Dying
on the battlefield was a fate avoided by the major figures of the American
Revolution, unless you extend that battlefield to one of ideals. That was my
core takeaway reading Ron Chernow’s bestselling biography on Alexander
Hamilton, who survived the war only to die in a brave, bizarre duel over
political differences 21 years later.
There’s
a book idea out there, perhaps already written, about how the Founding Fathers have
been variously remembered and set against each other over time. Some eras were
more inclined to celebrate Thomas Jefferson as the consummate democrat. Others placed
George Washington on the highest pedestal as a selfless leader. Recently, there
was a run on John Adams as misunderstood genius.
Today
we have Alexander Hamilton, rap star. Ironically, a few decades ago, he was likely
to be regarded as a villain of the story, the one with aristocratic pretensions
and imperialistic ambitions as cast by Charles Beard and other progressives.
Now he is the subject of a hit Broadway show which celebrates how pro-immigrant
and anti-slavery he was.
That
show, “Hamilton,” was inspired by this book. Reading it, you see the
hero-worship. For Chernow, Hamilton’s gifts were unmatched: “Hamilton was the
supreme double threat among the founding fathers, at once thinker and doer,
sparkling theoretician and masterful executive,” he writes. His powers of composition are described as “Mozart-like” for the way they poured onto the page, without revision.
When
it comes to fiscal policy, Hamilton’s foresight was critical in developing the
United States as freedom-loving capitalist engine:
He was the
clear-eyed apostle of America’s economic future, setting forth a vision that
many found enthralling, others unsettling, but that would ultimately prevail. He
stood squarely on the modern side of a historical divide that seemed to
separate him from other founders.
Not
content to point out his subject’s strengths, Chernow frequently calls out the weaknesses
of other early American leaders. You get Jefferson the hypocrite, James Madison
the weasel, and Aaron Burr the poisonous conniver.
George
Washington remains admirable, mostly because he listened to Hamilton and helped
filter away the latter’s understandable if unfortunate excesses of expression:
Hamilton and
Washington had complementary talents. Neither could have achieved alone what
they did together.
Chernow’s
take may be compressed and simplistic; it does make for exciting reading. His
Hamilton is a man of action, decision, and arresting color amid a sometimes-grey
landscape. Alone among the Founding Fathers, Hamilton was a city-dweller rather
than a gentleman farmer. He was also quite literally a bastard, the murky product
of an out-of-wedlock relationship between a married woman and an untitled
Scottish aristocrat who grew up not in the American colonies but in the Caribbean
under both British [Nevis] and Danish [St. Croix] flags.
Chernow
points out how this contributed to Hamilton’s singular character, in terms of both
his opposition to slavery and his distrust of his fellow man: Island life contained enough bloodcurdling
scenes to darken Hamilton’s vision for life, instilling an ineradicable
pessimism about human nature that infused all his writing.
It was this mindset that renders Chernow’s Hamilton both challenging and unique. Combine that with a self-made man of fierce energy and determination, and you get what he calls “a fearless, swashbuckling intellectual warrior who excelled in bare-knuckled controversy.” Excelled, that is, until the duel that ended his life in 1804.
Chernow’s
story reads at times like gripping fiction. I recently reviewed a very similar story about a bastard immigrant who makes his fortune by taking a stand during the American Revolution; Alexander Hamilton
likewise offers plenty of diverting sex, violence, and picaresque episodes to
beguile as you review the circumstances of a nation’s precarious founding.
And
what about those circumstances? It’s here you feel Chernow pulling hard at the
edges of his story to keep you not only reading but reaching the same
conclusions he did while researching his book. To that end, you get around our
lead character a slew of figures who fall short, sometimes subtly, sometimes
spectacularly, by comparison.
John
Adams is invariably spiteful in his reckoning of Hamilton, unable to appreciate
his many gifts while likening him to Napoleon, “not only contemptable but
infamous, with infinitely less courage and capacity.” James Madison starts out
an ally, partnering with Hamilton to champion the Constitution by authoring the Federalist Papers before being turned by Jefferson into an implacable foe.
Even Washington falters at times when he balks at Hamilton’s centralizing notions
of running the nation’s treasury.
Jefferson
comes off very badly; a hypocrite who wrote about freedom while keeping (and
fathering) slaves, an unabashed Francophile who championed the bloodshed of the
French Revolution in such a way it set him at loggerheads with Hamilton, who
took a broader, more sensible view of revolution even as a college student:
Clearly, this
ambivalent twenty-year-old favored the Revolution but also worried about the
long-term effect of habitual disorder, especially among the uneducated masses.
Hamilton lacked the temperament of a true-blue revolutionary. He saw too
clearly that greater freedom could lead to greater disorder and, by a dangerous
dialectic, back to a loss of freedom. Hamilton’s lifelong task was to try to
straddle and resolve this contradiction and to balance liberty and order.
Balance is the key word
here, providing an overarching theme to the entire book.
· As a student at King’s College [later Columbia University] in Manhattan,
Hamilton advocates independence in a full-throated way, yet looks out for a
Tory friend who draws a murder-minded mob.
· As an aide to
General Washington, he develops a smooth-operating headquarters even as he chafes
for battlefield experience.
· As a member of
Washington’s cabinet (the chief one, Chernow points out), he favored a path of
gradually paying off debt and honoring bonds no matter who held them, sowing a
point of great contention with Jefferson’s fiscally-looser, mob-oriented faction.
As
history, Alexander Hamilton is no
Mount Rushmore of stiff countenances staring off in the same direction. In most
ways, it benefits from this “Crossfire” treatment. The foundation of the United
States was no love-in; the Founding Fathers bickered and argued with one another
to often-nasty extremes.
As
Chernow points out, before meeting his doom on the Hudson shore against then-Vice
President Burr, Hamilton nearly had another duel with a future president, James
Monroe (who manages the impressive feat of coming off in the book less likable than either Jefferson or Madison).
Author Ron Chernow signs paperback editions of his bestselling biography. Image from http://mauicountryclub.org/event/august-book-club-gathering-alexander-hamilton-ron-chernow/. |
Sometimes
Chernow commits the infraction of presenting suppositions as facts; such as a
youthful flirtation with a young woman, Kitty Livingston, he believes amounted
to more than the record indicates. He notes the possibility of Hamilton owning
slaves, or at least purchasing them for others, then dismisses it as incompatible
with his work with an early abolitionist group, the New York Manumission
Society.
Regarding
a famous scandal, Hamilton’s admitted, adulterous relationship with one Maria
Reynolds, Chernow suggests in an awkward passage that it was perhaps the one
time Hamilton ever strayed from a marriage otherwise characterized by mutual
respect and devotion:
One suspects that
Alexander and Eliza [Hamilton] had slowly repaired the harm done by the
Reynolds affair, that she had begun to forgive him, and that they had
recaptured some earlier intimacy. Perhaps it took this scandal for Hamilton to
recognize just how vital his wife had been in providing solace from his
controversial political career.
This
is wishful thinking disguised as scholarship. There is a good deal of it here.
In the great divide of historians between academics
and popularizers, Chernow stands
squarely in the latter camp.
For
the most part, I found this the right approach. Take the most famous episode of
Hamilton’s life, the end. Here Chernow pushes against the relativist drift of
many modern historians to present in Hamilton’s killer, Burr, a dangerous man
of no scruple who twists himself to fit into whichever faction holds the whip
hand, all the while working a number of profitable schemes to serve only
himself.
After
aligning himself with the Federalist faction of law and order represented by
Washington and Hamilton, Burr switched over to the other camp, the Democratic-Republicans
of Jefferson. Like Hamilton a New Yorker, Burr offered Jefferson a running mate
in 1800 who could help water down Northern opposition. After getting the same
number of votes as Jefferson, Burr schemed to win/steal the presidency outright
in a tie-breaking Congressional vote.
This
put Hamilton in the unenviable position of choosing his poison between an open
enemy in Jefferson and Burr, with whom Hamilton had an ostensibly better
relationship. Hamilton chose Jefferson, setting in motion his eventual doom:
But if Jefferson
was a man of fanatical principles, he had principles all the same – which
Hamilton could forgive. Burr’s abiding sin was a total lack of principles,
which Hamilton could not forgive.
Just
how much Hamilton’s support of Jefferson stopped Burr is another point of
speculation for Chernow. He points to Hamilton’s advocacy of the case against
Burr to an influential delegate from Delaware, which is fair, then adds because
of it, “Jefferson probably owed his victory to Hamilton as much as to any other
politician.”
It’s
another debatable point in a book with many of them. But it serves the
overarching thesis of Hamilton’s greatness and keeps you reading, which is Alexander Hamilton’s sharpest point of
favor.
No comments:
Post a Comment