"They All Do
It."
Even the Founding Fathers?
By Paul Greenberg, editorial page editor of
the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. This article is adapted from his
column, distributed by the Los Angeles Times Syndicate.
Bill Clinton's defenders, tired of digging up skeletons in
Henry Hyde's closet, and Dan Burton's, and trying to get
something juicy on Kenneth Starr, and badmouthing every
Republican in sight, have now started in on Federalists, too.
Yep, not content to badmouth every American president they
possibly can, including Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Dwight
David Eisenhower, Clinton apologists have dug up the Reynolds
affair -- a little-known scandal involving founding father and
first Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton. It's part of
their now familiar They All Do It defense.
The president's legal team has formally informed the House
Judiciary Committee that Col. Hamilton had his dalliance, too,
and Congress found no impeachable offense involved. So why pick
on Bill Clinton?
The president's lawyers felt no need to go into detail, but
somebody should, if only out of respect for the long dead.
Because this argument isn't so much a historical analogy as a
historical desecration.
Here's a difference or two that needs to be pointed out when the
president's legal team tries to equate Alexander Hamilton's case
with Bill Clinton's:
Hamilton's relationship with a certain Mrs. Reynolds was fully
explained at the time -- by Hamilton himself. He did not lie
about it, let alone to the whole nation. He did not have others
repeat his lies. He did not transform Cabinet officers, aides,
secretaries and pretty much the entire top layer of an
administration into a chorus of liars, witting or unwitting. When
confronted, he admitted the affair and so never had to testify
under oath. And there was certainly never any suspicion, let
alone evidence, that he had perjured himself, obstructed justice,
tampered with witnesses or played any other little games with the
law or the trust of the American people.
But, yes, except for those minor details, the story of Col.
Hamilton and Mrs. Reynolds does have some relevance to current
events -- mainly as an example of how Mr. Clinton should have
handled his latest indiscretion and didn't. A full, fair and
detailed account of Alexander Hamilton's affair with the lady --
well, the woman -- appeared in the public prints in 1797, and it
was written by Hamilton.
It seems that a few years earlier, a congressional committee had
been told that the secretary of the Treasury had been speculating
in government debts, and had paid one James Reynolds $1,100 as
part of a scheme to manipulate their value in his favor.
Confronted with the accusation, Hamilton invited three of the
congressmen, including one James Monroe of Virginia, to discuss
the subject in the privacy of his home. They accepted, and
arrived armed with what they had been told was incriminating
evidence. (It had been supplied by two men who had been accused
of embezzling from the Treasury -- and were looking for somebody
else to blame.)
Taking the visitors into his confidence, Hamilton fell back on
the surest defense: truth. Asked to explain his payments to this
Reynolds, the Treasury secretary said he was being blackmailed by
the scoundrel. It seems Hamilton had had an affair two years
before with the alluring Mrs. Reynolds. The unfortunate and
imprudent but always gallant Hamilton had been seduced by the
wife and then blackmailed by the husband, doubtless working as a
team. (Men never learn, do we?)
Oliver Wolcott, the comptroller of the Treasury, also had been
invited that evening to verify that Hamilton had not compromised
his official duties in any way. For Hamilton was surely the least
affluent man ever to hold the office of secretary of the
Treasury. At one point he was reduced to borrowing small sums
from friends while administering multimillion-dollar transactions
for the new government, always with great skill and scrupulous
honesty.
Once his visitors had been told the truth, and realized that no
public funds, let alone public officials and the public trust,
had been involved in the secretary's purely personal folly, they
dropped the matter.
Nothing further was said about the unfortunate affair with Mrs.
Reynolds until an unscrupulous editor (but I repeat myself)
publicized it years later for partisan purposes. Hamilton
responded by publishing a forthright and public account of the
entire affair. Accused by Mr. Reynolds of mishandling public
funds, Hamilton confessed: "My real crime is an amorous
connection with his wife." Hamilton never denied having
"sexual relations with that woman," certainly not under
oath. He would not lie, let alone involve others in his lies.
The truth was told, justice done, and even the Hamiltons'
marriage preserved by the grace of a tender and forgiving wife.
To quote one historian, "It was an amazing performance.
Never in American history has a public man showed greater
candor." Choosing to sacrifice his private life in order to
vindicate his public one, Alexander Hamilton saved both.
If only William Jefferson Clinton had acted with the same candor
and grace as Alexander Hamilton, but that's hard to imagine.
Hamilton was a man of honor.
And now, in the 223rd year of the Republic he founded, fought
for, and sacrificed so much for, it becomes necessary to defend
the name of Alexander Hamilton. Because there is no one living or
dead whose reputation this administration's legion of hacks will
not muddy and whose record they will not distort if they think it
advantageous. These people are shameless. But you already
suspected that, didn't you?