That is not to say that civic virtue is part of the natural flora of such a culture. Certainly, and Diggins
makes much of this, even Tocqueville had doubts about that (5). On the other hand, as explored earlier
here, Tocqueville devoted considerable attention to our 'civil religion.' It is probably the case that civic
virtue is cultivated by such faith, though there is no reason to see such a construct as a natural
phenomenon of every particular system of society. It seems incredible, however, to suggest, as appears to
be Professor Diggins' central point, that the Framers delimited government too much. They probably
should have constrained it even more than was done, given the record of late. The basic concern over
majority rule is the issue of the tyranny of the majority, however constituted, and where it infringes on
individual right. Fundamentally, a good policy is to never permit that and negotiate from there. 

     And it is not Rousseau alone who contends that the more pervasive governance becomes, the less the
individual will be creative and responsible. When the institutions of government take on leviathan
character, the individual is reduced to levels of servile proportion, and the capacity of an individual to
perform the civic duties required by citizenship are as well reduced commensurably.

     This entire matter of the nature of man and of capacity for self-government largely revolves around
this very issue. For all the discussion which Diggins lends to it, he does not come either to address this
point or the Framers consideration of it. Man's nature is not static, and the matter is one of human
dynamics. One of the contradictions which Diggins discusses regarding his perception of a change in the
view held of man from the time of the Declaration to the writing of the Constitution may be in great part
resolved by just this issue. Not only should not the will of the majority, however competent, restrict basic
rights, but the very notion that any such general competence in the aggregate or collective could
logistically exist is absurd. That does not turn 'right' into license. It merely sets a proper definition of
rights, which encompasses responsibilities and is located entirely within the individual. The relative levels
of competence are nonetheless important to consider.  Otherwise in this examination, reference has been
made to the Wayne State University professors' paper on civic competence. Many variables, of course, can
impact. One that Diggins apparently fails to recognize is the proximity of events to the revolution, the
psychology of which would certainly carry with it heightened levels of cognizance, civic duty, self-
consciousness, self-confidence, and the like, which would not at all be 'normal,' either for a society
emergent from colonial dominance (although the uniqueness of the American colonial situation probably
mediated that effect especially in some areas) or for such a society twelve or more years later (and a costly
decade it was, too, economically and militarily, perhaps even contributing to a dispiriting of many in
addition to the temporal factor). This is, after all, simply a variation of the conjunctural crisis of Marx, or
what Rosa Luxemburg described in her 'mass strike.' 

     That does not contend that the references Diggins has offered as to the view of the Framers toward
human nature are in error, except as it is read by him as a static absolute instead of a relative dynamic.
Importantly, not only heightened civic competence but civil religion as a construct contributes
substantively to such a dynamic. Nor should it be assumed that, as the economic theory or voting and the
idea of positive apathetics convey, perceived levels of apathy or non-participation in political matters are
indicative necessarily of any sluggishness of competence. There is simply more to this matter than is even
dreamed of in even Diggins' splendid exercise. And while that does not ascend the soul to paradise, nor
does it leave it in purgatory, as does perhaps his reading of the static state.

     Throughout the intermediary period from the end of the Federalist era to the Civil War, the Bank
question is representative of the entire issue. Diggins' interpretation of these events, like so many analysts,
is exceedingly problematic. But it wasn't just the Bank. What became the Democracy stood against
generally most things which would enhance labor power in the United States, and their stance on the
Bank merely reflects that. Diggins does enter commentary on the language problem, that words are not
always truly reflective of what thought is behind them. And yet, he fails to see this relationship. Whether
it was the factory system mechanical farm implements, waterwheels and later steam power, steam
engines, steam ships, paddle wheels versus clipper ships and later paddle wheels versus screw propellers,
railroads, wood versus iron ships, submarines and torpedoes, or the issue of slavery and its spread, those
of the 'party' of Jefferson and Jackson stood in the way of progress. As discussed earlier, this manifests
itself in the judiciary, as well. And it is noteworthy that in the areas of the country where they were the
strongest, there was the weakest and slowest, or even absence of, development (which gives the lie to the
issue of 'local energy' which, while it superficially could be perceived as positive, was really only hollow
cover for quite something else, usually around the matter of slavery). This contrast in programmatic
viewpoint typifies the entire time frame from 1800 to the Civil War. The conflict can actually be traced
back not only to Hamilton's stint as Secretary of Treasury, but even before that to the struggle over
ratification, and extended into areas  of road and canal building, as well as to the development of markets.
In Hamilton's terminology, the issue involved 'artificial labor,' and probably can best be traced in the
writings of such as Henry Carey, in economic, social, political, and philosophical argumentation. 

     But the one person who embodies the personification of the struggle perhaps better than anyone else is
Abraham Lincoln in his Presidency. His role in the issue of slavery and the war, although frequently
distorted themselves, actually merely typify his broader programmatic perspective. His tenure as President
is marked as well for its efforts at trade expansion, foreign policy initiative (most especially with Juarez
and Czar Alexander), telegraph construction, railway construction and financing, the Homestead Act, the
initiation of the Department of Agriculture, land grant college legislation, the steamship industry,
initiation of metal hulled steam-powered screw propeller driven naval craft, rifling, the greenback, a
national banking system, and various other efforts at funding and promoting industrialization within the
private sector and on a level of economies of scale, as well as more, all with the expressed intent of
enhancing labor power.

     It is the assertion of Diggins that "Jackson deliberately chose to destroy the Bank to assure ... that
economic individualism would prevail against the threat of monopolies and corporate charters." (6) But
the impact of that decision in reality opened the nation to exploitation by privateering speculating non-
wealth generating pet banks and interests of more 'local' venue. (Again, it is interesting that the areas
where Jackson and his supporters were the strongest were also the areas which developed more slowly and
less, belying the entire issue of 'local energy'). The Bank had been instrumental in launching American
industry, but its demise opened the gates for speculation on land and infrastructure to gain control. The
relationship of that to both Cherokee problems with Georgians and the spread of slavery in the second
Diaspora together with the limitation put on new industrial development begin to specify the problem. The
idea he expressed as to the contest for land in Georgia involving title to property and holding  it forfeit if
not developed by labor may have some merit (7), but it is difficult to view the use of it by white settlers
and by the slave aristocracy as more productive than that of the Cherokee, except for the political aspect.
Such questions are rendered invalid in any event because, in economic terms, either use was of little
comparative value if measured in terms of economic rent alongside the potential for industrial
development of such areas. 

     Diggins further describes the Whigs as unwilling to face the class issue the way the Democracy did (8),
but the ensuing recounting of the 'debate' between Webster and Bancroft on the issue hits the nail on the
head. Not only was there no such distinction in America, but the several 'classes' did share common
interests in the development of capitalist markets. This was not an 'untenable' position for Whigs (9)
because it is not the case that such a posture was a reversal of old Federalist arguments that the wealthy
should have more power or that the people were to be feared. As some pains have been made here to make
clear, that simply is not what the position was. Henry Carey's short work  THE HARMONY OF
INTERESTS  clearly argues this very point. The Whigs would deny the class conflict doctrine because it
was false and counter-productive. Hamilton's argument as to the potential of wealth-based factional
struggle  (10) was based as a caveat on what would develop without economic development which he
helped to foster or 'promote.' The contention that the Whigs were rejecting Adams' argument that the Old
World's class structure was replicated here (11) was on those grounds valid, if, indeed, Adams' warnings
were not of a character like those of Hamilton on this issue. And the suggestion the author makes (12) that
Whig rejection of such dogma contradicted the fear of factions improperly limits the categories of faction
to class-based origin. If, as he writes, the Whigs were unable to use the same language the Federalists had
regarding the threat to the 'interests' of the few by the 'passions' of the many (13), it would not be due to
the 'democratization' which had occurred but to the wealth generation raising the living level of all which
had begun to occur. In any event, a central point of Whig initiatives under the banner of the American
System program was not only that such was the case but also that the complex of that platform would
function to further mold those disparate interests together. Importantly, the 'harmony of interests' the
Whigs undertook to promote was as much geared to sectional disparity as to other bases for factions, and
the fact that their efforts were somewhat blocked by the Democracy contributed much to the rise of
sectional strife which culminated in the Civil War (perhaps as much as the politics and policies of the
Democracy, as with Jefferson's Resolutions, etc. did). 

     It is only at this point that Diggins finally gets around to mentioning any possibility that the
constitutional balance was designed to check any branch or department from becoming tyrannical (14). To
this point, the design has been almost exclusively limited in his description to a countervailing of class
factions in this analysis. His qualified vote of confidence for Whig criticism of Jackson's spoils system
(15) is immediately addended by his assessment that neither Whigs nor Democrats had any longer any
claim to the "classical idea ... that the citizen should, as his highest civic duty, sacrifice his interests to ...
'the General Welfare.'"(16) He says both asserted that, but he seems skeptical of the claims of either. And
yet, that was precisely what Whig Party progress not only aimed at but had considerable success in
producing. In addition, the position Diggins expounds clearly is at odds with Adam Smith and Henry
Carey and Peshine Smith in their placing of the individual pursuit of self-interest as the cornerstone of the
fruition of the greater interest. It must also be mentioned that Diggins' otherwise seeming support for the
wisdom of Tocqueville has suddenly come to opposition to the latter's expressed views of the situation in
the United States.  It may be that Diggins has misframed the entire issue of 'virtue.' He wants to apply
Partick Henry's belief that "virtue will slumber," (17) when the position put forth by Adam Smith was
more of an order that the pursuit of self-interest culminating in the general interest being promoted is the
essence of capitalist 'virtue.' The success of the American experiment "without classical republican
institutions and the active civic consciousness of a virtuous people" (18) in creating political stability, if it
had any basis in an absence of class consciousness, is attributable to the economic growth and stability
which emerged, at least in many areas of the country, with capitalist market development.  It is not as
simple as fears of Daniel Shays as a class rebel as Diggins would have it (19). Jefferson may have suffered
from such misconceptions, but not the Framers generally, and certainly not the Whigs. Nor was it that the
Whigs "may have misrepresented reality by denying conflict and asserting consensus." (20) What they
were about was the creation of an order that would be conducive to consensus. Diggins writes:

	"In short, Beard was right to emphasize that the Federalist authors saw conflict
	between the forces of property and those of liberty, between minority factions 
	and popular majorities, but such conflict had no basis in objective reality since
	all factions ultimately accepted the value of property. Thus, in the end the
	Constitution was made to work not by the ideas that went into it but by the 
	exceptional social unity of the environment that nourished it. 'The Founding
	Fathers,' concluded Hartz, 'devised a scheme to deal with conflict that could
	only survive in a land of solidarity. The truth is, their conclusions were 'right'
	only because their premises were wrong.'" (21)

     But Beard did not comprehend (nor did Hartz or Diggins) the relationship between liberty and property
under capitalism. The order worked due to the harmony that came of it. Not only were their conclusions
correct, but so, too, were their premises. And if Tocqueville erred at all it was in his flawed conception of
virtue (22). There also seems to be an implicit assumption shared by Diggins that the posture of the
Democracy, especially as expressed by Jefferson and Jackson was supportive of individual liberty, but not
only were their perspectives contrary to the development of any economic basis for individual advance, but
their apparently more localized and state-based orientation could hardly be termed anti-collectivist. The
tyrannical 'majoritarian' democracy impulse of their outlook superseded many guarantees of individual
rights at the state level, and they were part of systematic collectivist design at that level, beyond the
obvious cases of slavery, Indians, or pet banks.  This was scarcely the laissez faire even Diggins indicated
that it was (23).  Diggins would like to paraphrase Reinhold Niebuhr in what is tantamount to a
condemnation of the pursuit of property:

	" ... in the Federalist economic man is alienated, for he is not necessarily
	endowed with the capacity to know truth or create value but merely to
	seek power and possess things, to pursue his 'interests' and 'passions'
	in order to respond to the wants and desires that determine the will and 
	render him incapable of enjoying full mastery of his own actions. Thus, 
	economic as well as political man will need the Constitution's 'auxiliary
	precautions.'" (24)

     But this dark image of human frailty which Diggins reads into the Framers, and the Whigs, is a very
superficial interpretation. He seems to think that the pursuit of self-interest is evil, when in reality it is the
substance of virtue, giving rise as it does to association and community. Such proclivities needed
supervision, but they needed to be cultivated not uprooted. But while Diggins holds:

	" ... Hamilton and Madison insisted that man is incapable of conforming
	to the 'dictates of reason and justice,'  to recognized moral laws and 
	standards of right conduct ... " (25)

it was really not that they were 'incapable.' In fact, their natural inclination in that direction would
enhance the general welfare. Diggins sees man as 'fallen' and stresses with Hume and Calvin that "his will
is determined," when that is not at all what the Founding was about. He argues that:

	" ... Madison's explanation of the origins of factions suggests that man is 
	helpless to remove the cause of the problem, and thus he leaves human
	nature where he finds it -- 'sown' with the seeds of its own alienation..."(26)

but what he apparently cannot fathom is the presence of Liebniz in Madison's argument. For saying that
man is 'fallen' is not the same thing as breeding him as 'evil.' And the 'imperative of authority' (27) has as
its aim the means of 'paradise regained.' Restraints had as their objective the cultivation of that
potentiality. That, too, is the essence of the American civil religion. So, it is not the case that self-interest
pursuit by individuals exhausts  the content of virtue, though it may arguably underlie it, although Diggins
does contend:

	"For the Lockean intrusion into the Western frontier means that nature
	would absorb politics and allow economic activity to have free rein, and
	man's relentless confrontation with the natural world meant that America 
	would no longer be governed by a political or moral idea ..." (28)

as though there was no mutuality of interdependence or association involved, as if, perhaps, we were all
discrete particular monads floating around in a void. But the disconnect which Diggins' analysis suffers
from runs considerably deeper into his philosophy than even that  would indicate. Looking for literary
indications of the disassociated primal man he wants to illustrate, he lumps Cooper, Melville, Twain, and
Thoreau together, saying that:

	"Almost everywhere in America literature and popular culture in the 
	nineteenth century we find a profound disjunction between social
	man and the natural world," (29)

proclaiming that in their work:

	" ... the test of virtue would take place outside of existing institutions, 
	where men could measure their political independence by the possibility
	of physical independence and where the inherent morality of the common
	man depends for its fruition on the extent of its immediate contact with
	the natural environment." (30)

     For at least the first three of these authors, this critique is exceedingly superficial. MOBY DICK, for
instance, makes a wonderful story, and it is a magnificent specimen of ethnography of the technology of
whaling and seafaring of the period on top of this, but limiting its interpretation to the level of man versus
nature not only misses a great deal of the significance of the novel in philosophical terms, but denigrates
literary expression generally. The test in THE WHITE WHALE really is a social test. Even for much of
Thoreau, it is the social community that is most important.  This is seen in more contemporary 'Westerns'
where there is a socially defined act of virtue that makes each hero, no matter how despicable the
character  may have otherwise have been. 

     The example offered by Diggins of Davy Crockett as one of "solitary individualism unrestrained by the
demands of politics" (31) serves well to illustrate the problem of this analysis, for in spite of his own
political problems which made him a not particularly outstanding, and Jacksonian, member of Congress,
he went beyond that, sacrificing not only the frontier life to die at the Alamo for Texas (but for more than
that, to be sure). Nor is it necessarily bad for man, in American literature or life, to live 'outside' politics
and issues of the state. This by no means locates their virtue outside of society in nature as mutually
exclusive categories. Indeed, this represents a hallmark trait of the 'positive apathetic' notion especially,
but even for more participatory citizens who actually have lives. Once again, this reality is one of the
fundamental rationales for limited government. That certainly cannot be construed as setting such
individuals against progress any more than the empty reading Diggins gives to Cooper makes him
'ambivalent' toward progress (32). His entire treatment of Cooper is equally dismaying (33). He even
offers what amounts to an early Cooper and a late Cooper, but apparently cannot flush out the common
denominators in the conflicting vision he portrays. Contrary to the interpretation Diggins puts on Cooper,
THE BRAVO, ostensibly about European politics in the Venetian Republic, is a warning to Americans of
the threat posed to them by the Jacksonian mob and its controlling oligarchies as it undertook to subvert
the great Founding era of virtue. His salvos fired in that novel as if by stealth were more directly
articulated in THE AMERICAN DEMOCRAT.  If he was critical of classical republicanism, he was not
less so of democratic liberalism, identifying  the democratic republic of limited government and
guaranteed rights against tyrannical majorities o the Framing of the Republic of virtue. Diggins also
describes Cooper's religiousity as ironic, apparently having difficulty rationalizing the 'infallible virtues' of
his republic with the overall impression he attempts to create of Cooper who viewed that as "a theology of
ethics with which humanity can solve the moral problems that are at the basis of all social conflicts," (34)
though Diggins does acknowledge Cooper's attribution of virtue to the "well-devised machinery of
government." (35) Whether or not Diggins has done justice of any great degree to the host of writers he
draws into his discussion will have to await other analysis, but his commentary on Turner's frontier thesis
does provide a further remarkable insight into his vision, describing as he does, the seemingly mindless
and ant-like toiling and building of America across the frontier offered by Henry Adams (36)

     One of the artifacts of the earlier Democracy which has made the transition over into contemporary
progressive liberalism is the rhetoric and programmatic play on class conflict, even in  what would seem
to be 'unlikely' sources such as Jay Rockefeller, Franklin Roosevelt, Averall Harriman, Ted Kennedy, etc.
It remains as it was a rather superficial pretense of class consciousness, though not so superficial so it
doesn't work on many, then or now. Diggins would like to identify the progressive impulse generally as an
unsuccessful effort to return to America's 'first principles,' by resurrecting the liberalism that did not
survive past the Constitution, through a reinvigoration of "the great promise of civic virtue" which has
"ceased to have relevance and meaning in America," on "Madison's scheme of controls [which have]
frustrated the popular will and ... allowed corporate power to prevail in a political culture dominated by
interest group politics," (37) this last an echo of Charles Beard.



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