love of truth is paramount with him. He complains that "people say the ruins "of Paestum stand in the midst of a "desert; whereas their site is nothing "more than a miserable, badly-cultivated

country, decaying like the temples "themselves! Men always insist on adorning truth instead of describing "it. Even M. de Chateaubriand has "painted the real wilderness in false "colours." His own "Fortnight in the Wilderness" will interest even those who are sated with pictures of wild life. The fire and vivacity, the susceptible imagination and the keen observation, may be met with elsewhere; but hardly ever controlled by a reason so sober and truthful, or enlightened by such breadth of view.

When, however, in analysing the picture of character which Tocqueville's letters leave upon my mind, I try to seize the ground-colour that gives the tone to the whole, it seems to me to consist in a child-like elevation of feeling. In one passage of the memoir, M. de Beaumont observes that "intel"lectual superiority would hardly be "worth having if the moral feelings and "the character were to remain at the "ordinary level." This outburst of naïf enthusiasm strikes one as almost comic, in the mouth of an elderly politician; but it suits Tocqueville exactly. The lofty moral ideal, which in the case of so many men shines clearly in youth, and then gradually fades away before the commonplaces of practical life, exercised over Tocqueville a perpetual and harmonious influence. This seems to have been partly due to the delicate balance that he always preserved between reason and feeling. Neither enthusiasm, passion, nor vanity, of all which he had his fair share, ever hindered him from seeing things exactly as they were; and this striking soberness of judgment protected his youthful enthusiasm, and prevented it from being too rudely shaken by a contact with the realities of the world. Consequently, his letters indicate remarkably little development of character, considering the period over which they

extend; and what little they do show is very calm and equable. Nor is there any exaggerated mock-maturity in his youthful wisdom, or forced vivacity in the outbursts of his later years. We see, indeed, that his unbounded ambition that promethean fire which is needed to impel the most finely compounded characters into proper actionwas calmed gradually into a quieter and more hidden feeling; yet even this ambition had never made him overestimate the success towards which it strove. He writes at the age of thirty to his most intimate friend, "As I "advance in life, I see it more and more "from the point of view which I used "to fancy belonged to the enthusiasm "of early youth, as a thing of very "mediocre worth, valuable only as far as one can employ it in doing one's

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duty in serving men, and in taking "one's fit place among them." And, fifteen years later, he writes to M. de Beaumont : "I consoled myself by "thinking that, if I had to live this quarter of a century over again, I "should not on the whole act very differently. I should try to avoid many "trifling errors, and many undoubted "follies; but as to the bulk of my ideas, "sentiments, and even actions, I should "make no change. I also remarked "how little alteration there was in my "views of men in general during all "these years.

Much is said about the "dreams of youth, and the awaking of "mature age. I have not noticed this "in myself. I was from the first struck

by the vices and weaknesses of man"kind; and, as to the good qualities "which I then attributed to them, I "must say that I still find them much "the same." It is truly refreshing to us whose ears are filled with the painful cynicism of premature experience, to find that even now, to some favoured souls, is granted the privilege of perpetual youth.

If any lack of interest should be felt in these letters, it will be, I think, from a cause which is not altogether a defect. There are no shadows, in one sense, in the picture. It is all clear sunshine in

Tocqueville's life, both inner and outer. The perfect healthiness of his nature excludes the charm that is sometimes derived from an element of morbidity. But one may also say with truth, that there is a want of depth. Perhaps the most interesting element in the lives of great thinkers is their imperfect utterance of deep truths only half-grasped; their consciousness of enveloping mystery and darkness, into which the light that shines from them throws only dim suggestive rays. We find nothing of this in Tocqueville. "Shallow" and and "superficial" are the last epithets that could be applied; and yet we cannot call him profound, either in character or intellect. Earnest as he was in the search after truth, he was destitute of one power, necessary in the pursuit of the highest truth; he could not endure to doubt. M. Beaumont extracts from his early notes this remarkable passage: "If I were desired to classify human "miseries I should do so in this "order :

"1. Sickness. "2. Death. "3. Doubt."

In respect, therefore, of the deepest interests of humanity he was content to be guided. He was devoutly attached. to Romanism; but rather from the felt necessity of having a religion, than from a deliberate conviction in favour of the particular creed. He had acutely observed some of the more particular mutual influences of religions and forms of government; but his remarks on the more general relations of religion to humanity seem to me to constitute the weakest part of his writings. To metaphysics he had a dislike which he frequently shows. He sends M. de Corcelle a copy of Aristotle, with the remark that it is "much too Greek to suit him ;" and in the second part of his "Democracy in America" we can detect, here and there, that his acquaintance with philosophy is somewhat superficial. It is no contradiction to this, that Tocqueville displays considerable skill in psychological analysis. He shows the same superiority in everything that de

pends only or chiefly on individual observation and reflection. His insight

was always both keen and wide, his analysis both ingenious and sound; but systematic abstract thought was not to his taste, and he never pursued it with his full energy. We may sum up much by saying that Tocqueville applied to the study of politics a mind that, both in its merits and in its defects, was of the scientific rather than the philosophic kind. We notice in him many traits peculiar to students of physics. Thus, he early chose and always adhered to a special and definite subject of study; his method was purely inductive; he always went straight to the original documents, which formed, as it were, the matter whose laws he was investigating; he wrote down only the results of long and laborious observation; and these results were again rigorously winnowed before they saw the light. "For one book he published," says M. Beaumont, "he wrote ten." And this is corroborated by the glimpses into his laboratory that his letters from time to time allow. Thus, at the outset of his preparation for his last work, he says, "I investigate, I experimentalize : "I try to grasp the facts more closely "than has yet been attempted, and to "wring out of them the general truths "which they contain." And again, three years later: "I make the utmost "efforts to ascertain, from contemporary "evidence, what really happened; and "often spend great labour in discovering "what was ready to my hand. When "I have gathered in this toilsome har"vest, I retire, as it were, into myself: "I examine with extreme care, collate "and connect the notions which I have

tirely; his avoidance of other writers on his own subject caused him, as he allows, great waste of power; his treatment of economical questions strikes one often as too empirical and tentative; political economy, when he first wrote, had not taken rank as a true science, and his was not the mind to labour at systematizing and correcting a mass of alien generalizations. But, while this diminishes occasionally the intrinsic value of his speculations, it adds to the harmonious freshness of his writings; and, his observation being unerring, his most hasty generalizations are always partially true.

The writings of Tocqueville mark an era in the study of political science. Hitherto writers on this subject have laboured under defects of two different kinds. Their science was only struggling into birth, and their own insight was rarely clear from the mists of partiality. For a long time, it is true, the study of man will lag far behind the study of nature, but Tocqueville's books indicate a transition to a better phase. The pioneers in the van of all sciences will be men rather of a strong imagination than a sober reason; they have need of the former to fight the various obstacles that an unknown country presents. Consequently, their view will be wide and indefinite; their assertions confused, yet violent; they will not be content to trace the development of a few principles out of many, but they will make their own poverty the measure of Nature's variety, and group all the facts they meet with round the few principles they have strongly grasped. Such men are necessary to make the first move in any science, but they must pass away and give place to others. The early Greek physicists, the founders of science, bear, of course, this character. In the study of external nature we have now attained to a learned modesty which smiles at their ignorant rashness; but in the more difficult study of man we are still taught by thinkers who, for hastiness of generalization and audacity of assertion may be compared to the well-known Greek philosopher, who

held that "all things were made of water."

But what has most hampered political thinkers in all ages is the little free play that has been allowed to their intellects, by passion, prejudice, and interest. These have warped unconsciously the speculations of the nobler souls, and consciously those of the ignobler. Not that the slavery has been complete; but the extraneous influence has fixed in the field of inquiry impassable limits and unassailable posts. Where men have overcome the promptings of selfishness, they have been unable to throw off early beliefs, cramped by the narrowness of a caste: or they have fallen into the equally fatal bondage of a violent reaction from these beliefs. In the latter case, however, where the restraints have been merely negative, where the reason of men has been free to choose anything except certain received opinions, the philosophy of politics has always made greater progress. This was the case with the French philosophers, who preceded '89. The natural wildness of awakening speculation was enhanced by their negative position, their sweeping antagonism to an effete system. This extravagance, however, will always be gradually corrected, either by the bitter teachings of experience, or less painfully by the progress of science, and the bloodless contests of the pen. The first halfdiscoverer of a truth is apt to shout out arrogantly his half-discovery; his successor, to equal enthusiasm, joins greater modesty of assertion. Not that the cast-off chimeras fall immediately to the ground; but they are taken by men of inferior intellect, and with smaller following. In freedom, however, from the defects I have noticed, Tocqueville has out-stripped his age, and his works will long remain models both in style and matter. They are not made to strike or startle, but they powerfully absorb the attention, and convince the reason. Their excellence often conceals their originality; the perfect arrangement of facts makes the conclusions drawn from them appear to lie on the surface; the ideas are so carefully explained, defined,

and disentangled, the arguments are strained so clear, that we are cheated into the belief that we should have thought the same ourselves, if we had happened to develop our views on the subject. Thus conviction steals in unawares, and it is only by carefully comparing our views before and after perusal that we find how much we have gained.

Tocqueville may be considered from another point of view as an embodiment of the spirit of the age. As civilization progresses, unless patriotism decays, the votaries of political science will increase very rapidly in number. Not only will the men think who are thinkers by nature, but the men of action will be forced into the study of first principles. As the barriers between castes are effaced, and national prejudices fade before increasing mutual communication, every honest and sincere patriot will find it more and more impossible to submit, in any degree whatsoever, to political leading-strings. If he is without independence of mind, he will become a disciple; if he possesses it, he will study widely and impartially for himself.

In any case he will not be the partisan he would in another age have been. The bent of Tocqueville's mind was eminently practical and patriotic: he did not enter into study so much for the sake of abstract truth, as for the sake of his country. He was an aristocrat by birth and sentiment, whose education and experience had enabled him to get rid of aristocratic prejudices without contracting opposite ones. His impressible mind had early conceived a strong enthusiasm for liberty; and his common sense accepted social equality as inevitable. unique position is due to his clear discrimination between the two, liberty and equality; between the motives for which they are sought, and the results that follow their attainment. He was one of the first to tear the sophism that the tyranny of the majority is freedom, and the sophism that popular election of an omnipotent government constitutes the government of the people. But this article is not the place for an analysis of Tocqueville's writings, and without

His

such an analysis I could not do justice to his opinions on this subject—for the investigation of the mutual relations. of liberty and equality occupied the whole of his literary life; it forms the guiding thread of both his books.

Before the time comes for writing the history of the period of Tocqueville's public life, we may hope that a more copious selection from his correspondence will be vouchsafed to the world. The additions, however, in the English collection, are of considerable value, especially in following Tocqueville through the troubled years 1848-52. At first sight it seems surprising that Tocqueville did not make more impression as an active politician. active politician. It is not, of course, his mere literary pre-eminence that would cause this surprise; but practicality, as I have shown, is one of his chief characteristics as a thinker. Clearness, soberness, and shrewdness, together with breadth and originality of views, form a perfect combination for a statesman. He was, however, always in circumstances unfavourable to the display of his talents; and he had not the egotistic force of character which overcomes unfavourable circumstances. At the outset of his political career, in an interesting correspondence with Count Molé, he displays an exaggerated moral sensitiveness; and his very ambition was of the kind that hampers rather than sustains a man. He was not content that his motives should be elevated, and his conduct pure; he desired to excel in purity and elevation. To this overstrained purism we must attribute his remaining in opposition during the years 1840-48. It is true that his disagreement with the Duchatel-Guizot policy was sufficient to justify parliamentary opposition in ordinary times; but a patriot so sober and enlightened as Tocqueville might have discerned the necessity of sacrificing minor differences at that crisis, in the general cause of order and constitutional government. As it was, he attached himself to a composite party, with many of whose heterogeneous elements he must have had far less sympathy than with the ministry. Thus his oratory,

far more adapted to exposition than attack, found no scope; his moderation kept him unnoticed among men more bold, more captious, or more unscrupulous than himself: altogether, he gained respect, rather than influence, and came to be considered rather as a useful adviser than a capable leader.

The Revolution of 1848 came. Tocqueville had predicted a similar event a month before, but he was not deceived as to its factitious nature. The more we examine this "sham Revolution," the more perfect an instance it appears of the irony of history. Never were causes more disproportionate to effects. It was the mere sound of the names "French" and "Revolution" combined that shook the thrones of Europe; the resemblance between the different movements of the year is thoroughly superficial. The cry for social reform at Paris is echoed by a cry for national union at Berlin, a cry for national independence at Pesth and Milan; and this Parisian cry for social reform was steadily repudiated by France. "The nation," says Tocqueville, in a letter to Mr. Grote, "did not wish for a revolution, much less for a republic." And he argues, "That the whole of the "year 1848 has been one long and pain"ful effort on the part of the nation to 'recover what it was robbed of by the "surprise of February." He shows that it was only by a decision and rapidity of action worthy of a better cause that the house of Orleans contrived to lose the throne. The monarchy yielded to an émeute far less formidable than that which the feeble and ephemeral Provisional Government quelled in June. Tocqueville describes, from his own experience, how an hour's delay might have saved it.

With a heavy heart, but with undiminished zeal, Tocqueville addressed himself to the task of supporting the republic. Grieved and disgusted as he was with the Revolution and the follies of the Provisional Government, he saw in the Republic the last chance of constitutional freedom. He was not slow in estimating how fatal a wound the frenzy of a day had inflicted on the

country. The revolution, executed in the name of the masses, had stirred among those masses only a feeling of dull distrust and languid fear, hardly chequered by a little vague hope and curiosity. Had the Provisional Government had any real work to do, any desired social improvement to effect, it might have regained public confidence. But, as it was unable at all to counterbalance the necessary evils of a revolu tion, while it shewed marked incompetence in the ordinary business of administration, affairs grew daily and worse. The peasant proprietors of France, to whom appeal had to be made, have the ordinary characteristics of their class. They are well-meaning and intelligent, but selfish and narrow very shrewd on all matters within their ken, very ignorant upon all without; entirely absorbed in their individual struggle for prosperity, and desiring peace, order, stability, above all other goods. They had never appreciated the advantages of government by parties before the close of 1848 they were decidedly prejudiced against it, and longing to repose on one strong arm. Such were the men to whom universal suffrage confided the fate of France.

It is melancholy to follow, under Tocqueville's guidance, the details of the long death-struggle of French freedom. He had the pain of seeing clearly the present and future evils, while totally unable to heal the one or prevent the other. Even had he possessed more influence, his peculiar talents were hardly fitted for such troublous times: he would always have shrunk from the slightest violation of forms, though hampered by one of the worst constitutions ever framed, and face to face with an unscrupulous foe. In truth, the struggle was most unequal. On the one side were the débris of old parties, disunited by long habit, disorganized by the entire change in their position, stunned by the rapid succession of political shocks, confused by the working of their new constitution, vacillating between the desire to deal fairly with their President and the desire to protect themselves from his attacks, distrustful of each other and