Section 11 of Beacon Lights of History, Volume 11, American Founders by John Lord. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Alexander Hamilton, Part 2. But before Hamilton could be of signal service to the country as an organizer and legislator, it was necessary to have a national government which the country would accept and which would be lasting and efficient. There was a political chaos for years after the war. Congress had no generally recognized authority. It was merely a Board of Delegates whose decisions were disregarded, representing a League of States not an independent authority. There was no Chief Executive Officer, no Court of National Judges, no Defined Legislature. We were a League of Emancipated Colonies drifting into anarchy. There was really no central government, only an autonomy of states like the Ancient Grecian Republics, and the lesser states were jealous of the greater. The great questions pertaining to slavery were unsettled. How far it should extend, and how far it could be interfered with. We had ships in commerce, but no commercial treaties with other nations. We imported goods and merchandise, but there were no laws of tariff or of revenue. If one state came into collision with another state, there was no tribunal to settle the difficulty. No particular industries were projected. Of all things the most needed was a national government superior to state governments, taking into its own hands exclusively the army and navy, tariffs, revenues, the post office, the regulation of commerce, and intercourse with foreign states. Oh, what times those were! What need of statesmanship and patriotism and wisdom? I have alluded to various evils of the day. I will not repeat them. Why our condition at the end of the war of the rebellion, when we had a national debt of three thousand millions, and general derangement and demoralization, was an elicium compared with that of our fathers at the close of the Revolutionary War. No central power, no constitution, no government with poverty, agricultural distress, and uncertainty, and the prostration of all business. No national credit, no national a-claw, a mass of rude, unconnected, and anarchic forces threatening to engulf us in worse evils than those from which we had fled. The thinking and sober men of the country were at last aroused, and the conviction became general that the Confederacy was unable to cope with the difficulties which arose on every side. So, through the influence of Hamilton, a convention of five states assembled at Annapolis to provide a remedy for the public evils. But it did not fully represent the varied opinions and interests of the whole country. All it could do was to prepare the way for a general convention of states, and twelve states sent delegates to Philadelphia who met in the year 1787. The great public career of Hamilton began as a delegate from the State of New York to this illustrious assembly. He was not the most distinguished member, for he was still a young man, nor the most popular, for he had too much respect for the British constitution, and was too aristocratic in his sympathies, and perhaps in his manners, to be a favorite. But he was probably the ablest man of the convention, the most original and creative in his genius, the most comprehensive and far-seeing in his views. A man who inspired confidence and respect for his integrity and patriotism, combining intellectual with moral force. He would have been a great man in any age or country, or in any legislative assembly. A man who had great influence over superior minds, as he had over that of Washington, whose confidence he had from first to last. I am inclined to think that no such an assembly of statesmen has since been seen in this country as that which meant to give a constitution to the American Republic. Of course I cannot enumerate all the distinguished men. They were all distinguished men of experience, patriotism, and enlightened minds. There were fifty-four of these illustrious men, picked men of the land of whom the nation was proud. Franklin, now in his eightieth year, was the nester of the assembly, covered with honors from home and abroad for his science and his political experience and sagacity. A man who received more flattering attentions in France than any American who ever visited it. One of the great savants of the age, dignified, affable, courteous, whom everybody admired and honored. Washington too was there, the Ulysses of the War, brave in battle and wise in counsel, of transcendent dignity of character, whose influence was patriarchal, the synonym of moral greatness, to be revered through all ages and countries. A truly immortal man whose fame has been steadily increasing. Adams, Jefferson, and Jay, three very great lights, were absent on missions to Europe. But Rufus King, Roger Sherman, Oliver Ellsworth, Livingston, Dickinson, Rutledge, Randolph, Pinkney, Madison, were men of great ability and reputation, independent in their views but all disposed to unite in the common good. Some had been delegates to the Stamp Act Congress of 1765. Some members of the Continental Congress of 1774. Some signers of the Declaration of Independence. There were no political partisans then, as we now understand the word, for the division lines of parties were not then drawn. All were animated with the desire of conciliation and union. All felt the necessity of concessions. They differed in their opinions as to state rights, representation, and slavery. Some were more democratic. Some more aristocratic than the majority. But all were united in maintaining the independence of the country and in distrust of monarchies. It is impossible within my narrow limits to describe the deliberations of these patriots until their work was consummated in the glorious Constitution, which is our marvel and our pride. The discussions first turned on their respective powers to be exercised by the executive, judicial, and legislative branches of the proposed central government, and the duration of the terms of service. Republicans' views favored a more efficient executive than was popular with the states or delegates, but it cannot be doubted that his powerful arguments and clear enunciation of fundamental principles of government had great weight with men more eager for truth than victory. There were animated discussions as to the ratio of representation and the equality of the states, which gave rise to the political parties which first divided the nation, and which were allied with those serious questions pertaining to state rights which gave rise in part to our late war. But the root of the dissensions and the subject of most animated debates was slavery, that awful curse and difficult question which was not settled until a sword finally cuts that Gordian knot. But so far as compromises could settle the question they were made in the spirit of patriotism, not on principles of abstract justice but of expediency and common sense. It was evident from the first that there could be no federal, united government, no nation, only a league of states unless compromises were made in reference to slavery, whose evils were as apparent then as they were afterwards. For the sake of nationality and union and peace slavery was tolerated by the Constitution. To some this may appear to have been a grave error, but to the makers of the Constitution it seemed to be a less evil to tolerate slavery than have no Constitution at all which would unite all the states. Many a national unity seemed to be the paramount consideration. So a compromise was made. We are apt to forget how great institutions are often based on compromise, not a mean and craven sentiment as some think but a spirit of conciliation and magnanimity without which there can be no union or stability. Take the English church which has survived the revolutions of human thought for three centuries which has been a great bulwark against infidelity and has proved itself to be dear to the heart of the nation and the source of boundless blessings and proud recollections. It was a compromise, half way indeed between Rome and Geneva, but nevertheless a great and beneficent organization on the whole. Take the English Constitution itself, one of the grandest triumphs of human reason and experience. It was only gradually formed by a series of bloodless concessions. Take the Roman Constitution under which the whole civilized world was brought into allegiance. It was a series of concessions granted by the aristocratic classes. Most revolutions and wars end in compromise after the means of fighting are expended. Most governments are based on expediency rather than abstract principles. The actions of governments are necessarily expedience, the wisest policy in view of all the circumstances. Even such an uncompromising logician as St. Paul accepted some customs which we think were antagonistic to the spirit of his general doctrines. He was a great temperance man, but recommended a little wine to Timothy for the stomach's sake. And Moses, too, the great founder of the Jewish polity, permitted polygamy because of the hardness of men's hearts. So the Fathers of the Constitution preferred a constitution with slavery to no constitution at all. Had each of those illustrious men persisted in his own views, we should have had only an autonomy of states instead of the glorious Union, which in spite of storms stands unshaken today. I cannot dwell on those protracted debates which lasted four months or on the minor questions which demanded attention, all centering in the great question whether the government should be federative or national. But the ablest debater of the convention was Hamilton, and his speeches were impressive and convincing. He endeavored to impress upon the minds of the members that liberty was found neither in the rule of a few aristocrats nor in extreme democracy. That democracies had proved more short-lived than aristocracies, as illustrated in Greece, Rome, and England. He showed that extreme democracies, especially in cities, would be governed by demagogues. That universal suffrage was a dangerous experiment when the people had neither intelligence nor virtue. That no government could last which was not just and enlightened. That all government should be administered by men of experience and integrity. That any central government should have complete control over commerce, tariffs, revenues, post offices, patents, foreign relations, the army and navy, peace or war. And that in all these functions of national interest, the central government should be independent of state legislatures, so that the state and national legislatures should not clash. Many of his views were not adopted, but it is remarkable the subsequent changes and modifications of the constitution have been in the direction of his policy. That wars and great necessities have gradually brought about what he advocated with so much calmness and wisdom. Guizot asserts that, he must ever be classed among the men who have best understood the vital principles and elemental conditions of government, and that there is not in the constitution of the United States an element of order or force or duration which he did not powerfully contribute to secure. This is the tribute of that great and learned statesman and historian to the genius and services of Hamilton. What an exalted praise. To be the maker of a constitution requires the highest maturity of reason. It was the peculiar glory of Moses, the ablest man ever born among the Jews, and the greatest benefactor his nation ever had. How much prouder the fame of a beneficent and enlightened legislator than that of a conqueror. The code which Napoleon gave to France partially rescues his name from the infamy that his injuries inflicted on mankind. Who are the greatest men of the present day and the most beneficent? Such men as Gladstone and Bright, who are seeking by wise legislation to remove or millerate the evils of centuries of injustice. Who have earned the proudest national fame in the history of America since this constitution was made? Such men as Webster, Clay, Seward, Sumner, who devoted their genius to the elucidation of fundamental principles of government and political economy. The sphere of a great lawyer may bring more personal gains, but it is comparatively narrow to that of a legislator who originates important measures for the relief or prosperity of a whole country. The constitution, when completed, was not altogether such as Hamilton would have made, but he accepted it cordially as the best which could be had. It was not perfect, but probably the best ever devised by human genius, with its checks and balances, like one of those rocking stones reared by the druids, as Winthrop beautifully said, which the finger of a child may vibrate to its center, yet which the might of an army could not move from its place. The next thing to be done was to secure its ratification by the several states, a more difficult thing than at first sight would be supposed, for the state legislatures were mainly composed of mere politicians without experience or broad views and animated by popular passions. So the states were tardy in accepting it, especially the larger ones, like Virginia, New York, and Massachusetts. And it may reasonably be doubted whether it would have been accepted at all had it not been for the able papers which Hamilton, Madison, and Jay wrote and published an eliting New York paper. Essays which go under the name of the Federalist, long a textbook in our colleges, which is the best interpreter of the Constitution itself. It is everywhere quoted, and if those able papers may have been surpassed in eloquence by some of the speeches of our political orders, they have never been equaled in calm reasoning. They appealed to the intelligence of the age, an age which loved to read Butler's analogy and Edwards' On the Will, an age not yet engrossed in business and pleasure when people had time to ponder on what is profound and lofty, an age not so brilliant as our own in mechanical inventions and scientific researches, but more contemplative and more impressible by grand sentiments. I do not say that the former times were better than these, as old men have talked for two thousand years, for those times were hard. And the struggles of life were great, without facilities of travel, without luxuries, without even comforts as they seemed to us. But there was doubtless then a loftier spiritual life and fewer distractions in the pursuit of solid knowledge. People could then live in the country all the year round without complaint, or that restless craving for novelties which demoralizes and undermines the moral health. Hamilton wrote sixty-three of the eighty-five, more than half, of these celebrated papers which had a great influence on public opinion. Clear, logical, concise, masterly in statement, and in the elucidation of fundamental principles of government. Probably no series of political essays has done so much to mold the opinions of American statesmen as those of the Federalists, athesaurus of political wisdom, as much admired in Europe as in America. It was translated into most of the European languages, and in France placed side by side with Montesquieu's spirit of laws, ingenious, and ability. It was not written for money or fame, but from patriotism, to enlighten the minds of the people and prepare them for the reception of the Constitution. In this great work Hamilton rendered a mighty service to his country. Nothing but the conclusive arguments which he made, assisted by Jay and Madison, aroused the people fully to a sense of the danger attending an imperfect union of states. By the efforts of Hamilton outside the convention, more even than in the convention, the Constitution was finally adopted, first by Delaware, and last by Rhode Island, in 1790, and then only by one majority in the legislature. So difficult was the work of construction. We forget the obstacles and the anxieties and labors of our early statesmen in the enjoyment of our present liberties. But the public services of Hamilton do not end here. To him preeminently belongs the glory of restoring or creating our national credit of relieving universal financial embarrassments. The Constitution was the work of many men. Our financial system was the work of one, who worked alone as Michelangelo worked on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. When Washington became president, he at once made choice of Hamilton as 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, in 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's 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. The simple thing that old Congress had not thought of or had neglected or found impractical. 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. Especially 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 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 broad cloths, 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 the 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. 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. End of Section 11. Section 12 of Beacon Lines of History, Volume 11, American Founders by John Lorde. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. Alexander Hamilton, Part 3. I will not enter upon that unsettled question of a political economy. There are two sides to it. What is adapted to the circumstances of one country may not be adapted to another. What we'll 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 manufacturer, then that country can dispense with protection. Before manufacturers 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 40 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 manufacturers, 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 Kant in England about free trade? There was never 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 revenue, just as Great Britain raises revenue today, in spite of free trade, by taxing certain imports. And if the manufacturers of England today should be in danger of being swamped by foreign successful competition, the government would change its policy and protect the manufacturers. Better protect them than allow them to perish even at the expense of national pride. But the manufacturers 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 bank established, though not with so large a capital as he desired. It need not be 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 20 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, Pinkney, 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 ableist 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, shoebuckles, hair-powder, pigtails, 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 Federalist 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 ambitions 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 enlightenment to destroy its power and reintroduce 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 equaled 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 ascendancy 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 center of hospitalities and Vither 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 a 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. St. 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. Would an influence a great editor wields in these times, yet how little power he has, unless he owns the journal he directs? Would 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 retired 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 polar, a presence of politicians, a great organizer of political forces like Van Buren and Thurlow Wheat, 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 genus 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 Broham and Lindhurst, 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 Eskenes to Demosthenes when the former was defeated in the forensic and oratorical contest and sent in to 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 to 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 47, 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 dueling as a custom could no longer stand so severe a rebuke, and it practically passed away, at least in 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 bur escape ignominy for the murder of the greatest statesmen 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. O could the nation, by his truths, be led? And 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 deaths of Hamilton J. G. Baldwin's Party Leaders Dawson's Correspondence with J. 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 Life of Washington End of Section 12 Section 13 of Beacon Lines of History, Volume 11, American Founders by John Lord This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by K. Hand John Adams Part 1 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 be 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 one hundred pounds. 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 in a state amounting to nearly fifteen hundred pounds, 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 farmer's sons, on leaving college he kept his school at Warchester 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. With our modern views, life in the colonial times naturally seems to have been dull and monotonous, with few amusements and almost no travel, no art, not many luxuries, and the utter absence of what are called modern improvements. But if life at that time is more closely scrutinized, we find in it all the elements of ordinary pleasure, the same family ties, the same loves and wassalings, the same convivial circles, the same aspirations for distinction, as in more favored civilizations. If luxuries were limited, people lived in comfortable houses, sad around their big wood fires, kept up at small cost, and had all the necessities of life, warm clothing, even if spun and woven and dyed at home, linen in abundance, fresh meat at most seasons of the year, with the unstinted products of the farm at all seasons, and even tea and coffee, wines and spirits at moderate cost. So that the New Englanders of the 18th century could look back with complacency and gratitude on the days when the Pilgrim Fathers first landed and settled in the dreary wilderness, feeling that the lines had fallen to them in pleasant places, and yet be unmindful that even the original settlers, with all their discomforts and dangers and privations, enjoyed that inward peace and lofty spiritual life in comparison with which all material luxuries are transient and worthless. It is only the divine certitudes which can exist under any external circumstances that are of much account in our estimate of human happiness, and it is these which ordinarily escape the attention of historians when they paint the condition of society. Our admiration and our pity are alike wasted when we turn our eyes to the outward condition of our rural ancestors, so long as we have reason to believe that their souls were jubilant with the benedictions of heaven, and this joy of theirs is especially noticeable when they are surrounded with perils and hardships. Such was the state of society when John Adams appeared on the political stage. There were but few rich men in New England, like John Hancock and John Langdon, both merchants, and not many who were very poor. The population consisted generally of well-to-do farmers, shopkeepers, mechanics, and fishermen, with a sprinkling of lawyers and doctors and ministers, most of whom were compelled to practice the severest economy and all of whom were tolerably educated and familiar with the principles on which their rights and liberties rested. Usually they were law-abiding, liberty-loving citizens with a profound veneration for religious institutions and contentment with their lot. There was no hankering for privileges or luxuries which were never enjoyed and of which they never heard. As we read the histories of cities or states in antiquity or in modern times, we are struck with their similarity in all ages and countries, in everything which pertains to domestic pleasures, to religious life, to ordinary passions and interests, and the joys and sorrows of the soul. Homer and Horace, Chaucer, and Shakespeare dwell on the same things and appeal to the same sentiments. So John Adams, the orator, worked on the same material substantially that our orators and statesmen do at the present day, and that all future orators will work upon to the end of time. On the passions, the interests, and the aspirations which are eternally the same, unless kept down by grinding despotism or besotted ignorance, as in Egypt or medieval Europe, and even then the voice of humanity finds entrance to the heart and soul. All men, said Rousseau, are born equal, and both Adams and Jefferson built up their system of government upon this equality of rights, if not of condition, and defended it by an appeal to human consciousness, the same in all ages and countries. In regard to these elemental rights, we are no more enlightened now than our fathers were a hundred years ago, except as they were involved in the question of Negro slavery. When, therefore, Adams began his career as a political orator, it was of no consequence whether men were rich or poor, or whether the country was advanced or backward in material civilization. He spoke to the heart and the soul of man, as Garrison and Sumner and Lincoln spoke on other issues, but involving the same established principles. Little could John Adams have defined his own future influence and fame when, as a boy on his father's farm and brain tree, he toiled in rural and commonplace drudgeries, or when he was an undistinguished student at Harvard or a schoolmaster in a country village. It was not until political agitations aroused the public mind that a new field was open to him, congenial to his genius. Still, even when he bordered with his father, a sturdy Puritan, at the time he began the practice of the law at the age of twenty-three, he had his aspirations, writes he in his diary, chores, chat, tobacco, apples, tea, steal away my time, but I am resolved to translate Justinian. And yet on his first legal writ, he made a failure for lack of concentrated effort. My thoughts, he said, are roving from girls to friends, from friends to courts, and from courts to Greece and Rome, showing that enthusiastic, versatile temperament which then and afterwards characterized him. Not long after that he had given up Justinian. You may get more by studying town meetings and training days, he writes, popularity is the way to gain and figure. These extracts give no indication of legal ambition. But in 1761 the political horizon was overcast. There were difficulties with Great Britain. James Otis had made a great speech which Adams heard on what were called Ritz of Assistance, giving power to the English officers of customs in the colony to enter houses and stores to search for smuggled goods. This remarkable speech made a deep impression on the young lawyer and kindled fires which were never extinguished. He saw injustice and a violation of the rights of English subjects as all the colonists acknowledged themselves to be, and he revolted from injustice and tyranny. This was the turning point of his life. He became a patriot and politician. This, however, was without neglecting his law business which soon grew upon his hands, for he could make a speech and address juries. Elegance was his gift. He was a born orator, like Patrick Henry. In 1765 Parliament passed the Stamp Act, which produced great agitation in New England, and Adams was fired with the prevailing indignation. His whole soul went forth in angry protest. He argued its injustice before Governor Bernard, who, however, was resolved to execute it as the law. Adams was equally resolved to prevent its execution and appealed to the people in burning words of wrath. Chief Justice Hutchinson sided with the Governor and prevented the opening of the courts and all business transactions without stamps. This decision crippled business and there was great distress on account of it, but Adams cared less for the injury to people's pockets than for the violation of rights. Taxation without representation. And in his voice and that of other impassioned orators, this phrase became the keynote of the Revolution. English taxation of the colonies was not oppressive, but was felt to be unjust and unconstitutional, an entering wedge to future exactions to which the people resolved not to submit. They had no idea of separation from England, but like John Hampton they would resist an all-knawful tax, no matter what the consequences. Fortunately these consequences were not then foreseen. The opposition of the colonies to taxation without their own consent was a pure outburst of that spirit of liberty which was born in German forests, and in England grew into Magna Carta, and ripened into the English Revolution. It was a turbulent popular protest. That was all at first, and John Adams fanned the discontent with his cousin Samuel Adams, a greater agitator even than he, resembling Wendell Phillips in his acrimony, boldness and power of denunciation. The country was aroused from end to end. The Sons of Liberty Societies of Massachusetts spread to Maryland, the Virginians boldly passed declarations of rights. The merchants of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston resolved to import no English goods, and nine of the colonies sent delegates to a protesting convention in New York. In 1766 the Stamp Act was repealed because it could not be enforced, but Parliament refused to concede its right of taxation, and there was a prospect of more trouble. John Adams soon passed to the front rank of the patriotic party in Massachusetts. He was eloquent and he was honest. His popularity in Massachusetts Bay was nearly equal to that of Patrick Henry in Virginia, who was even more vehement. The Tories looked upon Adams pretty much as the descendants of the old Federalists looked upon William Lloyd Garrison when he began the anti-slavery agitation, as a dangerous man, a fanatical reformer. The presence of such a leader was now needed in Boston, and in 1768 Adams removed to that excitable town, which was always ready to adopt progressive views. Soon after two British regiments landed in the town and occupied the public buildings with the view of overawing and restraining the citizens, especially in the enforcement of customs duties on certain imported articles. This was a new and worse outrage, but no collision took place between the troops and the people till the memorable Boston Massacre on the 5th of March 1770, when several people were killed and wounded, which increased the popular indignation. It now looked as if the English government intended to treat the Bostonians as rebels, to coerce them by armed men, to frighten them into submission to all its unwise measures. What a fortunate thing was that infatuation on the part of English ministers. The independence of the colonies might have been delayed for a half a century, but for the stupidity and obstinacy of George III and his advisors. By this time, John Adams began to see the logical issue of English persistency and taxation. He saw that it would lead to war, and he trembled in view of the tremendous consequences of a war with the mother country, from which the colonies had not yet sought a separation. Adams was now not only in the front rank of the patriotic party, a leader of the people, but had reached eminence as a lawyer. He was at the head of the Massachusetts bar. In addition, he had become a member of the legislature, second to no one in influence. But his arduous labors told upon his health, and he removed to Braintree, where he lived for some months, riding into Boston every day. With restored health from outdoor exercise, he returned again to Boston in 1772, purchased a house in Queen Street opposite the courthouse, and renewed his law business, now grown so large that he resigned his seat in the legislature. Politics, however, absorbed his soul, and stirring times were at hand. In every seaport, Charleston, Annapolis, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, the people were refusing to receive the newly taxed tea. On the 17th of December 1773, three shiploads of tea were destroyed in Boston Harbor by a number of men dressed as Indians. Adams approved of this bold and defiant act, sure to complicate the relations with Great Britain. In his heart, Adams now desired this, as tending to bring about the independence of the colonies. He believed that the Americans, after ten years of agitation, were strong enough to fight. He wanted no further conciliation. But he did not, as yet, openly declare his views. In 1774, General Gage was placed at the head of the British military force in Boston, and the port was closed. The legislature, overawed by the troops, removed to Salem, and then chose five men as delegates to the General Congress about to assemble in Philadelphia. John Adams was one of these delegates, and associated with him were Samuel Adams, Thomas Cushing, James Bowden, and Robert Treat Payne. All historians unite in their praises of this memorable assembly, as composed of the picked men of the country. At the meeting of this Congress began the career of John Adams as a statesman. Until then he had been a mere politician, but honest, bold, and talented, in abilities second to no one in the country, ranking alone with Jefferson in general influence, certainly the foremost man in Massachusetts. But it was the vehemence of his patriotism and his inspiring eloquence which brought Adams to the front, rather than his legal reputation. He was not universally admired or loved. He had no tact. His temper was irascible, jealous, and impatient. His manners were cold, like those of all his descendants, and his vanity was inordinate. Every biographer has admitted his egotism and jealousy, even of Franklin and Washington. Everybody had confidence in his honesty, his integrity, his private virtues, his abilities and patriotism. These exalted traits were no more doubted than the same in Washington. But if he had more brainpower than Washington, he had not that great leader's prudence, nor good sense, nor patience, nor self-command, nor unerring instinct in judging men and power of guiding them. One reason, perhaps, why Adams was not so conciliatory as Jefferson was inclined to be toward England was that he had gone too far to be pardoned. He was the most outspoken and violent of all the early leaders of rebellion except his cousin Samuel Adams. He was detested by royal governors and the English government. But his ardent temperament and his profound convictions furnish a better reason for his course. All the popular leaders were, of course, alive to the probable personal consequences if their cause should not succeed. But fear of personal consequences was the feeblest of their motives in persistent efforts for independence. They were inspired by a loftier sentiment than that, even an exalted patriotism. It burned in every speech they made, and in every conversation in which they took part. If they had not the spirit of martyrdom, they had the spirit of self-devotion to a noble cause. They saw clearly enough the sacrifices they would be required to make and the calamities which would overwhelm the land. But these were nothing to the triumph of their cause. Of this final triumph none of the great leaders of the revolution doubted. They felt the impossibility of subduing a nation determined to be free by such forces as England could send across the ocean. Battles might be lost, like those of William the Silent, but if the Dutch could overflow their dykes, the Americans, as a last resort, could seek shelter in their forests. The Americans were surely not behind the Dutch in the capacity of suffering, although to my mind their cause was not so precious as that of the Hollanders who had not only to fight against overwhelming forces, but to preserve religious as well as civil liberties. The Dutch fought for religion and self- preservation, the Americans to resist a tax which nearly all England thought it had a right to impose, and which was by no means burdensome. A mooted question in the highest courts of law. At bottom, however, it was not so much to resist a tax as to gain national independence that the Americans fought. It was the Anglo-Saxon love of self-government. And who could blame them for resisting foreign claims to the boundless territories and undeveloped resources of the great country in which they had settled forever? The real motive of the enlightened statesmen of the day was to make the colonies free from English legislation, English armies, and English governors that they might develop their civilization in their own way. The people whom they led may have justly feared the suppression of their rights and liberties, but far-sighted statesmen had also other ends in view, not to be talked about in town meetings or even legislative halls. As Abraham of old cast his inspired vision down the vista of ages and saw his seed multiplying like the sands of the sea, and all the countries and nations of the world gradually blessed by the fulfillment of the promise made to him, so the founders of our republic look beyond the transient sufferings and miseries of a conflict with their mother country, to the unbounded resources which were sure to be developed on every river and in every valley of the vast wilderness yet to be explored, and to the teeming populations which were to arise and to be blessed by the enjoyment of those precious privileges and rights for which they were about to take up the sword. They may not have anticipated so rapid a progress in agriculture, in wealth, in manufacturers, in science, in literature and art, as has taken place within one hundred years, to the astonishment and admiration of all mankind, but they saw that American progress would be steady, incalculable, immeasurable, unchecked, and ever advancing until their infant country should number more favored people than any nation which history records, unconquerable by any foreign power, and never to pass away except through the prevalence of such vices as destroyed the old Roman world. With this encouragement statesmen like Franklin, Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton were ready to risk everything and make any sacrifice to bring about the triumph of their cause, a cause infinitely greater than that which was advocated by Pitt or fought for by Wellington. Their eyes rested on the future of America and the great men who were yet to be born. They well could say, in the language of an order more eloquent than any of them, as he stood on Plymouth Rock in 1820. Advance, then, ye future generations, we would hail you as you rise in your long succession to fill the places which we now fill. We bid you welcome to the healthy skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent suites of domestic life, to the happiness of kindred and parents and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth. John Adams, who's worth and services Daniel Webster, six years after uttering those words, pointed out in Fanuel Hall when the old statesman died, was probably the most influential member of the Continental Congress, after Washington, since he was its greatest orator and its most impassioned character. He led the assembly, as Henry Clay afterwards led the Senate, and Canning led the House of Commons, by that inspired logic which few could resist. Jefferson spoke of him as the Colossus of Debate. It is the fashion in these prosaic times to undervalue congressional and parliamentary eloquence as a vain oratorical display, but it is this which has given power to the greatest leaders of mankind and all free governments, as illustrated by the career of such men as Demosthenes, Pericles, Cicero, Chatham, Fox, Mirabeau, Webster, and Clay. And it is rarely called out except in great national crises amid the storms of passion and agitating ideas. Jefferson affected to sneer at it, as exhibited by Patrick Henry, but take away eloquence from his own writings and they would be commonplace. All productions of the human intellect are soon forgotten unless infused with sentiments which reach the heart or excite attention by vividness of description or the brilliancy which comes from art or imagination or passion. Who reads a prosaic novel or a history of dry details, if ever so accurate? How few can listen with interest to a speech of statistical information, if ever so useful, unless illuminated by the oratorical genius of a Gladstone? True eloquence is a gift as rare as poetry, an inspiration allied with genius, an electrical power without which few people can be roused, either to reflection or action. This electrical power both the atoms has had, as remarkably as Whitfield or Beecher. No one can tell exactly what it is, whether it is physical or spiritual or intellectual, but certain it is that a speaker will not be listened to without it, either in a legislative hall or in the pulpit or on the platform. And hence eloquence, wherever displayed, is really a great power, and will remain so to the end of time. Section 14 of Beacon Lights of History, volume 11, American Founders, by John Lorde. At the first session of the Continental Congress in Philadelphia in 1774, although it was composed of the foremost men in the country, very little was done, except to recommend to the different provinces the non-importation of British goods with a view of forcing England into conciliatory measures, at which British statesmen laughed. The only result of this self-denying ordinance was to compel people to wear homespun and forego tea and coffee and other luxuries, while little was gained, except to excite the apprehension of English merchants. Yet this was no small affair in America, for we infer from the letters of John Adams to his wife that the habits of the wealthy citizens of Philadelphia were even then luxurious, much more so than in Boston. We read of a dinner given to Adams and other delegates by a young Quaker lawyer, at which were served ducks, hams, chickens, beef, pig, tarts, creams, custards, jellies, trifles, floating islands, beer, porter, punch, wine, and a long list of other things. All such indulgences, and many others, the earnest men and women of that day undertook cheerfully to deny themselves. Adams returned these civilities by dining a party on saltfish, perhaps as a rebuke to the costly entertainments with which he was surfited, and which seemed to him unseasonable in times that tried men's souls. But when have Philadelphia Quakers disdained what is called good living? Adams, at first delighted with the superior men he met, before long was impatient with the deliberations of the Congress, and severely criticized the delegates. Every man, wrote he, upon every occasion, must show his oratory, his criticism, and his political abilities. The consequence of this is that business is drawn and spun out to an immeasurable length. I believe if it was moved and seconded that we should come to a resolution that three and two make five, we should be entertained with logic and rhetoric, law, history, politics, and mathematics, and then we should pass the resolution unanimously in the affirmative. These great wits, these subtle critics, these refined geniuses, these learned lawyers, these wise statesmen, are so fond of showing their parts and powers as to make their consultations very tedious.  Sharp words, these. This session of Congress resulted in little else than the interchange of opinions between northern and southern statesmen. It was a mere advisory body, useful, however, in preparing the way for a union of the colonies in the coming contest. It evidently did not mean business, and business was what Adams wanted, rather than a vain display of abilities without any practical purpose. The second session of the Congress was not much more satisfactory. It did, however, issue a declaration of rights, a protest against a standing army in the colonies, a recommendation of commercial non-intercourse with Great Britain, and, as a conciliatory measure, a petition to the king, together with the elaborate addresses to the people of Canada, of Great Britain, and of the colonies. All this talk was of value, as putting on record the reasonable list of the American position. But practically it accomplished nothing, for even during the session the political and military commotion in Massachusetts increased, the patriotic stir of defense was evident all over the country, and in April 1775, before the Second Continental Congress assembled, May 10th, Concord and Lexington had fired the mine, and America rushed to arms. The other members were not as eager for war as Adams was. John Dickinson of Pennsylvania, wealthy, educated, moderate, conservative, was for sending another petition to England, which utterly disgusted Adams, who now had faith only in ball cartridges, and all friendly intercourse ended between the countries. But Dickinson's views prevailed by a small majority, which chafed and hampered Adams, whose earnest preference was for the most vigorous measures. He would seize all the officers of the Crown. He would declare the colonies free and independent at once. He would frankly tell Great Britain that they were determined to seek alliances with France and Spain if the war should be continued. He would organize an army and appoint its generals. The Massachusetts militia were already besieging the British in Boston. The war had actually begun. Hence he moved in Congress the appointment of Colonel George Washington of Virginia as Commander-in-Chief, much to the mortification of John Hancock, President of the Congress, whose vanity led him to believe that he himself was the most fitting man for that important post. In moving for this appointment, Adams ran some risk that it would not be agreeable to New England people who knew very little of Washington aside from his having been a military man, and one generally esteemed. But Adams was willing to run the risk in order to precipitate the contest which he knew to be inevitable. He knew further that if Congress would but, as he phrased it, adopt the army before Boston, and appoint Colonel Washington Commander of it, the appointment would cement the Union of the Colonies, his supreme desire. New England and Virginia were thus leagueed in one, in that by the action of all the colonies and Congress assembled. Although Mr. Adams had been elected Chief Justice of Massachusetts as its ablest lawyer, he could not be spared from the labors of Congress. He was placed on the most important committees, among others on one to prepare a resolution in favor of instructing the colonies to favor states' governments, and later on, the one to draft the Declaration of Independence, with Jefferson, Franklin, Sherman, and Livingston. The special task was assigned to Jefferson not only because he was able with his pen, but because Adams was too outspoken, too imprudent, and too violent to be trusted in framing such a document. Nothing could curb his tongue. He severely criticized most every member of Congress, if not openly, at least in his confidential letters, while in his public efforts with tongue and pen he showed more power than discretion. At that time Thomas Payne appeared in America as a political writer, and his floored pamphlet on common sense was much applauded by this people. Adams's opinion of this irreligious Republican is not favorable. That part of common sense, which relates to independence, is clearly written, but I am bold enough to say there is not a fact nor a reason stated in it which has not been frequently urged in Congress, while his arguments from the Old Testament to prove the unlawfulness of monarchy are ridiculous. The most noteworthy thing connected with Adams's career of four years in Congress was his industry. During that time he served on at least one hundred committees and was always at the front in debating measures of consequence. Perhaps his most memorable service was the share he had in drawing the Articles of Confederation, although he left Philadelphia before his signature could be attached. This instrument had great effect in Europe, since the states proclaimed union as well as independence. It was thenceforth easier for the states to borrow money, although the Confederation was loose-jointed and essentially temporary. Nationality was not established until the Constitution was adopted. Adams not only guided the earliest attempts at union at home, but was charged with great labors in connection with foreign relations, while as head of the War Board he had enough both of work and of worry to have broken down a stronger man. Always and everywhere he was doing valuable work. On the mismanagement of Silas Dean, as an American envoy in Paris, it became necessary to send an abler man in his place and John Adams was selected, though he was not distinguished for diplomatic tact. Nor could his mission be called in all respects a success. He was too imprudent in speech and was not, like Franklin, conciliatory with the French Minister of Foreign Affairs who took a cordial dislike to him and even snubbed him. But then it was Adams who penetrated the secret motives of the Count de Vergeny in rendering aid to America which Franklin would not believe or could not see. Nor were the relations of Adams very pleasant with the veteran Franklin himself, whose merits he conceived to be exaggerated and of whom it is generally believed he was envious. He was as fussy in business details as Franklin was easy and careless. He thought Franklin lived too luxuriously and was too fond of the praises of women. In 1780 Adams transferred his residence to Amsterdam in order to secure the recognition of independence and to get loans from Dutch merchants, but he did not meet with much success until the surrender of Lord Cornwallis virtually closed the door. He then returned to Paris in 1782 to assist Franklin and Jay to arrange the Treaty of Peace with Great Britain and the acknowledgement of the independence of the States. And here his steady persistency, united with a clear discernment of Jay, obtained important concessions in reference to the fisheries, the navigation of the Mississippi, and American commerce. Adams never liked France as Franklin and Jefferson did. The French seemed to him shallow, insincere, egotistical and dissuade by fanciful theories. Ardent as was his love of liberty he distrusted the French Revolution and had no faith in its leaders. Nor was he a zealous Republican. He saw more in the English Constitution to admire than Americans generally did, although while he respected English institutions he had small liking for English men, as they had for him. In truth he was a born grumbler and a censorious critic. He did not like anybody very much except his wife, and beyond his domestic circle saw more faults than virtues in those with whom he was associated. Even with his ardent temperament he had not those warm friendships which marked Franklin and Jefferson. John Adams found his residence abroad rather irksome and unpleasant and he longed to return to his happy home. But his services as diplomatists were needed in England. No more suitable representative of the young Republic it was thought could be found, in spite of his impatience, restlessness, magnacity, imprudence, and want of self-control. For he was intelligent, shrewd, high-spirited, and quick-sighted. The diplomatists could not stand before his blunt directness and he generally carried his point by eloquence and audacity. His presence was commanding and he impressed everybody by his magnetism and brain power. So Congress, in 1785, appointed him minister to Great Britain. The King forced himself to receive Adams graciously in his closet, but afterwards he treated him even with rudeness and, of course, the social circles of London did the same. The minister soon found his position more uncomfortable even than it had been in Paris. His salary also was too small to support his rank like other ambassadors and he was obliged to economize. He represented a league rather than a nation, a league too poor and feeble to pay its debts and he had to endure many insults on that account. Nor could he understand the unfriendly spirit with which he was received. He had hoped that England would have forgotten her humiliation but discovered his error when he learned that the states were to be indirectly crushed and hampered by commercial restrictions and open violations of the laws of nations. England, being still in a state of irritation toward her former colonies, he was not treated with becoming courtesy and, of course, had no social triumphs such as Franklin had enjoyed at Paris. Finding that he could not accomplish what he had desired and hoped for, he became disgusted, possibly embittered, and sent in his resignation after a three years' residence in London and returned home. Altogether his career as a diplomatist was not a great success. His comparative failure, however, was caused rather by the difficulties he had to surmount than by want of diplomatic skill. If he was not as successful as had been hoped, he returned with unsullied reputation. He had made no great mistakes and had proved himself honest, incorruptible, laborious, and patriotic. The country appreciated his services when, under the new constitution, the consolidated union chose its rulers and elevated him to the second office in the Republic. The only great flaw in Adams as vice president was his strange jealousy of Washington. A jealousy hardly to be credited were it not for the uniform testimony of historians. He stood even higher than Hamilton, between whom and himself there were unpleasant relations. Indeed, Adams' dislike of both Hamilton and Jefferson was, to some extent, justified by unmistakable evidences of enmity on their part. The rival reasoned jealousies among the great leaders of the revolutionary period are a blot on our history. But patriots and heroes as those men were, they were all human, and Adams was peculiarly so. By universal consent he is conceded to have been a prime factor in the success of the revolution. He held back Congress when reconciliation was in the air. He committed the whole country to the sport of New England and gave to the war its indispensable condition of success, the leadership of Washington. He was called by Jefferson the colossus of debate in carrying the Declaration of Independence and cutting loose from England. He was wise and strong and indefatigable in governmental construction as well as in maintaining the armies in the field. He accomplished vast labors affecting both the domestic and foreign relations of the country, and despite his unpleasant personal qualities of conceit and irritability, his praise was in every mouth. He could well afford to recognize the full worth of every one of his co-laborers. But he did not. Magnanimity was certainly not his most prominent trait. The duties of a vice president hardly allow scope for great abilities. The office is only a stepping stone. There was little opportunity to engage in the debates which agitated the country. The duties of judicially presiding over the Senate were not congenial to a man of the hot temper and ambition of Adams. And when party lines were drawn between the Federalists and Republicans, he earnestly espoused the principles of the former. He was in no sense a Democrat except in his recognition of popular political rights. He believed in the rule of character as indicated by intellect and property. He had no great sympathy with the people and their aspirations, although springing from the people himself. The son of a moderate farmer no more distinguished than ordinary farmers. He was the first one of his family to reach eminence or wealth. The accusation against him of wishing to introduce a king, lords and commons was most unjust. But he was at heart an aristocrat as much as were Hamilton and Governor Morris. And the Morris character was scrutinized after he had won distinction the less popular he was. His brightest days were when he was inspiring his countrymen by his eloquence to achieve their independence. In office Adams did not preeminently shine notwithstanding his executive ability and business habits. It is true the equal division of the Senate on some very important measures such as the power of the president to remove from office without the consent of the Senate, the monetary policy proposed by Hamilton, and some others, gave him the opportunity by his casting vote to sustain the administration, and thus decide great principles with advantage to the country. In his eight years of comparative quiet in that position were happy and restful ones. But Adams loved praise, flattery, and social position. He was easily peaked and quickly showed it. He did not pass for what he was worth since he was apt to show his worst side first, without tact and without policy. But no one ever doubted his devotion to the country any more than his abilities. Moreover, he was too fond of titles and the trappings of office and the insignia of rank to be favorite with the plain people. Not from personal vanity, great as that was in him, but from his notions of the dignities of high office such as he had seen abroad. Hence he recommended to Washington the etiquette of a court, and kept it up himself when he became president. Against this must be placed his fondness for leaving the capital and running off to make little visits to his farm at Quidsey, Massachusetts, where he was always happiest. I dwell briefly on his career as vice president because he had in it so little to do. Nor was his presidency marked by great events, when, upon the completion of Washington's second term and the refusal of that great man to enter upon a third, Adams was elevated in 1797 to the highest position. The country had settled down to its normal pursuits. There were few movements to arrest the attention of historians. The most important event of the time was, doubtless, the formation of the two great political parties which divided the nation, one led by Hamilton and the other by Jefferson. They were the natural development of the discussion on adopting the federal constitution. The federalists composed chiefly of the professional classes, the men of wealth and of social position, and the old officers of the army, wanted a strong central government, protection to infant manufacturers, banks, and tariffs. In short, whatever would contribute to the ascendancy of intellect and prosperity. The Republicans, largely made up of small farmers, mechanics, and laboring people, desired the extension of the right of suffrage, the prosperity of agriculturists, and state ascendancy, and were fearful of the encroachments of the general government upon the reserved rights of the states and the people at large. But the leaders of this people's party, men like the Clintons of the state of New York, were sometimes as aristocratic in their social life as the leaders of the federalists. During the Revolutionary War, the only parties were those who aimed at national independence and the royalists, or Tories, who did not wish to sever their connection with the mother country. But these Tories had no political influence when the government was established under Washington. During his first term of office, there was ostensibly but one party. It was not until his second term that there were marked divisions. Then public opinion was divided between those who followed Hamilton, Jay, and Adams, and those who looked up to Jefferson, and perhaps Madison, as leaders in the lines to be pursued by the general government in reference to banks, internal improvements, commercial tariffs, and the extension of the suffrage, the Army and the Navy, and other subjects. The quarrels and animosities between these two parties in that early day have never been exceeded in bitterness. Ministers preached political sermons. The newspapers indulged in unrestricted abuse of public men.  Family ties were sundered, and old friendships were broken. The Federalists were distrustful of the French Revolution, and finally hostile to it, while the Republican Democrats were its violent advocates. In New York, nearly every Episcopalian was a Federalist, and in Massachusetts and Connecticut, nearly every congregational minister. Free thinkers in religion were generally Democrats, as the party gradually came to be called. Farmers were pretty evenly divided, but their hired hands were Democrats, and so were most immigrants. Whatever the difference of opinion among the contending parties, however, they were sincere and earnest and equally patriotic. The people selected for office, those whom they deemed most capable, were those who would be most useful to the parties representing their political views. It never occurred to the people of evener party to vote with a view of advancing their own selfish and private interests. If it was proposed to erect a public building or dig a canal or construct an aqueduct, they would vote for or against it according to their notions of public utility. They never dreamed of the spoils of jobbery. In other words, the contractors and bosses did not say to the people, if you will vote for me as the superintendent of this public improvement, I will employ you on the works, whether you are industrious and capable or idle and worthless. There were then no Tammany Hall politicians or Philadelphia Republican Ringsters. The spoils system was unknown. That is an invention of later times. Politicians did not seek office with a view of getting rich. Both Federalists and Democrats sought office to secure either the ascendancy of their party or what they deemed the welfare of the country. As the Democratic leaders made appeals to a larger constituency, consisting of the laboring classes, then the Federalists did, they gradually gained the ascendancy. Moreover, they were more united. The Federal leaders quarreled among themselves. Adams and Hamilton were accused of breaking up their party. Jefferson adhered to his early principles and looked upon the advance of Democratic power as the logical result of the principles of the Declaration of Independence. He had unlimited faith in instincts and aspirations of the people and in their ability to rule themselves, while Adams thought that the masses were not able to select their wisest and greatest men for rulers. The latter would therefore restrict the suffrage to men of property and education, while Jefferson would give it to every citizen, whether poor or rich, learned or ignorant. End of Section 14. Section 15 of Beacon Lights of History, Volume 11, American Founders by John Lord. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Kay Hand. John Adams, Part 3. With such conflicting views between these great undoubted patriots and statesmen, there were increasing alienations, ripening inhibitor hostilities. If Adams was the more profound statesman, according to old-fashioned ideas, basing government on the lessons of experience and history, Jefferson was the more astute and far-reaching politician for seeing the increasing ascendancy of Democratic principles. One would suppose that Adams, born on a New England farm and surrounded with Puritan influences, would have had more sympathy with the people than Jefferson, who was born on a Virginia plantation and accustomed to those social inequalities which slavery produces. But it seems that as he advanced in years, in experience and in honors, Adams became more and more imbued with aristocratic ideas, like Burke, whose early career was marked for liberal and progressive views, but who became finally the most conservative of English statesmen and recoiled from the logical sequence of the principles he originally advocated with such transcendent eloquence and ability. And Adams, when he became president, after rendering services to his country second only to those of Washington, became saddened and embittered. And even as Burke raved over the French Revolution, so did Adams grow morose in view of the triumphs of the democracy and the hopeless defeat of his party, which was destined never again to rally except under another name, and then only for a brief period. There was little of historic interest connected with the administration of John Adams as president of the United States. He held his exalted office only for one term, while his rivals were re-elected during the 24 succeeding years of our national history. All disciples and friends of Jefferson, who followed out the policy he had inaugurated. In general, Adams pursued the foreign policy of Washington, which was that of peace and non-interference. In domestic administration he made only ten removals from office, and kept up the ceremonies which were then deemed essential to the dignity of president. The interest in his administration centered in the foreign relations of the government. It need not be added that he sympathized with Burke's Reflections on the French Revolution. That immortal document, which for rhetoric and passion has never been surpassed, and also for the brilliancy with which reverence for established institutions is upheld, and the disgust, hatred, and scorn uttered for the excesses which marked the godless revolutionists of the age. It is singular that so fair-minded a biographer as Parton could see nothing but rants and nonsense in the most philosophical political essay ever penned by It only shows that a partisan cannot be a historian any more than can a laborious collector of details, like Freeman, accurate as he may be. Adams, like Burke, abhorred the violence of those political demagogues who massacred their king and turned their country into a vile shambles of blood and crime. He equally detested the military despotism which succeeded under Napoleon Bonaparte, and the federalists generally agreed with him. Even the farmers of New England, whose religious instincts and love of rational liberty were equally shocked. Affairs between France and the United States became then matters of paramount importance. Adams, as minister to Paris, had perceived the selfish designs of the Count de Virginie, and saw that his object in rendering aid to the New Republic had been but to cripple England. And the hollowness of French generosity was further seen when the government of Napoleon looked with utter contempt upon the United States, whose poverty and feebleness provoked to spoliation as hard to bear as those restrictions which England imposed on American commerce. It was the object of Adams, in whose hands, as the highest executive officer, the work of negotiation was placed, to remove the sources of national grievances, and at the same time to maintain friendly relations with the offending parties. And here he showed a degree of vigor and wisdom which cannot be too highly commended. The President was patient, reasonable, and patriotic. He curbed his hot temper and moderated his just wrath. He averted a war and gained all the diplomatic advantages that were possible. He selected envoys, both Federalists and Democrats, the ablest men of the nation, when Hamilton and Jefferson declined diplomatic missions in order to further their ambitious ends at home, who of the statesmen remaining were superior to Marshall, Picney, and Jerry. How noble they are to stay and lofty their independence when Talleyrand sought from them a bribe of millions to secure his influence with the First Consul. Millions for defense, not a cent for tribute, are immortal words. And when negotiations failed, and there seemed to be no alternative but war, and that with the incarnate genius of war, Napoleon, Adams, Pacific as was his policy, set about most promptly to meet the Exigency and recommended the construction of a navy and the mustering of an army of sixteen thousand men, and even induced Washington to take the chief command once more in defense of America's institutions. Although at first demurring to Washington's request, he finally appointed Hamilton his greatest political rival to be the second general in command, a man who was eager for war, and who hoped through war to become the leader of the nation as well as leader of his party. When seeing that the Americans would fight rather than submit to insults and injustice, the French government made overtures for peace, the army was disbanded. But Adams never ceased his efforts to induce Congress to take measures for national defense in the way of construction of forts on the coast, and the building of ships of war to protect commerce and the fisheries. In regard to the domestic matters which marked his administration, the most important was the enactment of the alien insidition laws, now generally regarded as federal blunders. The historical importance of the passage of these laws is that they contributed more than all other things to break up the federal party, and throw political power into the hands of the Republicans, as the Democrats were still called. At that time there were over 30,000 French exiles in the country generally discontented with the government. With them liberty meant license to do and say whatever they pleased. As they were not naturalized, they were not citizens, and as they were not citizens, the Federalists maintained that they could not claim the privileges which citizens enjoyed to the full extent, that they were in the country on sufferance, and if they made mischief, if they fanned discontents, if they abused the President or members of Congress, they were liable to punishment. It must be remembered that the government was not settled on so firm foundations as at the present day. Even Jefferson wrought himself to believe that John Adams was aiming to make himself king, and establish aristocratic institutions like those in England. This assumption was indeed preposterous and ill founded. Nevertheless, it was credited by many Republicans. Moreover, the difficulties with France seemed fraught with danger, there might be war, and these aliens might prove public enemies. It was probably deemed by the Federalists, governing under such dangers, to be a matter of public safety to put these foreigners under the eyes of the executive, as a body to be watched, a body that might prove dangerous in the unsettled state of the country. The Federalists doubtless strained the Constitution and put interpretations upon it which would not bear the strictest scrutiny. They were bitterly accused of acting against the Constitution. It was avert that everybody who settled in the country was entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, according to the doctrine taught in the Declaration of Independence. And this was not denied by the Federalists so long as the foreigners behaved with themselves. But when they gave vent to extreme liberal sentiments, like the French revolutionists, and became a nuisance, it was deemed right and a wise precaution to authorize the President to send them back to their own countries. Now it is probable that these aliens were not as dangerous as they seemed. They were ready to become citizens when the suffrage should be enlarged. Their discontent was magnified. They were mostly excitable but harmless people, unreasonably feared. Jefferson looked upon them as future citizens, trusted them with his unbounded faith in democratic institutions, and thought that the treatment of them in the alien laws was unjust, impolitic, and unkind. The sedition laws were even more offensive since under them citizens could be fined and imprisoned if they wrote what were called libels on men in power, and violent language against men in power was deemed a libel. But all parties used violent language in that fermenting period. It was an era of the bitterest party strife. Everybody was misrepresented who even aimed at office. The newspapers were full of slanders of the most eminent men, and neither Adams nor Jefferson nor Hamilton escaped unjust criminations and the malice of inventing tongues. All this embittered the Federalists then in the height of their power. In both houses of Congress the Federalists were in a majority. The executive, the judges, and educated men generally were Federalists. Men in power are apt to abuse it. It is easy now to see that the alien and sedition laws must have been exceedingly unpopular, but the government was not then wise enough to see the logical issue. Jefferson and his party saw it and made the most of it. In their appeals to the people they inflamed their prejudices and excited their fears. They made a most successful handle of what they called the violation of the Constitution and the rights of man, and the current turned. From the day that the obnoxious and probably unnecessary laws were passed the Federal Party was doomed. It lost its hold on the people. The dissensions and rivalries of the Federal leaders added to their discomforture. What they lost they could never regain. Only war would have put them on their feet again, and Adams, with true patriotism, while ready for necessary combat, was opposed to a foreign war for the purpose of domestic policy. Yet the ambitious statesmen did not wish to be dethroned. He loved office dearly, and hence he did not yield gracefully to the triumph of the Ascendant Party, which grew stronger every day. And when their victory was assured and his term of office was about to expire he sat up until twelve o'clock the last night of his term, signing appointments that ought to have been left to his successors. Among these appointments was that of John Marshall, his Secretary of State, to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, one that reflected great credit upon his discernment, in spite of its impropriety. For Marshall's name is one of the greatest in the annals of our judiciary. On the following morning, before the sun had risen, the ex-president was on his way to Braintree, not waiting even for the inauguration ceremonies that installed Jefferson in the chair which he had left so unwillingly, and giving vent to the bitterest feelings, alike unmanly and unreasonable. I have not dwelt on the minor events of his presidency, suggest his appointments to foreign missions, since these did not seriously affect the welfare of the country. I cannot go into unimportant events and quarrels, as in the case of his dismissal, a pickering, and other members of his cabinet. Such matters belong to the historians, especially those who think it necessary to say everything they can, to give minute details of all events. These small details, appropriate enough in works and written for specialists, are commonly dry and uninteresting. They are worrisome to the general reader, and are properly soon forgotten, as mere lumber which confuses rather than instructs. No historian could go successfully into minute details unless he has the genius of Macaulay. On this rock, Freeman, with all his accuracy, was wrecked. As an historian, he can claim only a secondary place, since he had no eye to proportion. In short, was no artist, like Frowder. He was as heavy as most German professors, to whom one thing is as important as another. Accuracy on minute points is desirable and necessary, but this is not the greatest element of success in an historian. Some excellent writers of history think that the glory of Adams was brightest in the period before he became president, when he was a diplomatist, that as president he made great mistakes and had no marked executive ability. I think otherwise. It seems to me that his special claims to the gratitude of his country must include the wisdom of his administration in inverting and entangling war, and guiding the ship of state creditably in perplexing dangers, that in most of his acts, while filling the highest office in the gift of the people, he was patient, patriotic, and wise. We forget the exceeding difficulties with which he had to contend and the virulence of his enemies. What if he was personally vain, pompous, irritable, jealous, stubborn, and fond of power? These traits did not swerve him from the path of duty and honor, nor dim the lustre of his patriotism, nor make him blind to the great interests of the country as he understood them, the country whose independence and organized national life he did so much to secure. All cavals are wasted, and worse than wasted, on such a man. His fame will shine forevermore in undimmed lustre to bless mankind. Small is that critic who sees the defects, but has no eye for the splendors of a great career. There is but little more to be said of Adams after the completion of his term of office. He retired to his farm in Quincy, a part of Braintree, for which he had the same love that Washington had for Mount Vernon, and Jefferson for Monticello. In the placid rest of agricultural life, and with a comfortable independence, his later days were spent. The kindly sentiments of his heart grew warmer with leisure, study, and friendly intercourse with his town's people. He even renewed a pleasant correspondence with Jefferson. He took the most interest naturally in the political career of his son, John Quincy Adams, whom he persuaded to avoid extremes, so that it is difficult to say with which political party he sympathized the most. In Mades, Tutisimus Eves. In tranquil serenity, the ex-president pondered the past and looked forward to the future. His correspondence in the dignified retirement of his later years is most instructive, showing great interest in education and philanthropy. He was remarkably blessed in his family and in all his domestic matters. The founder of an illustrious house, eminent for four successive generations. His wife, who died in 1818, was one of the most remarkable women of the age, his companion, his friend, and his counselor. To whose influence the greatness of his son, John Quincy, is in no small degree to be traced. Adams lived twenty-five years after his final retirement from public life in 1801, surrounded by his children and grandchildren, dividing his time between his farm, his garden, and his library. He lived to see his son, president of the United States. He lived to see the complete triumph of the institutions he had helped to establish. He enjoyed the possession of all his faculties to the last, and his love of reading continued unabated to the age of ninety-one, when he quietly passed away, July 4th, 1826. His last prayer was for his country, and his last words were, Independence, Forever. Authorities Life of John Adams by J. T. Morse, Jr. Life of Alexander Hamilton by Lodge Parton's Life of Jefferson Bancroft, United States Daniel Webster, oration on the death of Adams and Jefferson Life of John Jay by J. Flanders and Whitelock Fisk's Critical Period of American History Sparks Diplomatic Correspondence of the American Revolution Reeves' Life of Madison Curtis' History of the Constitution Scholler's History of the United States McMaster's History of the People of the United States Van Holst's Constitutional History Pitkin's History of the United States Horner's Life of Samuel Adams McGrewder's Marshall End of Section 15 Section 16 of Began Lines of History Volume 11, American Founders by John Lord This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Kay Hand Thomas Jefferson, Part 1 1743-1826 Popular Sovereignty This illustrious statesman was born April 13, 1743 at Shadwell, his father's home among the mountains of Central Virginia, about 150 miles from Williamsburg. His father, Peter Jefferson, did not belong to the patrician class, as the great planters called themselves, but he owned a farm of 1900 acres, cultivated by 30 slaves, and raised wheat. What aristocratic blood flowed in young Jefferson's veins came from his mother, who was a Randolph of fine presence and noble character. At 17 the youth entered the College of William and Mary at Williamsburg, after having been imperfectly fitted at a school kept by a Mr. Morrie, an Episcopal clergyman. He was a fine-looking boy, ruddy and healthy, with no bad habits, disposed to improve his mind, which was naturally inquisitive, and having the entree into the good society of the College town. Williamsburg was also the seat of government for the province, where we're collected for a few months in the year, the prominent men of Virginia, as members of the House of Burgesses. In this attractive town, Jefferson spent seven years, two in the college, studying the classics, history and mathematics, for which he had an aptitude, and five in the Law Office of George Weith, thus obtaining as good an education as was possible in those times.  Although he was far from rich, he had as much money as was good for him, and he turned it to good advantage, laying the foundation of an admirable library. He cultivated the society of the brightest people. Among these were John Page, afterwards governor of Virginia, Dr. Small, the professor of mathematics at the college, afterwards the friend of Darwin at Birmingham, Edmund Randolph at Historic Virginian, Francis Focquier, the lieutenant governor of the province, said to be a fine scholar and elegant gentleman of the French school who introduced into Virginia the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot, as well as high play at cards, George Weith, a rising lawyer of great abilities, John Burke, the historian of Virginia, and lastly Patrick Henry, rough, jolly, and lazy. From such associates, all distinguished sooner or later, Jefferson learned much of society of life and literature. At college, as in after life, his forte was writing. Jefferson never, to his dying day, could make a speech. He could talk well in a small circle of admirers and friends, and he held the readiest pen in America, but he had no eloquence as a speaker, which I think is a gift like poetry seldom to be acquired. And yet he was a great admirer of eloquence, without envy and without any attempts at imitation. A constant reader, studious, reflective, inquisitive, liberal-minded, slightly visionary, in love with novelties and theories, the young man grew up. A universal favorite, both for his accomplishments, and his almost feminine gentleness of temper, which made him averse to anything like personal quarrels. I do not read that he ever persistently and cordially hated and abused but one man, the greatest political genius this country has ever known, and hated even him, rather from divergence of political views than from personal resentment. As Jefferson had no landed property sufficiently large to warrant his leading the life of a leisurely country gentleman, the highest aspiration of a Virginian aristocrat in the period of entailed estates, it was necessary for him to choose a profession, and only that of a lawyer could be thought of by a free-thinking politician, for such he was from first to last. Indeed, politics ever have been the native air which southern gentlemen have breathed for more than a century. Since political power amid such social distinctions and inequalities as have existed in the southern states necessarily has been confined to the small class, the southern people have always been ruled by a few political leaders, more influential and perhaps more accomplished than any corresponding class at the north. Certainly they have made more pretensions being more independent in their circumstances, and many of them educated abroad, as are the leaders in South American states at the present day. The air to ten thousand or twenty thousand acres with two hundred negroes in the last century naturally cultivated those sentiments which were common to great landed proprietors in England, especially pride of birth. It is remarkable that Jefferson with his surroundings should have been so early and so far advanced in his opinions about the rights of man and political equality, but then he was by birth only halfway between the poor whites and the patrician planters. Moreover he was steeped in the philosophy of Rousseau, having sentimental proclivities and a leaning to humanitarian theories both political and social. Jefferson was admitted to the bar in 1767 after five years in Weith's office. He commenced his practice at a favorable time for a lawyer in a period of great financial embarrassments on the part of the planters, rising from their extravagant and ostentatious way of living. They lived on their capital rather than on their earnings, and even their broad domains were nearly exhausted by the culture of tobacco, the chief stable of Virginia, which also had declined in value. It was almost impossible for an ordinary planter to make two ends meet no matter how many acres he cultivated and how many slaves he possessed, for he had inherited expensive tastes, a liking for big houses and costly furniture and blooded horses, and he knew not where to retrench. His pride prevented him from economy, since he was socially compelled to keep tavern for visitors and poor relations without compensation. Hence nearly all the plantations were heavily encumbered, whether great or small. The planter disdained manual labor, however poor he might be, and every year added to his debts. He lived in comparative idleness, amusing himself with horse races, hunting, and other manly sports, such as become country gentlemen in the olden time. The real poverty of Virginia was seen in the extreme difficulty of raising troops for state or national defense, in times of greatest peril. The calls of patriotism were not unheeded by the chivalry of the South, but what could patriotic gentlemen do when their estates were wasting away by litigation and unsuccessful farming? It was amid such surroundings that Jefferson began his career. Although he could not make a speech, could hardly address a jury, he had sixty eight cases the first year of his practice, one hundred and fifteen the second, one hundred and ninety eight the third. He was doubtless a good lawyer, but not a remarkable one, law, business, not being to his taste. When he had practiced seven years in the general court, his cases had dropped to twenty-nine, but his office business had increased, so as to give him an income of four hundred pounds from his profession, and he received as much more from his estate, which had swelled to nearly two thousand acres. His industry, his temperance, his methodical ways, his frugality and his legal research had been well rewarded. While not a great lawyer, he must have been a studious one for his legal learning was a large element in his future success. At the age of thirty- one he was a prominent citizen, a good office lawyer, and a rising man with the confidence and respect of everyone who knew him, and with all, exceedingly popular from his plain manners, his modest pretensions, and patriotic zeal. He was not then a particularly marked man, but was on the road to distinction, since a new field was open to him, that of politics, for which he had an undoubted genius. The distracted state of the country on the verge of war with Great Britain called out his best energies. While yet but a boy in college he became deeply interested in the murmurings of Virginia gentlemen against English misgovernment in the colonies, and early became known as a vigorous thinker and writer with Republican tendencies. William Wart wrote of him that, he was a Republican and a philanthropist from the earliest dawn of his character.  Jefferson's political career really dates from 1769 when he entered the house of Burgesses as member for Albemarle County in the second year of his practice as a lawyer, after a personal canvas of nearly every voter in the county, and supplying to the voters as was the custom, an unlimited quantity of punch and lunch for three days. The assembly was composed of about one hundred members, gentlemen of course, among whom was Colonel George Washington. The speaker was Peyton Randolph, a most courteous aristocrat, with great ability for the duties of a presiding officer. Among other prominent members were Mr. Pendleton, Colonel Bland, and Mr. Nicholas, leading lawyers of the province. Mr. Jefferson, though still a young man, was put upon important committees for he had a good business head and was ready with his pen. In 1772 Mr. Jefferson married a rich widow who brought him forty thousand acres and one hundred and thirty-five slaves, so that he now took his place among the wealthy planters, although like Washington he was only a yeoman by birth. With increase of fortune he built Monticello on the site of Shadwell, which had been burned. It was on the summit of a hill five hundred feet high, about three miles from Charlottesville, but it was only by twenty-five years ceaseless nursing and improvement that this mansion became the finest residence in Virginia, with its lawns, its flower beds, its walks, and its groves, adorned with perhaps the finest private library in America. No wonder he loved this enchanting abode where he led the life of a philosopher. But stirring events soon called him from this retreat. A British war vessel in Naringasset Bay, in pursuit of a packet which had left Newport for Providence without permission, ran aground about seventeen miles from the latter town and was burned by disguised Yankee citizens, indignant at the outrages which had been perpetrated by this armed schooner on American commerce. A reward of five hundred pounds was offered for the discovery of the perpetrators and the English government, pronouncing this to be an act of high treason, passed an ordinance that the persons implicated in the act should be transported to England for trial. This decree struck at the root of American liberties and aroused an indignation which reached the Virginia legislature, then assembled at Williamsburg. A committee was appointed to investigate the affair, composed of Peyton Randolph, R. C. Nicholas, Richard Henry Lee, Benjamin Harrison, Edmund Pendleton, Patrick Henry, and Thomas Jefferson, all now historic names, mostly lawyers, but representatives of the prominent families of Virginia and leaders of the assembly. Indignant resolutions were offered and copies were sent to the various colonial legislatures. This is the first notice of Jefferson in his political career. In 1773, with Patrick Henry and some others, Jefferson originated the Committee of Correspondence, which was the beginning of the intimate relations in common political interest among the colonies. In 1774, the House of Burgesses was twice dissolved by the royal governor, and Jefferson was a member of the convention to choose delegates to the First Continental Congress, while in the same year he published a summary view of the rights of British America. A strong plea for the right to resist English taxation. In 1775, we find Jefferson a member of the colonial convention at which Patrick Henry, also a member, made the renowned war speech Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death. Those burning words of the Virginia order penetrated the heart of every farmer in Massachusetts as they did the souls of the southern planters. In a few months the royal government ceased to exist in Virginia, the governor, Dunmore, having retreated to a man of war, and Jefferson had become a member of the Continental Congress at its second session in Philadelphia, with the reputation of being one of the best political writers of the day, and an ardent patriot with very radical opinions. Even then, hopes had not entirely vanished of a reconciliation with Great Britain, but before the close of the year the introduction of German mercenaries to put down the growing insurrection satisfied everybody that there was nothing left to the colonies but to fight, or tamely submit to royal tyranny. Preparations for military resistance were now made everywhere, especially in Massachusetts, and in Virginia, where Jefferson, who had been obliged by domestic afflictions to leave Congress in December, was most active in raising money for defense, and in inspiring the legislature to set up a state government. When Jefferson again took his seat in Congress, May 13, 1776, he was put upon the committee to draft a Declaration of Independence, composed, as already noted, of John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston besides himself. To him, however, was entrusted by the committee the labor and the honor of penning the draft, which was adopted with trifling revision. He was always very proud of this famous document, and it was certainly effective. Among the ordinary people of America, he is, perhaps, better known for this rather rhetorical piece of composition than for all his other writings put together. It was one of those happy hits of genius which make a man immortal, owing, however, no small measure of its fame to the historic importance of the occasion that it called forth. It was publicly read on every 4th of July celebration for 100 years. It embodied the sentiments of a great people not disposed to criticism but ready to interpret in a generous spirit. It had, at the time, a most stimulating effect at home, and in Europe was a revelation of the truth about the feeling in America. From the 4th of July, 1776, Thomas Jefferson became one of the most prominent figures identified with American independence by reason of his patriotism, his abilities, and advanced views of political principles, though as inferior to Hamilton and Wrigel and Comprehensive Genius, as he was superior to him in the arts and foresight of a political leader. He better understood the people than did his great political rival, and more warmly sympathized with their conditions and aspirations. He became a typical American politician, not by force of public speaking, but by dexterity in the formation and management of a party. Both Patrick Henry and John Adams were immeasurably more eloquent than he, but neither touched the springs of the American heart like this quiet, modest, peace loving, far-sighted politician, since he more than any other man of the revolutionary period was jealous of aristocratic power. Hamilton, Jay, Governor Morris, were aristocrats who admired the English Constitution and would have established a more vigorous central government. Jefferson was jealous of central power in the hands of aristocrats. So indeed was Patrick Henry, whose outburst of eloquence thrilled all audiences alike. The greatest natural order this country has produced, if Henry Clay may be accepted. But he was impractical and would not even endorse the Constitution, which was afterwards adopted, as not guarding sufficiently what were called natural rights and the independence of the states. This ultimately led to an alienation between these great men and to the disparagement of Henry by Jefferson as a lawyer and statesman, when he was the most admired and popular man in Virginia, and had only to say let this be law and it was law, when he ruled by his magical eloquence the majority of the assembly, and when his edicts were registered by that body with less opposition than that of the grand monarch himself from his subservient parliaments. Had he shown any fitness for military life Patrick Henry would doubtless have been entrusted with an important command. But like Jefferson his talents were confined to civic affairs alone. Moreover it is said that he was lazy and fond of leisure and that it was only when he was roused by powerful passions or a great occasion that his extraordinary powers bore all before him in an irresistible torrent, as did the eloquence of Mirabeau in the National Convention. Contemplative men of studious habits and a philosophical cast of mind are apt to underrate the genius which sways a popular assembly. Hence Jefferson thought Henry superficial. But in spite of the defects of his early education Henry's attainments were considerable and the profoundest lawyers like Wirt, Nicholas and Jay acknowledged his great forensic ability. Washington always held him in great esteem and affection and certainly had Henry been a shallow lawyer, Washington whose judgment of men was notably good would not have offered him the post of Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Although as Jefferson sneeringly said he knew it would be refused. Jefferson declined a reelection to the Third Continental Congress and in September 1776 retired to his farm. But only for a short time since in October we find him in the Virginia House of Delegates and Chairman of the most important committees especially that on the revision of the laws of the state. His work in the state legislature was more important than in Congress since it was mainly through his influence that entails or swept away and even the law of primogeniture. Instead of an aristocracy of birth and wealth he would build up one of virtue and talent. He also assaulted state support of the Episcopal Church which was in Virginia the established church. As an engine of spiritual tyranny and took great interest in all matters of education formulating a system of common schools which however was never put into practice. He was also opposed to slavery having the conviction that the day would come when the Negroes would be emancipated. He had before this tried to induce the Virginia lawmakers to legalize manumission and in 1778 succeeded in having them forbid importation of slaves. Dr. James Schollers 1893 Life of Jefferson says that the mitigation in final abolishment of slavery were among his dearest ambitions and adduces in illustration the failure of his plan in 1784 for organizing the western territories because it provided for free states south as well as north of the Ohio river and also his successful efforts as president to get Congress to abolish slave importation in 1806 and 07. His warnings as to what must happen if emancipation were not in some way provided for are familiar as fulfilled prophecy. After two years at state lawmaking Jefferson succeeded Patrick Henry as governor of Virginia in the summer of 1779. But although his administration was popular it was not marked as preeminently able. He had no military abilities for such a crisis in American affairs nor even remarkable executive talent. He was a man of thought rather than of action. His happiest hours were spent in his library. He did not succeed in arousing the militia when the English were already marching to the seat of government and when the Cherokee Indians were threatening hostilities on the southwestern border. Nor did he escape the censure of members of the legislature which greatly annoyed and embittered him so that he seriously thought of retiring from public life. In 1782 on the death of his wife whom he tenderly loved we find him again for a short time in congress which appointed him in 1784 as additional agent to France with Franklin and Adams to negotiate commercial treaties. On the return of Franklin he was accredited sole minister to France to succeed that great diplomatist. He remained in France five years much enamored with French society as was Franklin in spite of his republican sentiments. He hailed with all the transport his calm nature would allow the French revolution and was ever after a warm friend to France until the Genet Affair when his eyes were partially opened to French intrigues and French arrogance. But the principles which the early apostles of revolution advocated were always near his heart. These he never repudiated it was only the excesses of the revolution which filled him with distrust. In regard to the revolution on the whole he took issue with Adams, Hamilton, Jay and Morris and with the sober judgment of the New England Patriots. England he detested from first to last and could see no good in her institutions whether social, political or religious. He hated the established church even more than royalty as the nurse of both superstition and spiritual tyranny. Even the dissenters were not liberal enough for him. He would have abolished if he could all religious denominations and organizations. Above all things he despised the etiquette and pomp of the English courts as relics of medieval feudalism.  He somewhere remarks that in all Europe not one king in 20 has ordinary intelligence. With such views he was a favorite with the savants of the French Revolution as much because they were semi-infidels as because they were opposed to feudal institutions. The great points of diplomacy had already been settled by Franklin and he had not much to do in France although his talents as a diplomatist were exceptional owing to his coolness, his sagacity, his learning and his genial nature. There was nothing austere about him as there was in Adams. His manners though simple were courteous and gentlemanly. He was diligent in business and was accessible to everybody. No American was more likely to successfully follow Franklin than he from his desire to avoid broils and the Pacific turn of his mind. In this respect he was much better fitted to deal with the Count Divergenie than was John Adams whose suspicious and impetuous temper was always getting him into trouble not merely with the French government but with his associates. And yet Adams doubtless penetrated the ulterior designs of France with more sagacity than either Franklin or Jefferson. They now appear from the concurrent views of historians to have been to Cripple England rather than to help America. It cannot be denied that the French government rendered timely an essential aid to the United States in their struggle with Great Britain for which Americans should be grateful whatever motives may have actuated it. Possibly Franklin a perfect man of the world as well as an Detroit diplomatist saw that the French government was not entirely disinterested but he wisely held his tongue and gave no offense feeling that half a loaf was better than no loaf at all. But Adams could not hold his tongue for any length of time and gave vent to his feelings so that in his mission he was continually snubbed and contrived to get himself hated both by Virginie and Franklin. He split his beetle when he should have split the log. He was honest and upright to an extraordinary degree but a diplomatist should have tacked discretion and prudence nor is it necessary that he should lie. Jefferson like Franklin had tacked in discretion. It really mattered nothing in the final result even if Virginie had in view only the interest of France. It is enough that he did assist the Americans to some extent. Adams was a grumbler and looked at the motives of the act rather than the act itself and was disposed to forget the obligation altogether because it was conferred from other views than pure generosity. Moreover it is gratefully remembered that many persons in France like Lafayette were generous and magnanimous toward the Americans through genuine sympathy with the people struggling for liberty. In reference to the service that Jefferson rendered to his country as minister to France we notice his persistent efforts to suppress the piracy of the Barbary states on the Mediterranean. Although he loved peace he preferred to wage an aggressive war on these pirates rather than to submit to their insults and robberies as most of the European states did by giving them tribute. But the new American confederation was too weak financially to support his views and the piracy interview continued until Captain Decatur bombarded Tripoli and chastised Algiers during Jefferson's presidency 1803 and 04. As minister Jefferson also attempted to remove the shackles on American trade which however did not meet the approval of the Morris and other protectionists and monopolists in the tobacco trade. 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