With a view of explaining more perfectly the nature of this constitution, I will briefly exhibit the points in which the British and American governments differ [349].
| In England. | In America. |
| I. The king possesses imperial dignity. | There is no king; the president acts as the chief magistrate of the nation only. |
| II. This imperial dignity is hereditary and perpetual. | The presidency lasts only four years. |
| III. The king has the sole power of making war and peace, and of forming treaties with foreign powers. | The president can do neither, without the consent of Congress. |
| IV. The king alone can levy troops, build fortresses, and equip fleets. | The president has no such power: this is vested in Congress. |
| V. He is the source of all judicial power, and the head of all the tribunals of the nation. | The executive has only the appointment of judges, with the consent of the senate, and is not connected with the judiciary. |
| VI. He is the fountain of all honour, office, and privilege; can create peers, and distribute titles and dignities. | The president has no such power. There are no titles, and he can only appoint to office, by and with the consent of the senate. |
| VII. He is at the head of the national church, and has supreme control over it. | There is no established church. |
| VIII. He is the superintendent of commerce; regulates the weights and measures, and can alone coin money and give currency to foreign coin. | The president has no such power. |
| IX. He is the universal proprietor of the kingdom. | The president has nothing to do with the property of the United States [350]. |
| X. The king's person is sacred and inviolate; he is accountable to no human power, and can do no wrong. | The president is nothing more than an individual, is amenable like all civil officers, and considered as capable of doing wrong as any other citizen. |
| XI. The British legislature contains a house of lords, 300 nobles, whose seats, honours, and privileges are hereditary. | There are no nobles, and both houses of Congress are elected. |
It may, perhaps, be unnecessary to adduce more points of difference to illustrate the nature of the American government. These are amply sufficient to demonstrate the entire democratic tendency of the constitution of the United States, and the error under which those persons labour, who believe that but few differences, and those immaterial and unimportant, exist between these two governments. They have, indeed, in common the Habeas Corpus and the Trial by Jury, the great bulwarks of civil liberty, but in almost every other particular they disagree.
The second branch of this government is the legislature. This consists of a Senate and House of Representatives; the members of the latter are chosen every two years by the people; and those of the former, every six years by the legislatures of the different states. It is in this branch that the American government differs from the republics of ancient and modern times; it is this which [351] makes it not a pure, but a representative democracy; and it is this which gives it such a decided superiority over all the governments in the world. Experience has demonstrated the impracticability of assembling a numerous collection of people to frame laws, and their incompetency, when assembled, for judicious deliberation and prompt and unbiassed decision. The passions of illiterate and unthinking men are easily roused into action and inflamed to madness. Artful and designing demagogues are too apt to take advantage of those imbecilities of our nature, and to convert them to the basest purposes.
The qualifications of representatives are very simple. It is only required that they should be citizens of the United States, and have attained the age of twenty-five. The moment their period of service expires, they are again, unless re-elected, reduced to the rank and condition of citizens. If they should have acted in opposition to the wishes and interests of their constituents, while performing the functions of legislation, the people possess the remedy and can exercise it without endangering the peace and harmony of society; the offending member is dropped, and his place supplied by another, more worthy of confidence. This consciousness of responsibility, on the part of the representatives, operates as a perpetual guarantee to the people, and protects and secures them in the enjoyment of their political and civil liberties.
[352] It must be admitted that the Americans have attained the Ultima Thulé in representative legislation, and that they enjoy this inestimable blessing to a much greater extent than the people of Great Britain. Of the three distinct and independent branches of that government, one only owes its existence to the free suffrages of the people, and this, from the inequality of representation, the long intervals between the periods of election, and the liability of members, from this circumstance, to be corrupted, is not so important and useful a branch as might otherwise be expected. Imperfect, however, as it is, the people, without it, would indeed be slaves, and the government nothing more than a pure monarchy.
The American walks abroad in the majesty of freedom; if he be innocent, he shrinks not from the gaze of upstart and insignificant wealth, nor sinks beneath the oppression of his fellow-man. Conscious of his rights and of the security he enjoys, by the liberal institutions of his country, independence beams in his eye, and humanity glows in his heart. Has he done wrong? He knows the limits of his punishment, and the character of his judges. Is he innocent? He feels that no power on earth can crush him. What a condition is this, compared with that of the subjects of almost all the European nations!
As long as it is preserved, the security of the citizen and the union of the states, will be guaranteed, [353] and the country thus governed, will become the home of the free, the retreat of misery, and the asylum of persecuted humanity. As a written compact, it is a phenomenon in politics, an unprecedented and perfect example of representative democracy, to which the attention of mankind is now enthusiastically directed. Most happily and exquisitely organized, the American constitution is, in truth, at once "a monument of genius, and an edifice of strength and majesty." The union of its parts forms its solidity, and the harmony of its proportions constitutes its beauty. May it always be preserved inviolate by the gallant and highminded people of America, and may they never forget that its destruction will be the inevitable death-blow of liberty, and the probable passport to universal despotism!
The speaker of the House of Representatives is Mr. Clay, a delegate from Kentucky, and who, not long ago, acted a conspicuous part, as one of the American commissioners at Ghent.[117] He is a tall, thin, and not very muscular man; his gait is stately, but swinging; and his countenance, while it indicates genius, denotes dissipation. As an orator, Mr. Clay stands high in the estimation of his countrymen, but he does not possess much gracefulness or elegance of manner; his eloquence is impetuous and vehement; it rolls like a torrent, but like a torrent which is sometimes irregular, and occasionally obstructed. Though there is a [354] want of rapidity and fluency in his elocution, yet he has a great deal of fire and vigour in his expression. When he speaks he is full of animation and earnestness; his face brightens, his eye beams with additional lustre, and his whole figure indicates that he is entirely occupied with the subject on which his eloquence is employed. In action, on which Demosthenes laid such peculiar emphasis, and which was so highly esteemed among the ancients, Mr. Clay is neither very graceful nor very imposing. He does not, in the language of Shakespear, "so suit the word to the action, and the action to the word, as not to o'erstep the modesty of nature." In his gesticulation and attitudes, there is sometimes an uniformity and awkwardness that lessen his merit as an orator, and in some measure destroy the impression and effect his eloquence would otherwise produce. Mr. Clay does not seem to have studied rhetoric as a science, or to have paid much attention to those artificial divisions and rhetorical graces and ornaments on which the orators of antiquity so strongly insist. Indeed, oratory as an art is but little studied in this country. Public speakers here trust almost entirely to the efficacy of their own native powers for success in the different fields of eloquence, and search not for the extrinsic embellishments and facilities of art. It is but rarely they unite the Attic and Rhodian manner, and still more rarely do they devote their attention to the acquisition [355] of those accomplishments which were, in the refined ages of Greece and Rome, considered so essential to the completion of an orator. Mr. Clay, however, is an eloquent speaker; and notwithstanding the defects I have mentioned, very seldom fails to please and convince. His mind is so organized that he overcomes the difficulties of abstruse and complicated subjects, apparently without the toil of investigation or the labour of profound research. It is rich, and active, and rapid, grasping at one glance, connections the most distant, and consequences the most remote, and breaking down the trammels of error and the cobwebs of sophistry. When he rises to speak he always commands attention, and almost always satisfies the mind on which his eloquence is intended to operate. The warmth and fervor of his feelings, and the natural impetuosity of his character, which seem to be common to the Kentuckians, often indeed lead him to the adoption of opinions, which are not, at all times, consistent with the dictates of sound policy. Though ambitious and persevering, his intentions are good and his heart is pure; he is propelled by a love of country, but yet is solicitous of distinction; he wishes to attain the pinnacle of greatness without infringing the liberties, or marring the prosperity of that land of which it seems to be his glory to be a native.