November 24, 2009


Burlingame, Michael, Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume One (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins U. Press, 2008).

Burlingame, Michael, Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume Two (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins U. Press, 2008) ("That American would hold a presidential election during a titanic civil war amazed German-born Francis Lieber, professor of history and political science at Columbia University. 'If we come triumphantly out of this war, with a presidential election in the midst of it,' he wrote in August 1864, 'I shall call it the greatest miracle in all the historic course of events. It is a war for nationality at a period when the people were not yet fully nationalized.' Democrats predicted that the administration would cancel the election in a brazen attempt to retain power, but Lincoln would not hear of it. 'We can not have free government without elections,' he believed; 'and if the rebellion could force us to forego, or postpone a national election, it might fairly claim to have already conquered and ruined us.' " Id. at 646 (citations omitted).).

Elkins, Stanley, and Eric McKitrick, The Age of Federalism: The Early American Republic, 1788-1800 (New York & Oxford: Oxford U. Press, 1993) ("This book is an extended encounter with firstness. It begins with the first appearance of the United States as a self-acknowledged nation, at the moment when the nation first put on the organizing structure under which it still functions. But though the structure is still there, the character and substance of what was first contained within it have altered beyond recognition, a process which in fact was in motion almost from the beginning. Our book seeks to recover something of this earlier substance, some measure of what it was like--the difference it made--becoming a 'nation' after having been something else, especially in the experience of those persons most directly implicated in bringing this entity into being and setting it afoot. Our scope is defined by the opening cycle of the nation's public life, one we are calling the Age of Federalism. Federalism, as a way of perceiving a society's purposes and guiding its collective affairs, did not have a very long life. We wish to account, to whatever extent is possible, for Federalism's ascendancy, decline, and eclipse, and to discern something of what displaced it." Id. at 3.).

Fischer, David Hackett, The Revolution of American Conservatism: The Federalist Party in the Era of Jeffersonian Democracy (New York: Harper & Row, 1965) ("A few of the young Federalists, the most intelligent, slowly reached the conclusion that Federalism could never be successfully revived." Id. at 46. "Some of the young Federalists could foresee their own defeat but not the tarnished victories of their successors. In fear more than in hope they hedged their political bets in three ways. First, some of them moved uncertainly toward a conception of minimal government which represented another departure from the ideals of the old school. 'You must either make the government supreme or the people supreme,' Barent Gardenier said. 'I am for the latter.' In 1803 a Federalist declared, 'The prime duty of a free government is to treat all men alike, leaving their prosperity and success to depend upon their integrity, industry and skill." Id. at 47. "Another striking fact about the younger generation of Federalist leaders was the way in which they returned to Christianity, with an evangelical enthusiasm rarely in evidence among gentlemen of the old school." Id. at 48. "The possessing classes had particular reasons for favoring a revival of Christianity. 'Take away Religion,' wrote Lewis Tappan, who began his public career as a young Federalist, 'and what prevents the mass of people from violating laws of God and man? There may be some, philosophical enough to be moral without the sanctions of Religion. But the generality wants its commands to restrain and regulate their conduct.' . . ." Id. at 48-49. "A third way of hedging a political gamble was education--formal schooling to control the common man, not to liberate him. While Jefferson produced platitudes and ineffectual plans, Federalists even in own state, such as Charles Fenton Mercer, labored to construct systems of public education which carried far beyond the ideas of the old school. Their purposes appeared in their infatuation with Lancastrian pedagogy, with its order, discipline, and mindless memory training, a device not merely for making mass education practicable but for making conservative education effective." Id. at 49. "All of these developments, political, economic, religious, and educational, encapsulated a revolution in the structure of American society, from organic interdependence to individual autonomy, from deference to political democracy, but most of all from open to covert elitism. The revolution had begun before the War of Independence; it would continue after the War of 1812. But in the intervening years, and especially in the period 1800-1816, it would proceed with unparalleled momentum. Ironically, the young Federalists who hoped to control its effects would contribute to both its mass and velocity by their partisan political activity. . . ." Id. at 49. "The sudden expansion of popular participation in the period 1800-1816 is not the only indication of significant structural changes in American politics. New patterns of political ethics were apparent and new forms of political corruption, as well. New kinds of men were holding public office, even on the national level." Id. at 192. "Two ethical changes were most apparent. First, Party loyalty entered the pantheon of political virtue." Id. at 192. "A second ethical change concerned the relationship of politicians to the people, the recognition of popular will as a standard of right. What ended as morality began as necessity. An effective vote-getter in New York when asked for the secret of his popularity, replied candidly, 'To tell the truth, when my troops won't follow me, I follow them.' Something of the same mood is apparent in the statement of a North Carolina Federalist who reported to a friend, 'I have been in stinking quarter, sifting the minds of the people' " Id. at 193.).

Madison, James, Writings (New York: Library of America, 1999).

McDonald, Forrest, E Pluribus Unum: The Formation of the American Republic, 1776-1790, 2d. edition (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 1979) (Recently, while waiting as my car was being serviced, I had the rare opportunity to list to a morning news/entertainment program on the hyperconservative Fox station. I have to admit that its conception of democracy scared the hell out of me. And I understood why the town meetings on health care reform, etc., had devolved into anti-intellectual rants. It also reinvigorated my appreciation of the United States Constitution, and its creation of a "republican," rather than a "democratic" form of government. We the people are basically politically rash, if not insane, and need to be checked. There is often much discussion of the balance of power between the various branch of the government, with that balance of power serving as a check on each of the branches. However, perhaps insufficient attention is given to the much needed check the Constitution places on 'We the people'. "There was, however, one cardinal difference between Britain and America which made a mere copying of the British system unfeasible. England had a hereditary monarchy and a hereditary nobility, each of which, along with the people, prevented the other from an unchecked expression of its will; and the two combined checked the people. In America, which lacked these hereditary institutions, it was necessary to devise some kind of structural substitute. This did not mean creating an artificial monarch and an aristocracy of wealth or education, as some of the delegates . . . proposed; but dividing the people into various aspects or capacities of themselves." "In other words, "the people" were not, in any part of the multilevel government, allowed to act as the whole people. Instead, for purposes of expressing their will they were separated from themselves both in space and in time. This was accomplished by separating the people, both in space and in time, from those they elected." "The national government would have four parts: House of Representatives, Senate, Presidency, and Court. The House was the "democratic" branch, all its members being elected directly by the people every two years--not, however, by the people as a whole, but by the people as citizens of subdivisions of states. The Senate was elected by the legislatures of the several state, and was therefore chosen by the people indirectly through their directly elected representatives, and represented the people not s residents of districts, but of states. Senators were removed further from the people by a time barrier, one-third of them being elected every two years for six-year terms. The chief executive was chosen by electors who were chosen by one of three means, as the state legislatures should direct: by the people in districts, by the people in the state as a whole, or by the state legislatures themselves; his term was four years, intermediate between that of the two houses of Congress. The fourth part of the national government, the Court, was chosen by the president (who was chosen by electors chosen by the legislatures chosen by the people), with the approval of the Senate (chosen by legislatures chosen by the people), and for life. And in state and local governments comparably cumbersome arrangements would continue to prevail." "The result of this jerry-built structure was that government in the United States would be of (that is, from) the people; hopefully, it would be for the people; but by no means would it be by the people. The people had no instrumentality though which to exercise "the general will" immediately, and they could express it directly only by achieving a fantastic unanimity and sustaining that unanimity for fifteen or twenty years." "The division of every voter into many artificial parts of himself was one of three aspects of the genius of the American constitutional system. . . ." Id. at 313-315.).

Miller, William Lee, Arguing About Slavery: The Great Battle in The United States Congress (New York: Knopf, 1996) ("Many consoled themselves with the belief that the end of slavery would come about somehow and eventually, by the gradual unfolding of historical forces--by the expansion of the nation westward, into land whose climate and resources made slavery economically unprofitable. Daniel Webster as one who propounded this convenient view: slavery's demise was inevitable, so we would not have to do--should not do--anything to make it happen. Some scholars down to at least the middle of the twentieth century echoed this notion: slavery could have been ended just by the passage of time. In the twentieth century, white citizens often expressed a comparable attitude about the Jim Crow system that had had hardened into place in the late nineteenth century: time will change it--and only time will change it. Those who expressed this view were often suspiciously quick to insist that no positive human action--particularly no law--could hasten the slow workings of time against racial segregation. 'You can't change hearts by law,' it was said, and racial discrimination could be ended only by a 'slow process of education,' and not by any action whatever. Many who said that not only did no such educating, but used the insistent passivity of these ideas to oppose ('too fast') any effort to educate. It is a revealing curiosity of American popular attitudes that a people so practical, so optimistic, so energetic, so direct, so quick to say that anything can be done by an effort of will--impossible takes a little longer--on other topics, have regularly and abruptly turned to the opposite extreme on issues of slavery and race: nothing can be done. Leave it alone. Don't meddle. It cannot be fixed. American slavery and racial injustice cannot be ended by direct human decision and action." Id. at 15-16. "One might argue that the whole slavery-abolishing, union-enhancing, race-equalizing action is the greatest of all the achievements of this country, in its more than two centuries. We do not ordinarily think of it that way, because our common national memory is saturated with the Civil War, and to call this result a great national achievement may seem to slight the terrible destruction. But one might respond that such an assertion serves rather to underline, as people at the time certainly did, the redemptive meaning of the appalling sacrifices. Not all wars mean much in the end, after all the blood is spilled, but that one did." Id. at 505-506. "It is true that the nation's performance on racial issues in the century after the Civil War would include an appalling retreat, a capitulation in 1876, the imposition of black codes and Jim Crow, lynching and the Klan. It is true that there would be what historian C. Vann Woodward called a 'lost hundred years'--that it would be necessary for the nation with great strain and difficulty, to enact in 1964 a Civil Rights Act that did not do much more than repeat what had been enacted in a civil rights act almost a century earlier, and in 1965 a Voting Rights Act that did no more than to endeavor to make real what had been formally guaranteed by the Fifteenth Amendment ninety-five years earlier. It is true that the sections were scarred by the war in ways that have not vanished over a century and a quarter later. It is true that the North turned aside and went about moneymaking and (mostly) forgot the plight of freedmen, but nevertheless used the bloody shirt from the war, and the 'treasury of virtue' stored up in its alleged moral superiority, to dominate. It is true that the white South, defeated, constructed a new pattern of racial domination. But for all that, the nation did not fall apart, did not abandon republicanism (democracy), did abolish slavery, and did affirm the formal equality of black person (or rather of all persons born or nationalized in the United States, of all citizens without regard to race, color, or previous condition of servitude). It did strengthen the Union, and make itself more clearly one nation. Winning the war by itself would not have been sufficient to accomplish these things, if the opposition to them had been unconditional, unambiguous, absolute, unified, fueled by a radically contrary philosophy, and a bottomless hatred. But it was not." Id. at 511-512.).

Miller, William Lee, The Business of May Next: James Madison and the Founding (Charlotte: U. of Virginia Press, 1992) ("One can learn something political from the insides of that great application of "rationality" to human organization, the bureaucracy (one learns among other things, perhaps without knowing the sociologist's term for it, that the informal organization is vastly different from the formal one on the chart.) One can learn a great deal from courts and the legal system, where general principles of social ordering intersect individual and concrete cases; it is no accident that the courtroom has been the most appealing arena of government for the drama and novel. But perhaps one can learn most about the ground and nature of politics in general, about the human being as a political animal, and also about politics in a republic, by participation in a legislature. A legislator going the rounds of bills and disputes and committees and second readings in a legislative body does not have command or superior authority, or a defined office with its piece of a putatively rational division of labor, or the explicit guidance of the law. In a "republican" legislature equal representatives of equal peoples must deal with each other as (more or less) equals, to persuade and deal and compromise and cast votes, and to mingle facts and values, interests and social goods in whatever proportions, and finally to decided collectively on the policy for a people." Id. at 11. "Enacting the laws of a people is a serious matter also because in the law coercion and reason, power and morality, meet. Law rests upon the ultimate sanction of physical violence, "legitimate" physical force, represented by the policeman, the jail, the soldier; government, of which law is the instrument, includes as a constituting element, in a famous definition, the "monopoly of legitimate violence." . . . When you drive too far over the speed limit, an officer of the law can come up behind you with his blue light flashing and force you to stop; when your protest breaks through the barriers the law has arranged, and when you go limp and refuse to cooperate, or when you resist arrest, an officer of the law may use the necessary physical force to restrain or coerce you, and you may be confined, against your will, by the power of the law, in a room with bars, that you will not be allowed to leave. At the time of this writing the states of the American union, as is now rare in civilized countries, may even, although the community is troubled and divided about this, kill you. The implicit threat of these ultimate uses of force runs through the while vast structure of the law: you must obey." "But the law does not properly rest simply upon this force or coercion and nothing else, nor is government wholly defined as the agency with a monopoly of legitimate violence. . . . In the traditions that formed the United States, in particular, but in the whole of Western history, and perhaps elsewhere as well, for law to be law it must guide and shape that use of force mot by whim, chance, interest, favoritism, personal pique or arbitrary will, but by reason and conscience: by forming the law of the social order in accord with the law written in what? Reason? A higher law? The moral order of the universe? The law written in the human heart, to which Antigone had appealed in Sophocles; tragedy? The Americans were more inclined than others to affirm or imply that beyond the written law there was a higher law that it should reflect. Otherwise "law" or "government" is sheer power and sheer interest, mine against yours, and human social life id a war, a jungle. A number of thinkers, and a number of human beings, have concluded, to be sure, that that is exactly what social life is. But not many Americans. [???] And not many of the English and other sources upon which the Americans drew--the republican forefathers of our forefathers. . . . Law for the Americans did not begin at the barrel if the gun; it began where reason and conscience met and managed force. The Americans were trying --to borrow from Madison's memos again--to substitute for violence and disorder "the mild and salutary coercion of the magistracy.'" Id. at 93-95.).

Miller, William Lee, The First Liberty: Religion and the American Republic (New York: Knopf, 1986) (“These immigrants groups would be at first much affected by the dominant culture---not only ‘American’ but also ‘Protestant.’ Will Herberg, whose book Protestant-Catholic-Jew caught the features of the religious scene in the 1950s, including the effects of the succession of generations of immigrants, agreed in conversation after one of the Fund for the Republic’s gatherings that the others of those ‘three faiths’ that had now become according to his book variant ‘ways of being American’ had all nevertheless been—neither he nor his interlocutor liked the word—‘Protestantized.’ But of course. A particular kind of Protestantism saturated the American nation in its early days; peculiarly vulnerable in part for the same reasons that it permeated the culture, as years wore on and institutions and points of views multiplied, it was permeated in return, creating the underlying American amalgam. If you read the descriptions of the characteristically ‘American’ in the accounts of nineteenth-century European observers or twentieth-century social scientists, and then read the descriptions (theirs and others) of the characteristics of mainline American Protestantism, you will find they are identical: individualistic, voluntaristic, ‘moralistic,’ ahistorical, self-reliant, proving worth by upward career, optimistic, philanthropically but not ‘politically’ generous; a phrase like ‘practical idealism’ bridges the two, if indeed they are distinct. And all of this could not help by affects the Lutherans, Catholics, Jews, and others who came into the nation in the period from the 1840s to the 1920s. It is of course often said that the immigrants became hyper-America, not only in the flag-waving but also in the cultural sense. This, too, had its religious dimension.” Id. at 272. “Nevertheless, even in early times the action was not all one way, and by the late twentieth century it has become another story. Among these immigrant religious communities there are most importantly the two to which Protestant Christianity is linked in what this nation in particular would learn to call the ‘Judeo-Christian tradition.’ And they have in common, although in utterly different ways, sharps contrasts to the prevailing American Protestant culture as it developed on two salient points: They are both communal-traditional-historical (and in the Catholic case institutional as well), as against the opposites of all those among the righteous dissidents of dissent in the New World, and they both have a high and serious intellectual tradition, which American Protestantism as it became pietistic and revivalist dropped overboard. The slightly utopian hope is that these historic religious communities can now do more affecting of the culture in their way, correcting what many would see to be limitations and faults--particularly when it comes to what a ‘Republic’ needs—in American Protestantism.” Id. at 272-273. Sorry Professor Miller, that “slightly utopian hope” of yours has yet to be realized as the first decade of the twentieth century begins to wind itself down. And, I (poor excuse of for a Roman Catholic that I am) might argue that the American Catholicism’s “serious intellectual tradition” is, itself, under siege and in decline. Many have argued that American education has declined significantly in the last half-century, and is declining further still now. There is no reason to think that am American Catholic intellectual tradition would not suffer direct or collateral damage as well. Moreover, America` has a long, and deep, anti-intellectual tradition. Is there any reason for confidence, as American Catholics become more Americanized, that their intellectual tradition will not also become Americanized and, as a consequence, less intellectual and more anti-intellectual?).

Stampp, Kenneth M., The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South (New York: Knopf, 1956) (" 'To-day is the anniversary of American independence,' wrote an embittered South Carolina planter, in 1856. 'I have no doubt in many parts there will be pretensions of great rejoicings, but I cannot really rejoice for a fre[e]dom which allows every bankrupt, swindler, thief and scoundrel, traitor and seller of his vote to be placed on an equality with myself. . . . The Northern abolitionists are threatening and planning to take away or destroy the value of our Slave property, and the demon democracy by its leveling principles, universal suffrage and numerous popular elections, homestead laws, and bribery are sapping the foundations of the rights of property in every thing.' " Id. at 419 (citing Gavin Diary, entry for July 4, 1856). "Southern slaveholders were not the only nineteenth-century Americans who took a pessimistic view of "demon democracy" and questioned the value of their birthright of liberal ideals. In the North, too, many conservative men of property still nursed a Hamiltonian doubt of the people's capacity to govern themselves. But no other group was so solidly dedicated, by interest and necessity, to the proposition that men were created unequal as were the slaveholders of the Old South. No other group was so firmly rooted in a dying past, so fearful of change, so alienated from the spirit of the age." Id. at 419-420.).

Wood, Gordon S., The Creation of the American Republic, 1776-1787 (Chapel Hill: U. of North Carolina Press, 1969) ("As Joel Barlow noted in 1792, the word 'people' in America had taken on a different meaning from what it had in Europe. In America it meant the whole community and comprehended every human creature in the society; in Europe, however, it meant 'something else more difficult to define.' 'Society,' said Enos Hitchcock in 1788, 'is composed of individuals--they are parts of the whole.' And such individuals in America were the entire society" there could be nothing else--no orders, no lords, no monarch, no magistrates in the traditional sense. 'Without the distinctions of title, families, or nobility,' wrote Samuel Williams, 'they acknowledged and reverenced only those distinctions which nature had made, in a diversity of talents, abilities, and virtues. There were no family interests, connexions, or estates, large enough to oppress them. There was no excessive wealth in the hands of a few, sufficient to corrupt them' The American were thus both equal and unequal at the same time." Id. at 607. "Politics in such a society could no longer be simply described as a contest between rulers and people, between institutionalized orders of the society. The political struggles would in fact be among the people themselves, among all the various groups and individuals seeking to create inequality out of their equality by gaining control of a government divested of its former identity with the society. It was this disembodiment of government from society that ultimately made possible the conception of modern politics and the eventual justification of competing parties among the people. Those who criticized such divisive jealousy and opposition among the people, said William Hornby of South Carolina in 1784, did not understand 'the great change in politics, which the revolution must have necessarily produced. . . . . In these days we are equal citizen of a DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC, in which jealousy and opposition must naturally exist, where there exists a difference in the minds, interests, and sentiments of mankind.' While few were as yet willing to justify factionalism so blatantly, many now realized with Madison that 'the regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the principal task of modern legislation, and involves the spirit of party and faction in the necessary and ordinary operations of the government.' Legislation in such a society could not be the transcending of the different interests but the reconciling of them. Despite Madison's lingering hope, the public good could not be an entity distinct from its parts; it was rather 'the general combined interest of all the state put together, as it were, upon an average.''" Id. at 608.).

Wood, Gordon S., Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815 (The Oxford History of the United States) (Oxford & New York: Oxford U. Press, 2009) ("Most alarming to leaders like Madison was the fact that these abuses of individual rights by the state legislatures were backed by the bulk of the electorates in each state. In the 1770s the Revolutionaries had not conceived of the possibility of the people becoming tyrannical. When Tories had suggested in 1775 that the people might indeed abuse their power, good Whig patriots like John Adams had dismissed the notion as illogical: "a democratic despotism is a contradiction in terms." The crown or executive authority was the only possible source of tyranny; the people could never tyrannize themselves." "But by the 1780s many leaders had come to realize that the Revolution had unleashed social and political forces that they had not anticipated and that the "excesses of democracy" threatened the very essence of their republican revolution. The behavior of the state legislatures, in the despairing words of Madison, had called "into question the fundamental principle of republican Government, that the majority who rule in such governments are the safest Guardians both of the Public Good and private rights" This was the issue that made the 1780s so critical to large numbers of American leaders." Id. at 19-20. On a completely different point, and because of my concerns about the decline of legal education: "Being a lawyer, a physician, a clergyman, a military officer, in other words, being members of what were beginning to be called "professions," was not yet considered having an occupation. Lawyers, for example, often tried to assure themselves and other that they were really gentlemen who only occasionally practiced some law. For such men, such as young Thomas Shippen, law was not as much a skilled profession as it was a desirable attribute of a man of learning, one, as James Kent told his Columbia law students in 1794, that out to be "usefully known by every Gentleman of Polite Education." Such gentlemen-lawyers were expected to read Horace as well as Blackstone, Cicero as well as Coke, history and poetry as well as common law books. Early in his adult life Jefferson had been a lawyer, but he scarcely resembled a modern practitioner calculating billable hours. He believed that the law, like all of learning, was important for a variety of reason. "It qualifies a man to be useful to himself, to his neighbors, and to the public. It is the most certain stepping stone to preferment in the political line."" Id. at 23.).

Wood, Gordon S., The Radicalism of the American Revolution (New York: Knopf, 1992) ("This book is part of a continuing inquiry into the democratization of early America . . . . Few subjects are more important to Americans, and perhaps to the rest of the world as well. Americans were not born free and democratic in any modern sense; they became so--and largely as a consequence of the American Revolution. After eighteenth-century Americans threw off their monarchical allegiance in 1776, they struggled to find new attachments befitting a republican people. Living in a society that was already diverse and pluralistic, Americans realized that these attachments could not be the traditional ethnic, religious, and tribal loyalties of the Old World. Instead, they sought new enlightened connections to hold their new popular societies together. But when these proved too idealistic and visionary, they eventually found new democratic adhesives in the actual behavior of plain ordinary people--in the everyday desire for the freedom to make money and pursue happiness in the here and now. To base a society on the commonplace behavior of ordinary people may be obvious and understandable to us today, but it was momentously radical in the long sweep of world history up to that time. This book attempts to explain this momentous radicalism of the American Revolution." Id. at ix. “The grass-roots Anti-Federalists concluded that, given the variety of competing interests and the fact that all people had interests, the only way for a person to be fairly and accurately represented in government was to have someone like himself with his same interests speak for him; no one else could be trusted to do so.” “Ultimately, the logic of this conception of actual representation determined that no one could be represented in government unless he had the right to vote. The interests of a person were so particular, so personal, that only by exercising the ballot could he protect and promote his interests. Election in America became the sole criterion of representation. Insofar as American politics became localist and dominated by interest groups and calls for extending the suffrage, the Anti-Federalists prepared the way. . . .” “The Anti-Federalist lost the battle over the Constitution. But they did not lose the war over the kind of national government the United States would have for a good part, at least, of the next century.” Id. at 259. “Many Americans of the early Republic, with varying degrees of reluctance and enthusiasm, came to believe that what they once thought was true was no longer true. Government officials were no longer to play the role of umpire; they were no longer to stand above the competing interests of the marketplace and make disinterested, impartial judgments about what was good for the whole society. Elected officials were to bring partial, local interests of the society, and sometimes even their own interests, right into the working government. Partisanship and parties became legitimate activities of politics. . . . “ Id. at 294. “A new generation of democratic Americans was no longer interested in the revolutionaries’ dream of building a classical republic of elitist virtue out of the inherited materials of the Old World. America, they said, would find its greatness not by emulating the states of classical antiquity, not by copying the fiscal-military powers of modern Europe, and not by producing a few notable geniuses and great-souled men. Instead, it would discover its greatness by creating a prosperous free society belonging to obscure people with their workaday concerns and their pecuniary pursuits of happiness—common people with their common interests in making money and getting ahead. No doubt the cost that America paid for this democracy was high—with its vulgarity, its materialism, its rootlessness, its anti-intellectualism. But there is no denying the wonder of it and the real earthly benefits it brought to the hitherto neglected and despised masses of common laboring people. The American Revolution created this democracy, and we are living with its consequences still.” Id. at 369.).