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TOCQUEVILLE
AND BEAUMONT
Aristocratic
Liberalism in
Democratic Times
Andreas Hess
Tocqueville and Beaumont
Andreas Hess
Tocqueville and
Beaumont
Aristocratic Liberalism in Democratic Times
Andreas Hess
School of Sociology
University College Dublin
Belfield, Dublin, Ireland
Cover illustration: Pattern adapted from an Indian cotton print produced in the 19th century
5 What Remains? 131
References 143
Index 147
v
CHAPTER 1
The main aim of this book is to understand the birth pangs of modern
democracy after the ‘Democratic Revolutions’ (R. R. Palmer) – in essence
the American and the French Revolutions – whose reverberations, knock-
on effects and unresolved problems could be felt for much of the nine-
teenth century and beyond, in many countries. I maintain that the work
and political careers of Alexis de Tocqueville and Gustave de Beaumont
are a fascinating lens through which those democratic revolutions and
their consequences, contradictions, problems and unfulfilled promises can
be studied.1
There exist numerous studies dealing with Tocqueville (1805–59) and
his work: two long biographies (De Jardin 1988; Brogan 2006), many
monographs and even more articles that discuss Tocqueville’s Democracy
in America or his Ancien Régime in great detail, not to speak of the many
titles that address other aspects of Tocqueville’s work or that relate to
themes and topics addressed in Tocqueville’s pioneering studies (see, for
example, the various contributions gathered in The Cambridge Companion
to Tocqueville (2006) or The Tocqueville Review (1979–)).
Considerably less has been published about the contributions of
Tocqueville’s friend, co-traveller, co-writer and life-long friend, Gustave
de Beaumont (1802–66), and even less about their collaboration.
A recent collection of Tocqueville and Beaumont’s writings on America
(Tocqueville and Beaumont 2010) attempts to examine their joint efforts
in studying the emerging American democracy. It gathers some of the
central texts of the two friends in one volume. However, while the publi-
cation makes their joint output more easily available, it is rather disap-
pointing in terms of the interpretation of the nature of the collaboration
between the two men. Once again, the focus is, if at all, on their differ-
ences, despite the overwhelming evidence of shared preoccupations and
work almost through their entire lives. Such insistence on the differences
instead of the similarities and overlaps neglects the arguments made in the
pioneering work of Drescher (1964, 1968), and more recently reasserted
in Drolet (2003), Garvin and Hess (2006, 2009) and Hess (2009), all of
whom have pointed out that the commonalities and collaboration between
the two friends need to be taken more seriously and studied in greater
detail. Such emphasis does of course not neglect the real differences
between the two writers; it just serves as a reminder to give credit to joint
efforts where credit is due.
INTRODUCTION: A TWO-MAN RESEARCH MACHINE 3
nobility in his soul. The better I know him, the more I like him. Our lives
are now joined together. It is clear that our destinies are and will always be
linked. This tie enlivens our friendship and brings us closer together.” And
in anticipation of what was to come he notes “we are meditating ambitious
projects” (both quotes in Tocqueville 2010: 6). Reflecting about their
common experiences and their differences in terms of passions and inter-
ests and how, related to that, their minds worked, Tocqueville commented
in a letter to Beaumont written many years later, in 1839, at a time when
Tocqueville had put the finishing touches on the second volume of
Democracy and Beaumont had just finished his Ireland book: “Your mind
is indivisible. You must not pity yourself too much for this, because it is a
sign of strength. You are always ablaze, but you catch fire for only one
thing at a time, and you do not have any curiosity or interest in anything
else. It is for that reason that within the greatest intimacy, we have always
had points at which we did not touch and never reached each other. I have
an insatiable, ardent curiosity, which is always carrying me to the right and
to the left of my way. Yours leads you just as impetuously, but always toward
a single object.” A few lines further down Tocqueville asks, clearly puzzled
by the conundrum of their joint efforts but also their different approaches:
“Which of us is right in the way he conducts his mind? In truth, I have no
idea.” He concludes: “I believe that the result will always be that you will
know better than I, and I more than you” (in Tocqueville 1985: 130f).
The friendship seemed to have been clouded over only once, and then
only for a few weeks, in 1844. The disagreement developed over an educa-
tion bill, which Tocqueville had opposed in the French Assembly, a stance
which he expected Beaumont to follow publicly. Beaumont did in fact
support Tocqueville’s position but also tried to remain faithful to the edi-
torial line of his paper Le Siècle, which took a different line than Le
Commerce, the paper Tocqueville had used as an outlet. Through the
intervention of various friends and acquaintances the two were soon rec-
onciled. Each acknowledged afterwards that the dispute had taken them
too far in their passions; the disagreement ended with both asking each
other for understanding and forgiveness.
There was simply nobody else in Tocqueville’s life who would have had
the same kind of influence and sense of friendship or would have had that
kind of sustained joined experience and exchange, and perhaps most
importantly, mutual trust. This, to repeat, does not mean that there
weren’t also some differences on occasion, as for example acknowledged
in the letters mentioned above. However, the point is that hinting at such
6 A. HESS
America with the purpose of investigating the new prison systems of the
United States to find out to what extent they resembled or differed from
the French system and if there were any innovations which the French
authorities might profitably study. In April 1831, the two friends left Le
Havre for America where they were to stay until February 1832. They first
arrived in New York and spent a few weeks in the city and its environs.
From New York they went to Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore and
Washington before returning to New York. Two further excursions were
also part of the trip, one to the Northwest and Canada, and another down
the Mississippi river to New Orleans.
The trip turned out to be a success in more than one respect. The two
friends managed to gather plenty of information about prisons and the
American penitentiary systems. However, the most important result of
their journey was the discovery that the comparison of prison systems not
only provided the organisational pretext for but also some insights into
the new, democratic ‘philosophy’ and its practices. They argued that the
way a penitentiary system treats its prisoners reveals how a regime treats its
individual citizens or subjects in general. American prisons apparently
didn’t simply let their prisoners rot in their cells but attempted to improve
their character through various means, either by putting them to work or
by isolating them. Although far from perfect from today’s perspective, this
new ‘enlightened’ attitude was the true revelation of the New World in the
eyes of the two Frenchmen. Yet it was in the end less the prison environ-
ment than their observations of American civil society, the political institu-
tions, American mores and attitudes, and the society’s new democratic
and egalitarian approach to social relations that showed France (and per-
haps Europe) its hoped-for future.
On their return to France in the spring of 1832 Beaumont immediately
started writing their joint report. Tocqueville at first found himself unable
to put his own thoughts into writing; he only contributed at the final
stages of the draft and supplied statistics and other useful data. In the
meantime, news had spread to their superiors and the new regime, that the
pair were suffering from an apparently incurable new spiritual disease: love
of democracy. Both found themselves peremptorily dismissed from their
duties as public judges. However, since both remained registered at the
bar this decision does not seem to have threatened their career prospects
in any major way. As it turned out, the dismissal did no harm to their
political careers.
8 A. HESS
them with personal and openly declared hopes. For this very reason, he
could come up with alternative prognoses for [historical] conditions,
which because they avoided the confusion of wishful thinking with possi-
bilities, had the potential to stimulate action. It was critical distance which
made his lasting and fascinating epistemological surplus thinking possible
and which guided his judgement. Furthermore, Tocqueville also used
anticipation and hypothesis, which made the consecutive processes of
democratisation empirically verifiable…The main contribution, however,
consisted of having left behind the interest-led dogmatism of progress in
order to develop a theory of modern history, which pays dues to the com-
plexity of our modern times”. In that sense, Koselleck concluded,
Tocqueville clearly “surpassed other political expressions of classical liber-
alism” (both quotes in Koselleck 2010: 222–223; translation and addi-
tional square brackets added for clarification by AH).
It is worthwhile noting that liberalism thus understood was not neces-
sarily a triumphant political force; rather, Koselleck sees the history of lib-
eralism as “a history of self-consumption”, as “a prize without which its
success could not be had”. He points out that “to the extent to which lib-
eral demands prevailed, liberalism lost out as a political movement in terms
of force, power, and influence” (ibid: 208). Thus, Tocqueville became a
paradigmatic and to a certain extent even exceptional thinker because he
found himself, apart from one short period in 1848, never on the victorious
side but always on the losing side of history. Tocqueville’s name became
synonymous with a new type of intellectual reflection: the critical observer
as historical ‘loser’, a person who saw himself as having been rolled over and
been made redundant by the new times and conditions but who neverthe-
less tried to understand what had happened in order to draw lessons for the
present and, perhaps, the future. This is, according to Koselleck, the very
reason we read Tocqueville today with such benefit: “While in the short run
history may have been made by victors, in the long run the historical-epis-
temological surplus stems from the defeated” (Koselleck 2000: 68).
Despite his own personal insecurities and re-occurring self-doubts3
Tocqueville had good antennae for what was new in his time and what his
potential role was within it. His travelling experiences in America, Britain
and beyond had not only facilitated a comparative view of emerging democ-
racies and their progress of formation but also a sense of sharp insight in
terms of what was possible for someone who belonged to a defeated and
redundant class (by extension the same characterisation also applied to
Beaumont). In a letter to Henry Reeve, his English translator, he revealed
his motivations and what drove him: “People attribute either democratic or
INTRODUCTION: A TWO-MAN RESEARCH MACHINE 13
aristocratic prejudices to me. I might have had either had I been born in
another century and another country. But the accident of my birth made it
quite easy for me to avoid both. I came into the world at the end of a long
revolution, which, after destroying the old state, created nothing durable in
its place. Aristocracy was already dead when my life began, and democracy
did not yet exist. Instinct could not therefore impel me blindly toward one
or the other. I lived in a country that for forty years had tried a bit of every-
thing without settling definitely on anything; hence, I did not easily suc-
cumb to political illusions. Since I belonged to the old aristocracy of my
country, I felt no hatred toward or natural jealousy of the aristocracy, and
since that aristocracy had been destroyed, I felt no natural love for it either,
because one forms strong attachments only to the living. I was therefore
close enough to know it well yet distant enough to judge it dispassionately.
I would say as much about the democratic element. No family memory or
personal interest gave me a natural or necessary inclination toward democ-
racy, but I had suffered no personal injury from it. I had no particular
grounds to love or hate it apart from those provided by reason. In short, I
was so perfectly balanced between past and future that I did not feel natu-
rally and instinctively drawn toward either, and it took no great effort for
me to contemplate both in tranquility” (Tocqueville 2010: 573).
While such a statement shows some remarkable capacity for critical self-
reflexion, the image of equal distance between inherited class and future
democratic prospect threatens to paint over some of the finer points of
Tocqueville’s existential condition and the liberal views which emerged from
it. This begs the question of how can one explain his unique standpoint?
It was the French historian François Furet who first pointed out that
there were basically two approaches to looking at the intellectual origins
of Tocqueville’s – and, again by extension, Beaumont’s – thought: one
was to study the influences of his/their thought and see how much he/
they made use of them and find out whether they are detectable and how
much he/they modified or dissented from them, if at all. The second
approach was to ask what kind of problems did Tocqueville (and Beaumont)
face and how did they try to solve them (Furet 1985/86, reprinted in
Laurence Guellec, ed. 2005: 121–140).
However, Furet also stressed that the two approaches were not mutu-
ally exclusive. He actually argued strongly in favour of a combination of
the two, with the main focus on the second approach and the first approach
becoming subservient to the second. The reasons given were that
Tocqueville had been exposed to and trained in a traditional scholarly
14 A. HESS
La Bassée, i. 28;
fighting round, i. 57, 58 sqq.; ii. 191
La Brique, i. 145
La Cour de Soupir Farm, i. 16, 18
La Couronne, i. 270; ii. 192, 198
La Crosse, i. 211
La Fère, i. 6, 260
La Flinque Farm, ii. 40, 46
La Gorgue, i. 125, 128, 132; ii. 30, 34, 35, 38, 46, 47, 49, 56-57, 63, 192
La Justice, i. 240, 242; ii. 173, 176
La Longueville, i. 4, 7
Labour Battalions:
the “Broody Hens,” ii. 111;
the Montauban camp, ii. 131
Labour Corps at Gouzeaucourt, i. 243-245
Lagnicourt, i. 296, 302
Lagny, i. 13
Lancashire Farm, i. 148; ii. 87
Lancashire Fusiliers:
10th, i. 133;