the city of New York to resist the adoption of the Constitution, and articles soon began to appear in the local press criticising and opposing it.

Preparing a vigorous letter, while gliding down the Hudson, in reply to some of the first points of the opposition, Hamilton soon extended the project into a series of strong papers, which appeared twice a week for twenty weeks over the signature of "Publius." He secured the aid of Madison and Jay, who wrote some of the papers, but the project was Hamilton's, the majority of the papers were written by him, and to him has been justly given the credit of the well-knit and powerful arguments afterwards printed under the title of "The Federalist."

Taking up point by point the provisions of the new Constitution, Hamilton, by skillful argument, drawn from the closest abstract reasoning, the recent experience of the states, and the history of foreign countries, sought to show that the new Constitution was based upon sound principles of government, that it was well calculated to carry out these principles, and that its acceptance was practically the only course open to the American people to insure for themselves the benefits of liberty, prosperity, and peace. "The Federalist," although a purely political argument, has survived the occasion which called it forth, as one of the master documents of political writing. That it has a distinct place in literature is admitted by so severe a critic as Professor Barrett Wendell in his recent "Literary History of America." It is worth while quoting his acute literary judgment of its merits:—

"As a series of formal essays, the 'Federalist' groups itself roughly with the 'Tatler,' the 'Spectator,' and those numerous descendants of theirs which fill the literary records of eighteenth century England. It differs, however, from all these, in both substance and purpose. The 'Tatler,' the 'Spectator,' and their successors dealt with superficial matters in a spirit of literary amenity: the 'Federalist' deals in an argumentative spirit as earnest as that of any Puritan divine with political principles paramount in our history; and it is so wisely thoughtful that one may almost declare it the permanent basis of sound thinking concerning American constitutional law. Like all the educated writing of the eighteenth century, too, it is phrased with a rhythmical balance and urbane polish which give it claim to literary distinction."

While the written arguments of Hamilton in "The Federalist" have survived for a hundred years and been consulted by foreign students in the formation of new constitutions, a more severe task was imposed upon him at the meeting of the state convention called to consider the report of the convention at Philadelphia. It was in some respects the hardest task ever set with any hope of success before a parliamentary leader. Indeed, to the superficial observer there would have seemed to be no hope of success, when in the elections to the state convention the supporters of Governor Clinton chose forty-six delegates and left on the side of Hamilton only nineteen of the sixty-five members. But this statement of the case gives a somewhat darker color to the situation than the real facts. There was a strong and growing body of public sentiment for the Constitution in New York city and the counties along the Hudson, which even led to the suggestion that they should join the Union in any event and leave the northern counties to shift for themselves. It was generally recognized, moreover, that however strong the objections were to the Constitution, the choice lay practically between this Constitution and none,—between the proposed government and anarchy.

So strong was the sentiment that the Constitution must be accepted in some form, that its opponents in the state convention did not venture upon immediate rejection. Fortunately, their course in fighting for delay only tended to make it clearer that New York would stand alone if she failed to ratify. While the dream of independent sovereignty, or the leadership in a federation which should dictate terms to the surrounding states, was not without its attractions to the more ambitious of the opposition leaders, there was a darker side to the proposition which was much less attractive. Independence for New York meant a heavy burden of taxation for a separate army and navy, for guarding long frontiers on the east, north, and south, for supporting an extensive customs service along the same frontiers, for maintaining ministers at foreign courts and consuls in the leading cities of the world, and for meeting all the other expenses of a sovereign nation.

It was fortunate for the state and the country that the leader of the opposition to the Constitution in the New York convention was a man of a high order of ability, whose mind was open in an unusual degree to the influence of logical reasoning. This man was Melancthon Smith, who is accorded by Chancellor Kent, the great authority on American law, the credit of being noted "for his love of reading, tenacious memory, powerful intellect, and for the metaphysical and logical discussions of which he was a master." It is as much to his credit as that of Hamilton that he finally admitted that he had been convinced by Hamilton, and that he should vote for the Constitution. This result was only reached, however, after a long and sometimes acrimonious struggle, in which Hamilton was on his feet day after day explaining and defending each separate clause of the Constitution,—not only in its real meaning, but against all the distorted constructions put upon it by the most acute and jealous of critics.

But events had been fighting with Hamilton. State after state had ratified the new document, and news of their action had reached New York. Nine states, the number necessary to put the Constitution in force, were made up by the ratification of New Hampshire (June 21, 1788). Still New York hesitated, and Hamilton wrote to Madison: "Our chance of success depends upon you. Symptoms of relaxation in some of the leaders authorize a gleam of hope if you do well, but certainly I think not otherwise." Virginia justified his hopes by a majority of 89 against 79 for ratification (June 25, 1788). The news reached New York on July 3. The opposition there, though showing signs of relenting, was still stubborn. Conditional ratification, with a long string of amendments, was first proposed. Jay firmly insisted that the word "conditional" must be erased. Finally, on July 11, he proposed unconditional ratification. Melancthon Smith then proposed ratification with the right to withdraw if the amendments should not be accepted. Hamilton exposed the folly of such a project in a brilliant speech, which led Smith to admit that conditional ratification was an absurdity. Other similar proposals were brought forward, but they were evidently equivalent to rejection by indirection, which would have left New York out of the new Union.

Finally, Samuel Jones, another broad-minded member of the opposition, proposed ratification without conditions, but "in full confidence" that Congress would adopt all needed amendments. With the support of Smith, this form of ratification was carried by the slender majority of three votes (July 26, 1788). By this narrow margin it was decided that New York should form a part of the Union, and that the great experiment in representative government should not begin with the two halves of the country separated by a hostile power, commanding the greatest seaport of the colonies.

Hamilton thus played an important part in winning the first great battle for the Constitution. Ratification was