Democracy in America

Tocqueville first cites English acquaintances who complain that Americans introduce many new expressions, combinations of words, or commercial terms into their speech. He argues that language in democracies will reflect the increasingly mobile and fluid character of social life, including the increased interest in business and politics: “In the midst of this general agitation and combination of all minds, a great number of new ideas are formed; old ideas are lost or reappear; or else they are subdivided into infinitely small nuances” (453). Like the laws of a democracy, democratic language will reflect the interests of the majority. Word use is less divided between classes, and there is less regard for prescriptive style rules. The democratic preference for generalities extends to verbal and written expression: “Democratic peoples passionately love generic terms and abstract words because these expressions enlarge thought, and, by permitting the inclusion of many objects in a small space, they aid the work of the intellect” (456).

Tocqueville defines poetry as “the search for and depiction of the ideal” (458). Tocqueville asserts that on the whole democratic people will be less drawn to poetry, as their culture is distinct. He asserts that in democracies, “Imagination is not extinguished, but it is given over almost exclusively to conceiving the useful and representing the real” (459). The key democratic source of poetry is considering human progress as a whole. Tocqueville argues, “they easily conceive that one same design presides over its destiny, and they are brought to recognize in the actions of each individual the tracing of a general and constant plan according to which God guides the species” (462). The social leveling of democracy, then, produces art about the grand scope of the human condition.

Tocqueville is concerned about the effects this has on literary audiences and expectations. Since most Americans are preoccupied with everyday matters and small details, works of greater scope are more likely to attract their attention. Tocqueville declares, “he therefore always expects that he is going to be offered some enormous object to look at, and it is only at this price that he consents to tear himself for a moment from the small, complicated cares that agitate and charm his life” (464). He fears that this will eventually mean democratic literature depicts only fantastic imaginary situations, that will make one long for the real world” (464). Tocqueville is generally discontented by every aspect of democratic language and literature; he seems to mourn the decline of aristocratic poetry and to suggest that efforts to meet popular taste will result in loss of quality and disconnection from reality.

Tocqueville makes a similar argument about the theater in democracies: Drama will proliferate at first, but as audiences grow, they will not read plays or critique them the way audiences in aristocracy did. This leads to changes in style similar to literature, as he points out:

They do not expect to find a work of literature but a spectacle, and provided that the author speaks the language of the country correctly enough to make himself understood, and that his characters excite curiosity and awaken sympathy, they are content (467-68).

The Puritan distaste for theater has also made this particular art form less popular.