Alexis de Tocqueville

by Professor Hugh Brogan

  It looks simple enough, but nothing about Tocqueville was ever simple. In the first place it must be said that though he had nursed the Cotentin for years, in 1837 he did not neglect the possibility that he might come in for a constituency other than Valognes. There was Cherbourg, strongly disputed between Hippolyte’s brother-in-law, the comte de Bricqueville, a Napoleonic veteran, and one H.-A. Quénault, whom Tocqueville regarded as the very embodiment of political corruption: since Bricqueville was in failing health Tocqueville thought of standing in his place. There was the tenth arrondissement in Paris, the faubourg Saint-Germain, where Tocqueville was respected on account of the Démocratie, and had real support: it was there that Jules Taschereau, a leading journalist, dealt with citizens who asked, ‘What are M. de Tocqueville’s opinions?’ by replying, ‘You have read his Démocratie?’ ‘Certainly,’ the voter would answer, who had certainly not. ‘Well, doesn’t that satisfy you?’ There was Versailles, where Tocqueville not only wrote two articles, on Algeria, for the local paper, but bought shares in it.40 All these were places with which he had strong connections, whereas he was hardly known at Valognes. (In the autumn of 1837 he had not even quite finished the business of acquiring his chateau – it dragged out for over two years.) Undoubtedly his candidacy suffered from this, as he well knew; equally undoubtedly, his decision to stake everything on establishing himself in Lower Normandy was, politically, the right one: after 1839 he was never again effectually challenged until Louis Napoleon’s coup d’état put an end to his political career.

  ‘The department of the Manche is inhabited almost solely by farmers, as everyone knows,’ says Tocqueville in the Souvenirs. ‘There are no large towns; few factories; absolutely no places where workers come together in large numbers, except for Cherbourg.’41 The land is rich, and under the July Monarchy supported many prosperous peasants, some of whom had the vote. This was eminently true of the beautiful Val de Saire, on the edge of which the chateau of Tocqueville stands: before long its master began to describe himself in documents as ‘writer and peasant’. However, his initial support in the arrondissement did not come from the peasantry but from the small professional class of lawyers, businessmen and so on, which because of its superior training tended to take the lead in public affairs: it also carried more weight than it was numerically entitled to because the electorate was so tiny (628 in 1837). As Charles H. Pouthas points out, this middle class, like Tocqueville himself, combined its trades and professions with landownership, a combination typical of the July Monarchy; together, all the voters of the arrondissement were economically and socially self-sufficient: it amounted to ‘a sort of rural democracy’42 of the type which Tocqueville so often extolled. But as Pouthas does not say, the better-educated elements were particularly susceptible to the attractions of a man like Tocqueville, nationally famous and almost notoriously committed to the values they believed in. His insistence on public probity and the need for deputies to remain virtuously independent of government influence made him a refreshing contrast to Le Marois, who was ready to make any bargain with anybody if it kept him in the Chamber. Yet Tocqueville put himself at the service of any of the Manchois who had business with the central government: he would be a good constituency MP. He was lucky finding in Paul Clamorgan, a lawyer of Valognes, a brilliant political manager – a village Machiavelli, as he admitted himself. He might as well be described as a village Carnot, for he organized all Tocqueville’s victories. Between elections he kept Tocqueville informed about all important developments in the constituency; they were in constant touch, and were friends as well as collaborators until Louis Napoleon’s seizure of power divided them. Tocqueville’s tone in his letters to Clamorgan is distinctly warmer than in those to his other allies.

  But Tocqueville did not want to enter the Chamber so that he could be a good constituency MP. The intensity of his ambition was not clear even to so shrewd an observer as Rémusat, but it devoured him.43 Its ultimate object was perhaps not clear even to himself until he became a minister in 1849, but from the moment that he began to contemplate the Chamber he knew that he wished to shine there, as some sort of paragon of wisdom and virtue. This led him into his first serious political blunder.

  In 1837 the prime minister (président du conseil ) happened to be his cousin Molé, with whom he was on excellent terms. Since Casimir Périer’s death there had been a rapid turnover of ministries, and it had become obviously desirable to stabilize the situation. The King lent all his influence to the attempt. In Molé he hoped that he had found a suitable instrument: a man of distinguished family and substantial fortune, who had shown himself more than willing to serve whatever ruler was in power, whether Napoleon, the Bourbons or Louis-Philippe. Molé had replaced Thiers, who had been rashly ready to involve France in the civil war then occurring in Spain. Initially Molé’s government had been a partnership with Guizot, now the acknowledged leader of the so-called ‘party of resistance’, which opposed all concessions to the Left; but the two men having fallen out, the ministry collapsed; in April 1837 Molé formed a new one of which he was the undisputed master. After a successful summer he called an election in the autumn, hoping to strengthen his own following in the Chamber and weaken that of Guizot. He was delighted when he heard that his cousin was to be a candidate, and the Manche prefect took the hint: he advised the voters of Valognes to support Tocqueville. Since there were as yet no modern party organizations in France the national administration, with its array of prefects, sub-prefects, maires, adjoints, tax-collectors, postmasters and so on was the only effective electoral machine in the country, and Molé must have supposed that he was doing Tocqueville a great favour. But the candidate thought very differently. Just as in writing he was always concerned to be original, so in politics he was always anxious to exhibit his independence. He and Beaumont had agonized for weeks that summer as to whether they should accept the ribbon of the Legion of Honour which had been offered to them, as to many other distinguished men, to mark the marriage of the duc d’Orléans, the heir to the throne (it had taken a firm letter from Royer-Collard to induce Tocqueville to say yes).44 Tocqueville despised those who allowed themselves to be brought into the Chamber by what he regarded as corrupt means and there voted only as the ministry directed. So when he heard of the prefect’s action he wrote to Molé repudiating all official support:

  In other circumstances such a message to the head of the government might appear extraordinary. But I know to whom I am writing; and if the prime minister blames me, I can boldly appeal to M. Molé, whose esteem, if he will allow me to say so, I value more than his support, and before him I am sure to win my case.

  You are well aware, sir, that I am not an enemy of the government in general, and particularly not of those who govern at this moment. But I wish to be able to support it intelligently and freely, which I could not do if I let myself be brought in by the government. I am well aware that some men forget, on entering the Chamber, how they got there; but I am not of that sort. I wish to enter as I mean to go on, in an independent position.

  He justified his letter by saying that he had used the freedom of a relation and a friend.45

  Molé was exceedingly surprised by this letter, and answered it at once. His reply, in its plain good sense, was worthy of Bagehot. After repudiating any distinction between Molé the man and Molé the minister he asserted his firm belief in the wisdom of the policies that he was pursuing and in the integrity of his supporters:

  All such assertions seem very flat, I know, to that insincere and popularity-hunting opinion which holds that government (pouvoir), whoever wields it, is bound to be the enemy of society. But may I ask if you think you would be any freer of commitments if you came in with the help of the legitimists, the republicans, or any shade of the Left, rather than that of the juste milieu? It is necessary to choose; isolation is not independence, and we depend more or less on those who elect us. The army of the ministry in these elections is not composed only of those who have be
en brought forward by it or owe their seats to it; it is a party composed, above all, of men who think as we do and believe it is best for the country to support us and beat our enemies. It is among such men, my dear sir, that I would have been happy and proud to number you.

  But since it was impossible, he would send out orders that very day to fight Tocqueville’s candidacy relentlessly, ‘for there can be no neutrality in elections.’46

  When these letters were published after Tocqueville’s death Nassau Senior was moved to ask Beaumont why Tocqueville had refused Molé’s support. Beaumont put it down to youth and inexperience. ‘Like most young politicians, he thought that he ought to be an independent member, and to vote on every occasion according to his conscience, untrammelled by party considerations. He afterwards found his mistake.’47 He did not find it out in 1837. He was furious – in part because Molé had patronizingly suggested that when he had more experience he would see things differently – and he hurled off a long, angry reply in which he more or less repudiated Molé’s friendship:

  I had flattered myself that whatever our disagreements, the bond which you had sought to forge between us would never break; a bond of affection, of trust, of like opinions and tastes. I see clearly that I must renounce that hope; I do so with profound regret.

  I am, Monsieur le Ministre, your very humble and most obedient servant, Alexis de Tocqueville.48

  Tocqueville was no more willing to accept fundamental criticism from the prime minister than from Stoffels or Kergorlay, and loved him much less; but perhaps his rage and his attitude of offended integrity arose from a guilty conscience. At that moment, in mid-September, he was still undecided as to his course, and if he stood for Cherbourg rather than Valognes he would have to be ostentatiously independent – if he was the official Orleanist candidate he would alienate legitimist votes which otherwise, because of his family and reputation, he might well receive, and would need. Nor can he be acquitted of some double-dealing. He had assured Molé that he supported the government although he did not want its backing; yet Beaumont, who was investigating the possibility of a Parisian race for him, clearly regarded him as a supporter of the Left opposition, especially the faction led by Odilon Barrot.49 Tocqueville did not mean to be treacherous, but it was perhaps just as well for his reputation as an honest man that he was defeated in 1837.

  Molé was deeply upset by Tocqueville’s second letter, but brought himself to write an affectionate reply in which, while sticking to his guns – he still thought that Tocqueville would have to join a party one day – he insisted that he had always regarded Tocqueville as a son, and even renewed the offer of political support, so long as Tocqueville was not a declared member of the opposition. Tocqueville, no doubt aware that he had gone too far, eagerly clutched at the olive-branch and went so far as to explain his doubts and hesitations, not only as to constituencies, but about entering the race at all. If he did so, he asked only for Molé’s benevolent neutrality. He professed entire loyalty to the Orleanist regime:

  I witnessed the Revolution of July with regret, but I am disinclined to start another revolution to destroy the work of the last one; and although I have a great esteem and a real respect for legitimacy, I do not wish to try to re-establish, by disorder, a principle of which the great merit in my eyes is that it forbids disorder. I must add that although I have a deep, burning, sincere love of liberty, I am not the less resolved to resist any free system which is opposed or dangerous to monarchy.50

  Molé could have asked for no more; but Polydor Le Marois had been at school with Montalivet, the minister of the interior, who insisted that the government support him. In André Jardin’s opinion that is probably why Tocqueville lost: he received 210 votes to 247 for Le Marois.51

  He was not much cast down by his defeat: ‘Je suis donc battu, mais je n’ai pas été un instant abattu.’* Although he had repeatedly written to Marie about how much he longed to be back in the quiet of their home, he evidently found that he much enjoyed electioneering. It was not so boisterous as in England; it entailed nothing so vulgar as knocking on voters’ doors or addressing mass meetings; but he was willing to see anyone who came to meet him, to answer any sincere letter, and to confabulate with his friends. He also kept a sharp eye on the doings of his opponents, issuing private circulars to denounce them when necessary. He began his campaign, in effect, by scolding the sous-préfet of Cherbourg for slandering him, and ended it by denouncing the postmaster of Valognes for not circulating his last leaflet in time. He took great pleasure in feeling that he was supported enthusiastically by all the educated, respectable voters. When his father wrote anxiously about his health he brushed the question aside: ‘Do believe that commotion is my element, and that it won’t kill me, so long as it isn’t combined with hours of desk-work as it was last year and so long (as I am firmly resolved) as I avoid all dining-out and evening receptions.’52

  He admitted to Beaumont that he had been somewhat surprised at his defeat. Apart from the machinations of the government’s agents he put it down to Le Marois’s vast wealth: ‘For three days all the bars in Valognes were crowded at the expense of M. Le Marois, and the peasant electors who had come to vote for me were led to the votingstation half-drunk with cries of “Point de nobles!”’* But he remained cheerful. He did not like the look of the new Chamber and was glad not to be part of it. Beaumont too had lost. Tocqueville tried to make him share his own serene reaction. ‘I can’t tell you with what joy and ardour I shall throw myself again into my studies ... and the future belongs to us, believe me. I have never been more certain of it.’ We have seen that he was as good as his word, and Beaumont was equally ready to go back to his desk: 1838 was to be the year of books.53

  Tocqueville’s political optimism was to be vindicated much more rapidly than he expected. In retrospect, 1837 looks like the high point of the July Monarchy. Since 1830 Louis-Philippe’s regime had in turn seen off challenges by legitimists, republicans, insurrectionary workers and, in December 1836, an attempted military coup by Louis Napoleon Bonaparte (which had partly inspired the pages on military conspiracies in the second Démocratie). It had re-established France as a leading member of the Concert of Europe. True, there was a global economic crisis, affecting Europe, America and China, but it does not seem to have affected the French political situation. The duc d’Orléans had married amid general rejoicing, and Molé’s premiership had survived Guizot’s defection. It had seemed sensible to the prime minister to call a general election to capitalize, he hoped, on public support by increasing the number of his followers in the Chamber, and by this device Molé did indeed weaken Guizot, though not so much as he had wanted. His victory, however modest, drew a line under the first phase of the July Monarchy, which had shown itself to be stronger than its opponents, and began to wear an air of permanence.

  But things did not continue to go so well. If the regime was permanent then ambitious politicians would necessarily seek to dominate it (since they did not expect or want to see it replaced) and they could now, they thought, safely and without much scruple fight each other for power. Molé, personally, was not invulnerable. He could expect no help from the legitimists or the republicans or from the leading men in the Chamber who wanted to replace him. His colleagues were not capable enough to be much help, and the body of his supporters was never quite large or reliable enough to see him through all parliamentary difficulties. With the King’s support he was safe enough as long as the opposition was divided, but during 1838 its leaders decided to swallow their personal and ideological differences and unite for the sole purpose of throwing Molé out. Guizot, Thiers and Odilon Barrot formed what was soon notorious as ‘the coalition’, and their relentless pressure began to wear the government down. Tocqueville and Beaumont, looking up from their desks, were disgusted. ‘All I can say is that the enemies of the ministry will end by making me one of its partisans, if it lasts,’ said Tocqueville. Such goings-on made him wonder if there was anything in the political wor
ld but selfishness ‘and if what one takes for beliefs and ideas are any more than walking and talking interests.’ He was particularly disgusted by the humbug of the doctrinaires, and his only consolation was Plutarch, ‘indiscreet and gossipy’, whom he was reading for relaxation, and who showed that things had been no better in antiquity.54 Anyway, he was unable to affect the situation. At length, after a twelve-day debate on the Address to the Throne in which Molé, as admitted by Guizot in his memoirs, performed prodigies of courage, eloquence and intelligence at the tribune,55 it became clear that matters could not go on in this way: the ministry’s majority was barely in double figures.* Molé decided to go to the country again, and in February 1839 there was a new election.

  By this time the opposition had developed a cry, specious but effective, as such things are. What was at stake, they declared, was nothing less than the authority of the Chamber. Molé and Montalivet were merely the King’s creatures. They must be ousted, and replaced by patriotic statesmen who owed their power to the Chamber. ‘The King rules but does not govern’ was their slogan, invented, it was said, by Thiers.56

  Tocqueville swallowed this claptrap, which shows his relative inexperience; but comments he made suggest a certain scepticism. ‘Metaphysical questions about royal and parliamentary prerogatives are of no interest to anyone here that I know of. And I admit to you in a whisper that they don’t much interest me either. I see successful or thwarted ambitions making war, but as for principles or even real, powerful political passions, I see absolutely none.’57 The electors had earthier issues in mind, and the election in Valognes was a repetition of that of 1837, with the important difference that Le Marois, who had double-crossed the government, no longer had its support. Montalivet was out for his blood, with the result that, of all the sitting deputies from the Manche, Le Marois was the only one not re-elected. And Tocqueville was a much stronger candidate than he had been the time before. He was now established and accepted as a permanent resident of his district (it seems to have been about this time that he bought a property in Valognes);58 far more voters knew him personally; his national distinction left Le Marois nowhere. His election address and circulars were forcefully eloquent; he deserved to win, and did so with 317 votes to 241 for Le Marois.