“The reason why in America, more than in every other country, political controversies are personal, is, that the opposition, which in consequence of universal suffrage can only triumph by popular majorities, is obliged to apparently uphold the principles maintained by the democracy; so that, while it cannot make war upon the general doctrines of the administration, it is concentrating all its venom in its attacks on particular measures, and the men who support them. Let any Whig, either in or out of Congress, deny the correctness of this proposition, and, I say, he either does not understand our institutions, or he is wilfully disguising the truth. There is no other real distinction of parties in the United States, except, that one really does or means to do what it says; while the other is saying one thing, and preparing or hoping to be able to do another. There is more political hypocrisy in this country than perhaps anywhere else,—not among the people, but among ‘the upper classes;’ owing to the basis of our society being purely democratic, and the superstructure a lamentable imitation of the usages of Europe.
“I know,” continued he after a pause, “that no administration or set of men is without its political misconceptions and mistakes; but have the opposition calculated how many of these are to be charged to their own account? Into how many errors they force the administration by their reckless and indiscriminate resistance against all measures emanating from the executive? And do they not thus force the government to avail itself continually of ‘the party’ in carrying measures which ought to originate in calm reflection and sound statesmanship, and be applied in a generous spirit to all classes of society? The spirit of party is, indeed, at the basis of our institutions; an opposition we must have, and the peculiar nature of our government requires a powerful one; but most unfortunately our demagogues—Whigs and Democrats—oppose men, not principles. If there be a man in the country capable of acting as mediator between the two hostile parties,—appeasing the one without sacrificing the principles of the other,—that man is Mr. Van Buren; and future events will prove it.”
We now halted before a small house in Pennsylvania Avenue, situated not far from the Capitol. This was the temporary residence of Mr. John C. Calhoun, senator from South Carolina. If the South, in general, have a right to be proud of the great number of eminent statesmen and orators who represent its interests in Congress, South Carolina in particular may glory in Mr. Calhoun. He is a statesman, not a lawyer; and perhaps the only senator in Congress whose course of reading was strictly adapted to the high functions he was to assume. When my friend and I entered the room, he was stretched on a couch, from which he rose to offer us a warm Southern welcome. He almost immediately introduced the subject of politics, in which his superiority over my friend soon reduced the latter to the situation of a mere listener.
As he was explaining his views and theories, which, contrary to the usual American practice, he did in the most concise manner, and with a degree of rapidity which required our utmost attention to follow him, his face assumed an almost supernatural expression; his dark brows were knit together, his eyes shot fire, his black hair stood on end, while on his quivering lips there hung an almost Mephistophelean scorn at the absurdity of the opposite doctrine. Then, at once, he became again all calmness, gentleness, and good-nature, laughing at the blunders of his friends and foes, and commencing a highly comical review of their absurdities.
Mr. Calhoun is, without contradiction, the greatest genius in Congress, and secretly acknowledged as such even by his most declared political enemies. His speeches are the shortest, his political views the most elevated, his delivery the most impressive of any one of his colleagues; and he adds to all these qualities the most unsparing irony. He was Vice-President at the commencement of General Jackson’s administration; but subsequently joined the Whigs in order to oppose the tariff, nullified by his native State. Without this step, which destroyed his popularity in the North, he would, with very little opposition, have become General Jackson’s successor in office. This alone proves the absurdity of the charge of unlawful ambition repeatedly brought against him. The Presidential chair of the United States, once within his reach, was assuredly a higher mark than the Presidency of “the Southern Union,” the bête noire of the enlightened opposition. Mr. Calhoun has lately again joined the administration in its endeavour to separate itself from the banks; a short extract from his speech I have already presented in a previous note.
“You must yet see one of our most remarkable men,” said my friend; “but I cannot take you to his house. You must see him at his office, where he is from five o’clock in the morning till late at night, always ‘up and doing.’ I mean the fifth auditor, Mr. Amos Kendall, who, according to the account of the opposition, has governed the country for the last six or eight years, and against whose genius their united talents were unable to prevail. Mr. Kendall is a native of Massachusetts, and a graduate of Dartmouth College. He emigrated to Kentucky, where, like many New-Englanders, he was for a time employed as an instructor, and for a short time engaged as private tutor in Mr. Clay’s family. He subsequently became editor of a paper, which is said to have revolutionised the State, and, inasmuch as the leading articles of one journal are copied into the others, the whole country.”
“No man knows like Mr. Kendall how to address the people: his language is always popular, and yet concise; he never destroys the effect of a strong thought by spinning it out into a long sentence; and, above all, he avoids declamation. His style is forcible; because it convinces the people in their own way, instead of fatiguing them with laborious researches, or overwhelming them with the unfathomable pathos of a regular orator. He has shown to his political opponents that the various principles of democracy may be united into a system, and that that system may be maintained in practice by a government strong within and without.”
At this moment our coach stopped at the entrance of the war department, and the next minute we were ushered into the audience-chamber of the fifth auditor. He was at that moment talking to several people that besieged his office, without leaving off writing. When I was introduced to him, he made a slight motion forward, seizing me by the hand; but immediately sank back again into his chair with a seeming intention to recommence his labours. He spoke but a few words, principally by way of asking questions; and having ascertained who I was, what I sought, and what my opinions were, was evidently forming an estimate of my mind and character. While he was thus conversing with my friend and me, filling up the intervals with writing, I observed that he was equally watching the rest of the company; among whom I recognised an individual who I knew did not in his native place enjoy a very high reputation for industry, and who, to judge from Mr. Kendall’s glances at him, had no particular chance of success in Washington.
Mr. Kendall’s person is one of the most striking I ever beheld. He is of a spare frame, of rather less than middle stature, and, when walking or standing, inclines his body slightly forward. His face is pale, wearing the imprint of over-exertion; but his large eyes are full of animation, and his forehead, the highest and broadest I ever saw, bespeaks the greatest intellectual power. His head, which indeed is one of the most extraordinary phrenological specimens, is of the most unusual size when compared to his body; and it seems as if, by continual exertion of his intellectual faculties, his whole body had been made tributary to his brain. A man with Mr. Kendall’s extraordinary powers of mind, and such indefatigable habits of industry,—calm, passionless, and endowed with the most unerring judgment,—must naturally be hated by his political antagonists; though not even the most obstinate members of the opposition have as yet ventured to dispute his talents.