It has been universally remarked, that in our time the several members of a family stand upon an entirely2 new footing towards each other; that the distance which formerly3 separated a father from his sons has been lessened4; and that paternal5 authority, if not destroyed, is at least impaired6. Something analogous7 to this, but even more striking, may be observed in the United States. In America the family, in the Roman and aristocratic signification of the word, does not exist. All that remains8 of it are a few vestiges10 in the first years of childhood, when the father exercises, without opposition11, that absolute domestic authority, which the feebleness of his children renders necessary, and which their interest, as well as his own incontestable superiority, warrants. But as soon as the young American approaches manhood, the ties of filial obedience12 are relaxed day by day: master of his thoughts, he is soon master of his conduct. In America there is, strictly13 speaking, no adolescence14: at the close of boyhood the man appears, and begins to trace out his own path. It would be an error to suppose that this is preceded by a domestic struggle, in which the son has obtained by a sort of moral violence the liberty that his father refused him. The same habits, the same principles which impel15 the one to assert his independence, predispose the other to consider the use of that independence as an incontestable right. The former does not exhibit any of those rancorous or irregular passions which disturb men long after they have shaken off an established authority; the latter feels none of that bitter and angry regret which is apt to survive a bygone power. The father foresees the limits of his authority long beforehand, and when the time arrives he surrenders it without a struggle: the son looks forward to the exact period at which he will be his own master; and he enters upon his freedom without precipitation and without effort, as a possession which is his own and which no one seeks to wrest17 from him. *a
a
[ The Americans, however, have not yet thought fit to strip the parent, as has been done in France, of one of the chief elements of parental18 authority, by depriving him of the power of disposing of his property at his death. In the United States there are no restrictions19 on the powers of a testator. In this respect, as in almost all others, it is easy to perceive, that if the political legislation of the Americans is much more democratic than that of the French, the civil legislation of the latter is infinitely20 more democratic than that of the former. This may easily be accounted for. The civil legislation of France was the work of a man who saw that it was his interest to satisfy the democratic passions of his contemporaries in all that was not directly and immediately hostile to his own power. He was willing to allow some popular principles to regulate the distribution of property and the government of families, provided they were not to be introduced into the administration of public affairs. Whilst the torrent21 of democracy overwhelmed the civil laws of the country, he hoped to find an easy shelter behind its political institutions. This policy was at once both adroit22 and selfish; but a compromise of this kind could not last; for in the end political institutions never fail to become the image and expression of civil society; and in this sense it may be said that nothing is more political in a nation than its civil legislation.]
It may perhaps not be without utility to show how these changes which take place in family relations, are closely connected with the social and political revolution which is approaching its consummation under our own observation. There are certain great social principles, which a people either introduces everywhere, or tolerates nowhere. In countries which are aristocratically constituted with all the gradations of rank, the government never makes a direct appeal to the mass of the governed: as men are united together, it is enough to lead the foremost, the rest will follow. This is equally applicable to the family, as to all aristocracies which have a head. Amongst aristocratic nations, social institutions recognize, in truth, no one in the family but the father; children are received by society at his hands; society governs him, he governs them. Thus the parent has not only a natural right, but he acquires a political right, to command them: he is the author and the support of his family; but he is also its constituted ruler. In democracies, where the government picks out every individual singly from the mass, to make him subservient23 to the general laws of the community, no such intermediate person is required: a father is there, in the eye of the law, only a member of the community, older and richer than his sons.
When most of the conditions of life are extremely unequal, and the inequality of these conditions is permanent, the notion of a superior grows upon the imaginations of men: if the law invested him with no privileges, custom and public opinion would concede them. When, on the contrary, men differ but little from each other, and do not always remain in dissimilar conditions of life, the general notion of a superior becomes weaker and less distinct: it is vain for legislation to strive to place him who obeys very much beneath him who commands; the manners of the time bring the two men nearer to one another, and draw them daily towards the same level. Although the legislation of an aristocratic people should grant no peculiar24 privileges to the heads of families; I shall not be the less convinced that their power is more respected and more extensive than in a democracy; for I know that, whatsoever25 the laws may be, superiors always appear higher and inferiors lower in aristocracies than amongst democratic nations.
When men live more for the remembrance of what has been than for the care of what is, and when they are more given to attend to what their ancestors thought than to think themselves, the father is the natural and necessary tie between the past and the present—the link by which the ends of these two chains are connected. In aristocracies, then, the father is not only the civil head of the family, but the oracle26 of its traditions, the expounder27 of its customs, the arbiter28 of its manners. He is listened to with deference29, he is addressed with respect, and the love which is felt for him is always tempered with fear. When the condition of society becomes democratic, and men adopt as their general principle that it is good and lawful30 to judge of all things for one's self, using former points of belief not as a rule of faith but simply as a means of information, the power which the opinions of a father exercise over those of his sons diminishes as well as his legal power.
Perhaps the subdivision of estates which democracy brings with it contributes more than anything else to change the relations existing between a father and his children. When the property of the father of a family is scanty31, his son and himself constantly live in the same place, and share the same occupations: habit and necessity bring them together, and force them to hold constant communication: the inevitable32 consequence is a sort of familiar intimacy33, which renders authority less absolute, and which can ill be reconciled with the external forms of respect. Now in democratic countries the class of those who are possessed34 of small fortunes is precisely35 that which gives strength to the notions, and a particular direction to the manners, of the community. That class makes its opinions preponderate36 as universally as its will, and even those who are most inclined to resist its commands are carried away in the end by its example. I have known eager opponents of democracy who allowed their children to address them with perfect colloquial37 equality.
Thus, at the same time that the power of aristocracy is declining, the austere38, the conventional, and the legal part of parental authority vanishes, and a species of equality prevails around the domestic hearth39. I know not, upon the whole, whether society loses by the change, but I am inclined to believe that man individually is a gainer by it. I think that, in proportion as manners and laws become more democratic, the relation of father and son becomes more intimate and more affectionate; rules and authority are less talked of; confidence and tenderness are oftentimes increased, and it would seem that the natural bond is drawn40 closer in proportion as the social bond is loosened. In a democratic family the father exercises no other power than that with which men love to invest the affection and the experience of age; his orders would perhaps be disobeyed, but his advice is for the most part authoritative41. Though he be not hedged in with ceremonial respect, his sons at least accost42 him with confidence; no settled form of speech is appropriated to the mode of addressing him, but they speak to him constantly, and are ready to consult him day by day; the master and the constituted ruler have vanished—the father remains. Nothing more is needed, in order to judge of the difference between the two states of society in this respect, than to peruse43 the family correspondence of aristocratic ages. The style is always correct, ceremonious, stiff, and so cold that the natural warmth of the heart can hardly be felt in the language. The language, on the contrary, addressed by a son to his father in democratic countries is always marked by mingled44 freedom, familiarity and affection, which at once show that new relations have sprung up in the bosom46 of the family.
A similar revolution takes place in the mutual relations of children. In aristocratic families, as well as in aristocratic society, every place is marked out beforehand. Not only does the father occupy a separate rank, in which he enjoys extensive privileges, but even the children are not equal amongst themselves. The age and sex of each irrevocably determine his rank, and secure to him certain privileges: most of these distinctions are abolished or diminished by democracy. In aristocratic families the eldest47 son, inheriting the greater part of the property, and almost all the rights of the family, becomes the chief, and, to a certain extent, the master, of his brothers. Greatness and power are for him—for them, mediocrity and dependence16. Nevertheless it would be wrong to suppose that, amongst aristocratic nations, the privileges of the eldest son are advantageous48 to himself alone, or that they excite nothing but envy and hatred49 in those around him. The eldest son commonly endeavors to procure50 wealth and power for his brothers, because the general splendor51 of the house is reflected back on him who represents it; the younger sons seek to back the elder brother in all his undertakings52, because the greatness and power of the head of the family better enable him to provide for all its branches. The different members of an aristocratic family are therefore very closely bound together; their interests are connected, their minds agree, but their hearts are seldom in harmony.
Democracy also binds54 brothers to each other, but by very different means. Under democratic laws all the children are perfectly55 equal, and consequently independent; nothing brings them forcibly together, but nothing keeps them apart; and as they have the same origin, as they are trained under the same roof, as they are treated with the same care, and as no peculiar privilege distinguishes or divides them, the affectionate and youthful intimacy of early years easily springs up between them. Scarcely any opportunities occur to break the tie thus formed at the outset of life; for their brotherhood56 brings them daily together, without embarrassing them. It is not, then, by interest, but by common associations and by the free sympathy of opinion and of taste, that democracy unites brothers to each other. It divides their inheritance, but it allows their hearts and minds to mingle45 together. Such is the charm of these democratic manners, that even the partisans57 of aristocracy are caught by it; and after having experienced it for some time, they are by no means tempted58 to revert59 to the respectful and frigid60 observance of aristocratic families. They would be glad to retain the domestic habits of democracy, if they might throw off its social conditions and its laws; but these elements are indissolubly united, and it is impossible to enjoy the former without enduring the latter. The remarks I have made on filial love and fraternal affection are applicable to all the passions which emanate61 spontaneously from human nature itself. If a certain mode of thought or feeling is the result of some peculiar condition of life, when that condition is altered nothing whatever remains of the thought or feeling. Thus a law may bind53 two members of the community very closely to one another; but that law being abolished, they stand asunder62. Nothing was more strict than the tie which united the vassal63 to the lord under the feudal64 system; at the present day the two men know not each other; the fear, the gratitude65, and the affection which formerly connected them have vanished, and not a vestige9 of the tie remains. Such, however, is not the case with those feelings which are natural to mankind. Whenever a law attempts to tutor these feelings in any particular manner, it seldom fails to weaken them; by attempting to add to their intensity66, it robs them of some of their elements, for they are never stronger than when left to themselves.
Democracy, which destroys or obscures almost all the old conventional rules of society, and which prevents men from readily assenting67 to new ones, entirely effaces68 most of the feelings to which these conventional rules have given rise; but it only modifies some others, and frequently imparts to them a degree of energy and sweetness unknown before. Perhaps it is not impossible to condense into a single proposition the whole meaning of this chapter, and of several others that preceded it. Democracy loosens social ties, but it draws the ties of nature more tight; it brings kindred more closely together, whilst it places the various members of the community more widely apart.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lessened
|
|
| 减少的，减弱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
analogous
|
|
| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
vestige
|
|
| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
vestiges
|
|
| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
adolescence
|
|
| n.青春期，青少年 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
impel
|
|
| v.推动；激励，迫使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
dependence
|
|
| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
wrest
|
|
| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
parental
|
|
| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
restrictions
|
|
| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
adroit
|
|
| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
subservient
|
|
| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
whatsoever
|
|
| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
oracle
|
|
| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
expounder
|
|
| 陈述者，说明者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
28
arbiter
|
|
| n.仲裁人，公断人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
deference
|
|
| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
preponderate
|
|
| v.数目超过；占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
colloquial
|
|
| adj.口语的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
authoritative
|
|
| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
accost
|
|
| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
peruse
|
|
| v.细读，精读 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
advantageous
|
|
| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
splendor
|
|
| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
undertakings
|
|
| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
bind
|
|
| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
binds
|
|
| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
brotherhood
|
|
| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
partisans
|
|
| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
revert
|
|
| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
frigid
|
|
| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
emanate
|
|
| v.发自，来自，出自 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
asunder
|
|
| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
vassal
|
|
| n.附庸的；属下；adj.奴仆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
intensity
|
|
| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
assenting
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
effaces
|
|
| v.擦掉( efface的第三人称单数 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |