Mr. Woodbury has been represented, not only in America, but also in England, as a cunning politician and popularity-hunter. This reproach, as far as I have been able to judge,—and I believe I have had as good an opportunity of observing Mr. Woodbury, and the course of public events, as any one who has felt himself called upon to publish his lucubrations to the world,—is altogether malicious and groundless. Mr. Woodbury owes his elevation to his firmness of character and his sincere attachment to republican institutions. So far from courting public favour, he is but too frequently wanting in those trifling attentions and nice observances which insure popularity. I ought yet to observe that Mr. Woodbury has a taste for letters, which he manifests in the best possible manner, by being kind to those who have more leisure than he to cultivate them. Mr. Willis,—the same that dined at the Duke of Gordon’s,—Dr. L***, and a number of minor stars, are indebted to his kind hospitality; and I myself can testify to his condescension even to ordinary men.
What I have said on the subject of Mr. Woodbury’s popularity naturally induces me to say a few words on the peculiar character of American politicians. The question proposed by a member of that body is generally this:—“What measure can we carry to defeat our antagonists?” neither party appearing to have any fixed political tenets further than refer to the public revenue, which is a home question with every man and every party. On this account we often see in the United States the Democratic party assume the very principles they once denounced in the Federalists; and, on the other hand, the Federalists profess the doctrines which they most abhorred in the Democrats. The fact is, very few senators, representatives, and men in office have a clear understanding of the vast importance of the principles they maintain; nor do they seem to have a correct notion of republicanism, as contrasted with other forms of government. But then, how many of them possess an adequate knowledge of history—even of their own country? They all have, indeed, a certain republican instinct, or what the Americans call a correct feeling, of what is compatible with the text of their constitution; but not many of them, I believe, take a philosophical view of their government, such as would enable them to reduce the whole to a system, and to perceive accurately the bearing of every new question on the principles laid down in the national charter. Nor would such a metaphysical knowledge of the constitution materially benefit a partisan leader, who never asks what is right or wrong in the abstract, but merely “What do my constituents consider as right or wrong? What is the opinion of the public on this subject?” When a new question is proposed, he thrusts out his feelers, to feel the public pulse; and, having ascertained that, he makes his speeches accordingly, in order that the people may see that he is actively engaged on their side; for on the side that beats he must be, or he is “a ruined man.”
This sort of moral cowardice, which more or less pervades all classes of society, and of which the example is set in Congress, is certainly one of the worst features of American politics; and would almost make a man doubt the beneficial influence of republican institutions on the developement of mind and character, if their numerous blessings in other respects did not prove them capable of insuring the happiness of a people.
When I thus speak of American politicians, I do not mean to draw envious comparisons between them and European statesmen. I belong neither to that class of Europeans that cannot pronounce the name of America without a grudge, nor to that class of fashionable and travelled Americans that cannot find anything in their own country equal to Europe. On the contrary, I maintain that there is quite as much intelligence, application, and certainly of virtue, in the members of the cabinet at Washington, as can be found in the ministerial council of any European prince. And I say this, fully aware of its producing more sneers among the higher classes in America than in Europe.
If the conduct of every European minister were inquired into, like that of a head of department in Washington,—if his private and public transactions were canvassed with the same unrelenting severity as in America,—if he had to account for every one of his acts, not merely to Parliament, or, in course of time, to a limited number of electors, but to the people at large, speaking annually through the ballot-boxes,—then, I am afraid, few would be found capable of sustaining their position for a single year.
An American statesman has the most difficult position of any one in the world, for he has to solve a great and intricate problem in the presence of a multitude of spectators, who are never to see that he is puzzled, and who never have the patience to wait for the end, but condemn a measure from the first moment its immediate results do not answer their expectations. For this reason few men in America, even if they possess the talent, have the courage to propose a radical reform of abuses, or to work some signal good, unless the execution of it is sure to be step by step applauded by large majorities. It is this courting of popularity which is the bane of even the best statesmen in the United States; but it is in part forced upon them,—it is the conditio sine quâ non of their usefulness.
From the secretary of the Treasury I drove to the lodgings of Mr. Henry Clay, the celebrated senator from Kentucky. I found this extraordinary man, who was then already a little past his prime, the very type of what passes in Europe, ever since the clever caricatures of Mrs. Trollope, as “an American character.” Mr. Clay stands upwards of six feet; has a semi-Indian, half-human half-savage countenance, in which, however, the intellectual strongly preponderates over the animal. His manners, at first sight, appear to be extremely vulgar; and yet he is graceful, and even dignified, in his intercourse with strangers. He chews tobacco, drinks whisky punch, gambles, puts his legs on the table or the chimney, and spits, as an American would say, “like a regular Kentucky hog-driver;” and yet he is all gentleness, politeness, and cordiality in the society of ladies. Add to this that his organs of speech are the most melodious; and that, with great imagination and humour, he combines manly eloquence, and the power of sarcasm in the most extraordinary degree; and it will easily be conceived why he should have been able to captivate high and low,—l’homme du salon, and the “squatter” in the Western wilderness.
HENRY CLAY.
Much as Mr. Clay is esteemed in America, I do not think the people have as yet done justice to his talents. These, to be sure, are, owing to his advanced age, on the decline; but even the remnants of a mind like Clay’s are great, and entitle him to be ranked among the greatest living statesmen. He was for a long time the advocate of the system of internal improvements, combated with so much success by General Jackson. He advocated successively the establishment of national roads and canals, the continuance of a United States’ bank, the tariff, and, in short, every measure conducive to centralization. That this system, while it strengthens the government, and introduces order and uniformity into the administration of the country, diminishes, at the same time, the liberties of the individual States, and, in general, ill agrees with the principles of a pure democracy, such as are laid down in the American constitution, no one, who is not himself interested in the question, can reasonably deny; but it would be equally absurd to suppose every man who is an advocate of a central measure, to be at once an enemy to republican institutions, and a traitor to his country.