his Secretary of the Treasury, at the recommendation of Robert Morris,
_the_ financier of the Revolution, who not only acknowledged his own
obligations to him, but declared that he was the only man in the United
States who could settle the difficulty about the public debt. In
finance, Hamilton, it is generally conceded, had an original and
creative genius. "He smote the rock of the national resources," said
Webster, "and abundant streams of revenue gushed forth. He touched the
dead corpse of the public credit, and it sprang upon its feet. The
fabled birth of Minerva from the brain of Jupiter was hardly more sudden
than the financial system of the United States as it burst from the
conception of Alexander Hamilton."
When he assumed the office of Secretary of the Treasury there were five
forms of public indebtedness for which he was required to provide,--the
foreign debt; debts of the Government to States; the army debt; the debt
for supplies in the various departments during the war; and the old
Continental issues. There was no question about the foreign debt. The
assumption of the State debts incurred for the war was identical with
the debts of the Union, since they were incurred for the same object. In
fact, all the various obligations had to be discharged, and there was
neither money nor credit. Hamilton proposed a foreign loan, to be raised
in Europe; but the old financiers had sought foreign loans and failed.
How was the new Congress likely to succeed any better? Only by creating
confidence; making it certain that the interest of the loan would be
paid, and paid in specie. In other words, they were to raise a revenue
to pay this interest. This simple thing the old Congress had not thought
of, or had neglected, or found impracticable. And how should the
required revenue be raised? Direct taxation was odious and unreliable.
Hamilton would raise it by duties on imports. But how was an
impoverished country to raise money to pay the duties when there was no
money? How was the dead corpse to be revived? He would develop the
various industries of the nation, all in their infancy, by protecting
them, so that the merchants and the manufacturers could compete with
foreigners; so that foreign goods could be brought to our seaports in
our own ships, and our own raw materials exchanged for articles we could
not produce ourselves, and be subject to duties,--chiefly on articles of
luxury, which some were rich enough to pay for. And he would offer
inducements for foreigners to settle in the country, by the sale of
public lands at a nominal sum,--men who had a little money, and not
absolute paupers; men who could part with their superfluities for either
goods manufactured or imported, and especially for some things they must
have, on which light duties would be imposed, like tea and coffee; and
heavy duties for things which the rich would have, like broadcloths,
wines, brandies, silks, and carpets. Thus a revenue could be raised more
than sufficient to pay the interest on the debt. He made this so clear
by his luminous statements, going into all details, that confidence
gradually was established both as to our ability and also our honesty;
and money flowed in easily and plentifully from Europe, since foreigners
felt certain that the interest on their loans would be paid.
Thus in all his demonstrations he appealed to common-sense, not
theories. He took into consideration the necessities of his own country,
not the interests of other countries. He would legislate for America,
not universal humanity. The one great national necessity was protection,
and this he made as clear as the light of the sun. "One of our errors,"
said he, "is that of judging things by abstract calculations, which
though geometrically true, are practically false." It was clear that the
Government must have a revenue, and that revenue could only be raised by
direct or indirect taxation; and he preferred, under the circumstances
of the country, indirect taxes, which the people did not feel, and were
not compelled to pay unless they liked; for the poor were not compelled
to buy foreign imports, but if they bought them they must pay a tax to
government. And he based his calculations that people could afford to
purchase foreign articles, of necessity and luxury, on the enormous
resources of the country,--then undeveloped, indeed, but which would be
developed by increasing settlements, increasing industries, and
increasing exports; and his predictions were soon fulfilled. In a few
years the debt disappeared altogether, or was felt to be no burden. The
country grew rich as its industries were developed; and its industries
were developed by protection.
I will not enter upon that unsettled question of political economy.
There are two sides to it. What is adapted to the circumstances of one
country may not be adapted to another; what will do for England may not
do practically for Russia; and what may be adapted to the condition of a
country at one period may not be adapted at another period. When a
country has the monopoly of a certain manufacture, then that country
can dispense with protection. Before manufactures were developed in
England by the aid of steam and improved machinery, the principles of
free-trade would not have been adopted by the nation. The landed
interests of Great Britain required no protection forty years ago, since
there was wheat enough raised in the country to supply demands. So the
landed aristocracy accepted free-trade, because their interests were not
jeopardized, and the interests of the manufacturers were greatly
promoted. Now that the landed interests are in jeopardy from a
diminished rental, they must either be protected, or the lands must be
cut up into small patches and farms, as they are in France. Farmers must
raise fruit and vegetables instead of wheat.
When Hamilton proposed protection for our infant manufactures, they
never could have grown unless they had been assisted; we should have
been utterly dependent on Europe. That is just what Europe would have
liked. But he did not legislate for Europe, but for America. He
considered its necessities, not abstract theories, nor even the
interests of other nations. How hypocritical the cant in England about
free-trade! There never was free-trade in that country, except in
reference to some things it must have, and some things it could
monopolize. Why did Parliament retain the duty on tobacco and wines and
other things? Because England must have a revenue. Hamilton did the
same. He would raise a revenue, just as Great Britain raises a revenue
to-day, in spite of free-trade, by taxing certain imports. And if the
manufactures of England to-day should be in danger of being swamped by
foreign successful competition, the Government would change its policy,
and protect the manufactures. Better protect them than allow them to
perish, even at the expense of national pride.
But the manufactures of this country at the close of the Revolutionary
War were too insignificant to expect much immediate advantage from
protection. It was Hamilton's policy chiefly to raise a revenue, and to
raise it by duties on imports, as the simplest and easiest and surest
way, when people were poor and money was scarce. Had he lived in these
days, he might have modified his views, and raised revenue in other
ways. But he labored for his time and circumstances. He took into
consideration the best way to raise a revenue for his day; for this he
must have, somehow or other, to secure confidence and credit. He was
most eminently practical. He hated visionary ideas and abstract
theories; he had no faith in them at all. You can push any theory, any
abstract truth even, into absurdity, as the theologians of the Middle
Ages carried out their doctrines to their logical sequence. You cannot
settle the complicated relations of governments by deductions. At best
you can only approximate to the truth by induction, by a due
consideration of conflicting questions and issues and interests.
The next important measure of Hamilton was the recommendation of a
National Bank, in order to facilitate the collection of the revenue.
Here he encountered great opposition. Many politicians of the school of
Jefferson were jealous of moneyed institutions, but Hamilton succeeded
in having a hank established though not with so large a capital as
he desired.
It need not he told that the various debates in Congress on the funding
of the national debt, on tariffs, on the bank, and other financial
measures, led to the formation of two great political parties, which
divided the nation for more than twenty years,--parties of which
Hamilton and Jefferson were the respective leaders. Madison now left the
support of Hamilton, and joined hands with the party of Jefferson, which
took the name of Republican, or Democratic-Republican. The Federal
party, which Hamilton headed, had the support of Washington, Adams, Jay,
Pinckney, and Morris. It was composed of the most memorable names of the
Revolution and, it may be added, of the more wealthy, learned, and
conservative classes: some would stigmatize it as being the most
aristocratic. The colleges, the courts of law, and the fashionable
churches were generally presided over by Federalists. Old gentlemen of
social position and stable religious opinions belonged to this party.
But ambitious young men, chafing under the restraints of consecrated
respectability, popular politicians, or as we might almost say the
demagogues, the progressive and restless people and liberal thinkers
enamored of French philosophy and theories and abstractions, were
inclined to be Republicans. There were exceptions, of course. I only
speak in a general way; nor would I give the impression that there were
not many distinguished, able, and patriotic men enlisted in the party of
Jefferson, especially in the Southern States, in Pennsylvania, and New
York. Jefferson himself was, next to Hamilton, the ablest statesman of
the country,--upright, sincere, patriotic, contemplative; simple in
taste, yet aristocratic in habits; a writer rather than an orator,
ignorant of finance, but versed in history and general knowledge,
devoted to State rights, and bitterly opposed to a strong central power.
He hated titles, trappings of rank and of distinction, ostentatious
dress, shoe-buckles, hair-powder, pig-tails, and everything English,
while he loved France and the philosophy of liberal thinkers; not a
religious man, but an honest and true man. And when he became President,
on the breaking up of the Federal party, partly from the indiscretions
of Adams and the intrigues of Burr, and hostility to the intellectual
supremacy of Hamilton,--who was never truly popular, any more than
Webster and Burke were, since intellectual arrogance and superiority
are offensive to fortunate or ambitious nobodies,--Jefferson's prudence
and modesty kept him from meddling with the funded debt and from
entangling alliances with the nation he admired. Jefferson was not
sweeping in his removals from office, although he unfortunately
inaugurated that fatal policy consummated by Jackson, which has since
been the policy of the Government,--that spoils belong to victors. This
policy has done more to demoralize the politics of the country than all
other causes combined; yet it is now the aim of patriotic and
enlightened men to destroy its power and re-introduce that of Washington
and Hamilton, and of all nations of political experience. The
civil-service reform is now one of the main questions and issues of
American legislation; but so bitterly is it opposed by venal politicians
that I fear it cannot be made fully operative until the country demands
it as imperatively as the English did the passage of their Reform Bill.
However, it has gained so much popular strength that both of the
prominent political parties of the present time profess to favor it, and
promise to make it effective.
It would be interesting to describe the animosities of the Federal and
Republican parties, which have since never been equalled in bitterness
and rancor and fierceness, but I have not time. I am old enough to
remember them, until they passed away with the administration of
General Jackson, when other questions arose. With the struggle for
ascendency between these political parties, the public services of
Hamilton closed. He resumed the practice of the law in New York, even
before the close of Washington's administration. He became the leader of
the Bar, without making a fortune; for in those times lawyers did not
know how to charge, any more than city doctors. I doubt if his income as
a lawyer ever reached $10,000 a year; but he lived well, as most lawyers
do, even if they die poor. His house was the centre of hospitalities,
and thither resorted the best society of the city, as well as
distinguished people from all parts of the country.
Nor did his political influence decline after he had parted with power.
He was a rare exception to most public men after their official life is
ended; and nothing so peculiarly marks a great man as the continuance of
influence with the absence of power; for influence and power are
distinct. Influence, in fact, never passes away, but power is ephemeral.
Theologians, poets, philosophers, great writers, have influence and no
power; railroad kings and bank presidents have power but not necessarily
influence. Saint Augustine, in a little African town, had more influence
than the bishop of Rome. Rousseau had no power, but he created the
French Revolution. Socrates revolutionized Greek philosophy, but had
not power enough to save his life from unjust accusations. What an
influence a great editor wields in these times, yet how little power he
has, unless he owns the journal he directs! What an influence was
enjoyed by a wise and able clergyman in New England one hundred years
ago, and which was impossible without force of character and great
wisdom! Hamilton had wisdom and force of character, and therefore had
great influence with his party after he retired from office. Most of our
public men retire to utter obscurity when they have lost office, but
Hamilton was as prominent in private life as in his official duties. He
was the oracle of his party, a great political sage, whose utterances
had the moral force of law. He never lost the leadership of his party,
even when he retired from public life. His political influence lasted
till he died. He had no rewards to give, no office to fill, but he still
ruled like a chieftain. It was he who defeated by his quiet influence
the political aspirations of Burr, when Burr was the most popular man in
the country,--a great wire-puller, a prince of politicians, a great
organizer of political forces, like Van Buren and Thurlow Weed,--whose
eloquent conversation and fascinating manner few men could resist, to
say nothing of women. But for Hamilton, he would in all probability have
been President of the United States, at a time when individual genius
and ability might not unreasonably aspire to that high office. He was
the rival of Jefferson, and lost the election by only one vote, after
the equality of candidates had thrown the election into the House of
Representatives. Hamilton did not like Jefferson, but he preferred
Jefferson to Burr, since he knew that the country would be safe under
his guidance, and would not be safe with so unscrupulous a man as Burr.
He distrusted and disliked Burr; not because he was his rival at the
Bar,--for great rival lawyers may personally be good friends, like
Brougham and Lyndhurst, like Mason and Webster,--but because his
political integrity was not to be trusted; because he was a selfish and
scheming politician, bent on personal advancement rather than the public
good. And this hostility was returned with an unrelenting and savage
fierceness, which culminated in deadly wrath when Burr found that
Hamilton's influence prevented his election as Governor of New
York,--which office, it seems, he preferred to the Vice-presidency,
which had dignity but no power. Burr wanted power rather than influence.
In his bitter disappointment and remorseless rage, nothing would satisfy
him but the blood of Hamilton. He picked a quarrel, and would accept
neither apology nor reconciliation; he wanted revenge.
Hamilton knew he could not escape Burr's vengeance; that he must fight
the fatal duel, in obedience to that "code of honor" which had
tyrannically bound gentlemen since the feudal ages, though unknown to
Pagan Greece and Rome. There was no law or custom which would have
warranted a challenge from Aeschines to Demosthenes, when the former was
defeated in the forensic and oratorical contest and sent into
banishment. But the necessity for Hamilton to fight his antagonist was
such as he had not the moral power to resist, and that few other men in
his circumstances would have resisted. In the eyes of public men there
was no honorable way of escape. Life or death turned on his skill with
the pistol; and he knew that Burr, here, was his superior. So he made
his will, settled his affairs, and offered up his precious life; not to
his country, not to a great cause, not for great ideas and interests,
but to avoid the stigma of society,--a martyr to a feudal
conventionality. Such a man ought not to have fought; he should have
been above a wicked social law. But why expect perfection? Who has not
infirmities, defects, and weaknesses? How few are beyond their age in
its ideas; how few can resist the pressure of social despotism! Hamilton
erred by our highest standard, but not when judged by the circumstances
that surrounded him. The greatest living American died really by an
assassin's hand, since the murderer was animated with revenge and
hatred. The greatest of our statesmen passed away in a miserable duel;
yet ever to be venerated for his services and respected for his general
character, for his integrity, patriotism, every gentlemanly
quality,--brave, generous, frank, dignified, sincere, and affectionate
in his domestic relations.
His death, on the 11th of July, 1804, at the early age of
forty-seven,--the age when Bacon was made Lord Chancellor, the age when
most public men are just beginning to achieve fame,--was justly and
universally regarded as a murder; not by the hand of a fanatic or
lunatic, but by the deliberately malicious hand of the Vice-President of
the United States, and a most accomplished man. It was a cold, intended,
and atrocious murder, which the pulpit and the press equally denounced
in most unmeasured terms of reprobation, and with mingled grief and
wrath. It created so profound an impression on the public mind that
duelling as a custom could no longer stand so severe a rebuke, and it
practically passed away,--at least at the North.
And public indignation pursued the murderer, though occupying the second
highest political office in the country. He paid no insignificant
penalty for his crime. He never anticipated such a retribution. He was
obliged to flee; he became an exile and a wanderer in foreign
lands,--poor, isolated, shunned. He was doomed to eternal ignominy; he
never recovered even political power and influence; he did not receive
even adequate patronage as a lawyer. He never again reigned in society,
though he never lost his fascination as a talker. He was a ruined man,
in spite of services and talents and social advantages; and no
whitewashing can ever change the verdict of good men in this country.
Aaron Burr fell,--like Lucifer, like a star from heaven,--and never can
rise again in the esteem of his countrymen; no time can wipe away his
disgrace. His is a blasted name, like that of Benedict Arnold. And here
let me say, that great men, although they do not commit crimes, cannot
escape the penalty of even defects and vices that some consider venial.
No position however lofty, no services however great, no talents however
brilliant, will enable a man to secure lasting popularity and influence
when respect for his moral character is undermined; ultimately he will
fall. He may have defects, he may have offensive peculiarities, and
retain position and respect, for everybody has faults; but if his moral
character is bad, nothing can keep him long on the elevation to which he
has climbed,--no political friendships, no remembrance of services and
deeds. If such a man as Bacon fell from his high estate for taking
bribes,--although bribery was a common vice among the public characters
of his day,--how could Burr escape ignominy for the murder of the
greatest statesman of his age?
Yet Hamilton lives, although the victim of his rival. He lives in the
nation's heart, which cannot forget his matchless services. He is still
the admiration of our greatest statesmen; he is revered, as Webster is,
by jurists and enlightened patriots. _No_ statesman superior to him has
lived in this great country. He was a man who lived in the pursuit of
truth, and in the realm of great ideas; who hated sophistries and lies,
and sought to base government on experience and wisdom.
"Great were the boons which this pure patriot gave,
Doomed by his rival to an early grave;
A nation's tears upon that grave were shed.
Oh, could the nation by his truths be led!
Then of a land, enriched from sea to sea,
Would other realms its earnest following be,
And the lost ages of the world restore
Those golden ages which the bards adore."
AUTHORITIES.
Hamilton's Works; Life of Alexander Hamilton, by J. T. Morse, Jr.; Life
and Times of Hamilton, by S. M. Smucker; W. Coleman's Collection of
Facts on the Death of Hamilton; J. G. Baldwin's Party Leaders; Dawson's
Correspondence with Jay; Bancroft's History of the United States;
Parton's Life and Times of Aaron Burr; Eulogies, by H. G. Otis and Dr.
Nott; The Federalist; Lives of Contemporaneous Statesmen; Sparks's Life
of Washington.
JOHN ADAMS.
1735-1826.
CONSTRUCTIVE STATESMANSHIP.
The Adams family--on the whole the most illustrious in New England, if
we take into view the ability, the patriotism, and the high offices
which it has held from the Revolutionary period--cannot be called of
patrician descent, neither can it viewed as peculiarly plebeian. The
founder was a small farmer in the town of Braintree, of the
Massachusetts Colony, as far back as 1636, whose whole property did not
amount to £100. His immediate descendants were famous and sturdy
Puritans, characterized by their thrift and force of character.
The father of John Adams, who died in 1761, had an estate amounting to
nearly £1,500, and could afford to give a college education at Harvard
to his eldest son, John, who was graduated in 1755, at the age of
twenty, with the reputation of being a good scholar, but by no means
distinguished in his class of twenty-four members. He cared more for
rural sports than for books. Following the custom of farmers' sons, on
leaving college he kept a school at Worcester before he began his
professional studies. His parents wished him to become a minister, but
he had no taste for theology, and selected the profession of law.
At that period there were few eminent lawyers in New England, nor was
there much need of them, their main business being the collection of
debts. They were scarcely politicians, since few political questions
were agitated outside of parish disputes. Nor had lawyers opportunities
of making fortunes when there were no merchant-princes, no grinding
monopolies or large corporations, and no great interest outside of
agricultural life; when riches were about equally distributed among
farmers, mechanics, sailors, and small traders. Young men contemplating
a profession generally studied privately with those who were prominent
in their respective callings for two or three years after leaving
college, and were easily admitted to the bar, or obtained a license to
preach, with little expectation of ever becoming rich except by
parsimonious saving.