he constant agitation
which prevails in a democratic community tends unceasingly, on the
contrary, to change the character of the language, as it does the aspect
of affairs. In the midst of this general stir and competition of minds,
a great number of new ideas are formed, old ideas are lost, or reappear,
or are subdivided into an infinite variety of minor shades. The
consequence is, that many words must fall into desuetude, and others
must be brought into use.

Democratic nations love change for its own sake; and this is seen in
their language as much as in their politics. Even when they do not
need to change words, they sometimes feel a wish to transform them. The
genius of a democratic people is not only shown by the great number of
words they bring into use, but also by the nature of the ideas these new
words represent. Amongst such a people the majority lays down the law
in language as well as in everything else; its prevailing spirit is as
manifest in that as in other respects. But the majority is more engaged
in business than in study--in political and commercial interests than in
philosophical speculation or literary pursuits. Most of the words coined
or adopted for its use will therefore bear the mark of these habits;
they will mainly serve to express the wants of business, the passions of
party, or the details of the public administration. In these departments
the language will constantly spread, whilst on the other hand it will
gradually lose ground in metaphysics and theology.

As to the source from which democratic nations are wont to derive their
new expressions, and the manner in which they go to work to coin them,
both may easily be described. Men living in democratic countries know
but little of the language which was spoken at Athens and at Rome,
and they do not care to dive into the lore of antiquity to find the
expression they happen to want. If they have sometimes recourse to
learned etymologies, vanity will induce them to search at the roots of
the dead languages; but erudition does not naturally furnish them with
its resources. The most ignorant, it sometimes happens, will use them
most. The eminently democratic desire to get above their own sphere will
often lead them to seek to dignify a vulgar profession by a Greek or
Latin name. The lower the calling is, and the more remote from learning,
the more pompous and erudite is its appellation. Thus the French
rope-dancers have transformed themselves