic dwelling bore marks of recent and hasty labor2 its length seemed not to exceed thirty feet1 its height fifteen2 the walls as well as the roof were formed of rough trunks of trees1 between which a little moss and clay had been inserted to keep out the cold and rain4 ,as night was coming on1 we determined to ask the master of the log house for a lodging4 ,at the sound of our footsteps1 the children who were playing amongst the scattered branches sprang up and ran towards the house1 as if they were frightened at the sight of man2 whilst two large dogs1 almost wild1 with ears erect and outstretched nose1 came growling out of their hut1 to cover the retreat of their young masters4 ,the pioneer himself made his appearance at the door of his dwelling2 he looked at us with a rapid and inquisitive glance1 made a sign to the dogs to go into the house1 and set them the example1 without betraying either curiosity or apprehension at our arrival4 ,we entered the log house3 the inside is quite unlike that of the cottages of the peasantry of ,europe3 it contains more than is superfluous1 less than is necessary4 ,a single window with a muslin blind2 on a hearth of trodden clay an immense fire1 which lights the whole structure2 above the hearth a good rifle1 a deer's skin1 and plumes of eagles' feathers2 on the right hand of the chimney a map of the ,united ,states1 raised and shaken by the wind through the crannies in the wall2 near the map1 upon a shelf formed of a roughly hewn plank1 a few volumes of books--a ,bible1 the six first books of ,milton1 and two of ,shakespeare's plays2 along the wall1 trunks instead of closets2 in the centre of the room a rude table1 with legs of green wood1 and with the bark still upon them1 looking as if they grew out of the ground on which they stood2 but on this table a tea-pot of ,british ware1 silver spoons1 cracked tea-cups1 and some newspapers4 ,the master of this dwelling has the strong angular features and lank limbs peculiar to the native of ,new ,england4 ,it is evident that this man was not born in the solitude in which we have met with him3 his physical constitution suffices to show that his earlier years were spent in the midst of civilized society1 and that he belongs to that restless1 calculating1 and adventurous race of men1 who do with the utmost coolness things only to be accounted for by the ardor of the passions1 and who endure the life of savages for a time1 in order to conquer and civilize the backwoods4 ,when the pioneer perceived that we were crossing his threshold1 he came to meet us and shake hands1 as is their custom2 but his face was quite unmoved2 he opened the conversation by inquiring what was going on in the world2 and when his curiosity was satisfied1 he held his peace1 as if he were tired by the noise and importunity of mankind4 ,when we questioned him in our turn1 he gave us all the information we required2 he then attended sedulously1 but without eagerness1 to our personal wants4 ,whilst he was engaged in providing thus kindly for us1 how came it that in spit of ourselves we felt our gratitude die upon our lips8 ,it is that our host whilst he performs the duties of hospitality1 seems to be obeying an irksome necessity of his condition3 he treats it as a duty imposed upon him by his situation1 not as a pleasure4 ,by the side of the hearth sits a woman with a baby on her lap3 she nods to us without disturbing herself4 ,like the pioneer1 this woman is in the prime of life2 her appearance would seem superior to her condition1 and her apparel even betrays a lingering taste for dress2 but her delicate limbs appear shrunken1 her features are drawn in1 her eye is mild and melancholy2 her whole physiognomy bears marks of a degree of religious resignation1 a deep quiet of all passions1 and some sort of natural and tranquil firmness1 ready to meet all the ills of life1 without fearing and without braving them4 ,her children cluster about her1 full of health1 turbulence1 and energy3 they are true children of the wilderness2 their mother watches them from time to time with mingled melancholy and joy3 to look at their strength and her languor1 one might imagine that the life she has given them has exhausted her own1 and still she regrets not what they have cost her4 ,the house inhabited by these emigrants has no internal partition or loft4 ,in the one chamber of which it consists1 the whole family is gathered for the night4 ,the dwelling is itself a little world--an ark of civilization amidst an ocean of foliage3 a hundred steps beyond it the primeval forest spreads its shades1 and solitude resumes its sway4 ,appendix ,t ,it is not the equality of conditions which makes men immoral and irreligious2 but when men1 being equal1 are at the same time immoral and irreligious1 the effects of immorality and irreligion easily manifest themselves outwardly1 because men have but little influence upon each other1 and no class exists which can undertake to keep society in order4 ,equality of conditions never engenders profligacy of morals1 but it sometimes allows that profligacy to show itself4 ,appendix ,u ,setting aside all those who do not think at all1 and those who dare not say what they think1 the immense majority of the ,americans will still be found to appear satisfied with the political institutions by which they are governed2 and1 ,i believe1 really to be so4 ,i look upon this state of public opinion as an indication1 but not as a demonstration1 of the absolute excellence of ,american laws4 ,the pride of a nation1 the gratification of certain ruling passions by the law1 a concourse of circumstances1 defects which escape notice1 and more than all the rest1 the influence of a majority which shuts the mouth of all cavillers1 may long perpetuate the delusions of a people as well as those of a man4 ,look at ,england throughout the eighteenth century4 ,no nation was ever more prodigal of self-applause1 no people was ever more self-satisfied2 then every part of its constitution was right--everything1 even to its most obvious defects1 was irreproachable3 at the present day a vast number of ,englishmen seem to have nothing better to do than to prove that this constitution was faulty in many respects4 ,which was right8--the ,english people of the last century1 or the ,english people of the present day8 ,the same thing has occurred in ,france4 ,it is certain that during the reign of ,louis ,,xiv the great bulk of the nation was devotedly attached to the form of government which1 at that time1 governed the community4 ,but it is a vast error to suppose that there was anything degraded in the character of the ,french of that age4 ,there might be some sort of servitude in ,france at that time1 but assuredly there was no servile spirit among the people4 ,the writers of that age felt a species of genuine enthusiasm in extolling the power of their king2 and there was no peasant so obscure in his hovel as not to take a pride in the glory of his sovereign1 and to die cheerfully with the cry ,vive le ,roi6 upon his lips4 ,these very same forms of loyalty are now odious to the ,french people4 ,which are wrong8--the ,french of the age of ,louis ,,xiv1 or their descendants of the present day8 ,our judgment of the laws of a people must not then be founded ,future ,condition ,of ,three ,races ,in ,the ,united ,states exclusively upon its inclinations1 since those inclinations change from age to age2 but upon more elevated principles and a more general experience4 ,the love which a people may show for its law proves only this3--that we should not be in too great a hurry to change them4 ,appendix ,v ,in the chapter to which this note relates ,i have pointed out one source of danger3 ,i am now about to point out another kind of peril1 more rare indeed1 but far more formidable if it were ever to make its appearance4 ,if the love of physical gratification and the taste for well-being1 which are naturally suggested to men by a state of equality1 were to get entire possession of the mind of a democratic people1 and to fill it completely1 the manners of the nation would become so totally opposed to military tastes1 that perhaps even the army would eventually acquire a love of peace1 in spite of the peculiar interest which leads it to desire war4 ,living in the midst of a state of general relaxation1 the troops would ultimately think it better to rise without efforts1 by the slow but commodious advancement of a peace establishment1 than to purchase more rapid promotion at the cost of all the toils and privations of the field4 ,with these feelings1 they would take up arms without enthusiasm1 and use them without energy2 they would allow themselves to be led to meet the foe1 instead of marching to attack him4 ,it must not be supposed that this pacific state of the army would render it adverse to revolutions2 for revolutions1 and especially military revolutions1 which are generally very rapid1 are attended indeed with great dangers1 but not with protracted toil2 they gratify ambition at less cost than war2 life only is at stake1 and the men of democracies care less for their lives than for their comforts4 ,nothing is more dangerous for the freedom and the tranquillity of a people than an army afraid of war1 because1 as such an army no longer seeks to maintain its importance and its influence on the field of battle1 it seeks to assert them elsewhere4 ,thus it might happen that the men of whom a democratic army consists should lose the interests of citizens without acquiring the virtues of soldiers2 and that the army should cease to be fit for war without ceasing to be turbulent4 ,i shall here repeat what ,i have said in the text3 the remedy for these dangers is not to be found in the army1 but in the country3 a democratic people which has preserved the manliness of its character will never be at a loss for military prowess in its soldiers4 ,appendix ,w ,men connect the greatness of their idea of unity with means1 ,god with ends3 hence this idea of greatness1 as men conceive it1 leads us into infinite littleness4 ,to compel all men to follow the same course towards the same object is a human notion2--to introduce infinite variety of action1 but so combined that all these acts lead by a multitude of different courses to the accomplishment of one great design1 is a conception of the ,deity4 ,the human idea of unity is almost always barren2 the divine idea pregnant with abundant results4 ,men think they manifest their greatness by simplifying the means they use2 but it is the purpose of ,god which is simple--his means are infinitely varied4 ,appendix ,x ,a democratic people is not only led by its own tastes to centralize its government1 but the passions of all the men by whom it is governed constantly urge it in the same direction4 ,it may easily be foreseen that almost all the able and ambitious members of a democratic community will labor without #b ceasing to extend the powers of government1 because they all hope at some time or other to wield those powers4 ,it is a waste of time to attempt to prove to them that extreme centralization may be injurious to the ,state1 since they are centralizing for their own benefit4 ,amongst the public men of democracies there are hardly any but men of great disinterestedness or extreme mediocrity who seek to oppose the centralization of government3 the former are scarce1 the latter powerless4 ,appendix ,y ,i have often asked myself what would happen if1 amidst the relaxation of democratic manners1 and as a consequence of the restless spirit of the army1 a military government were ever to be founded amongst any of the nations of the present age4 ,i think that even such a government would not differ very much from the outline ,i have drawn in the chapter to which this note belongs1 and that it would retain none of the fierce characteristics of a military oligarchy4 ,i am persuaded that1 in such a case1 a sort of fusion would take place between the habits of official men and those of the military service4 ,the administration would assume something of a military character1 and the army some of the usages of the civil administration4 ,the result would be a regular1 clear1 exact1 and absolute system of government2 the people would become the reflection of the army1 and the community be drilled like a garrison4 ,appendix ,z ,it cannot be absolutely or generally affirmed that the greatest danger of the present age is license or tyranny1 anarchy or despotism4 ,both are equally to be feared2 and the one may as easily proceed as the other from the selfsame cause1 namely1 that general apathy1 which is the consequence of what ,i have termed individualism3 it is because this apathy exists1 that the executive government1 having mustered a few troops1 is able to commit acts of oppression one day1 and the next day a party1 which has mustered some thirty men in its ranks1 can also commit acts of oppression4 ,neither one nor the other can found anything to last2 and the causes which enable them to succeed easily1 prevent them from succeeding long3 they rise because nothing opposes them1 and they sink because nothing supports them4 ,the proper object therefore of our most strenuous resistance1 is far less either anarchy or despotism than the apathy which may almost indifferently beget either the one or the other4 ,constitution ,of ,the ,united ,states ,of ,america ,we ,the ,people of the ,united ,states1 in ,order to form a more perfect ,union1 establish ,justice1 insure domestic ,tranquillity1 provide for the common defence1 promote the general welfare1 and secure the blessings of ,liberty to ourselves and our ,posterity1 do ordain and establish this ,constitution for the ,united ,states of ,america3 ,article ,i ,section #a4 ,all legislative ,powers herein granted shall be vested in a ,congress of the ,united ,states1 which shall consist of a ,senate and ,house of ,representatives4 ,section #b4 ,the ,house of ,representatives shall be composed of ,members of chosen every second ,year by the ,people of the several ,states1 and the ,electors in each ,states shall have the ,qualifications requisite for ,electors of the most numerous ,branch of the ,state ,legislature4 ,no ,person shall be a ,representative who shall not have attained to the ,age of twenty-five ,years1 and been seven ,years a ,citizen of the ,united ,states1 and who shall not1 when elected1 be an ,inhabitant of that ,state in which he shall be chosen4 ,representatives and direct ,taxes shall be apportioned among the several ,states which may be included within this ,union1 according to their respective ,numbers1 which shall be determined by adding to the whole ,number of free ,persons1 including those bound to service for a ,term of ,years1 and excluding ,indians not taxed1 three-fifths of all other ,persons4 ,the actual ,enumeration shall be made within three ,years after the first ,meeting of the ,congress of the ,united ,states1 and within every subsequent ,term of ten ,years1 in such ,manner as they shall by ,law direct4 ,the ,number of ,representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty ,thousand1 but each ,state shall have at ,least one ,representative2 and until such enumeration shall be made1 the ,state of ,new ,hampshire shall be entitled to choose three1 ,massachusetts1 eight1 ,rhode-,island and ,providence ,plantations one1 ,connecticut five1 ,new ,york six1 ,new ,jersey four1 ,pennsylvania eight1 ,delaware one1 ,maryland six1 ,virginia ten1 ,north ,carolina five1 ,south ,carolina five1 and ,georgia three4 ,when vacancies happen in the ,representation from any ,state1 the ,executive ,authority thereof shall issue ,writs of ,election to fill such ,vacancies4 ,the ,house of ,representatives shall choose their ,speaker and other ,officers2 and shall have the sole ,power of ,impeachment4 ,section #c4 ,the ,senate of the ,united ,states shall be composed of two ,senators from each ,state1 chosen by the ,legislature thereof1 for six ,years2 and each ,senator shall have one ,vote4 ,immediately after they shall be assembled in ,consequence of the first ,election1 they shall be divided as equally as may be into three ,classes4 ,the ,seats of the ,senators of the first ,class shall be vacated at the ,expiration of the second ,year1 of the second ,class at the expiration of the fourth ,year1 and of the third ,class at the expiration of the sixth ,year1 so that one-third may be chosen every second ,year2 and if ,vacancies happen by ,resignation1 or otherwise1 during the ,recess of the ,legislature of any ,state1 the ,executive thereof may make temporary ,appointments until the next ,meeting of the ,legislature1 which shall then fill such ,vacancies4 ,no person shall be a ,senator who shall not have attained to the ,age of thirty ,years1 and been nine ,years a ,citizen of the ,united ,states1 and who shall not1 when elected1 be an ,inhabitant of that ,state for which he shall be chosen4 ,the ,vice-,president of the ,united ,states shall be ,president of the ,senate1 but shall have no ,vote1 unless they be equally divided4 ,the ,senate shall choose their other ,officers1 and also a ,president pro tempore1 in the ,absence of the ,vice-,president1 or when he shall exercise the ,office of ,president of the ,united ,states4 ,the ,senate shall have the sole power to try all ,impeachments4 ,when sitting for that ,purpose1 they shall be on ,oath or ,affirmation4 ,when the ,president of the ,united ,states is tried1 the ,chief ,justice shall preside3 ,and no ,person shall be convicted without the ,concurrence of two-thirds of the ,members present4 ,judgment in cases of ,impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from ,office1 and disqualification to hold and enjoy any ,office of ,honor1 ,trust1 or ,profit under the ,united ,states3 but the ,party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and subject to ,indictment1 ,trial1 ,judgment1 and ,punishment according to ,law4 ,section #d4 ,the ,times1 ,places and ,manner of holding ,elections for ,senators and ,representatives1 shall be prescribed in each ,state by the ,legislature thereof2 but the ,congress may at any time by ,law make or alter such ,regulations1 except as to the ,places of choosing ,senators4 ,the ,congress shall assemble at least once in every ,year1 and such ,meeting shall be on the first ,monday in ,december1 unless they shall by ,law appoint a different ,day4 ,section #e4 ,each ,house shall be the ,judge of the ,elections1 ,returns and ,qualifications of its own ,members1 and a ,majority of each shall constitute a ,quorum to do ,business2 but a smaller ,number may adjourn from day to day1 and may be authorized to compel the ,attendance of ,absent ,members1 in such ,manner1 and under such ,penalties as each ,house may provide4 ,each ,house may determine the ,rules of its ,proceedings1 punish its ,members for disorderly ,behaviour1 and1 with a ,concurrence of two-thirds1 expel a ,member4 ,each ,house shall keep a ,journal of its ,proceedings1 and from time to time publish the same1 excepting such ,parts as may in their ,judgment require ,secrecy2 and the ,yeas and ,nays of the ,members of either ,house on any question shall1 at the ,desire of one-fifth of those present1 be entered on the ,journal4 ,neither ,house1 during the ,session of ,congress1 shall1 without the ,consent of the other1 adjourn for more than three days1 nor to any other ,place than that in which the two ,houses shall be sitting4 ,section #f4 ,the ,senators and ,representatives shall receive a ,compensation for their ,services1 to be ascertained by ,law1 and paid out of the ,treasury of the ,united ,states4 ,they shall in all ,cases1 except ,treason1 ,felony1 and ,breach of the ,peace1 be privileged from ,arrest during their attendance at the ,session of their respective ,houses1 and in going to and returning from the same2 and for any ,speech or ,debate in either ,house1 they shall not be questioned in any other ,place4 ,no ,senator or ,representative shall1 during the ,time for which he was elected1 be appointed to any civil ,office under the ,authority of the ,united ,states1 which shall have been created1 or the ,emoluments whereof shall have been increased during such time2 and no ,person holding any ,office under the ,united ,states1 shall be a ,member of either ,house during his ,continuance in ,office4 ,section #g4 ,all ,bills for ,raising ,revenue shall originate in the ,house of ,representatives2 but the ,senate may propose or concur with ,amendments as on other ,bills4 ,every ,bill which shall have passed the ,house of ,representatives and the ,senate1 shall1 before it become a ,law1 be presented to the ,president of the ,united ,states2 if he approve he shall sign it1 but if not he shall return it1 with his ,objections1 to that ,house in which it shall have originated1 who shall enter the ,objections at large on their ,journal1 and proceed to reconsider it4 ,if after such ,reconsideration two-thirds of that ,house shall agree to pass the ,bill1 it shall be sent1 together with the ,objections1 to the other ,house1 by which it shall likewise be reconsidered1 and if approved by two-thirds of that ,house1 it shall become a ,law4 ,but in all such ,cases the ,votes of both ,houses shall be determined by ,yeas and ,nays1 and the ,names of the ,persons voting for and against the ,bill shall be entered on the ,journal of each ,house respectively4 ,if any ,bill shall not be returned by the ,president within ten days 7,sundays excepted7 after it shall have been presented to him1 the ,same shall be a ,law1 in like manner as if he had signed it1 unless the ,congress by their ,adjournment prevent its ,return1 in which ,case it shall not be a ,law4 ,every ,order1 ,resolution1 or ,vote to which the ,concurrence of the ,senate and ,house of ,representatives may be necessary 7except on a question of ,adjournment7 shall be presented to the ,president of the ,united ,states2 and before the ,same shall take ,effect1 shall be approved by him1 or being disapproved by him1 shall be repassed by two-thirds of the ,senate and ,house of ,representatives1 according to the ,rules and ,limitations prescribed in the case of a ,bill4 ,section #h4 ,the ,congress shall have ,power to lay and collect ,taxes1 ,duties1 ,imposts1 and ,excises1 to pay the ,debts and provide for the common ,defence and general ,welfare of the ,united ,states2 but all ,duties1 ,imposts and ,excises shall be uniform throughout the ,united ,states2 ,to borrow ,money on the credit of the ,united ,states2 ,to regulate ,commerce with foreign ,nations1 and among the several ,states1 and with the ,indian ,tribes2 ,to establish an ,uniform ,rule of ,naturalization1 and uniform ,laws on the subject of ,bankruptcies throughout the ,united ,states2 ,to coin ,money1 regulate the ,value thereof1 and of foreign ,coin1 and fix the ,standard of ,weights and ,measures2 ,to provide for the ,punishment of counterfeiting the ,securities and current ,coin of the ,united ,states2 ,to establish ,post ,offices and ,post ,roads2 ,to promote the ,progress of ,science and useful ,arts1 by securing for limited ,times to ,authors and ,inventors the exclusive ,right to their respective ,writings and ,discoveries2 ,to constitute ,tribunals inferior to the ,supreme ,court2 ,to define and punish ,piracies and ,felonies committed on the high ,seas1 and ,offences against the ,law of ,nations2 ,to declare ,war1 grant ,letters of ,marque and ,reprisal1 and make ,rules concerning ,captures on ,land and ,water2 ,to raise and support ,armies1 but no ,appropriation of ,money to that ,use shall be for a longer ,term than two years2 ,to provide and maintain a ,navy2 ,to make ,rules for the ,government and ,regulation of the land and naval ,forces4 ,to provide for calling forth the ,militia to execute the ,laws of the ,union1 suppress ,insurrections and repel ,invasions4 ,to provide for organizing1 arming1 and disciplining1 the ,militia1 and for governing such ,part of them as may be employed in the ,service of the ,united ,states1 reserving to the ,states respectively1 the ,appointment of the ,officers1 and the ,authority of training the ,militia according to the discipline prescribed by ,congress2 ,to exercise exclusive ,legislation in all ,cases whatsoever1 over such ,district 7not exceeding ten ,miles square7 as may1 by ,cession of particular ,states1 and the ,acceptance of ,congress become the ,seat of the ,government of the ,united ,states1 and to exercise like ,authority over all ,places purchased by the ,consent of the ,legislature of the ,state in which the ,same shall be1 for the ,erection of ,forts1 ,magazines1 ,arsenals1 ,dock-,yards1 and other needful ,buildings2--,and ,to make all ,laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into ,execution the foregoing ,powers1 and all other ,powers vested by this ,constitution in the ,government of the ,united ,states1 or in any ,department or ,officer thereof4 ,section #i4 ,the ,migration or ,importation of such ,persons as any of the ,states now existing shall think proper to admit1 shall not be prohibited by the ,congress prior to the year one thousand eight hundred and eight1 but a tax or duty may be imposed on such ,importation1 not exceeding ten dollars for each ,person4 ,the ,privilege of the ,writ of ,habeas ,corpus shall not be suspended1 unless when in ,cases of ,rebellion or ,invasion the public ,safety may require it4 ,no ,bill of ,attainder or ex post facto ,law shall be passed4 ,no ,capitation1 or other direct ,tax shall be laid1 unless in ,proportion to the ,census or ,enumeration herein before directed to be taken4 ,no ,tax or ,duty shall be laid on ,articles exported from any ,state4 ,no preference shall be given by any ,regulation of ,commerce or ,revenue to the ,ports of one ,state over those of another3 nor shall ,vessels bound to1 or from1 one ,state1 be obliged to enter1 clear1 or pay ,duties in another4 ,no ,money shall be drawn from the ,treasury1 but in consequence of ,appropriations made by ,law2 and a regular ,statement and ,account of the ,receipts and ,expenditures of all public ,money shall be published from time to time4 ,no ,title of ,nobility shall be granted by the ,united ,states3 ,and no ,person holding any ,office of ,profit or ,trust under them1 shall1 without the ,consent of the ,congress1 accept of any present1 ,emolument1 ,office1 or ,title of any kind whatever1 from any ,king1 ,prince1 or foreign ,state4 ,section #aj4 ,no ,state shall enter into any ,treaty1 ,alliance1 or ,confederation2 grant ,letters of ,marque or ,reprisal2 coin ,money2 emit ,bills of ,credit2 make any ,thing but gold and silver ,coin a ,tender in ,payment of ,debts2 pass any ,bill of ,attainder1 ex post facto ,law1 or ,law impairing the ,obligation of ,contracts1 or grant any ,title of ,nobility4 ,no ,state shall1 without the ,consent of the ,congress1 lay any ,imposts or ,duties on ,imports or ,exports1 except what may be absolutely necessary for executing its inspection ,laws3 and the net ,produce of all ,duties and ,imposts1 laid by any ,state on ,imports or ,exports shall be for the ,use of the ,treasury of the ,united ,states2 and all such laws shall be subject to the ,revision and ,control of the ,congress4 ,no ,state shall1 without the ,consent of ,congress1 lay any ,duty of ,tonnage1 keep ,troops1 or ,ships of ,war in time of ,peace1 enter into any ,agreement or ,compact with another ,state1 or with a foreign ,power1 or engage in ,war1 unless actually invaded1 or in such imminent ,danger as will not admit of delay4 ,article ,,ii ,section #a4 ,the ,executive ,power shall be vested in a ,president of the ,united ,states of ,america4 ,he shall hold his ,office during the ,term of four ,years1 and1 together with the ,vice-,president1 chosen for the same ,term1 be elected as follows3 ,each ,state shall appoint1 in such ,manner as the ,legislature thereof may direct1 a ,number of ,electors1 equal to the whole ,number of ,senators and ,representatives to which the ,state may be entitled in the ,congress3 but no ,senator or ,representative1 or ,person holding an ,office of ,trust or ,profit under the ,united ,states1 shall be appointed an ,elector4 ,the ,electors shall meet in their respective ,states1 and vote by ,ballot for two persons1 of whom one at least shall not be an inhabitant of the same ,state with themselves4 ,and they shall make a ,list of all the ,persons voted for1 and of the ,number of ,votes for each2 which ,list they shall sign and certify1 and transmit sealed to the ,seat of the ,government of the ,united ,states1 directed to the ,president of the ,senate4 ,the ,president of the ,senate shall1 in the ,presence of the ,senate and ,house of ,representatives1 open all the ,certificates1 and the ,votes shall then be counted4 ,the ,person having the greatest ,number of ,votes shall be the ,president1 if such ,number be a ,majority of the whole ,number of ,electors appointed2 and if there be more than one who have such ,majority1 and have an equal number of ,votes1 then the ,house of ,representatives shall immediately choose by ,ballot one of them for ,president2 and if no ,person have a ,majority1 then from the five highest on the ,list the said ,house shall in like ,manner choose the ,president4 ,but in choosing the ,president1 the ,votes shall be taken by ,states1 the ,representation from each ,state having one ,vote2 ,a quorum for this ,purpose shall consist of a ,member or ,members from two-thirds of the ,states1 and a ,majority of all the ,states shall be necessary to a ,choice4 ,in every ,case1 after the ,choice of the ,president1 the ,person having the greatest number of ,votes of the ,electors shall be the ,vice-,president4 ,but if there should remain two or more who have equal ,votes1 the ,senate shall choose from them by ,ballot the ,vice-,president499d ,footnote 99d3 ,this clause is superseded by ,article ,,xii1 ,amendments4 ,see page #cif4 ,the ,congress may determine the ,time of choosing the ,electors1 and the ,day on which they shall give their ,votes2 which ,day shall be the same throughout the ,united ,states4 ,no ,person except a natural born ,citizen1 or a ,citizen of the ,united ,states1 at the time of the ,adoption of this ,constitution1 shall be eligible to the ,office of ,president2 neither shall any person be eligible to that ,office who shall not have attained to the ,age of thirty-five ,years1 and been fourteen ,years a ,resident within the ,united ,states4 ,in case of the ,removal of the ,president from ,office1 or of his ,death1 ,resignation or ,inability to discharge the ,powers and ,duties of the said ,office1 the same shall devolve on the ,vice-president1 and the ,congress may by ,law provide for the ,case of ,removal1 ,death1 ,resignation or ,inability1 both of the ,president and ,vice-,president1 declaring what ,officer shall then act as ,president1 and such ,officer shall act accordingly1 until the ,disability be removed1 or a ,president shall be elected4 ,the ,president shall1 at stated ,times1 receive for his ,services1 a ,compensation1 which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the ,period for which he shall have been elected1 and he shall not receive within that period any other ,emolument from the ,united ,states1 or any of them4 ,before he enter on the ,execution of his ,office1 he shall take the following ,oath or ,affirmation3--,i do solemnly swear 7or affirm7 that ,i will faithfully execute the ,office of ,president of the ,united ,states1 and will to the best of my ,ability1 preserve1 protect1 and defend the ,constitution of the ,united ,states4 ,section #b4 ,the ,president shall be ,commander in ,chief of the ,army and ,navy of the ,united ,states1 and of the ,militia of the several ,states1 when called into the actual ,service of the ,united ,states2 he may require the ,opinion1 in writing1 of the principal ,officer in each of the executive ,departments1 upon any ,subject relating to the ,duties of their respective ,offices1 and he shall have ,power to grant ,reprieves and ,pardons for ,offences against the ,united ,states1 except in ,cases of ,impeachment4 ,he shall have ,power1 by and with the ,advice and ,consent of the ,senate1 to make ,treaties1 provided two-thirds of the ,senators present concur2 and he shall nominate1 and by and with the ,advice and ,consent of the ,senate1 shall appoint ,ambassadors1 other public ,ministers and ,consuls1 ,judges of the ,supreme ,court1 and all other ,officers of the ,united ,states1 whose ,appointments are not herein otherwise provided for1 and which shall be established by ,law3 but the ,congress may by ,law vest the ,appointment of such inferior ,officers1 as they think proper1 in the ,president alone1 in the ,courts of ,law1 or in the ,heads of ,departments4 ,the ,president shall have ,power to fill up all vacancies that may happen during the recess of the ,senate1 by granting ,commissions which shall expire at the ,end of their next ,session4 ,section #c4 ,he shall from time to time give to the ,congress ,information of the state of the ,union1 and recommend to their ,consideration such ,measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient2 he may1 on extraordinary ,occasions1 convene both ,houses1 or either of them1 and in ,case of ,disagreement between them1 with ,respect to the ,time of ,adjournment1 he may adjourn them to such ,time as he shall think proper2 he shall receive ,ambassadors and other ,public ,ministers2 he shall take ,care that the ,laws be faithfully executed1 and shall ,commission all the ,officers of the ,united ,states4 ,section #d4 ,the ,president1 ,vice-,president and all civil ,officers of the ,united ,states1 shall be removed from ,office on ,impeachment for1 and ,conviction of1 ,treason1 ,bribery1 or other ,high ,crimes and ,misdemeanors4 ,article ,,iii ,section #a4 ,the judicial ,power of the ,united ,states shall be vested in one supreme ,court1 and in such inferior ,courts as the ,congress may from time to time ordain and establish4 ,the ,judges1 both of the ,supreme and inferior ,courts1 shall hold their ,offices during good ,behaviour1 and shall1 at stated ,times1 receive for their ,services1 a ,compensation1 which shall not be diminished during their ,continuance in ,office4 ,section #b4 ,the judicial ,power shall extend to all cases1 in ,law and ,equity1 arising under this ,constitution1 the ,laws of the ,united ,states1 and ,treaties made1 or which shall be made1 under their ,authority2--to all ,cases affecting ,ambassadors1 other public ,ministers and ,consuls2--to all cases of ,admiralty and maritime ,jurisdiction2 to ,controversies to which the ,united ,states shall be a ,party2--to ,controversies between two or more ,states2--between a ,state and ,citizens of another ,state2 between ,citizens of different ,states1--between ,citizens of the same ,state claiming ,lands under ,grants of different ,states1 and between a ,state1 or the ,citizens thereof1 and foreign ,states1 ,citizens or ,subjects4 ,in all ,cases affecting ,ambassadors1 other public ,ministers and ,consuls1 and those in which a ,state shall be ,party1 the ,supreme ,court shall have original ,jurisdiction4 ,in all the other ,cases before mentioned1 the ,supreme ,court shall have appellate ,jurisdiction1 both as to ,law and ,fact1 with such ,exceptions and under such ,regulations as the ,congress shall make4 ,the ,trial of all ,crimes1 except in ,cases of ,impeachment1 shall be by ,jury2 and such ,trial shall be held in the ,state where the said ,crimes shall have been committed2 but when not committed within any ,state1 the ,trial shall be at such ,place or ,places as the ,congress may by ,law have directed4 ,section #c4 ,treason against the ,united ,states shall consist only in levying ,war against them1 or in adhering to their ,enemies1 giving them ,aid and ,comfort4 ,no person shall be convicted of ,treason unless on the ,testimony of two ,witnesses to the same overt ,act1 or on ,confession in open ,court4 ,the ,congress shall have power to declare the ,punishment of ,treason1 but no ,attainder of ,treason shall work ,corruption of ,blood or ,forfeiture except during the life of the person attainted4 ,article ,,iv ,section #a4 ,full ,faith and ,credit shall be given in each ,state to the ,public ,acts1 ,records1 and judicial ,proceedings of every other ,state4 ,and the ,congress may by general ,laws prescribe the ,manner in which such ,acts1 ,records and ,proceedings shall be proved1 and the ,effect thereof4 ,section #b4 ,the ,citizens of each ,state shall be entitled to all ,privileges and ,immunities of ,citizens in the several ,states4 ,a person charged in any ,state with ,treason1 ,felony1 or other ,crime1 who shall flee from ,justice1 and be found in another ,state1 shall on ,demand of the executive ,authority of the ,state from which he fled1 be delivered up1 to be removed to the ,state having ,jurisdiction of the ,crime4 ,no ,person held to ,service or ,labour in one ,state1 under the ,laws thereof1 escaping into another1 shall1 in consequence of any ,law or ,regulation therein1 be discharged from such ,service or ,labour1 but shall be delivered up on ,claim of the ,party to whom such ,service or ,labour may be due4 ,section #c4 ,new ,states may be admitted by the ,congress into this ,union2 but no new ,state shall be formed or erected within the ,jurisdiction of any other ,state2 nor any ,state be formed by the ,junction of two or more ,states1 or ,parts of ,states1 without the ,consent of the ,legislatures of the ,states concerned as well as of the ,congress4 ,the ,congress shall have ,power to dispose of and make all needful ,rules and ,regulations respecting the ,territory or other ,property belonging to the ,united ,states2 and nothing in this ,constitution shall be so construed as to ,prejudice any ,claims of the ,united ,states1 or of any particular ,state4 ,section #d4 ,the ,united ,states shall guarantee to every ,state in this ,union a ,republican ,form of ,government1 and shall protect each of them against ,invasion2 and on ,application of the ,legislature1 or of the ,executive 7when the ,legislature cannot be convened7 against domestic ,violence4 ,article ,v ,the ,congress1 whenever two-thirds of both ,houses shall deem it necessary1 shall propose ,amendments to this ,constitution1 or1 on the ,application of the ,legislatures of two-thirds of the several ,states1 shall call a ,convention for proposing ,amendments1 which1 in either ,case1 shall be valid to all ,intents and ,purposes1 as ,part of this ,constitution1 when ratified by the ,legislatures of three-fourths of the several ,states1 or by ,conventions in three-fourths thereof1 as the one or the other ,mode of ,ratification may be proposed by the ,congress2 ,provided that no ,amendment which may be made prior to the ,year ,one thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any ,manner affect the first and fourth ,clauses in the ,ninth ,section of the first ,article2 and that no ,state1 without its ,consent1 shall be deprived of its equal ,suffrage in the ,senate4 ,article ,,vi ,all ,debts contracted and ,engagements entered into1 before the ,adoption of this ,constitution1 shall be as valid against the ,united ,states under this ,constitution1 as under the ,confederation4 ,this ,constitution1 and the ,laws of the ,united ,states which shall be made in ,pursuance thereof2 and all ,treaties made1 or which shall be made1 under the ,authority of the ,united ,states1 shall be the supreme ,law of the ,land2 and the ,judges in every ,state shall be bound thereby1 any ,thing in the ,constitution or ,laws of any ,state to the contrary notwithstanding4 ,the ,senators and ,representatives before mentioned1 and the ,members of the several ,state ,legislatures1 and all executive and judicial ,officers1 both of the ,united ,states and of the several ,states1 shall be bound by ,oath or ,affirmation to support this ,constitution2 but no religious test shall ever be required as a ,qualification to any ,office or public ,trust under the ,united ,states4 ,article ,,vii ,the ,ratification of the ,conventions of nine ,states shall be sufficient for the ,establishment of this ,constitution between the ,states so ratifying the ,same4 ,done in ,convention by the ,unanimous ,consent of the ,states present the ,seventeenth ,day of ,september in the ,year of ,our ,lord ,one thousand seven hundred and eighty-seven and of the ,independence of the ,united ,states of ,america the ,twelfth4 ,in witness whereof ,we have hereunto subscribed our ,names1 ,geo4 ,washington ,presidt4 and deputy from ,virginia4 ,new ,hampshire ,john ,langdon ,nicholas ,gilman ,massachusetts ,nathaniel ,gorham ,rufus ,king ,connecticut ,wm4 ,saml4 ,johnson ,roger ,sherman ,new ,york ,alexander ,hamilton ,new ,jersey ,wil4 ,livingston4 ,david ,brearley4 ,wm4 ,paterson4 ,jona4 ,dayton ,pennsylvania ,b ,franklin ,thomas ,mifflin ,robt4 ,morris4 ,geo4 ,clymer ,thos4 ,fitzsimons ,jared ,ingersoll ,james ,wilson ,gouv4 ,morris ,delaware ,geo4 ,read ,gunning ,bedford ,jun ,john ,dickinson ,richard ,bassett ,jaco4 ,broom ,maryland ,james ,mc,henry ,dan of ,st ,thos4 ,jenifer ,danl4 ,carroll ,virginia ,john ,blair-- ,james ,madison ,jr4 ,north ,carolina ,wm4 ,blount ,richd4 ,dobbs ,spaight ,hu4 ,williamson ,south ,carolina ,j4 ,rutledge ,charles ,cotesworth ,pinckney ,charles ,pinckney ,peirce ,butler4 ,georgia ,william ,few ,abr4 ,baldwin ,attest4 ,william ,jackson1 ,secretary ,the ,word 'the1' being interlined between the seventh and eighth ,lines of the first ,page1 ,the word ',thirty' being partly written on an ,erasure in the fifteenth ,line of the first ,page1 ,the ,words 'is tried' being interlined between the thirty-second and thirty-third ,lines of the first ,page1 and the ,word 'the' being interlined between the forty-third and forty-fourth ,lines of the second page4 ,note by the ,department of ,state4--,the foregoing explanation in the original instrument is placed on the left of the paragraph beginning with the words1 ',done in ,convention1' and therefore precedes the signatures4 ,the interlined and rewritten words1 mentioned in it1 are in this edition printed in their proper places in the text4 ,bill ,of ,rights ,in addition to1 and amendment of1 the ,constitution of the ,united ,states of ,america1 proposed by ,congress and ratified by the ,legislatures of the several ,states1 pursuant to the ,fifth ,article of the original ,constitution ,article ,i ,congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion1 or prohibiting the free exercise thereof2 or abridging the freedom of speech1 or of the press2 or the right of the people peaceably to assemble1 and to petition the ,government for a redress of grievances4 ,article ,,ii ,a well regulated ,militia being necessary to the security of a free ,state1 the right of the people to keep and bear ,arms shall not be infringed4 ,article ,,iii ,no ,soldier shall in time of peace be quartered in any house without the consent of the ,owner1 nor in time of war1 but in a manner to be prescribed by law4 ,article ,,iv ,the right of the people to be secure in their persons1 houses1 papers1 and effects1 against unreasonable searches and seizures1 shall not be violated1 and no warrants shall issue1 but upon probable cause1 supported by ,oath or ,affirmation1 and particularly describing the place to be searched1 and the persons or things to be seized4 ,article ,v ,no person shall be held to answer for a capital1 or otherwise infamous crime1 unless on a presentment or indictment of a ,grand ,jury1 except in cases arising in the land or naval forces1 or in the ,militia1 when in actual service in time of ,war or public danger2 nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb2 nor shall be compelled in any ,criminal ,case to be a witness against himself1 nor be deprived of life1 liberty1 or property1 without due process of law2 nor shall private property be taken for public use1 without just compensation4 ,article ,,vi ,in all criminal prosecutions1 the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial1 by an impartial jury of the ,state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed1 which district shall have been previously ascertained by law1 and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation2 to be confronted with the witnesses against him2 to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favour1 and to have the ,assistance of ,counsel for his defence4 ,article ,,vii ,in suits at common law1 where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars1 the right of trial by jury shall be preserved1 and no fact tried by a jury shall be otherwise re-examined in any ,court of the ,united ,states1 than according to the rules of the common law4 ,article ,,viii ,excessive bail shall not be required1 nor excessive fines imposed1 nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted4 ,article ,,ix ,the enumeration in the ,constitution1 of certain rights1 shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people4 ,article ,x ,the powers not delegated to the ,united ,states by the ,constitution1 nor prohibited by it to the ,states1 are reserved to the ,states respectively1 or to the people4 ,article ,,xi ,the ,judicial power of the ,united ,states shall not be construed to extend to any suit in law or equity1 commenced or prosecuted against one of the ,united ,states by ,citizens of another ,state1 or by ,citizens or ,subjects of any ,foreign ,state4 ,article ,,xii ,the electors shall meet in their respective ,states1 and vote by ballot for ,president and ,vice-,president1 one of whom1 at least1 shall not be an inhabitant of the same ,state with themselves2 they shall name in their ballots the person voted for as ,president2 and in distinct ballots the person voted for as ,vice-,president2 and they shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as ,president1 and of all persons voted for as ,vice ,president1 and of the number of votes for each1 which lists they shall sign and certify1 and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the ,united ,states1 directed to the ,president of the ,senate2--,the ,president of the ,senate shall1 in the presence of the ,senate and ,house of ,representatives1 open all the certificates and the votes shall then be counted2--,the person having the greatest number of votes for ,president1 shall be the ,president1 if such number be a majority of the whole number of ,electors appointed2 and if no person have such majority1 then from the persons having the highest numbers not exceeding three on the list of those voted for as ,president1 the ,house of ,representatives shall choose immediately1 by ballot1 the ,president4 ,but in choosing the ,president1 the votes shall be taken by ,states1 the representation from each ,state having one vote2 a quorum for this purpose shall consist of a member or members from two-thirds of the ,states1 and a majority of all the ,states shall be necessary to a choice4 ,and if the ,house of ,representatives shall not choose a ,president whenever the right of choice shall devolve upon them1 before the fourth day of ,march next following1 then the ,vice-,president shall act as ,president1 as in the case of the death or other constitutional disability of the ,president4 ,the person having the greatest number of votes as ,vice-,president1 shall be the ,vice-,president1 if such a number be a majority of the whole number of ,electors appointed1 and if no person have a majority1 then from the two highest numbers on the list1 the ,senate shall choose the ,vice-,president2 a quorum for the purpose shall consist of two-thirds of the whole number of ,senators1 and a majority of the whole number shall be necessary to a choice4 ,but no person constitutionally ineligible to the office of ,president shall be eligible to that of ,vice-,president of the ,united ,states4 ,article ,,xiii ,section #a4 ,neither slavery nor involuntary servitude1 except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted1 shall exist within the ,united ,states1 or any place subject to their jurisdiction4 ,section #b4 ,congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation4 ,article ,,xiv ,section #a4 ,all persons born or naturalized in the ,united ,states1 and subject to the jurisdiction thereof1 are citizens of the ,united ,states and of the ,state wherein they reside4 ,no ,state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the ,united ,states2 nor shall any ,state deprive any person of life1 liberty1 or property1 without due process of law2 nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws4 ,section #b4 ,representatives shall be apportioned among the several ,states according to their respective numbers1 counting the whole number of persons in each ,state1 excluding ,indians not taxed4 ,but when the right to vote at any election for the choice of electors for ,president and ,vice-,president of the ,united ,states1 ,representatives in ,congress1 the ,executive and ,judicial officers of a ,state1 or the members of the ,legislature thereof1 is denied to any of the male inhabitants of such ,state1 being twenty-one years of age1 and citizens of the ,united ,states1 or in any way abridged1 except for participation in rebellion1 or other crime1 the basis of representation therein shall be reduced in the proportion which the number of such male citizens shall bear to the whole number of male citizens twenty-one years of age in such ,state4 ,section #c4 ,no person shall be a ,senator or ,representative in ,congress1 or elector of ,president and ,vice-,president1 or hold any office1 civil or military1 under the ,united ,states1 or under any ,state1 who1 having previously taken an oath1 as a member of ,congress1 or as an officer of the ,united ,states1 or as a member of any ,state legislature1 or as an executive or judicial officer of any ,state1 to support the ,constitution of the ,united ,states1 shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same1 or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof4 ,but ,congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each ,house1 remove such disability4 ,section #d4 ,the validity of the public debt of the ,united ,states1 authorized by law1 including debts incurred for payment of pensions and bounties for services in suppressing insurrection or rebellion1 shall not be questioned4 ,but neither the ,united ,states nor any ,state shall assume or pay any debt or obligation incurred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the ,united ,states1 or any claim for the loss or emancipation of any slave2 but all such debts1 obligations and claims shall be held illegal and void4 ,section #e4 ,the ,congress shall have power to enforce1 by appropriate legislation1 the provisions of this article4 ,article ,,xv ,section #a4 ,the right of citizens of the ,united ,states to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the ,united ,states or by any ,state on account of race1 colour1 or previous condition of servitude4 ,section #b4 ,the ,congress shall have power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation4