Democracy in America — Volume 2 by Alexis de Tocqueville
Chapter XV: The Study Of Greek And Latin Literature Peculiarly Useful In
733 words | Chapter 16
Democratic Communities
What was called the People in the most democratic republics of
antiquity, was very unlike what we designate by that term. In Athens,
all the citizens took part in public affairs; but there were only 20,000
citizens to more than 350,000 inhabitants. All the rest were slaves, and
discharged the greater part of those duties which belong at the present
day to the lower or even to the middle classes. Athens, then, with her
universal suffrage, was after all merely an aristocratic republic in
which all the nobles had an equal right to the government. The struggle
between the patricians and plebeians of Rome must be considered in
the same light: it was simply an intestine feud between the elder and
younger branches of the same family. All the citizens belonged, in fact,
to the aristocracy, and partook of its character.
It is moreover to be remarked, that amongst the ancients books were
always scarce and dear; and that very great difficulties impeded their
publication and circulation. These circumstances concentrated literary
tastes and habits amongst a small number of men, who formed a small
literary aristocracy out of the choicer spirits of the great political
aristocracy. Accordingly nothing goes to prove that literature was ever
treated as a trade amongst the Greeks and Romans.
These peoples, which not only constituted aristocracies, but very
polished and free nations, of course imparted to their literary
productions the defects and the merits which characterize the literature
of aristocratic ages. And indeed a very superficial survey of the
literary remains of the ancients will suffice to convince us, that if
those writers were sometimes deficient in variety, or fertility in their
subjects, or in boldness, vivacity, or power of generalization in
their thoughts, they always displayed exquisite care and skill in their
details. Nothing in their works seems to be done hastily or at random:
every line is written for the eye of the connoisseur, and is shaped
after some conception of ideal beauty. No literature places those fine
qualities, in which the writers of democracies are naturally deficient,
in bolder relief than that of the ancients; no literature, therefore,
ought to be more studied in democratic ages. This study is better suited
than any other to combat the literary defects inherent in those ages; as
for their more praiseworthy literary qualities, they will spring up of
their own accord, without its being necessary to learn to acquire them.
It is important that this point should be clearly understood. A
particular study may be useful to the literature of a people, without
being appropriate to its social and political wants. 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 fortune, the result would be a very
polished, but a very dangerous, race of citizens. For as their social
and political condition would give them every day a sense of wants which
their education would never teach them to supply, they would perturb the
State, in the name of the Greeks and Romans, instead of enriching it by
their productive industry.
It is evident that in democratic communities the interest of
individuals, as well as the security of the commonwealth, demands that
the education of the greater number should be scientific, commercial,
and industrial, rather than literary. Greek and Latin should not be
taught in all schools; but it is important that those who by their
natural disposition or their fortune are destined to cultivate letters
or prepared to relish them, should find schools where a complete
knowledge of ancient literature may be acquired, and where the true
scholar may be formed. A few excellent universities would do more
towards the attainment of this object than a vast number of bad grammar
schools, where superfluous matters, badly learned, stand in the way of
sound instruction in necessary studies.
All who aspire to literary excellence in democratic nations, ought
frequently to refresh themselves at the springs of ancient literature:
there is no more wholesome course for the mind. Not that I hold the
literary productions of the ancients to be irreproachable; but I
think that they have some especial merits, admirably calculated to
counterbalance our peculiar defects. They are a prop on the side on
which we are in most danger of falling.
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