The next morning, according to agreement, I went to call on the old

hero. I found him living in the upper part of a little whitewashed

two-story house, on the corner of two streets, west of the town. A

flight of wooden steps outside took me to his door. He was there to

welcome me. John Burns is a stoutish, slightly bent, hale old man, with

a light blue eye, a long, aggressive nose, a firm-set mouth, expressive

of determination of character, and a choleric temperament. His hair,

originally dark brown, is considerably bleached with age; and his beard,

once sandy, covers his face (shaved once or twice a week) with a fine

crop of silver stubble. A short, massy kind of man; about five feet four

or five inches in height, I should judge. He was never measured but once

in his life. That was when he enlisted in the War of 1812. He was then

nineteen years old, and stood five feet in his shoes. "But I've growed a

heap since," said the old hero.

He introduced me to his wife, a slow, somewhat melancholy old lady, in

ill health. "She has been poorly now for a good many years." They have

no children.

At my request he told me his story. He is of Scotch parentage; and who

knows but he may be akin to the ploughman-poet whose "arrowy songs still

sing in our morning air"? He was born and bred in Burlington, New

Jersey. A shoemaker by trade, he became a soldier by choice, and fought

the British in what used to be the "last war." I am afraid he contracted

bad habits in the army. For some years after the war he led a wandering

and dissipated life. Forty years ago he chanced to find himself in

Gettysburg, where he married and settled down. But his unfortunate

habits still adhered to him, and he was long looked upon as a man of

little worth. At last, however, when there seemed to be no hope of his

ever being anything but a despised old man, he took a sudden resolution

to reform. The fact that he kept that resolution, and still keeps it so

strictly that it is impossible to prevail upon him to taste a drop of

intoxicating liquor, attests a truly heroic will. He was afterwards a

constable in Gettysburg, in which capacity he served some six years.

On the morning of the first day's fight he sent his wife away, telling

her that he would take care of the house. The firing was near by, over

Seminary Ridge. Soon a wounded soldier came into the town and stopped at

an old house on the opposite corner. Burns saw the poor fellow lay down

his musket, and the inspiration to go into the battle seems then first

to have seized him. He went over and demanded the gun.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked the soldier.

"I'm going to shoot some of the damned Rebels!" replied John.

He is not a swearing man, and the strong adjective is to be taken in a

strictly literal, not a profane, sense.

Having obtained the gun, he pushed out on the Chambersburg Pike, and was

soon in the thick of the skirmish.

"I wore a high-crowned hat, and a long-tailed blue; and I was seventy

years old."

The sight of so old a man, in such costume, rushing fearlessly forward

to get a shot in the very front of the battle, of course attracted

attention. He fought with the Seventh Wisconsin Regiment, the Colonel of

which ordered him back, and questioned him, and finally, seeing the old

man's patriotic determination, gave him a good rifle in place of the

musket he had brought with him.

"Are you a good shot?"

"Tolerable good," said John, who is an old fox-hunter.

"Do you see that Rebel riding yonder?"

"I do."

"Can you fetch him?"

"I can try."

The old man took deliberate aim and fired. He does not say he killed the

Rebel, but simply that his shot was cheered by the Wisconsin boys, and

that afterwards the horse the Rebel rode was seen galloping with an

empty saddle. "That's all I know about it."

He fought until our forces were driven back in the afternoon. He had

already received two slight wounds, and a third one through the arm, to

which he paid little attention: "only the blood running down my hand

bothered me a heap." Then, as he was slowly falling back with the rest,

he received a final shot through the leg. "Down I went, and the whole

Rebel army ran over me." Helpless, nearly bleeding to death from his

wounds, he lay upon the field all night. "About sun-up, next morning, I

crawled to a neighbor's house, and found it full of wounded Rebels." The

neighbor afterwards took him to his own house, which had also been

turned into a Rebel hospital. A Rebel surgeon dressed his wounds; and he

says he received decent treatment at the hands of the enemy, until a

Copperhead woman living opposite "told on him."

"That's the old man who said he was going out to shoot some of the

damned Rebels!"

Some officers came and questioned him, endeavoring to convict him of

"bushwhacking"; but the old man gave them little satisfaction. This was

on Friday, the third day of the battle; and he was alone with his wife

in the upper part of the house. The Rebels left, and soon after two

shots were fired. One bullet entered the window, passed over Burns's

head, and struck the wall behind the lounge on which he was lying. The

other shot fell lower, passing through a door. Burns is certain that the

design was to assassinate him. That the shots were fired by the Rebels

there can be no doubt; and as they were fired from their own side,

towards the town, of which they held possession at the time, John's

theory was plainly the true one. The hole in the window, and the

bullet-marks in the door and wall remain.

Burns went with me over the ground where the first day's fight took

place. He showed me the scene of his hot day's work,--pointed out two

trees, behind which he and one of the Wisconsin boys stood and "picked

off every Rebel that showed his head," and the spot where he fell and

lay all night under the stars and dew.

This act of daring on the part of so aged a citizen, and his subsequent

sufferings from wounds, naturally called out a great deal of sympathy,

and caused him to be looked upon as a hero. But a hero, like a prophet,

has not all honor in his own country. There's a wide-spread, violent

prejudice against Burns among that class of the townspeople termed

"Copperheads." The young men, especially, who did _not_ take their guns

and go into the fight as this old man did, but who ran, when running was

possible, in the opposite direction, dislike Burns. Some aver that he

did not have a gun in his hand that day, and that he was wounded by

accident, happening to get between the two lines. Others admit the fact

of his carrying a gun into the fight, but tell you, with a sardonic

smile, that his "motives were questionable." Some, who are eager enough

to make money on his picture, sold against his will, and without profit

to him, will tell you in confidence, after you have purchased it, that

"Burns is a perfect humbug."

After studying the old man's character, conversing both with his friends

and enemies, and sifting evidence, during four days spent in Gettysburg,

I formed my conclusions. Of his going into the fight, and _fighting_,

there is no doubt whatever. Of his bravery, amounting even to rashness,

there can be no reasonable question. He is a patriot of the most zealous

sort; a hot, impulsive man, who meant what he said, when he started with

the gun to go and shoot some of the Rebels qualified with the strong

adjective. A thoroughly honest man, too, I think; although some of his

remarks are to be taken with considerable allowance. His temper causes

him to form immoderate opinions and to make strong statements. "_He

always goes beyant_," said my landlord, a firm friend of his, speaking

of this tendency to overstep the bounds of calm judgment.

Burns is a sagacious observer of men and things, and makes occasionally

such shrewd remarks as this:--

"Whenever you see the marks of shells and bullets on a house all covered

up, and painted and plastered over, that's the house of a Rebel

sympathizer; but when you see them all preserved and kept in sight, as

something to be proud of, that's the house of a true Union man."

Well, whatever is said or thought of the old hero, he is _what he is_,

and has satisfaction in that, and not in other people's opinions; for so

it must finally be with all. _Character_ is the one thing valuable.

_Reputation_, which is a mere shadow of the man, what his character is

_reputed_ to be, is, in the long run, of infinitely less importance.

I am happy to add that the old man has been awarded a pension.

The next day I mounted a hard-trotting horse and rode to Round Top. On

the way I stopped at the historical peach-orchard, known as Sherfy's,

where Sickles's Corps was repulsed, after a terrific conflict, on

Thursday, the second day of the battle. The peaches were green on the

trees then; but they were ripe now, and the trees were breaking down

with them. One of Mr. Sherfy's girls--the youngest, she told me--was in

the orchard. She had in her basket rareripes to sell. They were large

and juicy and sweet,--all the redder, no doubt, for the blood of the

brave that had drenched the sod. So calm and impassive is Nature,

silently turning all things to use! The carcass of a mule, or the

godlike shape of a warrior cut down in the hour of glory,--she knows no

difference between them, but straightway proceeds to convert both alike

into new forms of life and beauty.

Between fields made memorable by hard fighting I rode eastward, and,

entering a pleasant wood, ascended Little Round Top. The eastern slope

of this rugged knob is covered with timber. The western side is steep,

and wild with rocks and bushes. Near by is the Devil's Den, a dark

cavity in the rocks, interesting henceforth on account of the fight that

took place here for the possession of these heights. A photographic

view, taken the Sunday morning after the battle, shows eight dead Rebels

tumbled headlong, with their guns, among the rocks below the Den.

A little farther on is Round Top itself, a craggy tusk of the rock-jawed

earth pushed up there towards the azure. It is covered all over with

broken ledges, boulders, and fields of stones. Among these the

forest-trees have taken root,--thrifty Nature making the most of things

even here. The serene leafy tops of ancient oaks tower aloft in the

bluish-golden air. It is a natural fortress, which our boys strengthened

still further by throwing up the loose stones into handy breastworks.

Returning, I rode the whole length of the ridge held by our troops,

realizing more and more the importance of that extraordinary position.

It is like a shoe, of which Round Top represents the heel, and Cemetery

Hill the toe. Here all our forces were concentrated on Thursday and

Friday, within a space of three miles. Movements from one part to

another of this compact field could be made with celerity. Lee's forces,

on the other hand, extended over a circle of seven miles or more around,

in a country where all their movements could be watched by us and

anticipated.

At a point well forward on the foot of this shoe, Meade had his

head-quarters. I tied my horse at the gate, and entered the little

square box of a house which enjoys that historical celebrity. It is

scarcely more than a hut, having but two little rooms on the

ground-floor, and I know not what narrow, low-roofed chambers above. Two

small girls, with brown, German faces, were paring wormy apples under

the porch; and a round-shouldered, bareheaded, and barefooted woman,

also with a German face and a strong German accent, was drawing water at

the well. I asked her for a drink, which she kindly gave me, and invited

me into the house.

The little box was whitewashed outside and in, except the floor and

ceilings and inside doors, which were neatly scoured. The woman sat down

to some mending, and entered freely into conversation. She was a widow,

and the mother of six children. The two girls cutting wormy apples at

the door were the youngest, and the only ones that were left to her. A

son in the army was expected home in a few days. She did not know how

old her children were,--she did not know how old she herself was, "she

was so forgetful."

She ran away at the time of the fight, but was sorry afterwards she did

not stay at home. "She lost a heap." The house was robbed of almost

everything; "coverlids and sheets and some of our own clo'es, all

carried away. They got about two ton of hay from me. I owed a little on

my land yit, and thought I'd put in two lots of wheat that year, and it

was all trampled down, and I didn't get nothing from it. I had seven

pieces of meat yit, and them was all took. All I had when I got back was

jest a little bit of flour yit. The fences was all tore down, so that

there wa'n't one standing, and the rails was burnt up. One shell come

into the house and knocked a bedstead all to pieces for me. One come in

under the roof and knocked out a rafter for me. The porch was all

knocked down. There was seventeen dead horses on my land. They burnt

five of 'em around my best peach-tree, and killed it; so I ha'n't no

peaches this year. They broke down all my young apple-trees for me. The

dead horses sp'iled my spring, so I had to have my well dug."

I inquired if she had ever got anything for the damage.

"Not much. I jest sold the bones of the dead horses. I couldn't do it

till this year, for the meat hadn't rotted off yit. I got fifty cents a

hundred. There was seven hundred and fifty pounds. You can reckon up

what they come to. That's all I got."

Not much, indeed!

This poor woman's entire interest in the great battle was, I found,

centred in her own losses. That the country lost or gained she did not

know nor care, never having once thought of that side of the question.

The town is full of similar reminiscences; and it is a subject which

everybody except the "Copperheads" likes to talk with you about. There

were heroic women here, too. On the evening of Wednesday, as our forces

were retreating, an exhausted Union soldier came to Mr. Culp's house,

near Culp's Hill, and said, as he sank down,--

"If I can't have a drink of water, I must die."

Mrs. Culp, who had taken refuge in the cellar,--for the house was now

between the two fires,--said,--

"I will go to the spring and get you some water."

It was then nearly dark. As she was returning with the water, a bullet

whizzed past her. It was fired by a sharpshooter on our own side, who

had mistaken her for one of the advancing Rebels. Greatly frightened,

she hurried home, bringing the water safely. One poor soldier was made

eternally grateful by this courageous womanly deed. A few days later the

sharpshooter came to the house and learned that it was a ministering

angel in the guise of a woman he had shot at. Great, also, must have

been his gratitude for the veil of darkness which caused him to miss his

aim.

Shortly after the battle, sad tales were told of the cruel inhospitality

shown to the wounded Union troops by the people of Gettysburg. Many of

these stories were doubtless true; but they were true only of the more

brutal of the Rebel sympathizers. The Union men threw open their hearts

and their houses to the wounded.

One day I met a soldier on Cemetery Hill, who was in the battle, and

who, being at Harrisburg for a few days, had taken advantage of an

excursion-train to come over and revisit the scene of that terrible

experience. Getting into conversation, we walked down the hill together.

As we were approaching a double house with high wooden steps, he pointed

out the farther one, and said,--

"Saturday morning, after the fight, I got a piece of bread at that

house. A man stood on the steps and gave each of our fellows a piece. We

were hungry as bears, and it was a godsend. I should like to see that

man and thank him."

Just then the man himself appeared at the door. We went over, and I

introduced the soldier, who, with tears in his eyes, expressed his

gratitude for that act of Christian charity.

"Yes," said the man, when reminded of the circumstance, "we did what we

could. We baked bread here night and day to give to every hungry soldier

who wanted it. We sent away our own children, to make room for the

wounded soldiers, and for days our house was a hospital."

Instances of this kind are not few. Let them be remembered to the honor

of Gettysburg.

Of the magnitude of a battle fought so desperately during three days by

armies numbering not far from two hundred thousand men no adequate

conception can be formed. One or two facts may help to give a faint idea

of it. Mr. Culp's meadow, below Cemetery Hill,--a lot of near twenty

acres,--was so thickly strown with Rebel dead, that Mr. Culp declared he

"could have walked across it without putting foot upon the ground."

Upwards of three hundred Confederates were buried in that fair field in

one hole. On Mr. Gwynn's farm, below Round Top, near five hundred sons

of the South lie promiscuously heaped in one huge sepulchre. Of the

quantities of iron, of the wagon-loads of arms, knapsacks, haversacks,

and clothing, which strewed the country, no estimate can be made.

Government set a guard over these, and for weeks officials were busy in

gathering together all the more valuable spoils. The harvest of bullets

was left for the citizens to glean. Many of the poorer people did a

thriving business, picking up these missiles of death, and selling them

to dealers; two of whom alone sent to Baltimore fifty tons of lead

collected in this way from this battle-field.

ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

The greatest name in American history is that of ALEXANDER HAMILTON, if

we consider the versatility of the man who bore it, the early age at

which he began a great public career, the success which attended all his

labors, the impression which he made on his country and its government,

and the rare foresight by which he was enabled to understand that our

political system would encounter that very danger through which it has

just passed,--and passed not without receiving severe wounds, which have

left it scarcely recognizable even by its warmest admirers. Talleyrand,

who had a just appreciation of Hamilton's talents and character, said

that he had divined Europe. An American need not be possessed of high

powers or position to venture the assertion that Hamilton divined

American history, and foresaw all that we have suffered because our

predecessors would build the national edifice on sand, so that it could

not stand against the political storm which it was in the breath of

selfish partisans to send against it, but has, as it were, to be

buttressed by mighty fleets and armies. A system, which, had it been

rightly formed in the first place, would have been self-sustaining, was

saved from destruction solely by the uprising of the people, who had to

operate with bullets and bayonets, when it had been fondly hoped that

the ballot would ever be a sufficiently formidable weapon in the hand of

the American citizen, and that he never would have to become the

citizen-soldier in a civil contest. Had Hamilton been allowed to shape

our national polity, it would have worked as successfully for ages as

that financial system which he formed has ever worked, and which has

never been departed from without the result being most injurious to the

country. At this day, when events have so signally justified the views

of Alexander Hamilton, and are daily justifying them,[F] it may not be

unprofitable to glance over the career of one whose virtues, services,

and genius are constantly rising in the estimation of his countrymen and

of the world, "the dead growing visible from the shades of time."

To be born at all is to be well born is the general belief in this very

liberal-minded age: but even the most determined of democrats is not

averse to a good descent; and Hamilton, who was a democrat in no sense,

had one of the noblest ancestries in Europe, though himself of American

birth. His family was of Scotland, a country which, the smallness of its

population considered, has produced more able and useful men than any

other. The Hamiltons of Scotland, and we may add of France, were one of

the noblest of patrician houses, and they had a great part in the stormy

history of their country. Walter de Hamilton, of Cambuskeith, in the

County of Ayr,--Burns's county,--second son of Sir David de Hamilton,

Dominus de Cadyow, was the founder of that branch of the Hamilton family

to which the American statesman belonged. He flourished _temp._ Robert

III., second of the Stuart kings, almost five hundred years ago. Many

noble Scotch names are very common, because it was the custom of the

families to which they belonged to extend them to all their retainers;

but Alexander Hamilton obtained his name in no such way as that. His

descent from the Lord of Cadyow is made up with the nicest precision.

The family became of Grange in the sixteenth century. The names of the

ladies married by the heads of the Hamiltons of Cambuskeith and Grange

all belong to those of the ingenuous classes. The same Christian names

are continued in the line, that of Alexander appearing as early as the

latter part of the fifteenth century, and reappearing frequently for

three hundred years. Alexander Hamilton of Grange, fourteenth in descent

from Sir David de Hamilton, had three sons, the third bearing his

father's name; and that son's fifth child was James Hamilton, who

emigrated to the West Indies, settling in the Island of Nevis. Mr. James

Hamilton married a French lady, whose maiden name was Faucette, and

whose father was one of many persons of worth who were forced to leave

France because of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, through the

bigotry of that little man who is commonly called the Grand Monarch, and

whose bigotry was made active by the promptings of Madame de Maintenon,

who was descended from a fierce Huguenot, as was the monarch himself.

Alexander Hamilton was born on the 11th of January, 1757. His mother

died in his early childhood, a more than usually severe loss, for she

was a superior woman. He was the only one of her children who survived

her. His father soon became poor, and the child was dependent upon the

relatives of his mother for support and education. They resided at Santa

Cruz, where he was brought up. Just before completing his thirteenth

year he entered the counting-house of Mr. Cruger, a merchant of Santa

Cruz. Young as he was, his employer left him in charge of his business

while he made a visit to New York, and had every reason to be satisfied

with the arrangement. He read all the books he could obtain, and read

them understandingly. Even at that early age he was remarkable for the

manliness of his mind. He wrote, too; and an account of the hurricane of

1772, which he contributed to a public journal, attracted so much

attention that he was sought out, and it was determined to send him to

New York to be regularly educated. He left Santa Cruz, and sailed for

Boston, which port he reached in October, 1772. Proceeding to New York,

he was sent to school at Elizabethtown, New Jersey; and in 1773 entered

King's College, in the city of New York, where he pursued his studies

with signal success. But events were happening that were to place him in

a very different school from that in which he was preparing to become a

physician. He was to be the physician of the State, and to that end he

was thrown among men, and appointed to do the work of men of the highest

intellect, at an age when most persons have not half completed the

ordinary training which is to fit them to begin the common routine of

common life.

Hamilton's connection with the history of his country, as one of those

who were making material for it, began at the age of seventeen. The

American Revolution was moving steadily onward when he arrived at New

York, and by the summer of 1774 it had assumed large proportions. He

first spoke at "the Great Meeting in the Fields," July 6th, and

astonished those who heard him by the fervor of his eloquence and the

closeness of his logic. His fame dates from that day. He sided with the

people of his new home from the time that he came among them, and never

had any doubt or hesitation as to the course which duty required him to

adopt and pursue. As a writer he was even more successful than as a

speaker. A pamphlet which he wrote in December, 1774, vindicating the

Continental Congress, attracted much attention, and that and another

from his pen were attributed to veteran Whigs, particularly to John Jay;

but the evidence of Hamilton's authorship is perfect, or we might well

agree with the Tories, and believe that works so able could not have

been written by a youth of eighteen. Other writings of his subsequently

appeared, and were most serviceable to the patriots. Young as he was, he

was already regarded by the country as one of its foremost champions

with the pen. The time was fast coming when it was to be made known that

the holder of the pen could also hold the sword, and hold it to

effective purpose.

He had joined a volunteer corps while in college, and was forward in all

its doings. The first time he was under fire was when this corps was

engaged in removing guns from the Battery. The fire of a man-of-war was

opened on it, doing some injury. This was the first act of war in New

York, and it is interesting to know that Hamilton had part in it. In the

commotion that followed, he was zealous in his efforts to prevent the

triumph of a mob, and not more zealous than successful. From the very

beginning of his career, he never thought of liberty, save as the

closest associate of law. Diligently devoting himself to the study of

the military art, and particularly to gunnery, he asked for the command

of an artillery company, and obtained it after a thorough examination,

being made captain on the 14th of March, 1776, when but two months

beyond his nineteenth year. He completed his company, and expended the

very last money he received from his relatives in making it fit for the

field. Even at that time he advocated promotion from the ranks, and

succeeded in having his first sergeant made a commissioned officer: a

fact worthy of mention, when it is recollected that his enemies have

always represented him as an aristocrat, there being nothing less

aristocratical than the placing of the sword of command in the hands of

men who have carried the musket. While pursuing his military duties, he

did not neglect the study of politics; and his notes show that before

the Declaration of Independence he had thought out a plan of government

for the nation that was so soon to come into existence. Among them is

this inquiry: "_Quære_, would it not be advisable to let all taxes, even

those imposed by the States, be collected by persons of Congressional

appointment? and would it not be advisable to pay the collectors so much

per cent on the sums collected?" This, as his son says, "is the

intuitive idea of a general government, truly such, which he first

proposed to Congress, and earnestly advocated." He was in his twentieth

year when he showed himself capable of understanding the nature of the

situation, and the wants of the country. Probably no other person had

got so far at that time, and it required years for the people to reach

the point at which Hamilton had arrived intuitively. With them it was a

conclusion reached through bitter experience. The lesson has not been

perfectly acquired even at this time.

Hamilton's company belonged to that army which Washington commanded, in

1776, in New England and New Jersey; and it was while the army was on

the heights of Haerlem, in the autumn of 1776, that he attracted the

notice of Washington. The General inspected an earthwork which the

Captain was constructing, conversed with him, and invited him to his

tent. This was the beginning of an acquaintance that was destined to

have memorable consequences and lasting effects on the American nation.

On the 1st of March, 1777, Hamilton was appointed to a place on

Washington's staff, becoming one of his aides, with the rank of

lieutenant-colonel,--his "principal and most confidential aide," to use

Washington's language. It was not without much hesitation that Hamilton

accepted this post. He had already made a name, and his promotion in the

line of the army was secured; and had he remained to take that

promotion, he would have won the highest distinction, supposing him to

have escaped the casualties of war. His military genius was

unquestioned; and what Washington required of him was service that would

not secure promotion or opportunity to show that he deserved it. He

required the mind and the pen of Hamilton. These he obtained; and the

amount of labor performed by the youthful aide-de-camp with his pen was

enormous. He was something more than an aide and a private secretary. He

was the commander's trusted friend, and he proved that he deserved the

trust reposed in him, not less by his high-minded conduct than by the

talent which he brought to the discharge of the duties of a most

difficult post,--duties which were of an arduous and highly responsible

character. The limits of a sketch like the present do not admit of more

than the general mention of his great services. Those who would know

them in full should consult the work in which Mr. John C. Hamilton has

done justice to the part which his father had, first in the

Revolutionary contest, and then in the creation of the American

Republic, and the settlement of its policy.[G] There was no event with

which Washington was concerned for more than four years with which

Hamilton was not also concerned. The range of his business and his

labors was equal to his talents, and it is not possible to say more of

them. He was but twenty years old when Washington thus really placed him

next to himself in the work of conducting the American cause. In what

estimation his services were held by the commander-in-chief may be

inferred from the fact that he was selected by him, in 1780, being then

in his twenty-fourth year, as a special minister to France, to induce

the French Government to grant more aid to this country. Hamilton did

not take the office, because it was desired by his friend, Colonel

Laurens, whose father was then a prisoner in England.

Colonel Hamilton was married on the 14th of December, 1780, to Miss

Elizabeth Schuyler, second daughter of General Philip Schuyler, one of

the most distinguished soldiers of the Revolution, to whom was due the

defeat of General Burgoyne, and head of one of those old families of

which New York possessed so many. This lady was destined to survive her

husband half a century, and to be associated with two ages of the

country,--her death occurring in 1854, in her ninety-eighth year. She

was a woman of exalted character, and worthy to be the wife of Alexander

Hamilton.

The relations between Washington and Hamilton were briefly interrupted

early in 1781, and Hamilton left the commander's military family. He had

a command in that allied army which Washington and Rochambeau led to

Yorktown, the success of which put an end to the "great war" of the

Revolution on this continent. When the British redoubts were stormed,

Hamilton commanded the American column, and carried the redoubt he

assailed before the French had taken that which it fell to their lot to

attack. Shortly afterward he retired from the service, and, taking up

his residence in Albany, devoted himself to the study of the law. In

1782 he was elected a member of the Continental Congress by the

Legislature of New York, and took his seat on the 25th of November. He

proved an energetic member, his attention being largely directed to the

financial state of the country, than which nothing could be more dreary.

At an early day he had been convinced that something sound must be

attempted in relation to our finances; and in 1780 he had addressed a

letter on the subject to Robert Morris, which showed that his ideas

regarding money and credit were those of a great statesman. But the time

had not come in which he was to mould the country to his will, and make

it rich in spite of itself, and against its own exertions. More

suffering was necessary before the people could be made to listen to the

words of truth, though uttered by genius. Military matters also

commanded the attention of the young member, as was natural, he having

been so distinguished as a soldier, and retaining that interest in the

army which he had acquired from six years' connection with it. His

Congressional career was brilliant, and added much to his reputation. It

seemed that he was destined to succeed in everything he attempted. Yet

at that time he thought of retiring altogether from public life, and of

devoting himself entirely to his profession, in which he had already

become eminent. In November, 1783, he removed to the city of New York,

which then had entered on that astonishing growth which has since been

so steadily maintained.

The first of the law labors of this great man were in support of those

_national_ principles which are more closely identified with his name

than with that of any other individual. In advocating the cause of his

client, he had to argue that the terms of the treaty of peace with

England and the law of nations were of more force than a statute passed

by the Legislature of the State of New York. He carried the court as

decidedly with him as public opinion was against him; and he had to

defend himself in several pamphlets, which he did with his usual

success. As time went on, it became every day more apparent that the

country's great need was a strong central government, and that, until

such a government should be adopted, prosperity could not be looked for,

nor order, nor anything like national life; and had not something been

done, North America would doubtless have presented very much the same

spectacle that has long been afforded by South America, and from which

that rich land is but now slowly recovering. Of those who most earnestly

and effectively advocated the action necessary to save the country from

anarchy, Hamilton was among the foremost. As we have seen, he had

thought soundly on this subject as early as 1776, and years and events

had confirmed and strengthened the impression formed before independence

had been resolved upon.

Appointed a delegate from New York to the commercial convention held at

Annapolis in 1786, Colonel Hamilton wrote the address put forth by that

body to the States, out of which grew the Convention of 1787, which made

the Federal Constitution. To that Convention he was sent by the New York

Legislature, and his part in the work done was of the first order,

though the Constitution formed was far from commanding his entire

approbation. Like a wise statesman, who does not insist that means of

action shall be perfect, but makes the best use he can of those that are

available, Hamilton accepted the Constitution, and became the strongest

advocate for its adoption, and its firmest supporter after its adoption.

This part of his life--a part as honorable to him as it was useful to

his country--has been systematically misrepresented, so that many

Americans have been taught to believe that he was an enemy of freedom,

and would have established an arbitrary government. He was accused of

being opposed to any republican polity, and of seeking the annihilation

of the State Governments. He was called a monarchist and a

consolidationist. These misrepresentations of his opinions and acts were

forever dispelled, according to the views of honest and unprejudiced

men, by the publication of a letter which he wrote to Timothy Pickering,

in 1803. In that letter he said,--"The highest-toned propositions which

I made to the Convention were for a President, Senate, and Judges,

during good behavior, and a House of Representatives for three years.

Though I would have enlarged the legislative power of the General

Government, yet I never contemplated the abolition of the State

Governments; but, on the contrary, they were, in some particulars,

constituent parts of my plan. This plan was, in my conception,

conformable with the strict theory of a government purely republican;

the essential criteria of which are, that the principal organs of the

executive and legislative departments be elected by the people, and hold

the office by a responsible and temporary or defeasible nature.... I may

truly, then, say that I never proposed either a President or Senate for

life, and that I neither recommended nor meditated the annihilation of

State Governments.... It is a fact that my final opinion was against an

executive during good behavior, on account of the increased danger to

the public tranquillity incident to the election of a magistrate of his

degree of permanency. In the plan of a constitution which I drew up

while the Convention was sitting, and which I communicated to Mr.

Madison about the close of it, perhaps a day or two after, the office of

President has no longer duration than for three years. This plan was

predicated upon these bases: 1. That the political principles of the

people of this country would endure nothing but a republican government;

2. That, in the actual situation of the country, it was itself right and

proper that the republican theory should have a full and fair trial; 3.

That to such a trial it was essential that the government should be so

constructed as to give it all the energy and the stability reconcilable

with the principles of that theory. These were the genuine sentiments of

my heart; and upon them I then acted. I sincerely hope that it may not

hereafter be discovered, that, through want of sufficient attention to

the last idea, the experiment of republican government, even in this

country, has not been as complete, as satisfactory, and as decisive as

could be wished."

Such were the views of Hamilton in 1787, and which had undergone no

change in the sixteen years that elapsed between that time and the date

of his letter to Colonel Pickering. Yet this man, so true a republican

that his only desire was to have the republican polity that he knew must

here exist so framed and constituted as to become permanent, has been

drawn as a bigoted monarchist and as the enemy of freedom! In the eyes

of good democrats he was the Evil Principle incarnate; and even to this

day, in the more retired portions of the country, they believe, that, if

he had lived a few years longer, he would have made himself king, and

married one of the daughters of George III. They had, and some of them

yet have, about as clear conceptions of Hamilton's career and conduct as

Squire Western and his class had of the intentions of the English Whigs

of George II.'s time, whom they suspected of the intention of seizing

and selling their estates, with the purpose of sending the proceeds to

Hanover, to be invested in the funds.

The leaders of the great party which triumphed in 1801, and who had

libelled Hamilton while they were in opposition, found it for their

interest to continue their misrepresentations long after the fall of the

Federalists, and when the ablest of all the Federalists had been for

years in his grave. Many of them could overlook Burr's party treachery,

as well as his supposed treason, because he had been the rival of

Hamilton; though probably it would be unjust to them to suppose that

they approved of his conduct in murdering the man whose talents and

influence caused them so much alarm. So far was Hamilton from pursuing a

course in the Convention of 1787 that would have embarrassed that body,

because it did not adopt all his plans, that Dr. W. S. Johnson, one of

Connecticut's delegates, said, that, if "the Constitution did not

succeed on trial, Mr. Hamilton was less responsible for that result than

any other member, for he fully and frankly pointed out to the Convention

what he apprehended were the infirmities to which it was liable,--and

that, if it answered the fond expectations of the public, the community

would be more indebted to Mr. Hamilton than to any other member, for,

after its essential outlines were agreed to, he labored most

indefatigably to heal those infirmities, and to guard against the evils

to which they might expose it." M. Guizot, who understands our

politics, who knows our history, and whose practical statesmanship and

lofty talents render his opinion most valuable, when he declared that

"there is not in the Constitution of the United States an element of

order, of force, of duration, which Hamilton has not powerfully

contributed to introduce into it and to give it a predominance," stated

but the simplest truth. Equally correct is his remark, that "Hamilton

must be classed among the men who have best known the vital principles

and fundamental conditions of a government." Alone of all the New York

delegates Hamilton subscribed the Constitution.

In the discussions that followed the labors of the Convention, Hamilton

had the principal part in urging the adoption of the Constitution. "The

Federalist," that first of all American political works, and the

excellence of which was quickly recognized by foreign statesmen, was his

production. Not only did he write most of it, but the least of what he

wrote for it excels the best that was contributed to it by men so able

as Jay and Madison. Every attempt that has been made to take from him

any portion of the honor of this masterly work has failed, and it is now

admitted that it can fairly be associated only with his name. "The total

number of these essays," says Mr. John C. Hamilton, "by Hamilton's

enumeration, approved by Madison, is seen to be eighty-five. Of this

enumeration, an abbreviated copy by Hamilton from his original minute,

both in Hamilton's autograph, ascribes to himself the sole authorship of

sixty-three numbers, and the joint authorship with Madison of three

numbers, leaving to the latter the sole authorship of fourteen numbers,

and to Jay of five numbers."[H] "The Federalist" had a powerful

influence on the public mind, and contributed vastly to the success of

the Constitutionalists; and other writings of Hamilton had scarcely less

effect. Had he not been a friend of the Constitution, and had he sought

only the creation of a powerful central government, he never would have

labored for the success of the Constitutional party; for the surest road

to despotism would have been through that anarchy which must have

followed a refusal by the people to ratify the action of the Convention

of 1787. As a member of the Convention of the State of New York,

Hamilton most ably supported the ratification of the Constitution made

at Philadelphia.

The Constitution was adopted, and the new government was organized on

the 30th of April, 1789, on which day General Washington became

President of the United States. It was not until the 2d of September

that the Treasury Department was created; and on the 11th Alexander

Hamilton was made Secretary of the Treasury. Writing to Robert Morris,

Washington had asked, "What are we to do with this heavy debt?" To which

Morris answered, "There is but one man in the United States who can tell

you: that is Alexander Hamilton. I am glad you have given me this

opportunity to declare to you the extent of the obligations I am under

to him." Hamilton had thought of the station for himself, but his

warmest personal friends objected to his taking it Robert Troup

says,--"I remonstrated with him: he admitted that his acceptance of it

would be likely to injure his family, but said there was a strong

impression on his mind that in the financial department he would

essentially promote the welfare of the country; and this impression,

united with Washington's request, forbade his refusal of the

appointment." Having said, in conversing with Gouverneur Morris, that he

was confident he could restore public credit, "Morris remonstrated with

him for thinking of so perilous a position, on which calumny and

persecution were the inevitable attendants. 'Of that,' Hamilton

answered, 'I am aware; but I am convinced it is the situation in which I

can do most good.'" He had the same just self-confidence that Cromwell

felt, when he said to John Hampden that he would effect something for

the Parliamentary cause, and that William Pitt felt in 1757, when he

said to the Duke of Devonshire, "My Lord, I am sure that I can save this

country, and that nobody else can." As with Cromwell and with Pitt,

Hamilton's self-confidence was to be conclusively justified by the

event.

Hamilton's career as the first finance minister of the United States is

the greatest evidence of statesmanship in American history; nor is it

likely ever to be surpassed, so complete is the change in the country's

condition,--a change due in great measure to his policy and conduct. The

world's annals show no more striking example of the right man in the

right place than is afforded by Hamilton's Secretaryship of the

Treasury. "The discerning eye of Washington," said Mr. Webster in 1831,

"immediately called him to that post which was far the most important in

the administration of the new system. He was made Secretary of the

Treasury; and how he fulfilled the duties of such a place, at such a

time, the whole country perceived with delight, and the whole world saw

with admiration. He smote the rock of the National Resources, and

abundant streams of revenue gushed forth. He touched the dead corpse of

the Public Credit, and it sprung upon its feet. The fabled birth of

Minerva, from the brain of Jove, was hardly more sudden or more perfect

than the financial system of the United States, as it burst forth from

the conceptions of Alexander Hamilton." Lofty as this praise is, it is

literally true. American Public Credit was a dead corpse in 1789; and in

1790 it was living and erect, as it has ever since remained, in spite of

the utmost exertions of all political parties to reduce it to the state

in which Hamilton found it, in the hope of injuring their rivals. All

that has been good in our financial history for three quarters of a

century is due to Alexander Hamilton; and all that has been evil in it

can be traced directly to violation of his principles or disregard of

his modes of action. That we were enabled to preserve the Union against

the attacks of the Secessionists must be attributed to Hamilton's genius

and exertions. He is one of those "dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who

still rule our spirits from their urns."

Ten days after his appointment to office, Secretary Hamilton was

required by Congress to report a plan for the support of the public

credit. His report is admitted, even by those who do not agree with its

views, to be an able state paper. Besides upholding the payment of the

foreign debt, on which all parties were of one mind, he recommended that

the domestic debt should be treated in the same spirit. As the revival

and maintenance of the public credit was the object which the Secretary

had in view, he advocated the fulfilment of original contracts, no

matter by whom claims might be held. His recommendations were adopted;

and the famous "funding system" dates from that time, and with it the

prosperity of the United States. He had recommended the assumption of

the State debts; but in this he was only partially successful. The

measures suggested for the carrying out of his system were adopted.

Among these was the creation of a national bank, at the beginning of

1791. Other measures concerned the raising of revenue, and were

extraordinarily successful. And yet others for the advancement of trade,

both foreign and domestic, were not less successful: there being no

subject that came properly within his department to which he did not

give his entire attention; and as he was laboring for a new nation, it

necessarily happened that all the machinery had to be improvised, To the

demands made on his intellect, his time, and his industry, the Secretary

was found to be more than equal. His triumphs astonished and gratified

the friends of good government throughout the world, and carried his

name to all nations. In only eighteen months, a change had been effected

such as it well might have taken as many years to accomplish, and which

thoroughly justified the new polity, and the measures which had been

adopted under it. Foreign commerce flourished, and also the domestic

trade. The agricultural interest prospered, and manufactures steadily

increased. "The waste lands in the interior were being rapidly settled;

towns were springing up in every direction; the seaports were increasing

in wealth and population; and that great career of internal improvement,

by numerous highways, with which the United States have amazed the

world, was begun." Fisher Ames wrote to the Secretary of the Treasury

that the national bank and the Federal Government possessed more

popularity than any institution or government could long maintain. "The

success of the government, and especially of the measures proceeding

from your department," he said, "has astonished the multitude; and while

it has shut the mouths, it has stung the envious hearts, of the State

leaders." American credit was raised so high in Europe, that, at the

opening of 1791, a great loan was taken in Holland in two hours, on

better terms than any European government but one could have obtained.

The subscriptions to the national bank were filled in a day, and could

easily have been doubled. Such another instance of successful

statesmanship it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find.

It is sometimes said that the success of the Hamiltonian system was due

to European events,--that the great wars which grew out of the French

Revolution created so extensive demands for our productions that we must

have prospered, no matter what should have been the course of American

political life. What might have been, had the Constitution failed of

adoption, it is not necessary to discuss; but this we know, that the

success of Secretary Hamilton's plans was pronounced and complete before

the European wars alluded to began. That success was seen in the early

days of 1791, and war did not commence until 1792; and then it was not

waged on that grand scale to which it subsequently reached. The war

between France and England, which affected this country most, broke out

in 1793, two years after Ames had written so encouragingly to Hamilton,

and yet warning him to prepare for the inevitable Nemesis, that "envy of

the gods," which, according to the Hellenic superstition, but fairly

justifiable by innumerable historical facts, waits on all prosperity and

rebukes human wisdom. To us it seems that the most that can be said of

the effect of the wide-spread and long-continued European quarrel on our

business was this,--that it gave to it much of its peculiar character,

but did not create it, and was not necessary to its creation or its

continuance. What Hamilton did was to remove depressing influences from

American life and the American mind,--to substitute order for disorder,

hope for fear, and confidence and security for dread and distrust. This

was what was done by Hamilton and his associates; and this done, the

native energies of the people did all the rest. It is all but certain

that the extraordinary career of material prosperity that began

immediately after it was seen what was to be our policy under the new

polity, would have been essentially the same, as to the general result,

had Europe remained quiet for twenty years longer, and had there been no

downfall of the old French monarchy. The details of American business

life would have been different, but the result would have been pretty

much the same as what we have seen.

Events soon justified the apprehensions of the sensitive, but sagacious

Ames. Hamilton's prosperity bred its natural consequences, and he became

the target at which many aspiring men directed their attacks,--Thomas

Jefferson standing at their head. The cause of this, which has been

sought in the French Revolution, in opposition to the supposed

centralizing tendencies of the Hamiltonian policy, and so forth, really

lies on the surface. It grew out of men's ambition, and their desire for

power. It was plain to Southern men, that, if Hamilton were permitted to

accomplish his purpose entire, he must become the man of men, and that

his influence would become equal to that of Washington, whose influence

they bowed to most unwillingly. Not less plain was it that power would

be with the North. Hence their determination to "break him down," which

they would have pursued with all their might, had the French Revolution

been postponed, though its occurrence furnished them with means of

attack,--the larger part of the American people sympathizing with the

French, while Hamilton shared with Edmund Burke opinions which time has

done much to show were sound; and he was a strenuous supporter of that

policy of neutrality which Washington wisely adopted. The Secretary of

the Treasury was assailed by those who envied and hated him, in various

ways. His official integrity was called in question, but the

investigations which he courted led to the confounding of his enemies,

while his personal character stood brighter than ever. So bitter became

the opposition that some of their number wished for the success of the

Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, as Mr. Jefferson's correspondence

shows; and the part which Hamilton had in suppressing that outbreak did

not increase their regard for him. The presence of two such men in

Washington's Cabinet as Hamilton and Jefferson made it the scene of

dissension until Jefferson retired.

Hamilton remained in office some time longer; and when he left it, he

did so only for personal reasons. He was poor. He had expended, not only

his salary, but almost all the property he possessed when he took

office. The man who had made his country rich had made himself poor by

his devotion to her interests, and had received nothing but vindictive

abuse in requital of his unrivalled labors. He resolved to return to the

practice of his profession, which he never would have left, had he

consulted merely his individual interests and those of his family. Some

weeks before he retired, he addressed a letter to the Speaker of the

House of Representatives, announcing his purpose, in order that inquiry

might be made into the state of his department, should Congress see fit

to make it; but his foes had been so humiliated by the results of the

two inquiries undertaken at their instance, that they would not venture

upon a third. In January, 1795, he sent a letter to Congress on the

subject of the public credit, which is one of his ablest productions,

full of sound financial doctrine, and showing that he was in advance of

most men on those economical questions the proper settlement of which so

closely concerns the welfare of nations. This letter affords a complete

view of the financial history of the government, and may be considered

as Secretary Hamilton's statement of his case to the world. The debt

exceeded $76,000,000, a sum that bore as great a proportion to the

revenues of the country seventy years since as the debt of to-day bears

to our present resources. As Hamilton was no believer in the absurd

doctrine that "a national debt is a national blessing," we need say no

more than that he dwelt with emphasis on the necessity of providing for

the debt's payment. It is important to mention that he declared

government could not rightfully tax its promises to pay.

Though Hamilton, as Madison wrote to Jefferson, went to New York "with

the word Poverty as his label," his great reputation rapidly secured for

him abundant professional employment. But he was too important a

personage to be able to refrain altogether from political pursuits, and

was forced to defend some of the measures of government, though no

longer responsible for them. He advocated Jay's Treaty, one of the most

unpopular measures that ever were carried through by an honest

government in face of the most vehement opposition. Had the treaty been

rejected, war with England would probably have followed, which would

have been a profound calamity. While living in retirement, Hamilton was

assailed by his Southern enemies, who were supported by their Northern

allies, their object being to show that he had acted corruptly while at

the head of the Treasury. His reply was as complete a refutation as

their earlier calumnies had encountered. He wrote the celebrated

Farewell Address of President Washington. On all occasions he was ready

with pen and tongue to defend and uphold those political principles in

the triumph of which he had that interest which a statesman must ever

have in the advancement of truth.

When it was supposed that the French might attempt the invasion of this

country, in 1798, preparations were made to meet them. Washington was

made Commander-in-Chief, with the rank of Lieutenant-General; but he

stipulated that he should not be required to take the field save for

active service, and that Hamilton should have the post next to his own,

which made the latter actually commander of the army. He was

indefatigable in discharging the duties of this station; but,

fortunately, hostilities with France were confined to the ocean, and the

seizure of power in that country by Bonaparte led to a settlement of the

points in dispute. Hamilton again returned to private life. He could

not, however, altogether give up politics, but was forced to take some

part in the exciting political contests of those days. When the

Presidential election of 1801 devolved upon the House of

Representatives, he exerted his influence against Burr, whom the

Federalists were inclined to support, preferring him to Jefferson. In

1804 he again labored to defeat Burr's political aspirations, and

prevented his being chosen Governor of New York. Burr was then on the

verge of ruin, and he resolved upon being revenged, and on the

destruction of so powerful a political foe. He required from Hamilton

the disavowal of language which there was no evidence that he

ever had used, and so managed the dispute that a duel became

inevitable,--reference being had to the state of public sentiment then

prevalent on the subject of honor, and to the circumstance that duelling

was almost as common in New York at that time as it was in any Southern

State just before the Secession War.

The death of Alexander Hamilton was as much the work of assassination as

was that of Abraham Lincoln, in all save the forms that were observed on

the occasion. Aaron Burr, of whose actions he had sometimes spoken with

severity,--but not with more severity than is common in all high party

times,[I]--was determined that so bold and able an enemy should be

removed from his political path; and to that end he fastened a duel upon

him, and in the meeting that ensued deliberately shot him. It has been

said, that Burr, who was "a good shot" from his youth, and whose nerves

were as brazen as his brow, practised with the pistol for some days

before the fatal encounter took place; and the story is perfectly in

character, and helps sustain the position that Hamilton was

assassinated. That Hamilton should have consented to meet such a man,

knowing as he did what was his purpose, and that he was capable of any

crime, has often been remarked upon; and probably his decision will

serve to point many a moral for ages, and all the more emphatically when

the force of that opinion in regard to duelling which once was so strong

shall not only have utterly passed away, but have been forgotten, and

have become quite incomprehensible to men who shall live in the light of

sounder opinion than prevailed at the beginning of this century. A

soldier, it was reasonable that Hamilton should feel very differently on

the point of honor from a mere civilian, and that he should not have

felt himself at liberty to decline Burr's challenge. He believed that

his ability to be useful thereafter in public life would be greatly

lessened, should he not fight. In the paper he drew up, giving his

reasons for the course he pursued, he says,--"The ability to be in

future useful, whether in resisting mischief or in effecting good, in

those crises of our public affairs which seem likely to happen, would

probably be inseparable from a conformity with public prejudice in this

particular." He was particularly thinking of his power to contend

against a scheme for a dissolution of the Union which had been formed in

the North, the existence of which he knew, and also that it was known to

Burr, who, had he not committed suicide by the same act which made him a

murderer, would soon have been seen at the head of a rebellion. The

result of the duel was to deprive Burr of all power and influence. He

killed Hamilton, but he fell himself by the same shot that carried death

to his opponent; and so complete was his fall that he never could rise

again, though he continued to cumber the earth for more than thirty-two

years. Hamilton's quarrel with Burr, as his son and biographer truly

observes, "was the quarrel of his country. It was the last act in the

great drama of his life. It was the deliberate sacrifice of that life

for his country's welfare,--a sacrifice which, by overwhelming his

antagonist with the execrations of the American people, prevented a

civil war, and saved from 'dismemberment' this great republic."

What strikes us most forcibly, in considering Hamilton's career, is the

remarkably, early development of his powers. At thirteen, he was found

competent to take charge of a mercantile establishment. At fifteen, his

writings win for him public applause and the aid of friends. At

seventeen, he addresses with success a great public meeting. At

eighteen, his anonymous productions are attributed to some of the

leading men of America. At nineteen, he has thought out that principle

of government which is indelibly associated with his name. At twenty, he

has not only approved himself a skilful and courageous soldier, but he

has won the esteem of the grave and reserved Washington, and is placed

by that great man in a post of the closest confidence, and which really

makes him the second man in the American service. At twenty-three, he

has shown that he is master of the intricate subject of finance. At

twenty-five, after an active military life that had allowed no time for

study, he is known as a lawyer of the first order. At twenty-six, he is

distinguished as a member of Congress. At thirty, he takes a leading

part in framing the Constitution of the United States. And in his

thirty-third year, he becomes the most extraordinary finance minister

the world has ever seen. He was statesman, soldier, writer, and orator,

and first in each department; and he was as ready for all the parts

which he filled as if he had been long and studiously trained for each

of them by the best of instructors. When Mr. Webster so happily compared

the instantaneousness and perfection of his financial system to "the

fabled birth of Minerva," he did but allude to what is to be remarked of

all Hamilton's works. All that he did was perfect, and no one seems to

have been aware of his power until he had established the fact of its

existence. Such a combination of precocity and versatility stands quite

unparalleled. Octavius, William the Third, Henry St. John, Charles James

Fox, and William Pitt the younger, all showed various powers at early

periods of their lives; but not one of them was the equal of Hamilton in

respect to early maturity of intellect, or in ability to command success

in every department to which he turned his attention. The historical

character of whom he most reminds us is the elder Africanus. In the

early development of his faculties, in his self-reliant spirit, in his

patriotism, in his kingliness of mind, in his personal purity, in his

generosity of thought and of action, and in the fear and envy that he

excited in inferior minds, he was a repetition of the most majestic of

all the Romans. But, unlike the Roman soldier-statesman, he did not

desert the land he had saved, but which had proved ungrateful; and the

grave only was to be his Liternum. He died at not far from the same age

as that to which Africanus reached. In comparing him with certain other

men who achieved fame early, it should be remembered that they all were

regularly prepared for public life, and were born to it as to an

inheritance; whereas he, though of patrician blood, was possessed of no

advantages of fortune, and had to fight the battle of life while

fighting the battles of the nation.

FOOTNOTES:

[F] Mr. Riethmüller, in his volume on "Hamilton and his Contemporaries,"

coolly assumes that Hamilton would have opposed the late war for the

maintenance of the Union, had he been living! Anything more absurd than

such a view of Hamilton's probable course, under circumstances like

those which occurred in 1861, it would be impossible to imagine.

Hamilton would have been the firmest supporter of the war, had he lived

to see it, or had such a war broken out in his time. His principles

would have led him to be for extreme measures. It is easy to see why Mr.

Riethmüller thus misrepresents Hamilton's opinions. Living in London,

where it is thought that every foreign nation should submit to

destruction, if that be desirable to England, he wrote under the

influence of the place. The English do not take the same view of

Secession, when it comes home to them. They think as unfavorably of that

repeal of the Union which the Irish demand as we thought of that

dissolution of our Union which South Carolinians demanded; and they

moved against the Fenians much earlier than we moved against the

Carolinians. Mr. Riethmüller's assumption is pointedly disclaimed by

General Hamilton's representatives, who declare that it is a palpable

misrepresentation of their father's views: and no one who is familiar

with Hamilton's writings and history can honestly say that they are

wrong. To say that Andrew Jackson, who crushed Nullification, would have

been a Secessionist, had he been living in 1861, would be a moderate

assertion, compared to that which places Alexander Hamilton in the list

of possible Secessionists, had he survived to Secession times.

[G] _History of the Republic of the United States of America, as traced

in the Writings of Alexander Hamilton and his Contemporaries._ By John

C. Hamilton. Seven Volumes. 8vo. New York: D. Appleton & Co. A work in

every respect deserving of the closest and most attentive study, replete

as it is with valuable and well-arranged matter and able writing.

[H] _The Federalist: a Commentary on the Constitution of the United

States._ A Collection of Essays, by Alexander Hamilton, Jay, and

Madison. Also, _The Continentalist_ and other Papers, by Hamilton.

Edited by John C. Hamilton, Author of "The Republic of the United

States." 1 vol. 8vo. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.--This is by

far the best edition of "The Federalist" that has appeared, and should

alone be consulted and read by Hamilton's admirers. The Historical

Notice with which Mr. Hamilton has prefaced it is a noble production,

and worthy of the subject and of his name.

[I] Burr, in his correspondence with Hamilton just before the challenge

that led to the duel, said,--"Political opposition can never absolve

gentlemen from the necessity of a rigid adherence to the laws of honor

and the rules of decorum. I neither claim such privilege, nor indulge it

in others." This has been called affectation; but we have no doubt that

Burr uttered the truth in the sentences quoted. He was exactly the man

to observe the rules of decorum, and those of honor, as he understood

them, in political warfare. The strong language that is so common in

political disputes is proof as much of the abundance of men's sincerity

as it is of their want of good breeding. They are honestly moved by the

evil words or deeds, or both, or what they consider such, of their

opponents, and speak of them coarsely. The man who is indifferent to all

opinions, principles, and actions, but who is nevertheless ambitious, is

never tempted to the utterance of disparaging language concerning his

political foes. He may laugh at their zeal, but he cannot be offended by

it. Burr was utterly indifferent to all political principle. He never

really belonged to any party, and was as ready to act with Federalists

as with Democrats; and it was only through the force of circumstances

that he did act generally with the latter. A party man never would have

done as Burr saw fit to do when the Presidential election of 1801

devolved on the House of Representatives. The party to which he

professed to belong intended, as everybody knew, that Jefferson should

be President; and yet Burr allowed himself to be used against Jefferson.

That "all is fair in politics" was his creed. He may have been "a man of

honor," but what Lord Macaulay says of Avaux is strictly applicable to

him, namely,--"that of the difference between right and wrong he had no

more notion than a brute."

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

_Memoirs of the Life of William Shakespeare, with an Essay toward the

Expression of his Genius, and an Account of the Rise and Progress of the

English Drama to the Time of Shakespeare._ By RICHARD GRANT WHITE.

Boston: Little, Brown, & Co.

Mr. White's closing-up of his Shakespeare labors has been long in

coming, but comes good and acceptable at last. The volume now in hand,

however, does not form a part of his edition of the poet; it stands by

itself; though a portion of its contents is repeated in the first volume

(the last published) of this edition. It is rich in matter, and the

workmanship, for the most part, capital. All Shakespearians are bound to

relish it; and if any general reader does not find it delectable, he may

well suspect some fault in himself.

The contents of the volume are, first, "Memoirs of the Life of William

Shakespeare"; second, "An Essay toward the Expression of Shakespeare's

Genius"; third, "An Account of the Rise and Progress of the English

Drama to the Time of Shakespeare."

In his "Memoirs," the author of course adds nothing to what was already

known of the poet's life. But his presentation of the matter is

eminently readable, and, in parts, decidedly interesting; which is as

much as can fairly be looked for in any writing on that subject. Some

readers may think, we _do_ think, that the author is a little at fault

on one or two points. For instance, he overworks certain questions

touching the poet's wife, worrying up the matter against her to the

utmost, and, in fact, tormenting the poor woman's memory in such a way

as to indicate something very like spite. Now this is not fair; and Mr.

White's general fairness on other subjects makes his proceeding the less

excusable in this case.

Of course everybody knows that Mrs. Anne Shakespeare was some eight

years older than her husband; that the circumstances of the marriage

were not altogether what they should have been; and that the oldest

daughter was born a little too soon for the credit of either parent.

This is all, all, there is known about the matter. And if conjecture or

inference must be at work on these facts, surely it had better run in

the direction of charity, especially of charity towards the weaker

vessel. We say weaker vessel, because in this case the man must, in all

fairness, be supposed to have had the advantage, at least as much in

strength of natural understanding as the woman had in years. And as

Shakespeare was, by all accounts, a very attractive person, it does not

well appear but that the woman had as good a right to lose her heart in

his company as he had to lose his head in hers. Yet our author

insinuates, perhaps we should say more than insinuates, that the lady

immodestly angled for and seduced the youthful lover, and entangled his

honor in an obligation of marriage; and he seems quite positive that the

poet afterwards hated her, and took refuge in London partly to escape

from her society. Moreover, he presumes her to have been a coarse, low,

vulgar creature, such as, the fascination of the honeymoon once worn

off, the poet could not choose but loathe and detest. Now all this is

sheer conjecture; it has no basis of fact or of fair likelihood to stand

upon; there is not so much as a particle even of tradition to support

it. Rowe hints nothing of the sort; and surely his candor would not have

spared the parties, if he had found anything: it was the very point of

all others on which scandal would have been most apt to fasten and feed;

and yet even Aubrey, arrant old gossip as he was, supplies nothing to

justify it.

In default of other grounds, resort has been had to certain passages in

the poet's dramas. And Mr. White, though knowing, none better, the

poet's wonderful self-aloofness from his representations, thinks it

worth the while to make an exception in this particular case. Presuming

such and such things to be true in his own experience, the poet, our

author observes, must have thought of them while writing certain

passages. Our answer is, To be sure, he must have thought of them, and

he must have known that others would think of them too; and a reasonable

delicacy on his part would have counselled the withholding of anything

that he was conscious might be applied to his own domestic affairs. Does

not Mr. White see that his inferences in this are just the reverse of

what they should be? Sensible men do not write in their public pages

such things as would be almost sure to breed or to foster scandal about

their own names or their own homes. The man that has a secret cancer on

his person will be the last to speak of cancers in reference to others;

and if the truth of his own case be suspected at all, it will rather be

from his silence than from his speech. We can hardly think Shakespeare

was so wanting in a sense of propriety as to have written the passages

in question, but that he knew no man could say he was exposing the

foulness of his own nest.

But we are dwelling too long on this point; and we confess something of

impatience at Mr. White's treatment of it. His _animus_ in the thing is

shown, perhaps, in one slight mistake he has made. Speaking of the

lady's haste to "provide herself with a husband," he says, "In less than

five months after she obtained one she was delivered of a daughter." The

bishop's license for the marriage was dated November 28th, 1582, and

Susannah Shakespeare was baptized May 26th, 1583; thus leaving an

interval of but two days short of _six_ months between the marriage and

the birth. As Sir Hugh observes, "I like not when a 'oman has a great

peard."

We are moved to add one more item of dissent.--Mr. White thinks, and it

appears that the German critic, Gervinus, coincides with him, that

Shakespeare must have acquired all his best ideas of womanhood after he

went to London, and conversed with the ladies of the city. And in

support of this notion he cites the fact--for such it is--that the women

of the poet's later plays are much superior to those of his earlier

ones. But are not the _men_ of his later plays quite as much superior to

the men of his first? Unquestionably they are. Are not his later plays

as much better _every way_, as in respect of the female characters? Mr.

White is too wise and too ripe in the theme to question it. The truth

seems to be, that Shakespeare saw more of great and good in both man and

woman as he became older and knew them better; for he was full of

intellectual righteousness in this as in other things. But if there must

be any conjecturing about it, we prefer to conjecture that the poet

caught his ideas of womanhood, or at least the rudiments of them, from

his mother, and other specimens of the sex in his native town. For in

this matter it may with something of special fitness be said that a man

finds what he brings with him the faculty of finding; and he who does

not learn respect for woman in the nursery and at the fireside will

hardly learn it at all. The poet's mind did not stay on the surface of

things. He had the head to know, and the heart to feel, the claims of

humble, modest worth; for, as he was the wisest, so was he also the most

human-hearted of men. And to his keen, yet kindly eye, the

plain-thoughted women of Stratford may well have been as pure, as sweet,

as lovely, as rich in all the inward graces which he delighted to unfold

in his female characters, as anything he afterwards found among the

fine ladies of the metropolis: though far be it from us to disrepute

these latter; for he was, by the best of all rights, a thorough

gentleman; and the ladies who pleased him in London had womanhood

enough, no doubt, to recognize him as such, without the flourishes of

rank. At all events, it is reasonable to infer that the foundations of

his mind were laid before he left Stratford, and that the gatherings of

the boy's eye and heart were the germs of the man's thoughts. And,

indeed, if his great social heart had found all the best delights of

society in London, how should he have been so desirous, as Mr. White

allows he was, to escape from the city, and set up his rest in his

Stratford home?

Mr. White's history of the Drama, though far from copious, supplies

enough, perhaps, to put the reader right as regards Shakespeare's

historical relations to that great branch of English literature. From

what is there given, any one can, with reasonable attention, learn that

the English drama, as we have it in Shakespeare, was the well-ripened

fruit of centuries of preparation: the form, structure, and order of the

thing being settled long before his time. The attentive reader will also

see, though this point is not emphasized so much as it might be, that

the national mind and taste were ready and eager to welcome the right

man as soon as the right man came; so that, in catering wisely for the

public taste, the poet could hardly fail of the supremacy due to his

transcendent genius; which infers, of course, that the public taste had

nearly as much to do in forming him as he had in forming it. On one or

two points, as, for instance, in the matter of Shakespeare's senior

contemporaries, we should have preferred a somewhat larger outlay of the

author's learned and well-practised strength; while, again, in reference

to the old plays of "Jeronimo" and "The Spanish Tragedy," he might well

have used more economy of strength, as the matter is neither interesting

in itself nor helpful to his purpose. Here is a specimen of his

felicity, referring to the plays of old John Lily, the euphuist.

"They are in all respects opposed to the genius of the English drama.

They do not even pretend to be representations of human life and human

character, but are pure fantasy pieces, in which the personages are a

heterogeneous medley of Grecian gods and goddesses, and impassible,

colorless creatures, with sublunary names, all thinking with one brain,

and speaking with one tongue,--the conceitful, crotchety brain, and the

dainty, well-trained tongue of clever, witty John Lily."

This is, indeed, the exact truth of the matter, and it could hardly be

better said. On divers points, however, the little that he gives us just

sets the reader on fire for more: that is, he does not satisfy the

desire quite enough in proportion as he stimulates it. But he probably

goes on the safe principle, that in such cases an intelligent reader is

apt to crave more than he will justify a writer in giving; or, in other

words, that he does not seem to have enough, until he has too much.

But the "Essay" is most decidedly the jewel of the volume: not, however,

to disparage the other parts; for it is worthy to be the jewel of

anybody's volume. A single reading of the "Essay," as it ought to be

read, will suffice to make any one glad to own the book, and will almost

certainly induce him to mark it down for a second reading, as the second

also will for a third. The work, indeed, is a positive, and we think it

will prove a permanent addition to our already opulent inheritance of

Shakespearian criticism. It is weighty throughout with fresh, yet sober

and well-considered thought, expressed in tight and sinewy

English,--every part being highly elaborate, but nothing over-labored.

The author discusses a large number of topics, all in "a manly style,

fitted to manly ears," but is particularly full and instructive in

regard to the poet's language and style: a rich field, indeed, which has

not been proportionably cultivated by the poet's later critics, who have

put their force mainly on what may be called his dramatic architecture,

and on his development of character, where there is more room to be

philosophical, but less chance of determinate results. Over this field

Mr. White walks with the firm, yet graceful step of a master: his

current of thought running deep, strong, and clear, and carrying us

through page after page full of nice and subtile discrimination, without

over-refinement, and of illustrations apt and luminous, yet without a

touch of false brilliancy or mere smartness; which is saying a good

deal, in these days of high-pressure rhetoric.

We commend the "Essay" to all lovers of solid and well-proportioned

critical discourse.

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