John Marshall was a Federalist politician, before and after he was named Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. This is the key to the 35-year-long duel between Marshall and the Democratic Republicans. The fact that he was a politician doesn’t mean he wasn’t also an excellent jurist; he was. But it is well to remember that, as a good Federalist, and the last one in high places, he had an agenda, all his long life.
Marshall was born in 1755, a dozen years after Jefferson, into a small community on Virginia’s frontier. He served as an officer in a Virginia regiment in the Continental army, then read law at William and Mary and in 1780 was admitted to the Bar and entered politics. From 1782 to 1789 and again from 1795 to 1796, he was an elected member of the Virginia House of Delegates. As a delegate to the Virginia convention, he helped lead the successful fight for ratification of the Constitution.
He was a lawyer and a politician, but apparently not a hungry one. In 1795, George Washington invited him to become Attorney General, and in 1796 offered to make him minister to France, but Marshall declined both proposals. However, in 1797 President John Adams appointed him to a three-member commission to France. There, Marshall and his fellow commissioners were told by three representatives of the French directory government that in order to negotiate, they would first have to pay bribes. They refused, and made the situation public, and Marshall’ returned to the United States with a national reputation. He declined a Supreme Court appointment, won a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives, and, in May, 1799, President Adams named him Secretary of State.
How and why he became the fourth Chief Justice of the Supreme Court will tell you everything you need to know about John Marshall’s bias in his 35-year tenure. When Adams lost the election of 1800, the lame-duck Federalist Congress passed an act allowing outgoing President Adams to name forty-two justices of the peace and sixteen circuit court justices for the District of Columbia, the so-called Midnight Judges. Adams signed their commissions — which were sealed by acting Secretary of State John Marshall! At the same time, Marshall was nominated to replace ailing Chief Justice Oliver Ellsworth, and as confirmed the same month. (He remained as Secretary of State, at Adams’ request, for the remaining few weeks of the president’s term.)
His 30-year tenure on the bench was distinguished and effective, no question. Marshall strove for consensus among the justices, arrived at via thorough and intimate discussion, rather than trying to impose his own views. His influence on learned men of the law is said to have come from his intelligence, his charismatic personality, his ability to bring men’s opinions together. and his ability to base strong legal arguments upon the key facts of a case.
Probably the most important case the Marshall court decided, Marbury v. Madison, came in 1803. In this case, Marshall managed at one and the same time to (a) give Jefferson a technical victory, and (b) declare that the administration had acted unconstitutionally, and (c) establish, by assertion, the notion of judicial review, and (d) provide the administration no ground to challenge the assertion. Quite an achievement, worth looking at.
The case involved the same Midnight Judges whose commissions Marshall had sealed as Secretary of State. (Nonetheless, he did not recuse himself from the case.) William Marbury was one of those whose commission Adams had signed, but which had not been delivered because time ran out on Adams’s term. Jefferson claimed that the commissions were invalid because they had not been delivered by the end of Adams’s term. Marbury asked the Court to compel Secretary of State James Madison to deliver the commissions, because the Judiciary Act of 1789 had granted the Supreme Court original jurisdiction to issue writs of mandamus “…to any courts appointed, or persons holding office, under the authority of the United States.”
Marshall knew that if he were to order the administration to deliver the commissions; Jefferson would ignore him (as did Andrew Jackson, a generation later). Instead, he made the case serve his own purposes. The Court ruled that the commission to Marbury did become effective when signed by President Adams, but that the Judiciary Act of 1789 that had granted the Court original (as opposed to appellate) jurisdiction in such cases was unconstitutional, in that it expand the scope of the Court’s original jurisdiction beyond what is specified in Article III of the Constitution. Therefore, the Court could not constitutionally hear Marbury’s complaint.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain! Thus he asserted the right of judicial review of the acts of the other two branches of the federal government.
After Marbury v. Madison, the three branches of the federal government were no longer equal. Now, the Court could overrule Congress, the President, the states, and all lower courts, strictly on its own say-so. Two centuries on, this idea is so well established that many people are unable to conceive of a Supreme Court without the power to overrule acts of Congress.
Let’s give Thomas Jefferson the last word in this argument. “You seem to consider the judges as the ultimate arbiters of all constitutional questions; a very dangerous doctrine indeed, and one which would place us under the despotism of an oligarchy. Our judges are as honest as other men, and not more so…. Their power [is] the more dangerous as they are in office for life…. The Constitution has erected no such single tribunal, knowing that to whatever hands confided, with the corruptions of time and party, its members would become despots. It has more wisely made all the departments co-equal and co-sovereign within themselves.”
Marshall is universally respected as a great Chief Justice, perhaps the greatest we have had. But that doesn’t mean that when he was named to the Court he was suddenly above politics, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he did not do all he could to counter Jefferson’s policies. In John Marshall, John Adams entrenched Federalist prejudices in the judiciary for 35 years, to that degree thwarting the will of the people as expressed in elections, and creating in the Court a branch of the government asserting that it and it alone was the ultimate arbiter of what was and was not constitutional. It wasn’t a fatal legacy, but it had its dangers.
Saturday April 1, 2006
Dr. Jung, I realize with great joy that I can discuss your books and your works with you, as I have so long wished I could! I just, in Memories, Dreams, Reflections, read your statement how hard it is for most people to live close to the unconscious. Is that what I am doing, or do you mean something different?
Well, you know, one means different things depending on who is reading, and when in his life one reads it! At this time in your life it is open to you in a way that it was not, just a short time ago.
To live in close proximity – on neighborly terms, let us say – to the unconscious is to be very clear, very transparent, to the promptings of the spirit. It means, to not allow the conscious mind – the ego-bound mind – to tyrannize over the entire being, as if only it were the arbiter, the judge, and only its needs were to be considered and fulfilled. The conscious self, unbalanced by knowledge of the unconscious, easily comes to think itself the only thing in the world. You think “autistic” and although this is somewhat extravagant it is not without suggestive value.
To live on good terms with the unconscious is to live in the perpetual awareness of not being the center even of your own world, let alone the other world! And this people fear. Their external life already leaves them feeling insufficient and unnecessary. To add to that the feeling that internally, too, one is only a hanger-on, a bit player rather than the starring role, may be too much to bear.
In reality of course it is not that the conscious self, the ego self, is at all unnecessary. Without the ego self the soul would have no locus! Yet it may appear to the unprepared just that way.
You yourself live much less often on good terms with the surrounding unconscious than you sometimes believe, for often enough you close your access – as is your right – and find yourself isolated, directionless and depressed. This is the inevitable result of cutting oneself off from the mainsprings of one’s being. Yet, other times you do lead a more symbolic, undefined life in connection with you know not what. I would say that you do this working from an instinct that leads you to do much as I did in the tower, reducing the din of your contemporaries as your friend Henry Thoreau also did. This is a good thing to do, if not done in imitation because someone did it but because they sparked you with an idea which itself inspired you. Thus, building fires answers a need in you, and so heating your little house [stoking a wood stove] was a comfort and a quiet joy, rather than work as others would have found it. No TV, no radio except at odd moments, also reduces the distractions of the immediate moment. You must watch your appetite for the internet lest it overpower your central solitude but it does serve as a corrective, for you still need connection. In this, though, you are acting as intermediary rather than consumer, and this too is better. Caesar never read a newspaper – but if they had existed, would have. Napoleon read newspapers and would have listened to radio. Mussolini listened to radio and would have monitored television. It is balance, not any particular detail or prohibition, that is the goal.
Thank you. Assuming that this is not an annoyance to you, I look forward to asking many of the questions I have had, reading your books and re-reading them. Or – anyway – Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
If you pose honest sincere questions, they will be welcomed and answered. For the frivolous and dishonest, the dead have no time, nor for the self-deceiving, the self-flattering, the manipulators of others or the fat-headed logic choppers. Go in peace.
[Some fairly heavy-handed prodding from our friends. However, a dozen years later, the books were written and several of them published, without meeting any particularly phenomenal response. A matter of time? A wrong number? Stay tuned.]
Thursday March 29, 2006
Joseph [Smallwood], a friend says she sees me writing books using this material. Can you tell me if she is seeing anything true, and if so can you assist me to see it?
You have felt that you were breaking new ground. When it’s new ground, naturally you don’t have a real good handle on where you are or what you’re doing. You have had more friends than one prodding you, if you stop to consider.
Surely the outline ought to be simple and obvious. You combine history and psychic access. What’s new about that? That is your life! That’s what you have created. But you won’t to be able to get it out in public unless you stop apologizing for it. With your list, you don’t. In your journal, you don’t. So that is how it has been coming through.
What is it you are doing, anyway? Strolling down memory lane? Setting up to be Shirley MacLaine? Writing things just “of interest” to people? You know that ain’t it and never has been it. You want to change people’s lives not by rearranging their circumstances or even their opinions, but by showing them how to live in a new world. Well, here it is, with examples, and it aims inward and outward so to get them thinking that way too.
Inward, you’re saying what you always say: “You can do this too!” Outward, you’re saying, we can get our inspiration, our guidance, from past situations and past players, some famous some not.
So – Mr. Editorial Writer, Mr. Historian, Mr. Psychic Investigator, Mr. Channeler now, Mr. Reader Of History And Metaphysics And Fiction, Mr. Intuiter, Mr. Living Much In Another World – what do you need that you don’t have?
Thursday March 29, 2006
I awoke thinking about Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address as an act of war against the vindictive policies of the Radical Republicans, sensing that Mr. Lincoln wanted to come in. So I got onto the net, googled “Lincoln Second Inaugural Address” and found it. This is the speech in its entirety, saying more in four paragraphs – four paragraphs! – than any political speech I have heard in my lifetime with the possible exception of John F. Kennedy’s elegant and currently underrated inaugural address, which shared many of this speech’s qualities.
From http://showcase.netins.net/web/creative/lincoln/speeches/inaug2.htm. I don’t know who wrote the introductory comments but I left them in as they were so interesting.
Second Inaugural Address
March 4, 1865
This theologically intense speech has been widely acknowledged as one of the most remarkable documents in American history. The London Spectator said of it, “We cannot read it without a renewed conviction that it is the noblest political document known to history, and should have for the nation and the statesmen he left behind him something of a sacred and almost prophetic character.”
Journalist Noah Brooks, an eyewitness to the speech, said that as Lincoln advanced from his seat, “a roar of applause shook the air, and, again and again repeated, finally died away on the outer fringe of the throng, like a sweeping wave upon the shore. Just at that moment the sun, which had been obscured all day, burst forth in its unclouded meridian splendor, and flooded the spectacle with glory and with light.” Brooks said Lincoln later told him, “Did you notice that sunburst? It made my heart jump.”
According to Brooks, the audience received the speech in “profound silence,” although some passages provoked cheers and applause. “Looking down into the faces of the people, illuminated by the bright rays of the sun, one could see moist eyes and even tearful faces.”
Brooks also observed, “But chiefly memorable in the mind of those who saw that second inauguration must still remain the tall, pathetic, melancholy figure of the man who, then inducted into office in the midst of the glad acclaim of thousands of people, and illumined by the deceptive brilliance of a March sunburst, was already standing in the shadow of death.”
At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention, and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.
On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it—all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war—seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.
One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war; while the government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war, the magnitude, or the duration, which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. “Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!” If we shall suppose that American Slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South, this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a Living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope—fervently do we pray—that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said “the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether.”
With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan–to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.
Mr. Lincoln, would you care to talk a bit about your speech? Its reason, its content? For what reason do you and others awaken me this Thursday morning?
As you have been inferring, this concatenation of people appearing one by one over your past few weeks does have a purpose beyond your own education, although that is as useful as any other thing. Mr. Bowers opened your eyes to at least one aspect of the radical Republicans’ scheme for reconstruction. Joseph Smallwood, before and after that, showed you the soul of a Union man. In general you were given a view of the Civil War as the result of certain causes that are not widely taught in your time, although I should have thought them obvious enough. In all this, the aim has been for you in your time to take renewed aim at our goals; to re-inspire yourselves with old ideals, never yet attained; to find the common ground upon which you can build anew, if you are able to summon the will.
“Where there is no vision, the people perish.” But a common vision can be founded only upon a vision shared, not a vision imposed. And it is this elementary fact that my political adversaries overlooked, or chose to ignore, with disastrous consequences. As you have asked for me to run through the speech, I shall do so briefly, with the sole intent to highlight our reason for waking you up–all of you of good will.
Note, then, the following points:
… “On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it–all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war–seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.”
This was a plain statement of fact. This was the context out of which the war originated. I felt it was important to remind the people that the South had not wanted a war either; that the southern politicians were determined to destroy the Union, but had not intended nor desired the war that developed. At the same time, I was not about to imply that it was the fault of Unionists that the war came. The war came because of fate, let us say, rather than because of the determined ill-will of southern politicians. If you will re-phrase this as I did not say it, you will see the difference in intent and effect. I might have said, instead, something like this:
“On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All Union men dreaded it—all Union men sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it, not caring if the result would be a terrible war that would kill and maim so many, etc. They would make war rather than let the nation survive.”
You see the difference. Many would have agreed with the emotional tone of this second version. Stevens, Chandler, Butler, Sumner – they all would have agreed and said that even this was too weak. For that is how they saw me, as consistently too weak to do what was needed.
To continue. My long summary of the cause of the war was as precise and succinct a statement of cause and effect and the underlying logic of events as I could prepare. I pointed out the physical situation. “One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it.”
I pointed out that slavery was “somehow, the cause of the war.”
I pointed out that the federal government had not committed itself to emancipation, but to the containment of slavery. And I moved on to lead the people to a new vision of the meaning of the war, a meaning beyond politics and one leading away from hatred of individuals or even whole classes or divisions of people. This was the point of saying that neither party expected a result so fundamental and astounding.
In saying that divine providence was working out a plan below, I said nothing but what I fully believed. But at the same time I said it in hope of furthering that plan. It was one thing to say, as I did, that all shared in the guilt of American Slavery. It was another very different thing to say as my Congressional opponents did, in defiance of the plain facts of history, that the guilt of slavery rested on Southerners alone. I knew that this would be the great battlefield, and I was preparing the ground as best I could. But I did not think that my time would be so short, or that the fact of my death could be used against my purposes.
If you read my final words in this light, you will see plainly enough that I was staking out the ground upon which I determined to stand in the difficult process of reconstruction that I saw looming.
“With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan–to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.”
Your time sees those as noble sentiments, perhaps. My time saw them for what they were: fighting words.
Friday March 17, 2005
Okay, let’s talk about organization-intelligences, Katrina. I wouldn’t want us to forget the subject. I have an idea where you are going, of course.
You do – because of course if we share access to your mind, you share access to ours. It is inevitable. The reason it may not appear so is merely your thought-structures (rendering the possibility invisible to you) and your lack of practice in discerning. As you clear away your assumptions – your thought-structures – and as you practice careful discernment, you learn how much more is available to you.
All right, organization-intelligences. When I finish explaining, perhaps we can find a less cumbersome term, for the act of explaining and your act of mental assimilation may suggest a more convenient shortcut – which is what words are, after all.
You know that Plato talked of archetypes; you know that Jung talked of archetypes. (Plato called them ideas; in your time you call them Platonic ideas, and treat them as little more than fancy.) You have not done the thinking that would make these real to you. Or, it is not so much thinking that is required, as seeing from a different set of assumptions.
Absolutely required is that you begin by thinking not that the physical world is primary, but the underlying world. And here at the beginning is a problem, for your minds cast about, asking “what can be more primary than material?” And the word you choose to use immediately and silently colors your further perceptions. If one says “energy” and another says “spirit” they will be seeing different things within seconds, if indeed their choice of words does not indicate a difference they brought into the discussion.
But to minimize the hijacking-by-labels that must occur, let us call the world that underlies physical reality merely, the underlying world. Not the underworld. Not even “the other side” though in some ways that is pretty neutral. Not “other vibrations” for reasons of nuance that I won’t go into. None to these – nor several others that might be retrieved or coined – is wrong; all are incomplete and cannot be otherwise. So – the underlying world.
Now, this non-physical world, without space and time, is nonetheless organized. It is not shapeless for lack of space any more than it is shapeless for lack of time. It organizes around concepts – around ideas – around functioning units. These three things sound very different to you, but they are three ways of partially describing the same reality. Relative to the physical world, the underlying world may be regarded as organizing itself in a sort of dance with the physical. Just as you create a soul by physical action interacting with non-physical force – spirit – so you create – what should we call them? Shadow-images, is how they would appear to you – when you in one way or another assemble something in the physical.
Build a car?
Create an artwork?
Form a relationship?
Fall into a habit?
Create or restructure an organization?
Rework an idea?
Conceive a child?
Write a computer program?
These seem to you very different activities, and so they are – but they have in common that each of them spontaneously organizes on “this side” a sort of holographic blueprint, a soul, in a sense. These souls are not to be compared to human souls, because the human is half-divine, or perhaps we should say humans are creations of the divine, expressing and containing the divine within them in that special way I spoke of earlier. It is true that ultimately all is part of the divine because it could not be otherwise – but there is “part of” and there is “part of.” The soul of a painting is a true soul, it is the non-physical organization of a physical thing, and it is divine in that everything is divine – but it is not of the same substance as what we might call the human divine.
It is very difficult to convey the quite simple distinction because people will not resist the temptation to respond to the associations words suggest, and immediately they get to arguing with what is said rather than absorbing it, mulling it, and seeing what does or does not resonate rather than what can or can not be fitted or forced into some logical system.
Quite a simple distinction, really. Two kinds of beings – humans and everything else. Humans were created to transcend and change; everything else was created to express and maintain certain qualities. As in the physical, so in the non-physical. Thus we may say truly that your car has a soul, and your cat, and even your desk or pen – but this is not to compare them to the human soul that you are, for they are not comparable except by contrast.
 my italics, but approved, I felt, as I typed.
The early republic was blessed with two financial geniuses, one Federalist, one Republican. Everybody remembers Alexander Hamilton, and if there were justice in the world, they would equally well remember Albert Gallatin, who was to Jefferson what Hamilton was to Washington. The two Virginia planter-statesmen were highly intelligent and sophisticated men of the world, but they were babes in the woods when it came to finance. Hamilton and Gallatin, between them, educated the statesmen and shaped the financial underpinnings of the new republic.
Abraham Alfonse Albert Gallatin was half a generation younger than his great chief, having been born, in 1761, in Geneva, and emigrating to Pennsylvania in the 1780s. (All his life, Gallatin spoke with a decided French accent.) Gallatin’s early life is highly interesting in its up-and-down experiences typical of so many immigrants, but the story can’t be told here. He tried his hand at trading in Maine, taught French at Harvard College, bought land in western Pennsylvania, planned various schemes that didn’t come off, and one — making glass – that did. But mainly, Gallatin participated in Pennsylvania politics, first as a member of the state constitutional convention in 1789, then, the following year, as a member of the General Assembly.
He was elected to the United States Senate, but was disqualified (in a party-line vote of the full Senate) as not having had the required constitutional minimum nine years of citizenship. Gallatin pointed out his unbroken residence of thirteen years in the United States, his 1785 oath of allegiance to the Commonwealth of Virginia, his service in the Pennsylvania legislature, and his substantial property holdings in the United States, but he was removed.
Back home, he was instrumental in securing a peaceful end to the whiskey rebellion of 1791. Gallatin’s neighbors approved his advocacy of their cause and elected him to the U.S. House of Representatives for three terms, 1795-1801, where he became the major spokesman on finance for Jefferson’s party. In 1797, when majority leader Madison retired, Gallatin took his place, leading the opposition to many of Hamilton’s policy proposals. Gallatin’s mastery of public finance was an ability rare among the Jeffersonian party. It was natural that Jefferson, upon his election as president, would name him Secretary of the Treasury. Gallatin would hold that office until February, 1814, five years into Madison’s presidency.
It was a highly successful tenure. First in order of importance was the problem of dealing with the national debt. Hamilton considered a national debt a “national blessing,” because it gave so many well-to-do citizens a financial stake in the survival and success of the new republic. Jefferson and Gallatin saw it quite differently. Gallatin worked hard to lower taxes and lower the debt at the same time. In 1801, the national debt was $80 million. Gallatin applied three quarters of federal revenues to the debt, and was able to reduce it to $45 million despite the loss of revenue that followed repeal of the whiskey tax in 1802, and despite spending $15 million on Louisiana.
Reducing the debt that drastically required starving the army and navy, which could be done in those first years when Neither England nor France nor Spain was in shape to molest our finances or commerce. Later, when British harassment of America’s merchant trade led Jefferson to propose an embargo on foreign commerce, Gallatin supported him, but reluctantly. He knew the harm the policy would inevitably do to the nation’s finance.
But then he lived long enough to see the War of 1812 do far worse harm, not to mention threatening the country’s survival. In 1813, with expenditures of $39 million met by only $15 million in revenue, Gallatin was forced to reintroduce taxes on whiskey and salt, and a direct tax on land and slaves. He financed the deficit and paid the direct cost of the war by issuing $87 million in bonds. Then, seeing the need for a national bank, he helped charter the Second Bank of the United States that Andrew Jackson would kill 20 years later.
Gallatin resigned as Secretary of the Treasury to head the United States delegation in negotiating the Treaty of Ghent, which ended the war of 1812. From 1816 to 1823 Gallatin served as minister to France, then returned home to Pennsylvania. In 1825, John Quincy Adams offered him another term as Secretary of the Treasury, but Gallatin declined. In 1826 and 1827, he served as minister to Great Britain. Retiring again, he settled in New York City, and helped found New York University so that working and merchant class people might have access to university education. Finally, he founded the American science of ethnology, helping to found the American Ethnological Society in 1842. He himself was the author of A Table of Indian Languages of the United States (1826) and Synopsis of the Indian Tribes of North America (1836).
Consider the list: politician, diplomat, ethnologist, linguist, founder of the University of the City of New York, co-founder of the American Ethnological Society, author of two scholarly books, and, not least, the longest-serving Treasury Secretary in our history. He died in 1849, and was gradually forgotten, which hardly seems just.