class the sovereign prerogative of creating a currency; he who first used corrupt practises to secure legislation.

As surely as harvest is due to sower, Alexander Hamilton was the father of plutocracy, the trust, and the lobby.

"The people are a great beast," said the apostle; and one of his disciples exclaimed, "The public be damned!"

The spirit of the two expressions is precisely the same; and the favored, protected, law-exempt railway king who could use with impunity the last expression was the natural product of the system of the statesman who used the first.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE GENET EPISODE

DETERMINED to make our Government resemble the English, it was a darling project with Hamilton, Jay, and other Federalists of that type to bring about friendly relations with Great Britain.

It was no easy task. England was sore over the loss of her colonies. She was aching to revenge herself upon America and upon France. She refused to give up the forts on the Northwest frontier. As Jefferson demonstrated in a masterly state paper, her excuses were flimsy, untenable. She could not answer his argument, and did not try. She simply held on to the forts. From these forts Indians went forth, fired with hatred and whisky, to make war upon American settlements.

She claimed and exercised the right to halt our ships upon the seas, to search them, and to drag from our decks such sailors as her navy might need. Her pretense was the retaking of her own seamen; her practise was to take whom she pleased.

But the Federalists curbed their indignation; from them no loud protest was heard. And when France sent over her minister, Genet, and the time

came when our Government had to show its hand, it suddenly appeared more amiable to our late foe than to our late friend.

Without exception, our historians have treated the Genet episode from the standpoint of the old Federalist party. Therefore, the average American gets an impression so misleading as to be wholly false.

The democracy of France, like the democracy of America, had made war upon a king, and had established a republic. In our struggle, French money and French blood had been poured out in our behalf. It was not the money of the King of France; it was not the blood of the King of France; it was the blood and the money of the people of France. The powerful undertow of sympathy with America which had dragged the French minister off his feet, and made the French alliance imperative, came, not from the torpid King, but from the aroused people. Every time the royal pen was laid to paper in America's behalf it was done under protest.

These people who had rushed to America's aid in the darkest hour of her Revolution had now accomplished a revolution of their own. America's example had encouraged them, inspired them, shown them the way. Now that the French monarchy was down and democracy triumphant, Great Britain had chosen to interfere, had made the King's cause her own, and had consecrated her

self to the unholy purpose of restoring in Europe the tyranny of aristocracy and King.1 Great Britain had blockaded France and dismissed from London the French minister. War was begun before the French Republic ever published her declaration.

What more natural than that the French, at this crisis, should look to the American people for sympathy and help! There were the two republics; their common enemy was monarchical England. Without French aid, the American republic could not have been established. America still owed France a huge debt-partly of gratitude, partly of prosaic cash.

And France, in sending Genet to America, virtually said to us what Beauregard's messenger said to Johnston on the eve of Manassas, "If you want to help me, now is the time!"

Genet came. He was young; he was untutored in statecraft and the ways of diplomacy; he was fresh from scenes of democratic excitement; the gospel of brotherly love was burning hotly within him. Never for one moment did he doubt that the heart of the American people beat warmly for the young French Republic. He expected to be received with open arms, with the gladdest smile of greeting, with the closest hug of fraternity.

Had not young Lafayette broken out of con

1See full account in the author's The Story of France, and his Napoleon.

ventional restraints in France, and hastened to the arms of Washington? Had not young Rochambeau led the lines at the final assault at Yorktown?

Were we not all brothers in the holy cause of democracy? Genet assumed that we were, implicitly believed that we were, unhesitatingly acted upon the conviction that we were.

For at Charleston, where he landed first, there was nothing to correct his impressions. Everybody was glad to see him. Shouts of welcome rose around him. Open arms were thrown about him in the brotherly embrace. Ovations filled his young heart with patriotic joy.

Commissions to send out privateers against the British? Why, of course. Governor Moultrie was the same old hero who had won that first victory over the common enemy; Governor Moultrie would sign commissions to fit out the privateers. Cheer fully.

And so he did, the treaty with France appear. ing to bind the Americans to do that very thing.

Privateers put to sea, and British commerce be gan to suffer. Genet set out for Philadelphia, by land. His journey was like a royal progress. The hearts of the people were with him. Where else could they be? Could America so soon forget? Did she have no gratitude? Was she incapable of generous enthusiasm for France in her efforts to es