History That Doesn't Suck - 18: Affairs! Foreign and ..."Domestic"

Episode Date: June 25, 2018

“The intercourse with Mrs. Reynolds, in the meantime, continued.” This is the story of seduction and failing relationships. New England’s favorite curmudgeon, John Adams, is now leading America as its second president, and the French Revolution is making life no easier for him than it did for George. The new French government’s agents, “X,” Y,” and “Z,” are trying to extort bribes and it’s ripping the Franco-American friendship apart--it seems France is losing its charm. But back at home, Alexander Hamilton has too much charm; welcome to America’s first sex scandal! Meanwhile, the Republicans and Federalists are still bickering; Federalist infighting is starting to kill the party, and a fistfight breaks out in Congress! And the cherry on top? John ceases to be on speaking terms with his once-good friend, Vice President Thomas Jefferson, about 24 hours into their four-year term. The election of 1800 is going to be rough ... ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Red One... We're coming at you. ...is the movie event of the holiday season. Santa Claus has been kidnapped? You're gonna help us find him. You can't trust this guy. He's on the list. Is that Naughty Lister? Naughty Lister?

Dwayne Johnson. We got snowmen! Chris Evans. I might just go back to the car. Let's save Christmas. I'm not gonna say that. Say it. Alright.

Let's save Christmas. There it is. Only in theaters November 15th. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had. But once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now

than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. It's a summer evening in the year of 1791. The day's oppressive heat is just beginning to relinquish its hold on America's temporary capital city of Philly

as the well-dressed Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton walks its streets. I imagine him occasionally glancing at the addresses as he draws closer to his destination until, finally, he sees it. We're just around the corner from Independence Hall, where the Caribbean-born founding father argued over and eventually signed the U.S. Constitution four years ago. Our location is 154 South 4th Street, Philadelphia. Now, Alexander gives us no account of the dialogue to follow, so I can't narrate the salacious details of the conversation directly preceding the greatest moral failing in his life. But I can tell you that, upon walking up to the nondescript address, Alex does later recount,

quote, I inquired for Mrs. Reynolds, close quote. I'm guessing we're at a boarding house, but again, he never says that explicitly. Well, Mrs. Reynolds is in. Alex is now shown upstairs, where she meets the constitutional genius and, quote, conducts me into a bedroom. Now before this goes any further, let me tell you that Mariah Reynolds stopped at Alexander's home earlier. She told Alex that her husband is a cruel man who'd run off with another woman, leaving her destitute in Philly. Now she only wants to return to her friends and life in New York, and oh, she laid it on thick here while at the Hamilton home. Knowing that Alex is a citizen of New York, she, quote, had taken the liberty to

apply to my humanity for assistance, close quote. So that's why Alex is here. Or so he says. In an effort to help her, Alex tells us, to quote again, in the evening, I put a bank bill in my pocket and went to her house. Oh, and by the way, Alexander has always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. Everyone who knows him knows that. If I can play armchair psychologist, maybe it's because his own mother, who literally died laying next to him in the same fever-ridden bed when he was only a child, could have so desperately benefited from a knight in shining armor. But whatever the reason, that's Alex. And while he's always been faithful to his wife, Eliza, at least up until this point, everyone also knows that he's a flirt who does like the ladies,

and they tend to like him back. Okay, now that you have that background, back to the bedroom. It's in this intimate and private space that Alexander now pulls out the banknote, that is, the cash, and gives it to her. Gallant Alexander has provided the damsel with the means to return to New York. But Alex lingers as the conversation continues. What can I say? The married father of four is an affable man. Unaffable, politically powerful man, second in the country only to George Washington, in his mid-30s with a chiseled jawline, auburn hair, and blue eyes you could get lost in for days. And while we lack specific details on the 23-year-old Mariah's appearance, it's generally agreed that this young woman is a knockout.

Alexander euphemistically describes where their chemistry goes from here on this warm Philadelphian night. To quote, Some conversation ensued from which it was quickly apparent that, other than pecuniary consolation, would be acceptable. Close quote. I think we should give them some privacy. This is a messy phase in America's story. We could call it the Adams administration, but I prefer to think of it as the story of failed relationships and affairs. The French are trying to extort

American diplomats in an episode that will become known as the XYZ affair, while the Randy Alexander Hamilton is self-destructing. The once BFFs, America and France, are on the verge of war, or at least a quasi-war. Meanwhile, the previously good relationship between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson is hitting rock bottom amid partisan fighting. And to make matters worse, the previously good relationship between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson is hitting rock bottom amid partisan fighting. And to make matters worse, the Federalists aren't only fighting the Republicans, they're also busy ripping themselves apart. In fact, Congress is so contentious, we'll even have a literal brawl during a session. Between all this, and moving the Capitol to the still under construction site on the Potomac River, can John survive a second term as president?

Well, we'll find out. As always, we have a big agenda. So let's leave 1791 where Alexander is helping Mrs. Mariah Reynolds and get ourselves back to 1797. To do that, let's do something we haven't done before. Fast forward. Ah, John Adams, the rather husky New Englander with receding, once light brown hair and a pointed nose, is fresh off an eight-year stint as vice president. But since he and George Washington didn't really jive, we've hardly heard from him. Now, we've certainly interacted with the New Englander a number of times,

perhaps most notably in episodes 3 and 14. But as he comes back to the foreground, let me refresh your memory. Hailing from Braintree, Massachusetts, John has a brilliance only matched by his work ethic. He's a Harvard man, a lawyer who represented the Redcoats in the Boston Massacre trials. He's the Continental Congressman who put forth George Washington for Commander-in-Chief and fought like a lion to get some of the more spineless delegates to declare independence in 1776. John's also the father of the Massachusetts state constitution and served as a key member of the American diplomatic corps that negotiated peace with Britain after the revolution. As you can see, John has quite the resume. And to add one more line to

it, now in his early 60s, this founding father's been elected as the second president of the United States. John takes the oath of office at Philadelphia's Congress Hall on March 4th, 1797. Like George's second oath, it's an austerely Republican affair that lacks any pomp. Even John's suit is low-key. It's made of gray broad cloth and doesn't have any flashy ornamental buttons. He gives a rousing, well-appreciated speech, then swears to uphold the U.S. Constitution. But as these events unfold, John takes note of the peaceful look on George Washington's face. The next day, he writes to his beloved other half, Abigail. My dearest friend, your dearest friend never had a more trying day than yesterday. A solemn scene

it was indeed, and it was made more affecting to me by the presence of the general, whose countenance was as serene and unclouded as the day. He seemed to me to enjoy a triumph over me. Methought I heard him think, Aye, I am fairly out and you are fairly in. See which of us will be the happiest. Whether George was thinking this or not, John is certainly right. Remember in the last episode how the war between revolutionary France and Britain made George Washington's second term a rough go? Well, President John Adams just inherited the back end of those same problems, and if anything, they're worse than when George was president. Now, to appreciate how that's the case,

let me catch you up on what's happening in France. Back in July 1794, the terror hit its boiling point, and the French National Convention toppled the tyrant who was guillotining anyone and everyone, Robespierre. Naturally, they ended this with a sense of irony. They guillotined him. We call this the Thermidorian Reaction, but all you really need to remember is that France became sane again as its revolution came up with its lamest government, the Directory. So named because this republican government has a five-man committee for its executive branch, the Directory came into power in 1795 and will later

become famous in French history for being the one regime that no French citizen will ever look back on with nostalgia. Yeah, it sucks that much. It doesn't inspire people. It's known for corruption and it hates the Jay Treaty. Right, the Jay Treaty. Remember that one from last time? It sucks. No offense, Mr. Jay. We all know you were SOL on those negotiations from the start. But in brief, it took care of America's most urgent needs and hooked the British up trade-wise. Unfortunately for America, the French Directory considers the Jay Treaty a betrayal of the far older Franco-American alliance. It responds by allowing French privateers to seize American ships loaded with British goods, and between June 1796 and June 1797 alone, French privateers take 316 American ships.

Yeah, this is the situation John inherits, and as always, the pro-French Republicans and the pro-British Federalists are at each other's throats. So what should John do? The Republicans distrust him as a Federalist. Whatever hope there was of bipartisanship died within 24 hours of him taking office, when John crossed his old friend and Vice President Thomas Jefferson by declining to send James Madison to France as a diplomat. Yep, that was it. John never consults Tom again on a political matter, and Tom goes full-on opposition leader, convinced, incorrectly by the way,

that John's just another warmongering Federalist. And speaking of John's fellow Federalists, he could score points with them by calling on Congress to declare war on France. But John's no war hawk. Great is the guilt of an unnecessary war, he once wrote to Abigail while Vice President. And besides, public sentiment, for the most part, is against war. So come May 1797, he decides to send envoys to France to convince the Directory that the Jay Treaty does not negate George's old neutrality proclamation, and that the U.S. still wants to be pals with its sister republic.

At the same time, he calls on Congress to build a navy, in case France is not receptive to diplomacy. This, of course, gives the Republicans an excuse to denounce John as the war hawk he is not, while the Federalists all give each other high fives. But the truly crucial thing here is that three Americans are sent to France to negotiate. First, we have America's current ambassador to France, whom the French Directory recently rejected, Charles Pinckney. He's hanging out in the Hague right now, waiting for word on what to do. Second, the tall, handsome, and brilliant John Marshall. And third, we have the old anti-federalist New Englander, Elbridge Gerry. Yeah, John fought with his cabinet over getting Elbridge in there since he's not a federalist, but the president insisted. Elbridge

is an old friend whom John trusts. John and Elbridge head off to Europe where they'll meet up with Charles Pinckney and then, all together, head to France to try and avoid war. Godspeed, gents. Given the time it takes people and news to cross the Atlantic, we won't hear from them until next year. But that's okay. We're far too distracted during the summer of 1797 to worry about France. Everyone's talking about Alexander Hamilton's affair. It's been five years since Alex first met Mariah Reynolds.

Oh, don't play coy. I know you remember how today's episode opened. Well, after that first night, the previous treasury secretary tells us, quote, I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house. Mrs. Hamilton, with her children being absent on a visit to her father. Close quote. Oh, yeah, not cool, Alex. Not cool. But here's where the story gets interesting.

Later that year, Mariah appeared to make up with her husband, James Reynolds, who then wanted Alex to hire him. And what happened when James came back into the picture? Alex writes, the intercourse with Mrs. Reynolds in the meantime continued. I swear I quoted that. Yeah, that's the word he used. Okay, it's time to let you in on what was really going on in 1791. The Reynolds were entrapping Alex in order to blackmail him. They planned it all out. Mariah played the damsel in distress to seduce Alex.

Once the affair was well underway, James played the part of the hurt, distressed, cuckolded husband. But he said he'd let it go. For a cool thousand dollars. In fact, James even told Alex he could continue to see his wife. Now, how did Alex reply? Quote, If I recollect rightly, I did not immediately accept the invitation.

Close quote. Not immediately. Not immediately? What the f*** is wrong with you, Alex? The correct answer to that bulls*** question was no. Oh, Alexander. It wasn't until mid-1792, about a year since he first got seduced, that the affair ended. Oh, and only after James Reynolds wrung a few hundred dollars more out of him in hush money. But later that same year, the unsavory James went to jail for some other shenanigans and gladly offered up the sordid details of the affair, while further claiming Alexander's embezzled public funds to Republican congressmen in hopes of lightening his sentence. Three Republicans, James Monroe, F.A. Mullenberg, and A. Venable, then confronted

Alex, who embarrassingly demonstrated that he had never misused the sacred funds of the Republic, but... But yeah, he and Moriah totally got down. Since Alex hasn't abused his position as Treasury Secretary, the three Republican congressmen agreed, as gentlemen, to keep the affair under wraps. But it's like Ben Franklin wrote in Poor Richard's Almanac back in 1735. Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead. And this summer, 1797, James Callender from the Republican newspaper Aurora anonymously publishes the story of the affair,

and the claim that Alex embezzled in a series of pamphlets. So how does Alex handle this? The only way the verbose, prolific Federalist leader knows how. He writes a 37-page pamphlet complete with a 58-page appendix of supporting evidence to demonstrate that he never embezzled, even if he did carry on an affair for about a year. He means to clear his public record, even if he has to admit to private failings. This is known as the Reynolds pamphlet, and it's what I've been quoting as I've told you about the affair. I make no excuses for the libidinous, flirtatious, sexy Alex, but let's not make the

mistake of believing the exaggerated rumors that follow him either. He's not a serial cheater. He hasn't slept with his sister-in-law, Angelica. I mean, if either of those charges are true, his in-laws, the Schuyler family, must be some serious libertines because they'll all adore Alex until and after his dying day. And don't say he kept it secret. Alexander clearly sucks at covering his tracks. The dude wrote a freaking pamphlet about this affair, so we'd probably know. Further, this father of four at the time of the affair will eventually become a father of eight with his forgiving wife, Eliza. So given his virility, it's hard to believe he's sleeping around yet never fathers an illegitimate child. In all, it seems that Alex broke his wedding vows

with exactly one woman who, moreover, plotted with her husband to entrap the founding father. He's not blameless, no doubt, but Alex isn't as morally bankrupt as other and future American politicians. Well, as you can imagine, Republican papers have a field day with all of this. After all, this is America's first political sex scandal. For the Adamses, who know Alexander is the real leader of the Federalists, even though John is president, this only confirms their low opinion of him. Let me quote what Abigail wrote to John about Alexander earlier this year. Oh, I have read his heart in his wicked eyes many a time. The very devil is in them. But don't worry about Alex's prospects. As Massachusetts Federalist David Cobb put it, to quote him, Hamilton has fallen for the present, but if he fornicates with every female in the cities of New York and Philadelphia,

he will rise again, for purity of character after a period of political existence is not necessary for public patronage. Close quote. Too true. And as you'll see, we have not seen the last of Alexander Hamilton. When Johann Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rawl lost the Battle of Trenton and died from two

colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there. Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Chrysler. Every episode we look at the bad ideas, mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at ConstantPodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast.

On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as

hard as you are. So turn to the Nerds to answer your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. But for now, let's turn our attention back to France. The summer of 1797 is over and our three American negotiators, Charles Pinckney, John Marshall, and Elbridge Gerry are in Paris. Unfortunately, it's not going well. They arrive in October 1797, but it's still a number of days before they get to talk with the foreign minister. This, by the way, is the infamous Charles Maurice de Talleyrand. To give you an idea of how slippery Talleyrand can be, well, let me put it this way. France, as you know, is in a turbulent period, and that won't end for a while. I mean, between 1789 and 1815, it's going to go through regime changes almost as fast as you go through smartphones.

And this dude is the only man who manages to stay in government throughout every single regime. Let that sink in. He serves Louis XVI, then the revolutionary governments, without losing his head, by the way. He'll later serve Napoleon, and then, when the decapitated Louis XVI's brother restores France to monarchy, Talleyrand will serve him. This guy is a professional flip-flopper. But in case I haven't made that point firmly enough, let me quote future French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, who calls Talleyrand, quote, a pile of s**t in a silk stocking.

Okay, so back to the story. Our trois-Américains finally get to chat it up with Talleyrand. For a whopping 15 minutes. That's basically enough time to shake hands and get a hollow promise of, we'll get together soon. But why delay? Why not just take care of business? Well, Talleyrand sees being foreign minister as a path to riches. To quote him, I have to make an immense fortune out of it. See, Talleyrand's raking in millions of francs

through extortion, and that's what he intends to do with the Americans. First, he delays the next meeting. Then Talleyrand becomes distant and sends three underlings whom our American envoys simply refer to as X, Y, and Z. These Frenchmen heavily imply that if the Americans want to negotiate, they need to provide a douceur, that is, a sweetener, in other words, a bribe, of $250,000 made payable to Talleyrand and other French officials, as well as a loan of around $10 million to the French directory as penance for President Adams' supposedly harsh words last May. Um, no. The Americans refused to pay several times. This back and forth nonsense goes on throughout the winter. Finally, Agent X stops beating around the bush and says, to quote him, Gentlemen, you do not speak to the point. It is money. It is expected that you will offer the money. What is your answer?

Close quote. Well, Charles Pinckney puts his foot down. He won't take this corrupt BS. It is no, no, no, not a sixpence, he exclaims. At this, Charles and John Marshall give up and go home. Only the more pro-French Elbridge Jerry decides to stay on a bit longer to see if he can make any headway. The two other envoys return to the States empty-handed,

but with full pocketbooks. The American negotiators send reports of their, well, progress is the wrong word. Let's say dealings with the French to Secretary of State Timothy Pickering. The reports arrive in March 1798 and Congress requests to see the records. The pro-French Republicans are sure they'll find damning evidence against the Federalists. Oh, I know I told you President John Adams and Vice President Thomas Jefferson fell out immediately upon taking office, but things have gotten worse in the past year as the partisan bickering has ramped up over France.

Johns described Tom as having, quote, a mind eaten to a honeycomb with ambition, yet weak, confused, uninformed, and ignorant. Close quote. While Tom described John as, to quote him, vain, irritable, stubborn, endowed with excessive self-love, and still suffering peak at the preference accorded Franklin over him in Paris. Close quote. Damn, gents. And I think you two used to be friends. Anyhow, now that you have a real gauge on how hot things are between the two founding fathers currently inhabiting the

executive branch and their respective parties, John hands over the unabridged documents recounting what's gone down in France as soon as he's certain the American envoys are safely out of France. As Congress reads the records, they realize how damaging to the French they are. But before some Republican representative can hide them in his roll-top desk, the papers are published for the public to see, and Americans are pissed. They are completely offended at the way the French are behaving. Sending assistance to do the talking? Asking for bribes? What is this? Are we equal nations or not? This hot mess comes to be known as the XYZ affair, named after the French underlings in the reports.

This public outrage turns the political tide against the pro-French Republicans. And of course, the Republicans don't find that John's been hiding something nefarious. So the plans backfired. And this leaves an opening for the Federalists in Congress to take advantage of the pendulum of public opinion as it swings in their favor. These Federalists want war. Whoa, slow down there, boys. President Adams is frustrated and affronted by the French, too, sure, but he doesn't ask Congress to declare war. Remember, he's no warmonger, even if many in his party are. Instead, John asks Congress only to appropriate money to prepare for war, you know, just in case.

Well, at the same time, the Federalist majority is happy to oblige, and they do far more than John asks. Congress passes measures to block trade with France, gives armed American ships the right to seize armed French ships, and allows American trade ships to defend themselves if attacked. They also create a naval department separate from the war department, while also passing a bill to create a provisional army of 10,000 men. And, oh yeah, I almost forgot, they raise a bunch of taxes to pay for all these preparations. Many Americans, including John Adams and Alexander Hamilton, whose affair couldn't even keep him down until the end of this episode apparently, think the French might invade the U.S.

That never happens, but it's a tense moment between America and France as conflicts erupt at sea. In fact, the British even supply American ships in the West Indies with powder and shot. So maybe the French were right to be offended by that Jay Treaty. It sure feels like a U.S.-British alliance against the French. But all that said, war is never declared. And we call this the Quasi-War. But even though the Quasi-War is only fought at sea, the fallout still finds its way to land. Immigrants from England, France, and Ireland are fleeing to the U.S. Some of these are French aristocrats fleeing revolution.

Other immigrants have come because they harbor sympathies for revolutionary change. And since those in the latter group think the Federalist Party smacks of monarchy and elitism, you know, the very things they fled Europe to avoid, they tend to align politically with democratic republicans. And as if the quasi-war with France didn't have Americans on edge about immigrants already, you can imagine how the anti-French federalists feel as French bookstores, schools, and restaurants are spreading across the nation's capital. A few of the actually radical immigrants are jumping into politics too, and oh do they know how to make themselves heard.

After all, in Europe, they organized societies, wrote extreme pieces in the papers, and fought for parliamentary change. Now in America, some of them take over or start several very successful newspapers and immediately begin harshly criticizing Federalist policies and politicians. These papers fuel the fire of fear between the parties, and Federalist-leaning papers only add to the inferno. They deride Republicans as traitors, and the leading Federalist paper, John Fenno's Gazette of the United States, coins the phrase, he that is not for us is against us. Talk about drawing a line in the sand. And the combination of the quasi-war, immigration, and Federalist fear of Democratic Republicans

leads Federalist congressmen to pass four protectionist laws in the summer of 1798. These are the infamous Alien and Sedition Acts. And to be clear, John didn't ask Congress for these laws. All he asked for was a beefing up of the Navy. Nonetheless, he does sign them into law, saying, quote, I knew there was need enough of them, therefore I consented to them. Let me break them down for you. First, there are the Alien Acts. These are actually three laws passed at the same time. We'll start with the Naturalization Act. This extends the required years of residence before an alien can become a citizen from 5 to 14 years, and aliens have to file an, quote, intention to become a citizen, close quote, five years in advance. Congress is essentially posting a no

vacancy sign on all the ports with this one. It'll later get repealed in 1802. Next is the Alien Enemies Act, which says that in the event of war, the president can initiate the detention and or deportation of citizens of enemy nations. This act will actually stick around as part of American wartime policy. But since the U.S. never declares war on France, President Adams doesn't use this policy. Finally, we have the Alien Friends Act. Now, this act gives the president authority to expel any alien he thinks is dangerous, even in peacetime. John has the good sense never to touch this power, but Congress passes it as an

emergency or just-in-case measure, with an expiration date in the bill for the end of John's first term. From the Republican perspective, all these three acts do is prove just how much the Federalists disregard personal liberty and want to empower the President like a monarch. But the Federalists genuinely believe these measures are necessary to preserve the nation. Congressman Edward Livingston argues against these acts and warns that the same arguments of necessity Congress advances to justify denying rights to aliens could also be used to deny the rights of citizens. He says, quote, either in this or some other shape, this will be attempted, close quote.

Now, I told you that Congress passed four laws. So what's missing? This one is actually worse than the other three. It's the Sedition Act. Livingston is right to warn Americans that if Congress is willing to take away the rights of foreigners, its reaching for the rights of citizens isn't far behind. The Sedition Act threatens fines and imprisonment for anyone convicted of writing, publishing, or speaking anything, quote, false, scandalous, and malicious, close quote, against the government or its officials. So if you write or publish or even just say anything negative about the government, you can be jailed. Let that sink in.

To be fair, even a lot of Federalists think this goes too far. The Sedition Act only passes by a vote of 44 to 41. Federalists explain that only people who write or publish false things will be prosecuted, and they'll be prosecuted by a jury of peers, so really it's not that bad. Republicans don't buy it, and maybe it seems like no one should buy it, but keep in mind that the Federalists are running scared from the chaos of the French Revolution. They argue that if the press is free to publish, quote, falsehoods and slanders or excite sedition, insurrection, and slaughter with impunity, close quote, it will cause untold damage to the people. Oh, does this cause some debate over the First Amendment? Federalist Connecticut Congressman John Allen claims that the First Amendment was never intended to protect such speech.

To quote him, A man is always answerable for the malicious publication of falsehood. And what more does this bill require? Close quote. Republicans could not disagree more. They call this law an absolute violation of the First Amendment. Republican Pennsylvania Representative Albert Gallatin, who's a French-speaking immigrant from Switzerland, by the way, answers back. He says it's an insulting evasion of the Constitution to tell people,

quote, we claim no power to abridge the liberty of the press, but if you publish anything against us, we will punish you for it, close quote. So there you have it. The four acts known as the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798. Like I said, John has the good sense to shelve the Alien Acts. He never uses them. But after he signs the Sedition Act on July 10, 1798, a period known as the Re of witches, follows. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome?

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Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the feathered serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Staunch Secretary of State Timothy Pickering leads the witch hunt for seditionists. Tim's a rigid man and an extreme federalist, eager to rid the U.S. of, quote,

pests of society and disturbers of order and tranquility, close quote. Abigail Adams says he's a man whose manners are forbidding, whose temper is sour, and whose resentments are implacable. If Abigail is to be believed, and I think she is, he's probably too uptight to be cool with me calling him Tim. Tim also sounds like a guy to avoid, though that could be difficult.

Get this, every morning, Tim reads several opposition papers looking for anything that hints at sedition. He also has a team of, well, snitches, keeping him informed about suspicious activity. Federalists think he's the man. They call him the scourge of Jacobianism. Meanwhile, Republicans call him the Federalist Ogre. In all, the reign of witches sees 25 people arrested and 15 indicted, with 10 going to trial and being convicted. And it's all due to the Sedition Act. Thomas Jefferson and James Madison are completely against the Alien and Sedition Acts. This can't surprise you, right? I mean, geez, it has Tom on the hook. The Sedition Act says, quote, if any person shall write, print, utter,

or publish any false, scandalous, and malicious writing or writings against the government of the United States, or either House of the Congress of the United States, or the President of the United States or the President of the United States, then such person shall be punished. Close quote. Did you notice who isn't on the list? The Vice President. Yeah, the government, Congress, and the President are all protected, but not the pro-French founder of the Democratic Republican Party, Thomas Jefferson. Seriously, Federalists, why not just write a bill called the Incarcerate Thomas Jefferson Act while you're at it? So Thomas and James secretly write a series of resolutions, then get the Kentucky and Virginia state legislatures to pass them. Known as the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions, they pass in the fall of 1798. They assert states' rights and call states a

bastion of safety against repressive federal laws. Thomas and James hope that more states will hop on board and pass similar resolutions in protest of the Sedition Act, but none do. In fact, Vermont says Virginia and Kentucky are the ones overstepping their bounds. It's the federal courts that get to decide if a law is unconstitutional, not the states. So sorry, Tom and James, it looks like most people are siding with the Federalists for now. But don't go thinking that this means the Sedition Act is actually going to scare the opposition into silence. Hell no! Brave Republican presses continue their work, leaving Timothy, that is, our zealous Secretary of State, quite busy pursuing these arrests and indictments. Most who fall victim to the Sedition Act are outspoken émigrés, and they receive

sentences of a few months in jail and a fine of a few hundred dollars. There are some American citizens who fall prey, though, and Matthew Lyon is one of them. Matthew is an Irish immigrant who came to the U.S. as an indentured servant and worked his way up. He married the daughter of the Vermont governor and now serves as a Republican representative in the House. Extremely outspoken, he gets into more than his fair share of disagreements in Congress and is used to the derogatory comments and insults his fellow representatives throw at him. That's fine. He has no problem responding in kind. Well, what he thinks is in kind.

Let me give you an example. Back in January 1798, Matthew was chatting loudly, and I mean loudly, with Speaker Jonathan Dayton about the low character of the representatives from Connecticut. What Connecticut needs, Matthew told Jonathan, are a few good opposition newspapers, like the ones of Vermont, to give the people the truth. Well-born-and-bred Federalist Connecticut-er Roger Griswold overheard this derisive speech and called Matthew out. In fact, he called Matthew a coward. Now, if Matthew had been a gentleman, he'd have challenged Roger to a duel like so many men with aristocratic pretensions of the day do. But Matthew's not pretentious. He's a scrappy Irishman who won't let an insult pass. And so,

in the very halls of Congress, Matthew spits in Rogers' face. And chaos erupted. Guards emptied the viewing balconies while representatives pulled these two congressmen back to keep them from killing each other. A congressman then read a hastily prepared proposal to eject Matthew from Congress. The motion didn't pass, and two days later, Matthew begrudgingly apologized. Let's move forward two weeks. Despite this apology and other pressing matters of business, Congress is debasing Matthew's conduct and character and trying to decide what to do with him. Matthew tries to defend himself, but Congress won't let him.

So he then reneges what little humility he has and shouts, I did not come here to have my arse kicked by everybody. Although Congress strikes arse from the annals of Congress. Yeah, guys, that's going to make your mud-slinging fest look classy. Ultimately, though, the vote for expulsion of Republican Matthew fails, even with the Federalist majority in the House. It seems like he might get off the hook for that loogie in Roger's face, after all. Well, Roger knows that revenge is a dish best served cold.

So since Congress won't handle this, he takes matters into his own hands. One morning, before the house is called to order, he enters the chamber with a large wooden cane in one hand. He saunters over to Matthew's desk, and before Matthew can get up to defend himself, Roger begins beating him upside the head with his cane. You'd think Matthew's screwed, but he grew up scrapping on the streets of Ireland only to carve out a life on the frontier of Vermont so he can handle himself in a brawl. Matthew gets to the fireplace. In the midst of Roger's blows, grabs a set of metal fire tongs and takes a swing at Roger. He misses, loses his balance, and tumbles to the floor, pulling Roger on top of him.

The other congressmen finally find the stones to intervene. About time, gents. And pull the combatants apart. Roger and Matthew are bustled into the foyer, where they go at each other again. Only the threat of arrest calms the two men, and they finally end the scuffle. Needless to say, this incident gets a lot of attention in the press.

By the summer of 1798, a humorist calls Matthew the, quote, Beast of Vermont in a play entitled Rugged Matt the Democrat. But this negative publicity doesn't deter Matthew's political career. He campaigns for another term in Congress. And as he does so, he writes a letter to Spooner's Vermont Journal that sharply criticizes John Adams. Now, the letter is technically published before the Sedition Act goes into effect, but rugged Matt reads it several times at campaign rallies. He accuses the president of, quote, a continual grasp for power

and an unbounded thirst for ridiculous pomp, foolish adulation, and selfish avarice, close quote. Since the new law says, if any person shall utter malicious things about the president, Matthew's in big trouble. And he knows it, but rather than dial it back, he starts his own opposition magazine. In for a penny, in for a pound, am I right? His magazine, The Scourge of Aristocracy and Repository of Important Political Truths,

yeah, that's a winning title, prints all kinds of seditious material. Matthew mainly uses it to campaign for himself, but nonetheless, he's arrested and goes before the Federal Circuit Court on October 3rd, 1798. Obviously, he's indicted for sedition. And you heard what he was saying about the president, so Matt's not surprised. At the trial, he acts as his own lawyer, and the jury takes only one hour to deliberate. Guilty. Matthew receives four months in jail and a $1,000 fine. Now that is a surprise.

The judge, an Irish-American himself, has no pity for his countrymen. He specifically says that he means to make an example of Matthew. The scrappy congressman is stunned. Flying in the face of common practice. He doesn't even get to go home and put his affairs in order before incarceration. He's also jailed in Virgins, which is a two-day journey from his hometown of Rutledge. Finally, he's forced to stay in his cell until the fine is paid in full, even if it takes longer than his sentence. While in jail, the elections take place. Matthew, incarcerated Matthew, wins by a landslide. He gets double the votes received by his

Federalist opponent. But what about the fine? Matt doesn't have the $1,000 cash due to recent economic downturns. So, several Republicans take up a collection, that's what they called it before GoFundMe, and raise the money. Even Thomas, James, and Republican Congressman Albert Gallatin contribute to it. And so, time served and fine paid, Matthew's back in Congress. Now, as our favorite fighting Irish-American congressman returns to legislating, let's catch up on the political lay of the land. The French-inspired fighting between Republicans and Federalists continues,

but by the end of the summer of 1798, the fuel for this fire is dwindling for a couple of reasons. One, U.S. trade sanctions against France are hurting the U.S. economy. Two, by winter, Federalist congressmen are growing timid. It's dawning on them that they overplayed their hand with the Alien and Sedition Acts. And as these two situations are playing out, we get some good news. American minister to the Netherlands, William Vans Murray, has heard a rumor that the French might be willing to negotiate a treaty. Sans backroom bribe.

Oh, how John Adams is thrilled. He follows his conviction to avoid war at all costs. The peacemaking president proposes that a second mission go to France. And everyone is shocked. The Republicans, who've incorrectly considered John a war hawk throughout this whole ordeal, can't believe it. Meanwhile, high Federalists, including Alexander, are dismayed. In fact, he writes to George Washington, quote, All my calculations led me to regret the measure. Close quote.

After some back and forth with Federalist senators, Johnson's the bearer of good news, William Vans Murray, Chief Justice Oliver Ellsworth, and North Carolina Governor William Davey as ministers to France in March 1799. But since the President desperately wants to avoid another XYZ affair, he makes the Peace Commissioners wait until he's sure they'll be received. They don't leave until November 1799. And all the while, John is losing face with Federalists and Republicans alike. As the peace commission sails to France, John continues to blow his chances of re-election by pissing off his party. Having finally realized that Secretary of War James McHenry is really loyal to Alexander Hamilton, not him, John Adams verbally rips the secretary a new one. Yeah, he resigns.

Now in a take-names-and-clean-house mood, John fires the other pain in his side too, Secretary of State Timothy Pickering. And come June, the president angers Federalists again by making a decision of conscience instead of party loyalty. He pardons John Fries and two other men convicted of treason for their part in an uprising against Federalist property taxes. High Federalists see this as yet another example of weakness and disloyalty on the president's part. Damn, way to make powerful enemies in an election year, John. Okay then, time to tackle the contentious election of 1800. As in previous elections, the candidates don't run as a team of president and vice president on a ticket. Rather, party members meet in Congress to decide whom to support for president and vice president.

The Democratic Republicans have their act together by now and have made a united decision. They'll push Thomas Jefferson for president and Aaron Burr for VP. Again, the distinctions between the presidential and vice presidential candidates are a little unclear and really just known to party insiders on both sides. But within the Federalist camp, the lines are completely blurry, even as they make a shaky decision to support incumbent John Adams as president with Charles Pinckney as vice president. Oh, and to make matters even more murky, candidates don't campaign for themselves. That would be unvirtuous. So they count on friendly newspapers and party leaders in the

states to publicize their candidacy. That seems like a good idea, right? Putting your campaign in the hands of people who don't know you? Or worse, in the hands of people who know you a little too well? Like the hands of Alexander Hamilton. Instead of backing the Federalist candidate for president, Alex writes a scathing critique of party-betraying John Adams. And he gets his dirt from John's recently fired cabinet members. In October 1800, Alex publishes, Letter from Alexander Hamilton Concerning the Public Conduct and Character of John Adams Esquire, President of the United States. This very literally named pamphlet takes John down from every angle. It alleges that the president sucks at dealing with France,

treats his cabinet members poorly, has anger management issues, and has, quote, intrinsic defects of character, close quote. Strangely, after spending over 50 pages destroying John, Alex ends by saying that John deserves the support of voters just as much as Charles Pinckney. What the freak. Ultimately, Alex just widens the Federalist divide even more. One Federalist, Noah Webster, says to Alexander, John has a response to the allegations in this damning pamphlet, but he doesn't know it until it's too late. Remember that peace commission he sent to France last year? They actually fulfilled their mission and negotiated peace.

In fact, the new treaty between the U.S. and France is being signed as Alex publishes his hit piece. France has changed governments again and is now governed by the French consulate with a young general named Napoleon Bonaparte at its head. This taller than you might think Frenchman even throws a big party and calls the disagreement between France and America, settled by the signing of the Convention of Montfortaine on October 3, 1800, little more than a, quote, family quarrel, close quote. But the First American newspaper doesn't report on the treaty until November 7th. So John pays the price for his integrity and unwillingness to prioritize partisan politics over peace by losing the election.

Doing what's best for his nation means the patriotic New Englander becomes the first U.S. president to only serve one term in office. Now that said, John still does okay. Despite the damage Alex did, he only loses because the traditionally Federalist stronghold of New York flips and votes Democratic-Republican. In the end, John gets 65 electoral votes, coming in third behind Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr, who've tied at 73 electoral votes apiece. Now this tie between Tom and Aaron is what fills the election of 1800 with drama. Republican leadership intends for Aaron only to be VP, but in this confusing system where candidates just run for president with the runner up taking the number two spot, we can end up with this sticky situation. Many expect Aaron to step aside for the sage of Monticello,

but Aaron, known for being a power-hungry tool, refuses. Ironically, he's now propped up by Federalists who think they can control him because he lacks Tom's principles and integrity. Per the Constitution, this means the deadlock goes to the House of Representatives, making for a long, drawn-out election process that drags from October 1800 through February 1801. And you thought watching states turn red and blue on TV all night during the last election took forever. Congress meets in a joint session on February 11, 1801 in the middle of a raging blizzard to hear the official electoral ballots read aloud. The House immediately goes into a special session to start voting to break the tie

between Tom and Aaron. Now this is important. The representatives vote in a block-by-state, not individually, so all of the state delegates have to agree on how to cast their state's vote. You can guess how well that goes. Of the 16 states, the 8 Republican-controlled states vote for Thomas, while the 6 Federalist-dominated states vote for power-hungry Aaron. But that doesn't settle the matter, because a candidate needs 9 states to win, meaning Thomas won short. Seriously, why doesn't Aaron save us all a headache and step aside for Thomas? Ah, but since we can all do basic math, we know two states are missing. Vermont and Maryland can't decide and therefore have no vote. They have reps from both the Federalists and Democratic

Republicans and thus cannot come to a consensus. So they vote again. And again. And again. The votes are taken from 1pm through the night to 8 o'clock the next morning. 27 rounds of voting with the same tally. 8 for Tom, 6 for Aaron, 2 abstaining. Every time. Good grief. Maybe they just want to keep the voting going so they don't have to trudge home through the snowdrifts. More likely, we have a deep fear along partisan lines. Alexander Hamilton says electing Tom will lead to, quote, the overthrow of the government after the manner of Bonaparte, close quote. A Federalist Connecticut claims, There is scarcely a possibility that we shall escape civil war. Murder, robbery, rape, adultery, and incest will all be openly taught and practiced.

The air will be rent with the cries of distress. The soil will be soaked with blood and the nation black with crimes. Damn. Well, I'm glad we never give in to this kind of fear-mongering during elections in the 21st century. We are far more mature. Anyhow, it looks like Federalists mean to vote for Aaron no matter how many rounds of voting it takes. After the 28th round of voting, everyone agrees to suspend the session until the next day, Friday, so they can go home and get some sleep. But a good night's sleep doesn't move things forward. The vote continues through Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and into Monday. We've now voted 35 freaking times and each has the same deadlocked outcome. But finally, a crack opens in the

Federalist blockade. As Alexander Hamilton begins writing to Federalists that Tom is the lesser of the two evils, James Bayard, a Federalist representative from Delaware, tells his fellow party members in a meeting on Sunday that he thinks the Federalist plan to support Aaron and overthrow Thomas has failed. He is going to vote for Thomas and end this madness. Federalists are aghast. Well, some of them are aghast. Others are just tired and agree with the logic of James' decision. There are also some rumors floating around that Aaron Burr means to resign his candidacy, rather than make a deal with the Federalists. We'll probably never know what really caused James and other Federalists to change their minds,

but on Tuesday, February 17th, the ties finally broken. Vermont's and Maryland's Federalist reps take a well-timed coffee break, allowing the Republicans from those states to vote for Thomas. James Bayard, our logical federalist from Delaware, not wanting to vote for Tom but wanting to end the crazy, casts a blank ballot for his state. South Carolina's federalists do the same. So Thomas gets votes from 10 states, four federalist states hold out and vote for Aaron, while two states abstain. Finally, after all the nail-biting outside the Capitol and the grueling rounds of voting inside the House chamber, Thomas Jefferson wins, becoming the third president of the United States.

He inherits this world of broken and patched-up relationships. And like his predecessors, he's a larger than life legend of the revolution. But unlike either George or John, Tom has an idealistic agrarian vision for America. And unbeknownst to him, things are changing up north with machines and technology

the inventor president wouldn't even dream of. Best step aside, Tommy. The Industrial Revolution is coming. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Research and writing, Greg Jackson and C.L. Salazar. Production and sound design, Josh Beatty of J.B. Audio Design. Musical score, composed and performed by Greg Jackson and Diana Averill. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit historythatdoesntsuck.com. Join me in two weeks, where I'd like to tell you a story. Art Lane, Beth Chris Jansen, Bob Drazovich, Brian Goodson, Bronwyn Cohen, Carrie Begle, Charles and Shirley Clendenin, Charlie Magis, Chloe Tripp, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, David DeFazio, David Rifkin, Denki, Durante Spencer, Donald Moore, Donna Marie

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Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson.