HAMILTON IN THE SADDLE
I
There was quite enough in the picture of the handsome, penniless
Hamilton, at the age of thirty-two, striding upon the national scene
with the air of a conqueror to undertake the solution of the problem on
which the existence of the young Republic depended, to appeal to the
popular imagination. The mystery and romance of his history, the dash in
his manner, the shimmer of his genius, interested all and fascinated
many of his contemporaries. The audacious gayety with which he faced his
task imparted a feeling of confidence to those who did not know, as many
did, just what was in his mind. He set to work with an enthusiasm that
smacked of inspiration, for it was a task to his taste.
With the startling effect of a magician at his tricks he created the
machinery of his complicated department, selected his assistants with
discrimination, trained them with meticulous care in their duties,
outlined his plans for revenue immediately required, and sat down with
joy to the preparation of his ‘Report on the Public Credit,’ which was
to proclaim the public faith and establish the Nation’s credit.
The mere presence of this youthful figure at the mahogany desk commanded
confidence. Here was a man who was primarily interested in the rights of
property, who believed in the sanctity of contracts and had the courage
of his convictions. Even as he was writing his ‘Report,’ he loomed large
as the man of the hour. His close associates foresaw the nature of his
recommendations. The mercantile and financial interests plumed
themselves upon a triumph. Within a month after his appointment a
contemporary rhymester put in verse the counting-room conception of the
man:
’...young Hamilton’s unshaken soul
The wayward hosts of anarchy control--
And while the Senate with his accents rung
A full conviction followed from his tongue.’[199]
His plans, given in confidence to some, were soon whispered among the
politicians and the merchants of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston, and
the market price of public securities in the cities rose fifty per cent
two months before Congress convened.
It was not until in early January that the ‘Report’ was read in House
and Senate. His wish to present it personally was denied, not by his
political enemies as his partial biographers contend, but by the
supporters of his plan.[200] In the galleries of the House eager
speculators were closely packed. They overflowed and filled the lobbies.
Some were drawn by mere curiosity, some were the original creditors who
had waited long for their reward, but the greater number were
speculators, who, in anticipation of such a recommendation, had bought
freely of the skeptical holders at ridiculously low prices. Not a few of
these poured forth into Wall Street at the conclusion with the
exhilarating knowledge that a fortune was within their grasp.
In the Senate the ‘Report’ was heard in secret and in ‘awful silence,’
for the elder statesmen met behind doors closed and locked. Most of
these listened with approval, but the rheumatic Maclay, who had been
puzzled for some time with ‘the extraordinary rise in public
securities,’ wrote that night in his journal that Hamilton ‘recommends
indiscriminate funding, and, in the style of the British Minister, has
sent down his bill.’ There were some complaints that ‘a committee of
speculators in certificates could not have formed it more to their
advantage.’ In truth, ‘it occasioned many serious faces,’ and Maclay
himself was ‘struck of a heap.’[201] But the prevalent note was one of
jubilation. In New York, enthusiasm in the coffee-houses; in Boston,
‘great applause’;[202] in other commercial cities, Philadelphia,
Charleston, Baltimore, approbation, with reprobation for
objections.[203]
All men of honor sympathized with the purpose of discharging the debt.
The repudiationists were among the ignorant and the vicious. Few at the
moment found fault with the funding system, though some would have
preferred a speedy liquidation through the sale of the public lands.
Then--suddenly--a low murmur of protest, followed by acrimonious
attacks. Thousands of the original creditors had been ‘swindled’ out of
their certificates for a song--were these, who rendered Revolutionary
services, to be taxed to ensure exorbitant profits to the speculators?
Why should the Federal Government assume the debts contracted by the
separate States--debts unevenly distributed? And what was the purpose of
the proposal that the Government should be prohibited from paying more
than two per cent of the principal a year? The indignation of the
insurgents, at first a glimmer, became a flame. The greater part of the
certificates were in the hands of the prosperous who had taken advantage
of the necessities of the original holders--Revolutionary soldiers,
small farmers, hard-pressed country merchants. The funding system would
tax all the people to pay to the rich a hundred cents on the dollar for
evidence of debts that had cost them fifteen and twenty. With the people
taxed to pay the interest--it was proposed to perpetuate the debt. Thus,
for generations, perhaps, as many reasoned, the Government would operate
for the enrichment of the few already rich, and the masses would pay the
piper.
Had Hamilton been disposed to frankness, he would have smiled his
acknowledgment of the charge. One of his biographers has conceded that
through this system he hoped to ‘array property on the side of the
Government,’ by giving it a financial interest in the Government, and
‘to assure to the property of the country a powerful influence upon the
Government.’[204] Having ‘been unable to introduce a class influence
into the Constitution by limiting the suffrage ... with a property
qualification,’ he hoped through his financial system to accomplish his
purpose in another way.[205]
There was nothing diabolical in the plan--coming from one who looked
upon the masses as lawless and unfit for self-government. His obsession
was a strong, stable government--and to sustain it he required the
interested devotion of the propertied class. The astonishing thing is
that the comparatively crude Maclay from the wilds of Pennsylvania and
the leather-lunged James Jackson from sparsely settled Georgia should
have caught the full significance of it all before it dawned on
Jefferson and Madison. The latter thought the ‘Report’ ‘well digested
and illustrated,’ and ‘supported by very able reasoning,’ but after a
while he, too, was depressed with the injustice to the original
creditors who ‘were most instrumental in saving their country,’ and
concluded there was something ‘radically wrong in suffering those who
rendered a bona fide consideration to lose seven eighths of their dues,
and those who had no particular merit toward their country to gain seven
or eight times as much as they advanced.’[206]
II
Meanwhile, speculation was manifesting itself with incredible audacity
and mendacity. The greater part of the securities in the hands of
original creditors were in the hands of soldiers, farmers, and merchants
in the remote interior. To most of these, they had come to mean so much
worthless paper. No telegraph could flash the news into the back country
of Georgia and North Carolina that Congress was about to legislate to
par the promises to pay. Weeks or months would pass before the
proceedings in New York could be known and comprehended by holders of
the paper living in the woods of the Carolinas or on the banks of the
Savannah. Poor, and mostly ignorant, they had no correspondents in the
coffee-houses to write them of the activities at Federal Hall; and even
if they had, it required weeks for a letter to reach them.
But members of Congress knew what to expect--for they were the actors in
the drama; and their friends, the capitalists and merchants of the
cities, knew--for they had been informed. The unscrupulous and
adventurous soldiers of fortune on the scene comprehended the
opportunity at a glance. The day after the ‘Report’ was read, the city
buzzed with the gossip of the speculators. One Senator, making calls in
the congressional circle, found it almost the sole topic of
conversation. He heard that Robert Morris of the Senate, who had been
consulted by Hamilton, ‘must be deep in it, for his partner ... had one
contract for $40,000 worth.’ It was whispered that ‘General Heister had
brought over a sum of money for Mr. Morris for this business.’ Senator
Langdon, it was noted, was living with a Mr. Hazard ‘who is an old and
intimate friend of Mr. Morris,’ and he admitted that he had followed
buying certificates for some time past.’ ‘Ah,’ said the visiting
Senator, ‘so you are one of the happy few who have been let in on the
secret’--and Mr. Hazard seemed abashed. It was understood that
Representative Fitzsimons of Philadelphia was likewise concerned in the
business.
Four days after the ‘Report’ was read, ‘expresses with very large sums
of money on their way to North Carolina for purposes of speculation in
certificates’ splashed and bumped over the wretched winter roads, the
drivers lashing the straining horses. Two fast-sailing vessels,
chartered by a member of Congress who had been an officer in the war,
were ploughing the waters southward on a similar mission--and this
scandalous proceeding was to be mentioned frequently in the subsequent
debates. ‘I really fear,’ wrote Maclay, ‘the members of Congress are
deeper in this business than any others.’[207] Whether they were deeper
or not, they were deep enough, and numerous enough to hold the balance
of power in the body that legislated the certificates to par. These
ranged from Robert Morris, the chief legislative agent of Hamilton in
the Senate, to Fisher Ames, who was his most eloquent defender in the
House.[208] In later years Jefferson was to record in justice to Ames
that his speculative activities had been greatly exaggerated and that he
had acted as an agent in the enterprises of his Boston friends, Gore and
Mason.[209]
So thoroughly did this money-madness take possession of the minds of men
that even the puritanic John Quincy Adams was to write his father,
without a homily, that by September of 1790, Christopher Gore, the
richest lawyer in Massachusetts, and one of the strongest Bay State
members of Hamilton’s machine, had ‘made an independent fortune in
speculation in the public funds’; and that other leaders of the bar[210]
had ‘successfully engaged in speculation’ by playing at ‘that hazardous
game with moneys deposited in their hands’ by clients at a distance.
They took the chance of becoming ‘masters of sums to an equal amount
before they have been called upon for payment.’[211] Maclay thought
‘there is no room to doubt but that a connection is spread over the
whole continent on this villainous business.’[212] Everywhere men with
capital--and a hint--were feverishly pushing their advantage by preying
on the ignorance of the poor. Thus, paper held for years by the private
soldiers was coaxed from them for five, and even as low as two,
shillings on the pound by speculators, including leading members of
Congress, who knew that provision for the redemption of the paper had
been made.
In all this, Hamilton had no part and no responsibility beyond having
made indiscreet disclosures of which his friends availed themselves, and
through buying and selling through his agents in New York and
Philadelphia for his brother-in-law.[213] Just how he viewed the
scandalous proceedings in the earlier stages we do not know. They were
not without defense from his supporters. The obsequious John Fenno took
notice of the gossip with a defense of speculation in the ‘Gazette.’
Were not moneyed men ‘the props of the infant credit of the United
States?’[214] The dark insinuations of the gossips, the criticism of the
‘rabble,’ we may be sure caused Hamilton no concern. Surveying the field
at the beginning of the battle, he must have been content. He saw the
financiers, the commercial interests of the large centers, including the
speculators, enlisted under his banner. The influential Society of the
Cincinnati, composed of Revolutionary officers, men of means who had
been able to hold on to their paper, gave dignity to his cause. With its
compact organization in every State, and its system of correspondence,
it was an engine of tremendous power. The social and intellectual
circles were flying his flag. He looked upon his work and called it
good.
III
With the first discussion in the House, it was apparent that speculation
was to play a conspicuous part in the debates. The speculators packed
the galleries, overflowed into the lobby, causing the complacent
Theodore Sedgwick of Massachusetts, himself a speculator, to insist
that the ‘ardent expectations of the people on this subject want no
other demonstration than the numerous body of citizens assembled within
these walls.’ The effect was different on the pugnacious Jackson of
Georgia. ‘Since this Report has been read,’ he shouted, with a
contemptuous glance at the eager gallery, ‘the spirit of speculation ...
has arisen and been cherished by people who had access to information
the Report contained, that would have made a Hastings blush to have been
connected with, though long inured to preying on the vitals of his
fellow man. Three vessels, sir, have sailed within a fortnight from this
port freighted for speculation.’[215]
The unctuous Sedgwick was melting suavity. Speculation within reasonable
bounds was not bad, but action should be taken with all possible speed
to stop it; and the troublesome Jackson returned to the attack--this
time on New York City. He wished to God Congress had met in the woods
and out of the neighborhood of a populous town. The gallant veterans,
driven by economic necessity to the wilderness, were being robbed by
these speculators of the pittance a grateful country had bestowed. Since
the assumption of State debts was proposed, why not postpone action
until the various legislatures could express the sentiment of the
States? ‘Then these men may send out other vessels to countermand their
former orders; and perhaps we may yet save the distant inhabitants from
being plundered by these harpies.’[216]
This line of attack had not been anticipated, and Hamilton was not the
man to take anything for granted. His well-groomed figure was seen
moving nervously about the lobbies of Federal Hall, within a few days
after the commencement of the debate. One of his enemies observed that
he ‘spent most of his time running from place to place among the
members.’[217] In the evenings he gathered his more influential
supporters about him at his home. At his table he brought his most
seductive charms to bear upon the doubting. Time was all-important and
indefinite delay might be fatal.
With the thunder of Jackson’s ugly charges reverberating through the
streets, taverns, coffee-houses, Hamilton was ‘moving heaven and earth
for his funding system.’ The commercial interests and the members of
the Cincinnati hastened to join the lobby, which began to seek out the
wavering or the doubtful in their lodging-houses. A fashionable minister
found his way to the quarters of Speaker Muhlenberg and Senator Maclay
to extol the policies of the dynamic young Secretary, and ‘argued as if
he had been in the pulpit.’ Time, too, for a redoubling of effort, for
there were rumors that Madison, the strongest man in the House, had been
unpleasantly impressed with the fast-sailing vessels and the expresses
jolting over the roads southward. A bitter attack had appeared in one of
the papers which gossip ascribed to the popular George Clinton.[218]
In the House--still harping were the foes on speculation, when with a
benevolent expression Sedgwick rose with saccharine urbanity to regret
the vice of speculation, and declare himself ‘totally disinterested,’
albeit he was financially concerned. It was only his distress over
speculation that admonished him to speedy action to minimize the evil.
It was really unfortunate that so much heat had been engendered. After
all, were not ‘a great and respectable body of our citizens creditors of
the United States?’ It would be tragic were these animosities to create
‘factions among the people.’
‘A danger there?’ bellowed Jackson, the incorrigible infant terrible.
‘Do not gentlemen think there is some danger on the other side? Will
there not be grounds for uneasiness when the soldier and the meritorious
citizen are called upon to pay the speculator more than ten times the
amount they ever received from him for their securities?’[219]
Meanwhile the fight was spreading from Federal Hall to the newspapers
where congressional courtesy imposed no restrictions on the temper.
Sinister stories were finding their way into print. ‘Several officials
in conjunction with Robert Morris and wealthy contractors “were” at the
bottom of this new arrangement.’ If it succeeded, Robert Morris would
benefit $18,000,000, Jeremiah Wadsworth would profit $9,000,000 and
Governor George Clinton would make $5,000,000.[220]
It was under these conditions, with the speculators packing the
galleries, with the lobbyists, legitimate and illegitimate, buzzing
through the corridors, with the most amazing rumors floating about the
streets, that James Madison, who had remained silent heretofore, rose in
a crowded House to fire the first fun in the Jeffersonian war on the
financial policies of Alexander Hamilton.
IV
Here was a man at whom the Federalist leaders dare not sneer. A
stranger, looking down from the gallery, would have been at a loss to
understand the deference with which members hung upon his words. His
personal appearance was disappointing. The short little man dressed in
sober black, with a bald head, and a little protuberant in front, whose
lower limbs were slight and weak,[221] was surely not meant to ride on
the whirlwind and direct the storm. The impression of physical weakness
he conveyed did belie the fact. In the mild blue eyes there was much to
suggest the meditative philosopher, nothing to hint of the fighter. His
voice was so weak that even in the cozy little chamber he could scarcely
be heard.[222] He spoke in low tones, without gesture or excitement,
almost like a man communing with himself in the seclusion of his closet.
And yet he commanded a hearing vouchsafed to few. It was the triumph of
character.
Here, too, was a man with a background second to none in the infant
Republic. An ailing body had obsessed him in youth with the premonition
of an early death, and, feeling the futility of entering on any pursuit,
he had sought consolation in his books. He not only consumed, he
assimilated. He not only read, he thought. Thus he became something more
than a learned man--he developed into a political philosopher ‘worthy to
rank with Montesquieu and Locke.’[223] At the time he rose to propose an
amendment to Hamilton’s plan there was not a man in America who was his
peer in the knowledge of constitutional law or history. Nor was there a
man, either, whose support Hamilton more eagerly coveted. Even the
jealous Ames conceded him to be ‘our first man,’ consoling himself for
the concession with the comment that ‘I think him too much of a book
politician and too timid in his politics,’ and that ‘he speaks decently
as to manner and no more.’[224]
But the ill-natured jealousy of the more ornamental Ames failed to take
account, as most of his colleagues did, of the important practical use
to which he had put his knowledge of the battles he had fought and the
victories he had won. No one in either branch of Congress or at the head
of any of the departments had approached his services in the framing of
the Constitution. It was his genius that conceived the Virginia plan
which became the basis of the agreement. At many critical junctures his
speeches had dissipated the gathering darkness with their light. His
pen, unknown to many at the time, had recorded the story of the
Convention. His contributions to ‘The Federalist’ had been quite as
important, if not so numerous, as those of Hamilton; and the fight he
waged in the Virginia Convention for ratification was quite as Titanic
and conclusive as that of Hamilton in New York, but with this
difference--Hamilton was confronted by Melancthon Smith, while Madison
had to cross swords with Patrick Henry, with the powerful George Mason
and the accomplished Pendleton.
He was not an orator of frills and fancies, magnetic and dramatic,
appealing to the passions and emotions, but he was formidable in debate.
In the speeches of none of his contemporaries is found such erudition,
more driving logic, such tact and moderation of statement, or greater
nobility of sentiment, fairness, justice. If they are a bit heavy in
their sobriety, the occasion called for something remote from theatrical
frivolity. His grace was in his reasoning, not his rhetoric--and yet his
style would have given him a foremost place at Saint Stephen’s.
It is not surprising that such a man should not have been a favorite
with the crowd. There was a diffidence in his manner, a formality and
precision in his method, a quiet dignity in his bearing that discouraged
familiarity. He was too absorbed in his work to fit in with the social
festivity of his time. Only at his own table and among his intimates did
he appear in the rôle of ‘an incessant humorist’ and ‘keep the table in
roars of laughter over his stories and his whimsical way of telling
them.’[225] Even his letters read like state papers. But there were a
few, greater than Ames, who appreciated him. These were the three most
important personages of his time--Washington, Hamilton, and Jefferson.
Washington consulted him and made use of his pen. Hamilton cultivated
him. Jefferson loved him as a son. His relations with the latter were no
less than beautiful. Through many years they constantly interchanged
visits, corresponded regularly, and traveled together whenever possible.
A strikingly incongruous pair they must have seemed as they plodded
along country roads together, or rode to and from Philadelphia together
in Jefferson’s carriage--the tall, thin, loose-jointed, and powerful
master of Monticello, and the short, frail, bald-headed Madison. But the
incongruity was in their physical appearance only, for they had much in
common--a common sweetness of disposition, a common code of political
principles and morals, a common liberality of views, and a common
passion for knowledge. The older man paid tribute to his protégé’s
qualities long after both had passed from active public life: his
‘habits of self-possession which placed at ready command the rich
resources of his luminous and discriminating mind’; his language
‘soothing always the feelings of his adversaries by civilities and
softness of expression’; his ‘pure and spotless virtue which no calumny
has ever attempted to sully’--all qualities that made him a congenial
companion for the philosopher who shared them in a large degree.[226]
Observing Jefferson’s happiness at the inauguration of his successor, a
lady who knew them both intimately wrote what all who knew them felt: ‘I
do believe father never loved a son more than he loves Mr.
Madison.’[227] But when Madison rose that cold February day to make his
first attack on Hamilton’s programme, he acted on his own volition and
without consultation with the man who was to be his chief.
V
The character of Madison’s speech in favor of discrimination between the
original holders and the purchasers of securities was not so open to
attack as that of the impulsive and loose-thinking Jackson. He began in
a manner to conciliate his hearers, matching Hamilton in his insistence
on the sanctity of the debt and the necessity for its discharge. The
question is--to whom is the money due? There could be no doubt in the
case of the original holders who had not alienated their securities. The
only rival pretensions were those of the original holders who had
assigned and the present holders of the assignments.
‘The former may appeal to justice,’ he said, ‘because the value of the
money, the service or the property advanced by them has never been
really paid to them. They may appeal to good faith, because the value
stipulated and expected is not satisfied by the steps taken by the
Government. The certificates put in the hands of the creditors, on
closing their settlements with the public, were of less value than was
acknowledged to be due; they may be considered as having been forced on
the receivers. They cannot therefore be adjudged an extinguishment of
the debt. They may appeal to the motives for establishing public credit,
for which justice and faith form the natural foundation. They may appeal
to humanity for the sufferings of the military part of the creditors who
never can be forgotten while sympathy is an American virtue.’
Admitting that the purchaser also had a claim, he proposed a plan
designed, as he thought, to do justice to both--to pay the original
holder in full, and, where there had been an assignment, the assignee to
receive the highest market value and the original holder whatever
remained over.[228] The plan spread consternation. At the Knoxes’ dinner
table that night, where members of Congress and diplomats were gathered,
it was almost the sole topic of conversation. In the coffee-houses,
where the speculators gathered about their mugs, Madison was denounced
as a dreamer and an enemy of public faith. The more cautious regretted
the insurmountable difficulties of the scheme. This was felt by Madison
as the one legitimate argument in opposition, and writing Jefferson
three days later he made the admission with the suggestion that ‘they
might be removed by one half the exertions that will be used to collect
and color them.’[229] It was not until four days later that the
Hamiltonian leaders attacked the plan with their heavy artillery. One
by one they rushed to the assault. ‘It is not pretended,’ cried
Sedgwick, ‘that any fraud or imposition has been practiced’--which is
precisely what was charged. If the original holders lost, it was their
own fault. It was too bad. He really sympathized with their misfortunes.
But business was business. There was ‘no fraud on the part of the
holder,’ echoed Laurance of New York--who knew that the town was humming
with the charge. At any rate, ‘the general opinion of men of property is
in favor of it.’ No public bodies like Chambers of Commerce were against
the Hamilton plan. As for ‘the people’--newspapers and pamphlets could
not be taken as expressive of public opinion. William Smith of
Charleston had heard few advocates of discrimination ‘in society.’ As
for the newspapers, they appeared on both sides. And why so much
sympathy with the original holders?
It was reserved for Ames, whose friend Gore was getting rich on
speculation, to take a stouter stand. Why should not ‘the seller who
sold for a trifle be taxed to pay the purchaser?’ he asked. ‘He
certainly ought to fare as other citizens do. If he has property, then
the plea of necessity is destroyed; if he has none, then his taxes will
be a mere trifle.’ And public opinion against it? Then ‘all the more
duty on Government to protect right when it may happen to be unpopular;
that is what Government is framed to do.’ Away with maudlin
sentiment--it was not the function of the State to ‘rob on the highway
to exercise charity.’[230]
Meanwhile the commercial organizations of the larger towns were summoned
to the field against discrimination, and they responded--even in
Richmond. ‘It is the natural language of the towns,’ wrote Madison, ‘and
decides nothing.’[231] As the debate proceeded, Wall Street swarmed with
the curious who could not get into the House where the speculators
packed the galleries, and lined up deep behind the railing in the rear
of the chamber. Petitions began to pour in. Passions rose. ‘I do not
believe the crowd in the gallery consists of original holders,’ shouted
one speaker with a contemptuous glance at the covetous group bending
over the railing.[232] Soldiers! ‘Poor soldiers!’ sneered Wadsworth--he
who had sent the two fast-sailing vessels to the South--‘I am tired of
hearing about the poor soldiers. Perhaps soldiers were never better paid
in any part of the country.’[233]
Two days later, Madison returned to the attack in a speech unusually
spirited for him. Only when he had parted with his self-respect ‘could
he admit that America ought to erect the monuments of her gratitude, not
to those who saved her liberties, but to those who had enriched
themselves on her funds.’ It was his last effort. He had spent himself
to the utmost. A spectator entering the House late in the day found him
‘rather jaded.’[234] He had incurred the hate of the Hamiltonians
without having consolidated all the opposition in favor of his plan.
Three days later--it was Sunday--that extreme democrat Senator Maclay,
who was indifferent to Madison’s plan because opposed to funding
altogether, sat down in his boarding-house and framed a plan of his own
looking to the extinguishment of the debt through the sale of public
lands. Having satisfied himself, he went forth in search of Thomas
Scott, his colleague. But ‘shame to tell it--he a man in years and
burdened with complaints--had lodged out and was not home yet.’ Pity
that ‘a good head should be led astray by the inordinate lust of its
concomitant parts.’ At length the old ‘roué’ was found, and he urged
that it be submitted to Madison at once.
The next day found Maclay indignantly chafing at Madison’s lodging-house
because it was ‘a long time’ before he appeared. As the radical from
Pennsylvania read his plan, it seemed to him that Madison ‘attended to
no one word, being so much absorbed in his own ideas.’ Maclay handed him
the paper, and Madison handed it back without glancing at it. Alas,
thought the radical, ‘his pride seems of the kind that repels all
communications.’[235] It was not an easy task to organize the forces of
Democracy.
The next day Madison’s plan was voted down. It was found long afterward
that of the sixty-four members of the House, twenty-nine were
security-holders.
VI
One thing, however, had been accomplished--the public interest had been
awakened. The tongue of criticism had been loosened. The man in the
street began to hold forth. It was all beyond him--as problems of
finance were beyond Madison himself; but he could understand that a
policy had been adopted that would be advantageous to the rich,
profitable to the speculator, and mean loss to the common soldier. In
the commercial centers of the cities Madison became anathema. Young
Adams reported to his father that in Boston ‘Mr. Madison’s reputation
has suffered from his conduct,’ albeit so respectable a character as
Judge Dana had adopted Madison’s views.[236] The immediate reaction
through letters to the papers was so bitter that Fenno was moved to a
homily under the caption, ‘Honor Your Rulers,’ in which he pointed to
such outrageous derelictions as expressions of doubt concerning the
propriety of the proceedings of Congress.[237] These expressions had
gone far beyond a mere questioning of the wisdom of Congress. ‘A War
Worn Soldier’ thought it ‘happy there is a Madison who fearless of the
blood suckers will step forward and boldly vindicate the rights of the
widows and orphans, the original creditors and the war worn
soldier.’[238] Another ‘Real Soldier’ described ‘the poor emaciated
soldier, hungry and naked, in many instances now wandering from one
extreme part of the country to another.... But thank God there lives a
Madison to propose justice....’[239] An uglier and more pointed note was
struck by ‘A Farmer’ in Pennsylvania. ‘Would it not be a good
regulation,’ he wrote, ‘to oblige every member of Congress ... to lay
his hand on his heart and to declare that he is no speculator; and that
he did not come forward to claim for himself the price of the blood or
the limb or the life of the poor soldier?’[240] Another wrote to
‘gentlemen who by superior wealth have monopolized the public
securities’ that if honor and public faith called for the maintenance of
the paper at par then, there was more occasion for it ‘when they were in
the hands of those poor people to whom they were justly due, who had
implicitly pinned their faith on your sheaves.’[241] ‘An Old Soldier’
recalled Washington’s pledge to see justice done the common soldier.
‘Ample means are said to be now about to be provided, not for their
relief, but to enable eight or nine hundred per cent gain on the
purchase money of the speculator.’[242] ‘Ah well,’ wrote ‘A Citizen’ of
Boston, ‘Madison, Jackson and others in favor of discrimination in
funding the public debt have probably immortalized their memories.’[243]
Their letters probably reflect the talk among the workers on the
wharves, the pioneers on the fringe of the forests, the gossips of the
taverns. Rightly or wrongly, a spirit of resentment had been aroused--a
feeling in the breast of many that their interests were being
subordinated by the Government. This sentiment was to grow and to
increase the trouble of Hamilton in the next step toward the adoption of
his funding system.
VII
With the easy victory, however, the Hamiltonians entered with gayety
upon the next step--the Assumption of the State debts--determined to
rush it through. On the very night of the day discrimination was
defeated, the Pennsylvania delegation, on the suggestion of Robert
Morris, met at the lodgings of Representative Fitzsimons of Philadelphia
to ‘consider’ the matter of Assumption. One glance convinced the
keen-eyed Maclay that the meeting was for ratification, not for
consideration purposes. ‘By God,’ swore Morris, ‘it must be done!’
George Clymer, another of the Hamilton Reliables, bubbled with
enthusiasm over the advantage that would accrue to Pennsylvania. Maclay
was embarrassed by the almost affectionate comradery of some of his
colleagues. Why should the delegation not hold weekly social sessions
and work in harmony? Fitzsimons’s lodgings would be the very place to
meet. Yes, agreed Morris, and they could have wine and oysters.[244]
A few days later Muhlenberg, returning to Maclay’s lodgings from a levee
at the presidential mansion, declared with intense emphasis that the
State debts must be assumed--which impressed the suspicious Senator as
‘the language of the Court.’[245]
But it was not to be so simple as all that. Assumption, argued many,
would but extend the scope of the operations of the hated speculators.
It was another move to mortgage the Government to the capitalists. The
greater part of the speculating gentry were in the North; they would
soon accumulate all the State certificates of the South into their own
hands and one section would be paying taxes to increase the fortunes of
a favored class in another.
There was another reason for the revolt of the Southerners--which,
reversed, would have operated quite as powerfully on the Northerners.
The States with the largest unpaid debts were in the North,
Massachusetts with the greatest debt of all. Virginia, which led the
opposition, had liquidated most of her debt. There is nothing
inexplicable in the objections of the Virginians, who had paid their
debt, to being taxed to help pay the debt of Massachusetts and
Connecticut.
This was appreciated by many in the North, and a citizen of Stockbridge,
Massachusetts, writing for a New York paper, thought it unfair. If the
‘leveling system’ was vicious as applied to men, it was quite as bad
when applied to States. Then, too, ‘the public creditors, the most
opulent part, of the community, would, by this means, be detached from
the interest of the State Governments and united to that of the general
Government.’ This aimed at the annihilation of the State Governments and
the perpetuation of the debt.[246] Thus an attack began on the general
policy of funding, taking an ugly form, appealing to class prejudices.
‘A number of drones are brought into society and the industrious bee is
forced to furnish them with all the honey of its search.’[247]
But this opposition from the unimportant meant nothing to Hamilton. In
those days, and for many days to come, it was only necessary to know
what Oliver Wolcott[248] said or wrote to know what his master thought.
Writing his father about this time, Wolcott gives us sketchily the
operations of Hamilton’s mind. This matter of assumption was connected
with ‘the engine of government.’ Since ‘the influence of the clergy, the
nobility and the army’ was impossible, ‘some active principle of the
human mind can be interested in the support of the Government.’ It would
never do to have ‘civil establishments,’ but there was an influential
class in existence--the moneyed class. They could and should be bound
by interest to the general Government. What more ‘active principle’ of
the human mind than the desire for wealth? And if the capitalists looked
to the Federal rather than to the State Governments for their money,
what better ‘engine of government’ than that? ‘For these reasons,’ wrote
Wolcott, ‘I think the State debts should be assumed.’ True, it would
make the debt of the United States ‘inconvenient,’ the taxes would be
‘burdensome,’ and ‘will appear to be just only to those who believe that
the good attained is more important than the evil which is
suffered.’[249]
It was fear of the effect of these ‘burdensome taxes’ on the popularity
of the Federal Government that led some men, including Madison, into
opposition.[250] Some of the Hamiltonians were alarmed, fearing that
‘such bold politics are unfitted to ... the infant resources’ of the
young Republic.[251] Every enemy of Assumption was not hostile to the
central Government, but all who were jealous of the sovereignty of the
States were in opposition. Rufus King, the brilliant and virile
Hamiltonian leader in the Senate, was convinced that in New York ‘the
anti-federalists think that the advantages to be derived to the State
from the retention of that debt are so great and important that they
stand ready to accede to any terms which the creditors may
propose.’[252] About the same time the unreconciled Patrick Henry was
writing James Monroe that ‘it seems to be a consistent part of a system
I have ever dreaded,’ and that the ‘subserviency of Southern to Northern
interests are written in Capitals on its very front.’[253]
Such was the atmosphere in which the second battle began.
VIII
On the opening of the debate one champion of Assumption[254] let the cat
out of the bag with the statement that ‘if the general Government has
the payment of all the debts, it must of course have all the revenue,
and if it possesses the whole revenue, it is equal, in other words, to
the whole power.’ ‘Yes,’ cried the irrepressible Jackson in stentorian
tones, ‘if it lulls the Shays of the North it will rouse the Sullivans
of the South’--and the fight was on.
Almost immediately Assumption became confused with the whole system of
funding, and a week after Madison had made his argument against the
former, he was compelled to return to a defense of the latter, not as
something he desired, but as a necessity imposed by unescapable
conditions. Madison was too much of a statesman to be a demagogue.
Very soon, Maclay, watching the proceedings in the House with ferret
eyes, thought he observed ‘the rendezvousing of the crew of the Hamilton
galley.’ He found that ‘all hands are piped to quarters.’ The plan to
force a vote on March 8th was abandoned toward evening, and that night
he heard it was to await the arrival of Representative Vining of
Delaware, and to give Hamilton time ‘to prepare him properly.’[255]
There was some mystery about Vining, and wild rumors were afloat that
some one had said that he would give the new arrival a thousand guineas
for his vote. ‘A thousand guineas,’ snorted Maclay, with a twinge in his
gouty knee, ‘they could get him for a tenth that sum.’
Meanwhile, there was feverish activity among Hamilton’s supporters in
Congress and out. Government officials left their desks to become
lobbyists. The clergy turned politicians and solicited. The speculators
were active. The members of the Cincinnati were mobilized and marched.
Two Congressmen, one lame, the other sick, were carried to the House to
meet a possible emergency. Another, planning to leave town, was ordered
to his post.[256] The friends of Assumption were becoming uneasy.
Letters in opposition were pouring in from men like Doctors Rush and
Logan of Philadelphia and were being peddled about by Maclay to members
of the Pennsylvania delegation. Alas, that he should have found ‘a woman
in the room’ with old man Scott again.[257]
These activities so wrought upon the nerves of Robert Morris that he
sought a new avenue of approach to his erratic colleague. Would Maclay
join Morris in some land speculations? The former was suspicious, but
interested.[258] For several days Morris talked land--the play
continuing for eleven days. The debate was becoming bitter. The able,
bitter-tongued Ædanus Burke of South Carolina made a ferocious attack on
Hamilton, and the lobbies, coffee-houses, streets, buzzed with talk of a
duel.[259]
The distress among Hamilton’s friends increased. In the Senate, shut off
from the curious eyes of the public, feelings could be manifested with
some abandon. Ellsworth and Izard ‘walked all the morning back and
forward.’ Strong of Massachusetts and Paterson of New Jersey ‘seemed
moved but not so much agitated.’ King ‘looked like a boy who had been
whipped.’ And the hair on Schuyler, a heavy speculator and father-in-law
of Hamilton, ‘stood on end as if the Indians had fired at him.’[260]
But courage was revived, and there was unwonted activity. Most of
Washington’s household joined the lobby--Humphreys, Jackson, and Nelson,
his secretaries--and were particularly attentive to Vining. This was the
result of a caucus of Hamilton’s supporters the night before when the
decision was reached to risk a vote.
Three days later, the chance was taken, and Hamilton lost by two votes.
The scene was dramatic. Sedgwick made an ominous speech and, on being
called to order, took his hat and left. ‘A funeral oration,’ sneered
Maclay. When he returned he seemed to have been weeping. Even the eyes
of the self-contained Fitzsimons ‘were brimming full’ as he went about
‘reddened like scarlet.’ Clymer, ‘always pale,’ was ‘deadly white,’ his
lips quivering. But ‘happy impudence sat on Laurance’s brow.’ Wadsworth,
who was financially interested, ‘hid his grief under the rim of a round
hat,’ and Boudinot,[261] another speculator, left his distress naked to
his enemies--‘his wrinkles rose in ridges and the angles of his mouth
were depressed and assumed a curve resembling a horse shoe.’[262]
The speculators poured out of the galleries and into the coffee-houses
and taverns to relieve their feelings with oaths over a mug. The air was
electric--and cause enough. Many speculators or their agents had been
scouring the back country of the Carolinas and Georgia for months buying
up State securities on the assumption that they would be funded. They
had bet on a sure thing--and lost.
IX
For a moment the friends of Assumption appeared to lose interest in the
new Government. Some acted as though the experiment launched by the
Constitution had failed and was not worth a ceremonious burial. The
interest of Congress lagged, and in the Senate, where the Assumptionists
were strongest, business was practically abandoned. In less than an hour
after it was called to order, Rufus King would move an adjournment.[263]
It was a gloomy and cold April--the distant hills and even the
house-tops covered with snow.[264] ‘The Eastern members talk a strange
language,’ wrote Madison to Monroe. ‘They avow, some of them at least, a
determination to oppose all provisions for the public debt which does
not include this, and intimate danger to the Union from a failure to
assume.’[265] Senator Johnson of North Carolina found ‘the gentlemen who
are in favor of assumption ... very sore and impatient under their
defeat.’[266] Not a few of the Federalists began to speak and write
pessimistically of the doubtful value of the Government. From his
library at Beverly, George Cabot could see the danger of ‘division,
anarchy and wretchedness,’[267] and if the States seized the opportunity
to ‘provide honestly for their creditors ... the general government
would be ruined irrevocably.’ But the thing that pained Cabot most was
the attitude of Madison. Had he changed his principles?[268]
In the Hamiltonian press the comments were funereal. Fenno’s paper
teemed with indignant protests and savage attacks on the State
‘demagogues’ who were ‘hankering after popularity at home.’[269]
‘Americanus,’ paying tribute to Hamilton and his funding plan, found it
‘wantonly destroyed’ and ‘in broken pieces at the several shrines of
ambition, avarice and vanity.’[270]
Yet all the scribes were not similarly depressed. A writer in the ‘New
York Journal,’ describing the birth and death of Assumption, worked the
advocates of the measure into a frenzy. He pictured it as ‘the bastard
of Eastern speculators who have lost their puritanic manners’--the
‘brat’ having been brought into the world ‘by the dexterous application
of the forceps.’ Thus it was injured by the ‘violence of the delivery,’
but ‘Dr. Slop’ had hoped to save it by having it bathed ‘in Yankee rum.’
‘The unfortunate child was presented to the baptismal font by Granny
Fitzsimmons; and Mr. Sedgwick, who is gifted with canting talents,
officiated as priest, baptized the infant, and his name stands on the
parish books as Al--ex--der Assumption.’ But alas, ‘the child of promise
who would have redeemed the Eastern States from poverty and despair is
now no more.’[271]
But Hamilton was not despairing--he had just begun to fight.
X
It was under these conditions that an event of tremendous import
occurred. On Sunday a stage-coach lumbered up to the tavern on Broadway,
and a tall, travel-worn man emerged and entered the hostelry. Momentous
as was the meaning of his arrival, it claimed but scant notice in the
papers of the city.
‘On Sunday last, arrived in this city, Thomas Jefferson, Esq.,
Secretary of State for the United States of America.’[272]
There is nothing in the press or the correspondence of the time to
indicate the slightest appreciation of the significance of this
accession to governmental circles. No doubt Madison was among the first
to greet him, but of this we have no evidence. For two weeks Jefferson
had been upon the road from Richmond, resting a day at Alexandria where
an eighteen-inch snow caused him to send his carriage on by water and
take the public stage. The roads were wretched and there was little
opportunity for restful sleep. Occasionally the long-legged traveler
left the stage to mount his horse for exercise. Thus he rode to the
field of battle.
XI
As Hamilton surveyed the wreckage of the field, he saw an opportunity.
There was another bitter battle pending over the selection of the site
of the permanent capital. Might he not bargain a bit and trade enough
votes for Assumption? The site of the capital was a matter of
indifference to him. No sentimental ties bound him to any State or
community. No dust sacred to him rested anywhere in American soil. He
was ready to go with any group that could contribute enough votes to
make Assumption sure. Philadelphia--New York--the
Susquehanna--Baltimore--the Potomac--a mere bagatelle to him. In the
fact that it was more than that to others he saw his chance. Could the
Virginians or the Marylanders who had opposed Assumption pay him in
votes for a capital at Georgetown, or even Baltimore? Could Robert
Morris whip the stubborn Pennsylvanians into line for a capital in
Philadelphia or on the Susquehanna? True, Washington favored Georgetown,
but that meant nothing to Hamilton if Georgetown could not bring
Assumption. It is a myth of history that he was tenderly considerate of
the wishes of his chief: the facts to sustain it do not appear. Far more
important to him was the fact that Madison and Carroll favored
Georgetown. They had votes.
The intense bitterness over the struggle called for infinite diplomacy
and sagacity in negotiation. The papers of the country were filled with
ill-natured letters on the fight which was no more in evidence in
Congress than in the bar-rooms of the competing cities. Ames, like
Hamilton, cared little about the site if he could but get Assumption,
and was disgusted with the ‘despicable grogshop contest, whether the
taverns in New York or Philadelphia shall get the custom of Congress.’
Sedgwick had become a ‘perfect slave to the business,’ and ‘Goodhue
frowned all day long and swears as much as a good Christian
can....’[273]
By early June the bargaining stage had been reached. One day Tench Coxe,
of the Treasury, and Jackson, one of Washington’s secretaries, called at
the lodgings of Fitzsimons and Clymer with the bald proposition to trade
the permanent residence to Philadelphia for enough Pennsylvania votes to
pass Assumption. Taking this as a hint from Hamilton, Robert Morris
wrote him that early the next morning he should be taking a walk on the
Battery, and if any propositions were open he would be very glad to have
the Secretary of the Treasury join him in his constitutional. Thus,
long before many of the statesmen had enjoyed their coffee, Hamilton and
Morris paced up and down at the deserted Battery. With Walpolean
directness, Hamilton went to the point. He needed one vote in the Senate
and five in the House. If Morris could assure him these, he could give
assurance, in return, that the permanent residence would be given to
Germantown or the Falls of the Delaware. Morris promised to consult his
colleagues--but how about the temporary residence for Philadelphia?
After thinking it over, Hamilton sent word that he would not think of
bargaining on the temporary residence.[274] For several days these
negotiations continued. The Pennsylvanians moved with a deliberation
that tried Hamilton’s patience. A few days later he threatened his
Philadelphia friends with the possibility of the New-Englanders going to
Baltimore or the Potomac.[275]
Meanwhile, Hamilton had been thinking seriously of Jefferson. They met
as strangers, knowing one another well by reputation. Their feelings
were friendly. There were innumerable reasons why they should ultimately
fly at each other’s throats, but that was in the future. One June day
they met at the presidential mansion on Broadway, and, leaving at the
same time, Hamilton saw his opportunity.
There was a picture for an artist to paint--Hamilton and Jefferson, arm
in arm, walking along Broadway discussing the possibilities of a
bargain. With all the persuasiveness of his eloquence, Hamilton dwelt on
the very real danger of disunion if Assumption failed. With subtle
diplomacy he seemed to throw himself trustfully on Jefferson’s mercy. A
great struggle for independence--a promising young nation--and was all
to be lost? The South wanted the capital, the North wanted
Assumption--could there not be a common meeting-ground? Jefferson would
see.
A dinner at Jefferson’s table in the house on Broadway. Men from the
South about the board. The topic--the pending bargain. A little later,
Hamilton was informed that an agreement could be reached. The word was
passed along the line. Even Madison satisfied himself that, since
Assumption could not be prevented, the bargain might as well be
made--but if there had been no bargain there would have been no
Assumption. A few nights later the Pennsylvania delegation entertained
both Hamilton and Jefferson at dinner. The latter impressed one guest
with his ‘dignity of presence and gravity,’ Hamilton with his ‘boyish
giddy manner.’ Whatever may have been the cause of the gravity of
Jefferson, there was reason for the giddiness of Hamilton--he had
won![276]
XII
The attempt of Jefferson in later life to explain his part in the
bargain over Assumption, with the assertion that he had been deceived by
Hamilton, is in the nature of an alibi created after the crime. He was
not a simple-minded rustic, and his correspondence previous to the
bargain shows that he had given serious consideration to Assumption. He
had been in daily contact with Madison who had led the fight against it.
A meticulously careful student of the press, he unquestionably was
familiar with every objection to Assumption and funding which he
afterward offered. He had undoubtedly read Madison’s argument which had
been published a month after he reached New York. As late as June 20th,
he was writing Monroe that, unless the quarrel over Assumption and the
residence was settled, ‘there will be no funding bill agreed to, our
credit will burst and vanish, and the States separate, to take care,
every one of itself.’ Much as he would prefer that the States pay their
own debts, he could see ‘the necessity of yielding to the cries of the
creditors ... for the sake of the Union, and to save it from the
greatest of all calamities, the total extinction of our credit in
Europe.’[277] Here was justification enough for his action without
resorting to the fanciful story of his deception by Hamilton. ‘The
question of assuming the State debts has created greater animosities
than I ever yet saw,’ he wrote Dr. Gilmer a week after his letter to
Monroe.[278] Thus he knew precisely how the lines were drawn. Perhaps he
did not appreciate at the moment the political advantage of appearing on
the side of the opposition,--but he was not deceived. Nor was Madison
imposed upon. He accepted the bargain because ‘the crisis demands the
spirit of accommodation,’ albeit he wished it ‘considered as an
unavoidable evil and possibly not the worse side of the dilemma.’[279]
With many, however, the triumph of Assumption meant placing Hamilton and
his followers in an impregnable position; this, too, was the idea of the
Hamiltonians and great was their rejoicing. When the measure passed the
Senate, members of the lower House were packed behind the iron railing,
the smiling faces of Ames and Sedgwick conspicuous among them. To the
extremists in the opposition it seemed the end. ‘I do not see that I can
do any good here and I think I had better go home,’ wrote Maclay.
‘Everything, even to the naming of a committee is prearranged by
Hamilton and his group of speculators.’[280] And the Hamiltonians, who
had raged over the satirical article on the birth of Assumption, made
merry over a verse in Fenno’s journal:
‘The wit who bastardized thy name
And croaked a funeral dirge
Knew not how spotless was thy fame
How soon thou would’st emerge.’[281]
When Congress adjourned, Hamilton, rejoicing in his triumphs, turned
gayly to the next step in his programme, with more powerful influences
behind him than he had ever had before.