Tocqueville was able to sense the February Revolution of 1848 beginning by the way the people were acting: he writes, “as soon as I had set foot in the street I could for the first time scent revolution in the air: the middle of the street was empty; the shops were not open; there were no carriages, or people walking; one heard none of the vendors’ cries; little frightened groups of neighbors talked by the doors in lowered voices; anxiety or anger disfigured every face” (Tocqueville 36). It was quiet, too quiet, and the atmosphere was too tense. The nearly silent streets of Paris became a representation of the Parisians’ apprehension. When Tocqueville was walking through the streets and saw the barricades, fallen trees, and the other acts of destruction, he found himself “saying what had long been on the tip of [his] tongue: ‘Believe me this time it is not another riot, but a revolution.’” (Tocqueville 38). The manner in which the Parisians had transformed the city physically in addition to the incorporeal manner made it doubly obvious what was happening even though it was not quite like the last revolution that had occurred. Tocqueville comments on this, saying, “Nowhere did I see the seething unrest I had witnessed in 1830, when the whole city reminded me of one vast, boiling cauldron. This time it was not a matter of overthrowing the government, but simply of letting it fall”, implying this revolution did not require much effort and therefore there was no need for all the energetic shouting and violence that had happened in 1830 (Tocqueville 39). This time, the Parisians had transformed Paris into a quiet, but tense entity rather than one raging in civil
Tocqueville was able to sense the February Revolution of 1848 beginning by the way the people were acting: he writes, “as soon as I had set foot in the street I could for the first time scent revolution in the air: the middle of the street was empty; the shops were not open; there were no carriages, or people walking; one heard none of the vendors’ cries; little frightened groups of neighbors talked by the doors in lowered voices; anxiety or anger disfigured every face” (Tocqueville 36). It was quiet, too quiet, and the atmosphere was too tense. The nearly silent streets of Paris became a representation of the Parisians’ apprehension. When Tocqueville was walking through the streets and saw the barricades, fallen trees, and the other acts of destruction, he found himself “saying what had long been on the tip of [his] tongue: ‘Believe me this time it is not another riot, but a revolution.’” (Tocqueville 38). The manner in which the Parisians had transformed the city physically in addition to the incorporeal manner made it doubly obvious what was happening even though it was not quite like the last revolution that had occurred. Tocqueville comments on this, saying, “Nowhere did I see the seething unrest I had witnessed in 1830, when the whole city reminded me of one vast, boiling cauldron. This time it was not a matter of overthrowing the government, but simply of letting it fall”, implying this revolution did not require much effort and therefore there was no need for all the energetic shouting and violence that had happened in 1830 (Tocqueville 39). This time, the Parisians had transformed Paris into a quiet, but tense entity rather than one raging in civil