FACING A SOLEMN RESPONSIBILITY
Shortly after the Democratic National Convention I gave a dinner at the
newspaper men's cottage at Sea Girt, to which I invited the Democratic
candidate and the newspaper men, in order that they might be given a
chance to meet him in the most intimate way and obtain from him what he
was pleased to call the "inside" of his mind. Upon the conclusion of the
dinner, the Democratic candidate opened his heart in a little talk of the
most intimate and interesting character. It contained not only his views
of the Presidency, but also a frank discussion of the great problems that
would confront the next administration. In referring to Mr. Roosevelt, he
said that he had done a great service in rousing the country from its
lethargy, and in that work he had rendered admirable and lasting service,
but beyond that he had failed, for he had not, during his administrations,
attacked two of the major problems: the tariff and the currency, which he,
Wilson, considered to be the heart and centre of the whole movement for
lasting and permanent reform in America. Discussing Mr. Roosevelt, he
said:
He promised too often the millennium. No public man has a right to go
so far afield. You have no right to promise Heaven unless you can
bring us to it, for, in making promises, you create too much
expectation and your failure brings with it only disappointment and
sometimes despair. As a candidate for the Presidency I do not want to
promise Heaven unless I can bring you to it. I can only see a little
distance up the road. I cannot tell you what is around the corner. The
successful leader ought not to keep too far in advance of the mass he
is seeking to lead, for he will soon lose contact with them. No
unusual expectation ought to be created by him. When messages are
brought to me by my friends of what is expected of the next President,
I am sometimes terrified at the task that would await me in case I
should be elected. For instance, my daughter, who is engaged in
social-welfare work in Philadelphia, told me of a visit she paid a
humble home in that city where the head of a large family told her
that her husband was going to vote for me because it would mean
cheaper bread. My God, gentlemen, just think of the responsibility an
expectation of that kind creates! I can't reduce the price of bread. I
can only strive in the few years I shall have in office to remove the
noxious growths that have been planted in our soil and try to clear
the way for the new adjustment which is necessary. That adjustment
cannot be brought about suddenly. We cannot arbitrarily turn right
about face and pull one policy up by the roots and cast it aside,
while we plant another in virgin soil. A great industrial system has
been built up in this country under the fosterage of the Government,
behind a wall of unproductive taxes. Changes must be brought about,
first here, then there, and then there again. We must move from step
to step with as much prudence as resolution. In other words, we are
called upon to perform a delicate operation, and in performing a
delicate operation it is necessary for the surgeon who uses the knife
to know where the foundation of vitality is, so that in cutting out
the excrescence he shall not interfere with the vital tissues.
And while we do so we must create by absolute fairness and open-
mindedness the atmosphere of mutual concession. There are no old
scores to be paid off; there are no resentments to be satisfied; there
is no revolution to be attempted. Men of every interest must be drawn
into conference as to what it behooves us to do, and what it is
possible for us to do. No one should be excluded from the conference
except those who will not come in upon terms of equality and the
common interest. We deal with great and delicate matters.
We should deal with them with pure and elevated purpose, without fear,
without excitement, without undue haste, like men dealing with the
sacred fortunes of a great country, and not like those who play for
political advantage, or seek to reverse any policy in their own
behalf.