Liberty, Nobility, Philanthropy, and Power in
Alexander Hamilton’s Conception of Human Nature
Michael J. Rosano
University of Michigan-Dearborn
Alexander Hamilton’s conception of human nature grounds his political thought. His predominately and radically liberal
conception of human nature is based on Locke’s concept of liberty, Hobbes’s concept of power, and Machiavelli’s concept
of the “effectual truth.” It thus stresses the necessary relation between self-interest and republican government and entails
the repudiation of classical republican and Christian political ideals. But Hamilton’s love of liberty is nonetheless rooted in
a sense of classical nobility and Christian philanthropy that elevates even while contradicting his liberalism. The complex
relation between liberty, nobility, philanthropy, and power in Hamilton’s conception of human nature, in effect, defines his
thought, reveals its assumptions, constitutes its strengths, and poses urgent problems. That complexity forms the spirit of his
liberal republicanism.
T
“
he science of policy,” Hamilton announced to
the Convention, “is the knowledge of human
nature.” But scholars discount his conception
of human nature because his occasional observations
seem to be rhetorical appeals that support points of
political debate or policy. The apparently contradictory or changing quality of his observations, along with
the tendency of scholars to regard the concept of human nature as nebulous, only strengthens that impression. This analysis, by contrast, seeks to understand
Hamilton on his own terms by interpreting and synthesizing his basic observations about human nature so
as to define his conception of human nature and its
vital relation to his political thought.1 His conception
is predominately and even radically liberal, but it also
reflects key features of Christian and classical republican thought. The relation between those conflicting aspects, in effect, defines his thought, reveals its assumptions, and poses urgent philosophical, moral, and political
problems.
The scholarly debate over the founding originally focused on defining the principles or relative influence of
liberalism, classical republicanism, and Christianity. But
it now rests in a consensus that those diverse modes of
thought, among others, coalesce to form the polyglot and
permutable ideological horizon of the founding. From
this inclusive perspective, the original debate seems sterile and reductionistic.2 But scholars bias broad influences
and contingent events by reducing principles and complexity to historical ideology and diversity. This analysis,
by contrast, supports the argument of Pangle that liberal
philosophers and statesmen, who are unrepresentative of
their times, advance a revolutionary concept of liberty
based on a radically individualistic concept of human nature and invent the liberal republic to found a new way of
life (1988, 1–4, 28–47, 117–119). By the same token, it also
supports McWilliams’s argument that Christian dissent
tempers liberalism and raises the “second voice” of America’s new political culture (1984; 1998, 4–5). Hamilton’s
thought is predominately liberal, but that implies he is
Michael J. Rosano is Assistant Professor of Political Science, University of Michigan-Dearborn, Dearborn, Michigan 48128-1491
([email protected]).
I am grateful for the Olin Fellowship for Junior Faculty, which enabled me to complete this article, and for the criticisms of the AJPS
reviewers, which greatly improved it.
1
Rossiter’s argument for the centrality of Hamilton’s concept of human nature remains the point of departure for this investigation (1964,
especially 113–152).
2
Gibson “identifies several alternative versions of the ‘multiple traditions approach”’ and offers a helpful review of the debate (2000).
Kramnick, in advancing that approach, criticizes the “republican synthesis” for discounting Locke, but he obscures liberalism by viewing
it as one among many ideologies that coexist in the “profusion and confusion of political tongues among the founders” (1990, chapters 1,
6, 8). Kammen anticipates the consensus and rightly stresses that the American “habit of ambiguity” tilts in a liberal direction (1972).
American Journal of Political Science, Vol. 47, No. 1, January 2003, Pp. 61–74
C 2003
by the Midwest Political Science Association
ISSN 0092-5853
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MICHAEL J. ROSANO
also thinking in other terms. The analysis follows Pangle’s
lead by showing that Hamilton’s classical sense of nobility
elevates even while contradicting his liberalism (1988, 44–
46, 117–119). But it also builds on McWilliams’s argument
that that “second voice” is muted but deeply rooted even
in the thought of such eminent liberals as Hamilton by
tracing his love of liberty to his philanthropy (1973, 173,
185–193). Hamilton’s conception of human nature, then,
is vital to his political thought on two problematically related grounds. His concept of liberty defines his thought;
but his sense of nobility and philanthropy infuses his love
of liberty. That complexity informs Hamilton’s devotion
to liberty and strengthens the founding. But can liberty,
nobility, philanthropy, and power long harmonize in a
polity dedicated to the pursuit of one’s own happiness?3
Liberty, Nobility, Philanthropy,
and Power in Federalist No. 1
Hamilton’s opening argument for the Constitution characterizes his thought. He also raises rhetorical points that
seem uncharacteristic but reveal his assumptions. It is thus
a point of departure for uncovering the relation between
liberty, nobility, philanthropy, and power that is developed in the context of his overall writings.
Hamilton begins by reminding Americans that they
are called upon to deliberate on a new Constitution. Writing as Publius, he invokes a founder of the Roman Republic and thereby defends the Constitution in the spirit
of classical republicanism. The Constitution establishes
a free republic. But Hamilton does not mention republican government in his opening statement. Rather, he
raises the self-evidently important consideration that the
Union, the safety and welfare of its parts, and the fate of
an empire in many respects the most interesting in the
world, all require that Americans adopt this constitution
(1961, 33). The republican states that form the parts of
the Union are not depicted in classical terms but in liberal terms: the republic does not make manifest political
participation, civic virtue, and noble action as common
goods and human ends; but it is an artificial means of or3
Such recent Hamilton scholars as Walling stress his liberalism but
also follow the trend toward diverse influences while stressing pragmatic considerations. His view that Hamilton rises above ideology
by synthesizing diverse ideas into eclectic theories to solve problems
obscures Hamilton’s defining principles and tensions (1999, 4–8).
Read warns that fitting the founders “into prefabricated categories
like . . .‘republican’ and ‘liberal’ overlooks the degree to which the
power of government . . . had to be addressed on its own terms.”
But he neglects Hamilton’s treatment of the link between liberty,
power, and human nature (2000, 2–3, 55–87).
ganizing power to secure the natural rights to life, liberty,
and property of individuals throughout the land.4 Indeed,
Hamilton’s claim that the Republic must be an empire flagrantly contradicts the classical maxim that free republics
must be small and thereby heralds his revolutionary plan
to secure liberty by constructing a republican government
unprecedented in its great size, population, and complexity. It thus goes without saying that it is first and foremost its revolutionary conception of liberty as announced
in the Declaration of Independence and then secondarily its republican constitution that will distinguish the
American empire from all others.5
On this basis, Hamilton, as Publius, invokes the frequently made remark “that it seems to have been reserved
to the people of this country . . . to decide . . . whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good
government from reflection and choice, or . . .destined to
depend . . . on accident and force.” He adds: “If there be
any truth in the remark . . . a wrong election . . . may, in
this view, deserve to be considered as the general misfortune of mankind.” “This idea,” he stresses, “will add
the inducements of philanthropy to those of patriotism
to heighten the solicitude which all considerate and good
men must feel for the event.”
Publius does not offer that remark in his own name,
but suggests its appeal to many “considerate and good
men.” Associating “all considerate and good men” with
“good government” harmonizes the classical, Christian,
and liberal sentiments of the day. The appeal to “good government” culminates in an appeal to patriotism, implies
concern with republican government as well as liberty,
and thereby heightens Publius’s evocation of classical republicanism. Associating the destiny of America with the
misfortune or benefit of mankind, in turn, depends on
the philanthropy of “good men,” evokes providence—an
appeal made explicit by Jay in Federalist 2—as that which
reserved their opportunity to establish a model of good
government, and thus evokes the Christian representation of America as “a city upon a hill.” Publius clearly
4
Cf. Madison’s report of Hamilton’s view on states rights at the
Convention: “But as the states are a collection of individual men
which ought we to respect most, the rights of the people composing them, or the artificial beings resulting from the composition.
Nothing could be more preposterous or absurd than to sacrifice
the former to the latter . . . it is a contest for power, not for liberty”
(1966, 215).
5
For helpful analyses of the Declaration’s Lockean status see,
Zuckert (1996) and Sheldon (1991, chapter 3). Zuckert shows that
the Declaration is open on form of government but Jefferson concludes that legitimate government entails a liberal republic (206,
239), whereas Sheldon’s view that Jefferson incorporates classical
republicanism (chapters 4–6) reflects tensions in liberalism developed below.
63
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
echoes the Declaration’s final appeal to a “firm reliance
on . . . divine Providence” and all its authority as based on
the “harmonizing sentiments of the day” while also firmly
resting on the self-evident natural rights that legitimate
consent. Hamilton thus avoids identifying good government and good men with either classical republicanism
or Christianity; but identifying them with “reflection and
choice” harmonizes those sentiments with the principle
that government rests on the consent of the governed.6
Liberal republican government may be the best or the
only reliable means of perpetuating the consent of the governed, who must now be relied on to know and defend
their rights, and can now decide that issue in America.
All other governments, including those based on classical republican or Christian virtue, fail that decisive test
because, by depending on accident and force, they either
fail to grasp, cannot secure, or violate the right to liberty.
Hamilton evokes the classical and Providential auras that
seem to many “good men” to surround the founding, but
he enlists their patriotism and philanthropy in the service
of a novus ordo seclorum. The Constitution is perhaps a
singular opportunity to establish a viable liberal republic
in America, and thereby to vindicate Paine’s proclamation
in Common Sense that, as the American People: “We have
it in our power to begin the world over again” (1953, 51).7
Hamilton accentuates the patriotic and philanthropic
spirit of the founding. But he also suggests its conditional
quality and stresses not simply its truth but its usefulness.
The conditions for an American Republic were and would
remain influenced by accident and force. Among other
things, national circumstances as well as shared principles
dictate that government in America must be republican,
and the people’s “republican genius,” like their “commercial genius,” presents obstacles to as well as opportunities
for a federal government. In the near term, both of them
tend to fortify local interests and state powers. Patriotism
6
Publius makes few appeals to religion. But Hamilton’s allusion to
providence adumbrates Madison’s remark, in FP 37, on the Convention’s overcoming of obstacles: “It is impossible for the man
of pious reflection not to perceive in it a finger of that Almighty
hand which has been so frequently and signally extended to our
relief in the critical stages of the revolution.” Novak misinterprets
Hamilton’s reference to “reflection and choice” as Christian natural
law theory and neglects providence and philanthropy (2002, 86).
Publius mentions philanthropy only once. On the Declaration’s harmonizing sentiments, see Jefferson’s letter to Henry Lee of May 8,
1826. On how American Christians became “liberalized,” see Pangle
(1988, 21–24) and Zuckert (1996, Chapter 6). Pangle stresses the
tensions between liberalism and Christianity while Zuckert stresses
their practical convergence, but both neglect their deep affinity developed below.
7
McWilliams exposes the rejection of Christianity implied by
Paine’s rebuttal of the “doctrine of reconciliation” (1987; 1984, 22–
24). Nathaniel Niles’s “Discourse on Liberty” of 1774 offers a good
point of contrast to “liberalized” Christianity.
or philanthropy cannot solve those problems insofar as
the people’s republican principles and local interests divide them and they deliberate and choose on the basis of
their security and welfare. Patriotism and philanthropy
can, however, be effective if paradoxically brought to support a new kind of republican government that is based
on self-interest.
In this vein, Hamilton advances an idea that is characteristic of his thought: “Happy will it be if our choice
should be directed by a judicious estimate of our true interests, unperplexed and unbiased by considerations not
connected with the public good. But this is a thing more
ardently to be wished than seriously to be expected.” The
distinction between wishful thinking and serious expectation clarifies the problem of relying on “true interests”
and Hamilton’s expectations for the founding.
At first sight, “true interests” combine philanthropy
with patriotism and dedicate individuals to a “public
good” greater than the sum of its parts. But the parts form
a tension-filled descending order leading back to selfinterest. A philanthropist, Hamilton suggests, wishes well
for America because America’s success benefits mankind.
But he stresses the happiness that Americans will gain if
they can realize their own true interests. Philanthropy thus
serves patriotism, and true citizens are interested in serving the public good; citizens ask not what their country can
do for them but what they can do for their country. Patriotism is far from universal because patriots advance the interests of their country even at the expense of others. In the
special case of America, philanthropy may be added to patriotism. True patriots, Hamilton implies, may be wished
for but not seriously expected because most Americans
cannot realize their true interests. At first sight, circumstances are to blame insofar as the narrow interests of the
people in the states obstruct the public good. Thus, given
the limitations of patriotism, Hamilton seems to fall back
on the hope that most Americans will act prudently in
their self-interest or, as Tocqueville put it, on “self-interest
rightly understood.” But Hamilton expects no such luck.
Hamilton sees America’s circumstances as consequences of basic causes that are rooted in human nature
and require a radical lowering of political expectations:
So numerous indeed and so powerful are the
causes which serve to give a false bias to the judgment, that we, upon many occasions, see wise and
good men on the wrong as well as on the right side
of questions of the first magnitude to society. (34)
Hamilton indicates that “wise and good men” are leaders who decide the most basic and far-reaching political
issues. They are the excellent expression of “considerate
64
and good men” and may exemplify patriotism or philanthropy. But he does not mean simply that “wise and good
men” make mistakes. Falsely biased judgment makes even
them believe that their intentions are good and policies
are just even if they are serving such unworthy motivations as “ambition, avarice, personal animosity, and party
opposition.” The causes of false bias are so numerous and
so powerful that even “wise and good men” often cannot
be trusted no matter what side of a dispute they are on.
Indeed, such “wise and good men” can be most dangerous because they prosecute their ambitions in the name
of the public good. Hamilton thus duly attends to these
circumstances to “furnish a lesson of moderation to those
who are ever so thoroughly persuaded of their being on
the right side in any controversy” (34).
Hamilton’s rhetoric adds philanthropy to patriotism
while soberly warning against basing political expectations on such dubious motivations. In effect, he brings
philanthropy and patriotism to the support of lower but
more secure motivations and expectations. Hamilton is
not hoping for the best but expecting the worst; he is viewing and dealing with the high in the light of the low.8 He
opposes the classical republican and Christian attempts
to reform human beings in the light of the “best regime”
or divine command, that is, in terms of how they “ought”
to act, because that does more harm than good. Serious
politicians must know and accept human beings for what
they are and establish government on those terms for the
public good.
Hamilton prepares Americans to deliberate in terms
of his new sober political science, and thus to adopt the
Constitution on the basis of their predictable interests.
But he does not reduce the high to the low. He concludes
by stressing to Americans that adopting the Constitution
“is the safest course for your liberty, your dignity, and your
happiness” (36). Liberty, as Locke shows, can be a means
to one’s own life and property, but dignity entails a sense of
one’s worth in relation to some greater good and the good
opinion of others. How is dignity related to liberty and
happiness? Is Hamilton implying that the Constitution is
a condition of dignity, which, in turn, is a condition of
liberty and happiness? Is republican government an end
after all?
Hamilton appeals to and defines first principles sparingly in the Federalist. His reticence and circumspection
accentuate the general agreement with such basic principles as liberty, dignity, security and welfare, and repub8
Richard links Publius to classical republicanism on the false
premise that both entail “the idealistic yearning to rid society of divergent interests and the practical need to balance interests. . . . Like
most ancient and modern philosophers, Hamilton combined the
hope for virtue with recognition of its scarcity” (1994, 148).
MICHAEL J. ROSANO
lican government, and focus attention on his practical
resolution of the paradoxical relation between those principles and a powerful federal government or republican
empire:
An enlightened zeal for the energy and efficiency
of government will be stigmatized as the offspring
of a temper fond of despotic power and hostile to
the principles of liberty. An over-scrupulous jealousy of danger to the rights of the people . . . will
be represented as mere pretense and artifice, the
stale bait for popularity at the expense of the public good. It will be forgotten . . . that jealousy is the
usual concomitant of violent love, and that the noble enthusiasm of liberty is too apt to be infected
with a spirit of narrow and illiberal distrust. (35)
Hamilton’s point entails the liberal paradox that the tension between liberty and power requires powerful government to defend liberty. His assumptions are telling.
He makes his first mention of republican government
by warning that history teaches that “those men who
have overturned the liberties of republics” begin as demagogues and end up as tyrants. The misfortunes of classical
republics directly result from the conception that liberty
entails the exercising of political power. Properly understood, the “noble enthusiasm of liberty” tends to limit not
liberate political power, and it promotes a “narrow and
illiberal distrust” of government because it entails a jealous claim of rights against government. Anti-Federalists
share this conception of liberty, but their zeal, jealousy,
or narrow-mindedness blinds them to the necessity and
the possibility of a republican empire. Their “illiberal distrust” is deepened by the outmoded and dangerous conviction that only a small homogeneous community united
by religion and civic virtue can ensure republican government, and only a participatory republic can secure liberty.
Anti-Federalists may blur the distinction between liberty
and civil rights and classical or Christian misconceptions
about republican liberty and the common good.9 Hamilton consistently advances the Constitution as the “safest
course” or a most effective means to secure the private
liberty, dignity, and happiness of Americans throughout
the land.
Yet in a specific sense, Hamilton also may fuse liberalism with classicism by depicting the love of liberty as
9
Storing’s (1981) broadly correct argument that Federalists and
Anti-Federalists agree on Lockean principles but disagree on the
means to a republic is corrected by McWilliams’s (1987) case for
Christian and classical tendencies among Anti-Federalists. Kramnick depicts convergence but blurs such distinctions as liberty versus
“political liberty” (1990, 266–277).
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
“noble.” Nobility is a political standard that is in itself good
and just, warrants devotion and sacrifice to one’s polity
or cause, and decides one’s dignity. The noble love of the
principle of liberty draws Americans away from private
interests and devotes them to the republic that stands for
liberty and justice for all. Liberty, ordinarily a means to life
and happiness, is paradoxically transformed into a noble
principle, a just cause, and a country worth dying for. But
this transformation implies that noble deeds should be
loved for their own sake, and thus that devotion to liberty
is a mark of nobility. The dignity of being American is a
great common good. Hamilton avoids that paradox because, as an American patriot, he takes it for granted that
the love of liberty is noble. The Declaration’s concluding
“pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor,” and Patrick Henry’s legendary cry “give me
liberty or give me death” attest to that noble sentiment.
It may be that Hamilton regards the love of liberty
as noble and not republican government. But republican
government reflects the torch of liberty insofar as it is
a most effective means or even a necessary condition of
securing liberty and the public good. The Constitution
embodies and perpetuates the deliberation and choice of
the people. Political deliberation and choice secures and
expresses liberty. Participation in republican government
is an ordinary condition of acting nobly in the service of
liberty. The love of liberty thus points toward Aristotle’s
axiom that the polity exists not for the sake of mere life but
the good life and noble actions distinguish citizens (Politics 3:9). But Hamilton’s conception of liberty as a private
right precludes the conclusion that political participation
in the common good is a great human good, and with
good reason. His observation that the ruinous politics of
classical republics reflects problematic political principles
is partly supported by Aristotle himself. The apex of civic
virtue—a greatness of soul and pride in one’s excellence
exhibited by magnanimous and noble deeds toward one’s
polity—anticipates monarchy or tyranny and points toward imperialism and civil war (Ethics 1122a–1125b; Politics 1277a:23, 1283b–1284a). But Hamilton’s paradoxical
love of liberty, as the following analysis of fame shows,
may alleviate while radicalizing that problem by hitching
the noble and republican government to the rising star of
private rights or liberated individualism.10
10
Epstein’s helpful reading of FP 1 misses the force of self-interest,
the noble, and the reservations about republicanism (1984, 22–26).
Pangle defines the tensions between Publius’ liberalism and classical nobility but blurs the issue and asks, “in precisely what sense
is republican government noble” (1988, 117–119)? He notes elsewhere that Hamilton, at the Convention, “acknowledged himself
not to think favorably of republican government” because he is
“as zealous an advocate for liberty as any man whatsoever” (1992,
65
Hamilton’s appeal to philanthropy in support of his
appeal to patriotism, in turn, suggests a deep if highly specific and problematic affinity between Christian charity
and his love of liberty. The love of liberty in America is
noble because liberty is a great good that unites Americans in a common cause that defines justice and the public
good. Paradoxically, noble deeds are loved for their own
sake because they serve the country; that is, it is somehow
good to sacrifice nobly for the greater good. But American patriotism is based on the principle that liberty is a
great good for all human beings; the cause of liberty in
America ultimately aims at the benefit of mankind. The
noble love of liberty thus entails a universal philanthropy
that is a root cause of American patriotism. Hamilton may
not speak in terms of philanthropy in his own name here,
but the issue is whether his love of liberty depends on
philanthropy even as his political science uses lower motivations to secure liberty. Consider his proclamation, in
“Publius Letter” III of 1778, that he regards a member of
congress as the founder of an empire who should rejoice
because “fortune had . . . placed him in circumstances so
favourable for promoting human happiness . . . . [and] to
do good to mankind” (I:580). And his concluding rebuttal
of detractors of the Constitution in Federalist 36: “Happy
will it be for ourselves, and most honorable for human
nature, if we have wisdom and virtue enough to set so
glorious an example to mankind!”11 That spirit of liberal
republicanism is exemplified by Paine’s call to arms in
Common Sense: “O ye that love mankind! . . .Freedom has
been hunted round the globe. O! receive the fugitive, and
prepare in time an asylum for mankind” (34). This is the
inducement “to form the noblest, purest constitution on
the face of the earth” (51).
The Declaration’s harmonizing appeals to the “Laws
of Nature and of Nature’s God” and that “all men are
created equal,” and “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights” that patriots pledge their “sacred
Honor” to defend stresses the issue of whether that boldly
secular philanthropy can be anything other than a vestige
96). These issues reflect Hamilton’s own complex commitment to
a high-toned government that is nonetheless republican in form
and might save republicanism from being “lost among ourselves,
disgraced, & lost to mankind forever” (Farrand 1937, 1:424, 288).
Banning’s argument that Madison “was as consistently Lockean as
any of the Founding Fathers,” and yet his concept of republican
government was “blended” with the “neoclassical” idea that the
“people’s rule” is to be valued for its own sake on par with private
rights is problematic in the light of Hamilton’s liberalism and Madison’s attenuation of republicanism, as in FP 10, to secure rights; he
reformulates Madison’s “republican remedy” into “a truly democratic remedy for democratic ills” (1995, 210–218).
11
In a warning to Lafayette about the French Revolution, Hamilton
avows that he is a “friend to mankind and to liberty” whose “wishes
for . . . the cause of liberty are incessant” (V:425).
66
of Christian charity. After all, the spirit of sacrificial devotion to the benefit of others is not obviously based on
the Declaration’s “self-evident” truths or liberal assumptions. Locke himself may speak of the public good and
the good of mankind, but he makes it clear that they are
a means to one’s own equal rights and that equality rests
on the equal need and rational capacity to secure one’s
rights (Second Treatise; Chapter 2). But that philanthropy
clearly reflects the sacrificial devotion to universal equality, justice, peace, and charity that is a hallmark of biblical
teaching (Isaiah 11, 42, 49; Matthew 5; 2 Corinthians 3, 8).
To be sure, the Declaration’s “Laws” herald its revolutionary liberalism as opposed to a homogenized Christianity,
and the letter of the “Laws” is deeply incompatible with
biblical teaching. But the love of liberty and mankind that
infuses the “Laws” may be even more deeply rooted in the
legacy and spirit of Christian charity.12
Finally, despite his sober view of human nature,
Hamilton cannot but identify with and rely on patriotic
and philanthropic Americans. In this perspective, selfinterest, patriotism, and philanthropy form a tensionfilled, increasingly tenuous and restricted while also vital
ascending order that constitutes the spirit of his liberal
republicanism.13 That spirit may be the first wave in the
attack and last line of defense in Hamilton’s plan to establish a liberal republican empire. It must reconcile the tensions between liberty, nobility, philanthropy, and power,
and act as the overarching inducement for Americans to
rise above themselves in order to show that “societies of
men can establish good government from reflection and
choice.”
12
Zuckert defines the problem of viewing the Declaration’s apparent
theology as a legacy of Christianity (1996, 126–132). Pangle blurs
the line between classicism and Christianity (1988, 72–73), despite
stating elsewhere that “belief in the sanctity of human beings as
such would seem to be a legacy of the biblical . . . tradition rather
than the classical one” (1992, 97–98). Strauss states that faith in
the sacred cause of freedom and equality reflects the early modern
view of science as “active and charitable” (1964, 3–5). McWilliams
develops Strauss’s view of Christianity’s importance to the dignity
of American thought but stresses its ability to “shame and check the
darker impulses of ruling doctrine” and neglects charity (1998, 4).
13
Cf. Tocqueville: “After the general idea of virtue I know of none
more beautiful than that of rights, or rather these two ideas are intermingled.” But he also stresses its utilitarian side: “In America, the
man of the people has conceived a lofty idea of political rights because he has political rights; so that his own are not violated, he does
not attack those of others” (2000, 227–228). In general, he shows
that rights can promote either “self-interest rightly understood”
or narrow individualism and majority tyranny, and Christianity
and civic activity can foster philanthropy and patriotism but give
way to materialism. Manzer captures the middle ground of Publius’
method of attaching the people to the Constitution and promoting self-interest rightly understood but he misses the descent to
low self-interest and the ascent to the noble love of liberty (2001,
513–516).
MICHAEL J. ROSANO
Liberty and Power in Hamilton’s
Liberal Conception of Human Nature
It is now necessary to articulate Hamilton’s radically liberal conception of human nature and show its predominate relation to his overall political thought in order to
clarify his attempt to harness the conflicting forces of selfinterest, nobility, philanthropy, and power in the service
of liberty and republican government.
Hamilton maintains that political science rests on
knowledge of human nature, and thus “the most useful of
all sciences is the science of human nature” (“Vindication”
1, XI:463). The basic features of human nature define the
ends, possibilities, and limitations of government. Thus,
in the “Defence of the Funding System,” he avers:
. . . the difference between the true politician
and the political-empyric is this: the latter
will . . . attempt to travel out of human nature
and introduce institutions and projects for which
man is not fitted. . . . The true politician . . . takes
human nature (and human society its aggregate) as he finds it, a compound of good and ill
qualities. . . . With this view of human nature he
will not attempt to warp or distort it from its natural direction. . . . (XIX:59)
The distinction between a “true politician” and a
“political-empiric” parallels the one between “serious
expectations” and “wishful thinking” in Federalist 1. A
political-empiric is a “wise and good” politician who, lacking knowledge of human nature, is ignorant of the ends,
possibilities, and limits of politics. Whatever their intentions, falsely biased politicians, misled by their imaginations, create conflict, oppression, and misery. Hamilton’s
“true politician,” in the vein if not the spirit of Machiavelli,
avoids the classical and Christian politics of “imaginary
republics” by using political science as an “effectual truth”
(The Prince, chapter 15; FP 6:59). That sobriety also distinguishes “true politicians” from the utopian revolutionaries of the French Revolution (V: 425).
Hamilton’s early polemics, the “Full Vindication” and
the “Farmer Refuted,” are a good place to begin clarifying
his conception of human nature and its relation to his political thought. First and foremost, he adheres to the principles of natural right as advanced by Locke and Hobbes.
In the “Full Vindication” he regards “natural rights” as
the basis of legitimate government and the crux of the
dispute between Great Britain and the American colonies.
Thus he intones, “. . .whence arises that violent antipathy
they seem to entertain, not only to the natural rights of
mankind; but to common sense. . . .” And adds: “That they
67
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
are enemies to the natural rights of mankind is manifest,
because they wish to see one part of their species enslaved
to another.” And affirms that “. . .the whole world knows
it [the dispute] is built upon this interesting question,
whether the inhabitants of Great Britain have a right to
dispose of the lives and property of the inhabitants of
America or not” (I:46).
Hamilton’s query as to whether or not Americans
should stop trading with other British colonists even if it
does harm, goes right to liberalism’s bottom line:
Humanity does not require us to sacrifice our security and welfare to the convenience, or advantage of others. Self preservation is the first principle of our nature. When our lives and properties
are at stake, it would be foolish and unnatural
to refrain from such measures as might preserve
them, because they would be detrimental to others. (I:51)
Human nature’s “first principle” is self-preservation and
this entails property. Reason confirms that individuals are
entitled to secure themselves even at the expense of others; indeed, not to do so is “foolish and unnatural.” Freedom secures life and property, and “that Americans are
entitled to freedom is incontestable upon every rational
principle.” In sum, “all men have one common original:
they participate in one common nature, and consequently
have one common right. No reason can be assigned why
one man should exercise any power, or pre-eminence over
his fellow creatures more than another unless they have
voluntary vested him with it” (I:47, 51). Hamilton virtually recites verses 4–20 of chapter 2, “Of the State of
Nature,” of Locke’s Second Treatise.
Hamilton complicates his position by speaking in
terms of humanity, duty, the public good, and Christian
morality. For example, he states that “it is indeed a dictate
of humanity to contribute to the support of our fellow
creatures,” but he carefully adds, “and more especially
those who are allied to us by ties of blood, interest, and
mutual protection” (I:51). That dictate strengthens in relation to one’s own good. Humanity, duty, and charity are
weighed against comfortable preservation.
The Reverend Samuel Seabury, a Tory writing as the
“Farmer,” denounces Hamilton before the pious farmers of New York: “I wish you had explicitly declared to
the public your ideas of the natural rights of mankind”;
Seabury avers: “Man in a State of Nature may be considered perfectly free from all restraints of law and government” (1930, 109). He accuses Hamilton of following Hobbes. But Hamilton, in “Farmer Refuted,” defends
himself by making Seabury appear as a closet Hobbesian.
“There is so strange a similitude between your political principles and those maintained by Mr. Hobbes,”
states Hamilton, “that, in judging from them, a person
might easily mistake you for a disciple of his. His opinion was exactly coincident with yours, relative to man
in the state of nature.” Hamilton then rejects Hobbes
by affirming that “the sacred rights of mankind . . . are
written, as with a sun beam, in the whole volume of
human nature, by the hand of divinity itself,” and are
available, even in the state of nature, to every reasonable
individual (I:56).
Hamilton, in both tracts, may be earnestly fusing his
Christian upbringing with his liberalism or softening his
liberalism with religious rhetoric. But, in the light of his
explicit Lockean principles and carefully drawn political
conclusions, it is telling that, in the “Full Vindication,” he
strips away Locke’s religious rhetoric and overlooks the
tension with his own religious rhetoric. The Farmer taught
Hamilton a lesson in prudent speech. He thus infuses his
liberal principles in the “Farmer Refuted” with religious
rhetoric. Nonetheless, these polemics display the deep tensions in Federalist 1. Hamilton rejects Hobbes in favor
of Locke’s higher-toned depiction of the state of nature
and confidence in limited popular government as against
absolute monarchy, but he follows Locke on points that
imply that Hobbes’s doctrine is correct over and against
classical and Christian dogma. Hamilton’s liberal republican position that life, liberty, and property are insecure
“while we have no part in making laws” shows that securing natural rights, not civic virtue or charity, “is the primary end of society.” But his devotion to the “sacred rights
of mankind” implies nobility and philanthropy. “There is
a certain enthusiasm in liberty,” he insists, “that makes human nature rise above itself, in acts of bravery and heroism” (I:156–157). Those traits, instilled by his Christian
and classic education, reflect his character as well as his
assumptions.14
14
Adair suggests that Hamilton arrives at college in 1773 “conventionally religious” but without “any great depth or intensity of
religious feeling” and quickly adopts liberalism (1974, 145–148).
But McDonald points out that Hamilton’s boyhood mentor, the
Reverend Knox, “whose influence upon Hamilton . . . was considerable, especially in focusing and reinforcing his moral
sense . . . inspired Hamilton with a religious piety that lasted some
time . . . and taught him to abhor slavery” (1979, 10). His late
religious revival supports that point, even if his “proposal of a
‘Christian constitutional Society’ would have put Christ to work
for the Constitution” (Rossiter 1964, 124). Brookhiser misses the
transition, the rhetoric, and the tensions but also supports that point
(1999, 169; cf. Walling 1999, 13, 25). Novak exaggerates Hamilton’s
Christianity and uses his criticism of Hobbes as evidence that “when
some founders use such terms as . . . “natural rights of mankind,”
they are not using them in the same way Hobbes and Locke did”
(2002, 36, 132). Sheldon offers a good point of comparison by
68
MICHAEL J. ROSANO
Reason vindicates rights, but the way in which human
beings tend to secure them displays the requirements of
good government. Hamilton believes that the best policy expects the worst. He applies the maxim, advanced
by Hume but established by other “political writers,” that
“in constructing any system of government . . . every man
ought to be supposed a knave: and have no other end in
all his actions but private interest.” Hume regards that as
a “just” “political maxim,” but he admits it is strange that
a maxim should be true in politics which is false in fact.
Yet Hume does not say to what extent that maxim in fact
is false. He does say that private men are “generally more
honest” than public men, but again, he does not say by
how much, and honesty is a policy, not a virtue (I:236).
How does Hamilton regard that maxim? “A vast majority
of mankind is intensely biased by motives of self interest,” he avers: “Most men are glad to remove burthens off
themselves, and place them upon the necks of their neighbours” (I:53). Human nature is “a compound of good and
ill qualities,” but even most “honest” private men would
harm their neighbors to help themselves, and behave as
knaves when left to their own devices. “Everyman” must
be supposed a knave because the few may be unrecognizable and government reflects the many. That maxim is
more than a practical rule—it is a view of human nature
on which Hamilton builds his political thought.15 Thus,
he announces to the Convention:
Take mankind in general, they are vicious . . . Take
mankind as they are, and what are they governed by? Their passions. There may be in every government a few choice spirits, who may
act from more worthy motives. One great error
arguing that Madison’s Calvinist assumptions ground his liberalism
but he overstates their compatibility (2001, chapters 1–3). Elkins
and McKitrick bias diversity by stressing that Hamilton, in “Farmer
Refuted,” “covers virtually the entire ideological range within which
the Americans were to justify in a theoretical way what they would
shortly do.” And “takes what he needs from Locke” (1993, 96–97).
Appleby discounts theory in the “social origins” of revolutionary ideology; e.g., she notes declamations against slavery by James
Otis in “The Rights of British Colonies Asserted and Proved” and
Hamilton in the “Full Vindication” without linking them to Locke,
despite citing Otis as Otis is citing Locke’s Introduction to the First
Treatise (1992, 156–158).
15
Scholars regard this as merely a useful judgment because they underestimate how central and radical his liberal concept of human
nature is (e.g., Walling 1999, 13, 28, 74; Wills 1981, chapter 22).
Because Hamilton stresses liberal principles in his early tracts but
sparingly thereafter, scholars argue that he rejects liberalism for a
conservative stance informed by such philosophers as Hume (McDonald 1979, 31, 97; Wills). Owens shows that Hamilton remains
liberal but stresses arguments that build a liberal republic (1986,
331–351). On the agreement between Hume or the Scottish Enlightenment and Locke, see Pangle, 1988, 37, 68–72; Rahe, 1992,
530–54, n. 39, 1084, and bk. 3; and Zuckert, 1996, 15–25.
is that we suppose mankind more honest than
they are. Our prevailing passions are ambition
and interest; it will ever be the duty of a wise
government to avail itself of these passions, in
order to make them subservient to the public
good. . . . (IV:216)
This statement highlights features of Hamilton’s conception of human nature. Following Hobbes, Locke, and
Hume, he sees passion as the governing characteristic of
human nature taken as a whole. Passion thus governs reason as the instrument of particular passions. Passions,
by and large, are intensely self-centered and prompt the
narrow, dishonest, or vicious pursuit of interest and ambition.16 Thus, Hamilton queries in Federalist 15: “Why has
government been instituted at all? Because the passions
of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice without constraint” (110; Leviathan VI, XIII; Second
Treatise, III; A Treatise of Human Nature, bk., II, sect. V).
By speaking of prevailing passions, he implies Hobbes’s
view that there is no natural rational order among the
passions. The psyche is a compound of conflicting passions and some commonly or precipitously overpower
others. In “The Report on Public Credit,” Hamilton thus
depicts humans as “subject to particular impulses, passions, prejudices, vices; and of course to inconstancy of
views and mutability of conduct” (XVII:94). Political conflict reflects the conflicted soul (Leviathan, VI, VIII, XI,
XIII).
Hamilton refers to a wide range of typical passions,
but the one most often associated with ambition and interest is the “love of power.” “Men love power,” he declares
to the Convention (IV:189). What does he mean by the
love of power? A helpful passage is found in Federalist 6,
where he discusses the “innumerable” causes of hostility.
Some causes of hostility generally and almost constantly
affect societies: “Of this description are the love of power
or the desire of pre-eminence and dominion—the jealousy of power, or the desire of equality and safety” (54).
The love of power is ubiquitous, but it is not a unitary
passion; it is composed of two more basic and concrete
passions: preeminence and dominion. Dominion is the
desire to acquire things and control human beings on a
vast scale, and preeminence is the desire to be recognized
by many as exceptional. These passions cause general and
16
Holmes shows the centrality of a complex psychology of the passions to liberal thought as developed by Hobbes, Locke, and Hume
over and against reducing it to a doctrine of rational self-interest,
but he understates the extent to which passions are self-regarding
even as they may appear benevolent or public-spirited, and the utility of reason in directing passion to one’s own good (1995, chapters
1, 2, 3.)
69
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
almost constant hostility because they are gained only at
the expense of others.
Hamilton’s concept of power reflects that of Hobbes.
The causes of hostility are as innumerable and constant
as the desires. Without any natural order, the passions
have no end or limitations aside from the particular force
of discrete desires in specific circumstances. Desire, in
principle, is unlimited and insatiable. The desire to acquire requires power because, as Hobbes shows, power
is the “present means, to acquire some future apparent good.” Because power is needed to secure whatever
one desires, “the perpetual and restless desire of power
after power” appears “in the first place” as a “general
inclination of all mankind.” “A fondness for power is
implanted in most men, and it is natural to abuse it,
when acquired,” Hamilton avers, “perpetual strides are
made after more as long as there is any part withheld”
(I:126). He might have added, “that ceases only in death”
(Leviathan, X, XI).
The love of power and the jealousy of power cause
conflict concomitantly. Jealousy of power entails “the desire of equality and safety.” Hamilton, however, neither
elaborates the tension between the love and jealousy of
power nor explains how jealousy entails desire for equality and safety. Yet his statement in Federalist 1 that “jealousy is the usual concomitant of violent love” suggests
that the jealousy of power is an expression of the love of
power. The perpetual pursuit of power, in principle, pits
one against all. Unequal talents and drives ensure the victory of some over others; still, most will continually strive
for some advantage, even if only in a defensive posture.
“Power controlled or abridged,” Hamilton adds in Federalist 15, “is almost always the rival and enemy of that
power by which it is controlled or abridged.” “Jealousy of
power” is a frustrated “love of power,” and the desire for
security and equality is a defensive posture of dominion
and preeminence.
Human beings, in sum, are passionately selfinterested, and society, as the aggregate of human nature,
in effect, divides into those avidly pursuing preeminence
and dominion and those jealously guarding equality and
security. Hamilton’s position entails the liberal paradox
that unfettered liberty leads to war, but government is
a Leviathan composed of powerful human beings who
must control themselves as well as the governed to secure
the equal rights of all. But that implies the deeper paradox
that the defense of equal rights “is a contest for power, not
for liberty” (n. 4). The Constitution is a liberal republican solution to both of those problems. But can it channel
and check interests and ambition while fostering the noble love of liberty and justice on which it also depends (cf.
Madison, FP 10, 51)?
Liberty and the Popular Politics
of Commercial Republicanism
True politicians must know the range of ambition and
interest. The people’s jealous love of liberty and equality
and the love of power of politicians can obstruct the public good. Many republican politicians compete to placate
the people. The people would often empower only politicians who promise to satisfy their demands. But “the people commonly intend the PUBLIC GOOD” (FP 71:432).
Hamilton seeks to pave the road to the public good with
private goods that combine their interests with their good
intentions. In short, true politicians can beat petty politicians at their own game by raising the stakes as well as the
civic awareness and spirit of the people.
Hamilton believes that grand politics are beyond most
people’s interests and abilities. Most confine themselves to
their locality where, especially in republican America, the
equality of conditions fosters the pursuit of private property and dignity. As long as they feel secure, they gladly
place public burdens in the hands of others. Good government gives the people a vested interest in good governors.
But at the time of the founding, vested local interests and
entrenched state powers, fortified by the people’s “republican genius,” ensured that the several states will conflict
with each other and militate against a federal government.
The Constitution can blunt that spur to war, poverty, and
humiliation, but the people must consent (“The Continentalist” no. 1, II: 651, no. 2, II: 656, no. 3, II: 660; FP
32:197).
Hamilton warns Americans against faction while assuring them that their natural attachments guard against
encroachments on local interests and institutions by a distant federal government.17 In Federalist 17, he observes:
It is a known fact of human nature that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the
distance or diffusiveness of the object. Upon the
same principle, a man is more attached to his family than to his neighborhood, and to his neighborhood than to his community at large, the people of
each state would be more apt to feel a stronger bias
towards their local governments than towards the
government of the union; unless the force of that
principle should be destroyed by a much better
administration of the latter.
17
Banning stresses that Madison sees the “extensive republic” as less
centralized and commercial and more republican than does Hamilton, but discounts Madison’s stress on “the rights of property” and
the “regulation of . . . (economic) interests” as “the principal task
of modern legislation” (FP 10:78–79; 1995, 202–214).
70
MICHAEL J. ROSANO
But he refrains from concluding that this tendency leads
back to self-interest and strives to realize that administration.18 “The government of the Union, like that of each
state, must be able to address itself immediately to the
hopes and fears of individuals; and to attract to its support those passions which have the strongest influence
upon the human heart” (FP 16:116). Americans of all
sections and classes are “absorbed in the pursuit of gain
and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and commerce” (FP 8), and heeding Locke’s call to founders in
book five, paragraph 42, of the Second Treatise, Hamilton employs the political utility of their “commercial genius” (FP 6:106). “Money is, with propriety, considered
as the vital principle of the body politic” (FP 30:18). “All
orders of men look forward with eager expectation and
growing alacrity to this pleasing reward of their toils” (FP
12:91). The federal government must operate as the nation’s economic heart and pump the vital means of prosperity through all its channels. The people will support
the Union in return.
Hamilton knows that an American republic rests
on its principles of patriotism and philanthropy as well
as private interests, and that eviscerated local government and avid commerce, especially when rooted in
unlimited acquisition of the “precious metals, those
darling objects of human avarice and enterprise” (FP
12:91), or the love of money, contradict classical and
Christian civic virtue.19 He also knows that unregulated commercial competition, even in commercial republics, breeds war (FP 6). But before the New York
Ratification Convention, he announces that it is proper
as well as necessary to make new liberal virtues out of
old-fashioned vices:
It is a harsh doctrine, that men grow wicked
in proportion as they improve and enlighten
their minds. Experience has by no means justified us in the supposition, that there is more
virtue in one class of men than another. Look
through the rich and the poor of the community; the learned and the ignorant. Where does
virtue predominate? The difference indeed con18
See Flaumenhaft (1992) on Hamilton devising liberal republican
administration.
19
Aristotle, The Politics, I:8, 9, VII:9; Plato, The Republic 423a; 1
Timothy 3. Kramnick observes “Hamilton was perfectly aware that
his praise of private gratification . . . flew in the face of the older
ideals of civic virtue,” but wrongly assumes that the “Protestant
language of . . . the calling is, of course, complementary to the liberal language of Locke, with its similar . . . individualistic emphasis”
(1990, 265–275; cf. Pangle 1988, chapters 2, 14).
sists not in the quantity but in the kind of
vices, which are incident to the various classes;
and hence the advantage of character belongs
to the wealthy, their vices are probably more
favorable to the prosperity of the state than
those of the indigent; and partake less of moral
depravity. (V:43)
Liberty entails the pursuit of property and dignity,
and thus it can foster and dignify rational economic industry and competition. Love of money is boundless, but the
extended republic can “multiply the means of gratification” and transform the root of evil in materially strained
unstable societies that require the reign of “virtue” into
an engine of immense prosperity. “Good men” can now,
with propriety, consider money as the vital principle of
the body politic and the regulation of property as the principal task of legislation. But not only because property is
a natural right—that right is conditional on overcoming
scarcity, altered in society, regulated by government, and
requires the consent of the people—but because it secures
liberty and the public good (Second Treatise, bk. 5, par.
45–50).
Hamilton knows that consent is the vital principle
behind the body politic. His promotion of commerce
as a basic attachment to a federal government that extends representation and diminishes local representative institutions is a civic education as well as a policy. That education directs people away from politics by
reinforcing the sense that justice entails minding one’s
own business. But it also channels and checks politicians by indicating that the business of politics is business. The people’s love of liberty mitigates their jealousy of power when politicians represent their interests
to stay in power. But is Hamilton’s design to liberate
America’s “commercial genius” deeply compatible with
either the “republican genius” or the noble love of liberty that ultimately guide deliberation and choice to the
public good?20
20
Appleby believes that Locke regards money as a self-regulating
natural force and Hamilton’s regulating of market forces is a misunderstanding of America’s liberal ethos (1992, 58–89, 185–86).
McDonald captures the politics behind Hamilton’s economics but
not its liberalism (1979, 232–43). Elkins and McKitrick see Hume’s
influence on Hamilton behind that of such economists as Adam
Smith but neglect Locke; their view that Madison’s opposition
to Hamilton’s economics stems from his “country” opposition to
Hamilton’s “courtly” vision of national power obscures their disagreement over the means to secure shared liberal principles (1993,
18–29, 107–114). Cf. Banning on Madison’s opposition as based on
his life-long devotion to his revolutionary principles (1995, 34–45,
117–119, 158–164, 293–298).
71
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
Liberty, Power, Fame,
and the Noblest Minds
True politicians must know the full range of ambition,
and they must know themselves. Hamilton’s hopes rest
on resolving the paradox of the “true politician.”
Politicians seek political power and cause the most
dangerous conflicts. Constitutional restraints may control the effects but cannot extinguish the causes of conflict
because they are rooted in human nature (cf. Madison, FP
51). The love of political power intensifies and expands
conflict because the means of gratification cannot be multiplied to satisfy demand. In principle, political ambition
anticipates dominion and preeminence. Distrusting professions of philanthropy and patriotism, Hamilton thus
unmasks the imperialism of the French Republic in “The
Warning” 1:
. . . the specious pretense of enlightening mankind
and reforming their civil institutions, is the varnish on the real design of subjugating them. . . .
Men, well informed and unprejudiced, early
discovered . . . this spirit. Reasoning from human nature they foresaw its growth with success. That from the love of dominion inherent
in the heart of man, the rulers of the most powerful nation in the world, whether a monarch,
a committee of safety, or a directory, will forever aim at undue empire over other nations.
(XX:490)
Hamilton sees the resistance of many leaders of state
and local governments to the Constitution as “a contest
for power, not for liberty” (n. 4). This contest, above and
beyond sectional interests and debatable republican principles, ensures that the disunited states will, sooner or later,
reap the same misfortunes as war-torn Europe. Safety as
well as liberty requires a government that can keep the
peace against contending powers within and without the
gates, and safety is the first principle of human nature.
“Even the ardent love of liberty will give way to its dictates,” and the people may “resort to institutions which
have a tendency to destroy their civil and political rights.
To be more safe, they at length become willing to run the
risk of being less free” (FP 8:67).21 Liberty thus rests on
the ability to persuade the people to put their liberties
in the hands of a relatively few politicians invested with
21
See Walling (1999) on Hamilton making the republican empire
safe and free.
power in an untested republican empire. But why trust
the leaders of an American empire?
The Constitution’s executive office brings this problem to a head. After all, a powerful executive is clearly
necessary to ruling an empire and thus, as Hamilton argues, to running a republican empire. But for those same
reasons, as Hamilton admits, it seems clearly incompatible
with liberty and republican government (FP 70–72). The
danger of concentrating executive powers in the hands of
one person for a long time is stressed as well as addressed
by the Constitution’s structure. The executive is removed
from the people by the electoral college, designed to attract ambitious as well as capable politicians, and to check
and balance them by inciting their ambition (cf. FP 51).22
Why would great politicians serve the people?
Hamilton speaks of the few choice spirits who have
more worthy motivations than ambition or interest. What
are they? While defining presidential powers, he states:
“The best security for the fidelity of mankind is to make
their interest coincide with their duty” (FP 72). Ordinarily, honor prompts public service by requiring politicians
to court the good opinion of others. But honor can be
won in service to a faction and it anticipates preeminence
or the “love of fame.” Can fame prompt public spirit?
“The love of fame,” Hamilton avers, “is the ruling passion
of the noblest minds,” and “would prompt a man to undertake extensive and arduous enterprises for the public
benefit” (437). Even the noblest minds are ruled by a desire for their own good and govern to win fame. But fame
prompts public service because it rests on public opinion
on a grand scale. The love of fame impels politicians to
rise above fad and faction and to labor farsightedly for the
public good in the hope of being celebrated or even venerated by generations yet unborn. The love of fame thus
channels and checks true politicians by forming a coincidence of interests between them and the public good.
Fame is won by founding glorious empires. Thus, young
Hamilton rejoices because “fortune had . . . placed him in
circumstances so favourable for promoting human happiness . . . [and] to do good to mankind” by becoming
“most illustrious” as “the founder of an [American] empire.” When he links the Constitution to the fate of an
American empire and mankind he anticipates the fame
22
Mansfield articulates Hamilton’s design to face necessity while
“republicanizing the executive” by maximizing energy while relying
on character and capacity, but he defuses the tensions by stressing
that the Constitution promotes self-interest rightly understood and
a sense of responsibility that may be called virtue: “Publius recognizes necessity, but does not draw the Machiavellian conclusion”
(1989, 252, 264–274). But do Hamilton’s core liberal principles imply that conclusion?
72
of its founders. But is fame, patriotism, or the benefit of
mankind Hamilton’s defining goal?23
Hamilton’s love of fame clarifies his concept of the
relative natures and ends of “true” and “false” politicians.
A key lies in the love of power. Some politicians live for
preeminence, and others for dominion. “Institutions that
would serve his own purpose,” Hamilton says of Aaron
Burr in a letter to James Ross, “not such as would promise
lasting prosperity or glory to the Country would be his
choice because he cares only for himself and nothing for
his Country or glory”; “he has but one principle, to get
power” (XXV:280). Yet Hamilton does not identify patriotism with fame inasmuch as he blames Burr for lacking principles as well. “Let it be remembered,” he warns
James Bayard, “that Mr. Burr has never appeared solicitous for fame, & that great ambition unchecked by principle, or the love of glory, is an unruly Tyrant” (XXV:323).
Hamilton’s love of fame reflects the principles that vindicate patriotism and philanthropy in America. Fame, as
the ruling passion of the noblest minds, entails “the noble enthusiasm of liberty” and the benefit of mankind.
The “noblest minds,” then, love liberty the most and seek
fame as founders in the service of mankind.
Hamilton maintains that “in all struggles for liberty”
there are two principal types of politicians. The first are
“those who, to a conviction of the real usefulness of civil
liberty, join in a sincere attachment to the public good.”
Paralleling his appeal to Publius, he depicts the guardian
of liberty as “Cato” (V:269). And the second “are turbulent spirits, impatient of all power and superiority which
they do not themselves enjoy.” Lacking a love of fame, conviction of the real usefulness of civil liberty, and sincere
attachment to the public good, such turbulent spirits turn
from demagogues to tyrants. Hamilton, in “The Vindication” no. 1, declares that “Every republic at all times has
its Catalines and Caesars” (XI:463), and Burr is “as true
a Cataline as ever met in a midnight conclave”(XXV:58).
The truly critical political contest, then, is not between
politicians and the people, but between “Cato” and “Caesar.” “It has been aptly observed that Cato was the tory—
Caesar the whig of his day,” warns Hamilton in “The Objection” no. XIV: “The former frequently resisted—the
latter always flattered the follies of the people. Yet the former perished with the republic, the latter destroyed it”
(XII:252). In republics, liberty depends on the capacity of
the people to choose their leaders well. True politicians
know well that demagogues who would be tyrants lurk in
every republic and guard against that danger to the public
good.
23
Adair shows the importance of fame to the founders but he does
not develop the tensions (1974, 3–26; cf. McNamara 1999).
MICHAEL J. ROSANO
Hamilton implies that the mutually reinforcing inducements of love of fame, liberty, and the public good
keep great politicians on track. But his claim that fame is
the ruling passion of the noblest minds both compounds
and brings the tensions in his thought to a head. First of
all, “true politicians” “join in a sincere attachment to the
public good” from “a conviction of the real usefulness of
civil liberty.” Civil liberty and republicanism remain the
useful means to secure natural rights; and yet “sincere attachment” implies that the public good and liberty are
noble and good. But if the love of fame defines the noblest minds, would not clear-sighted politicians sacrifice
all else to winning fame? Can they really believe that sacrificing for the liberty or benefit of others is noble, especially if equal rights boil down to power and self-interest?
Can fame and dominion remain morally distinguishable
in these terms? Machiavelli’s first principle of founders
in chapter 15 of The Prince—dominion and preeminence are necessary and good for oneself—lurks behind
Hamilton’s love of fame and blurs the line between “Cato”
and “Caesar.” Cato chastened the people and fell honorably serving the republic; Caesar flattered them, but
Caesar loved fame, and his rise reduced a republic whose
agony was the birth pang of a grand and glorious empire.24
Who today remembers Cato?
Hamilton does not draw Machiavelli’s conclusion.
But that indicates that his love of fame is subordinate
to his love of liberty, and his love of liberty, in turn, is a
manifestation of his nobility and philanthropy.
Conclusion
America shows that “societies of men can establish good
government from reflection and choice.” But Americans
are also fortunate: the founders are celebrated because
they had the chance to prove their virtue; they were virtuous because they loved liberty and the public good as
well as fame. The Constitution is a republican solution to
complex moral and political problems rooted in human
nature and displayed throughout the history of government. Hamilton rejects classical republican and Christian principles in favor of Machiavelli’s effectual truth,
Hobbes’s concept of power, Lockean liberty, and his own
science of politics. Hamilton’s liberal conception of human nature as passionately self-interested grounds his political science. But Hamilton’s synthesis of alternatives in
modern political thought displays its limits by depending on nobility and philanthropy. Classical and Christian
24
Consider Plutarch on Caesar and Cato (Lives, 885–887).
ALEXANDER HAMILTON’S POLITICAL THOUGHT
virtues thus infuse his conception of human nature and
bolster the Republic. Whether the spirits of liberty, nobility, philanthropy, and power can continue to harmonize
as a chorus of the better angels of our nature is an open
question. Americans have the right to alter their government according to the principles that seem likely to secure
their happiness. But safeguarding the rights of individuals marching to the beat of their own drum requires more
than vigilance. Civic deliberation about the best principles for today in the light of the principles that made
government by the deliberation and choice of the people
possible remains a condition of liberty. Who remembers
Caesar?
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