1790s America and France

Notwithstanding inconvenient details, such as slavery, one is reminded of the relative virtue of America when she was still a new republic. We get this pictured painted by the French dandy, Monsieur Talleyrand. It may be recalled that when his political fortunes had fallen in France, he withdrew to America for a while.

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The cynical Frenchman once told a mutual friend that “he found it very strange that a man of [Hamilton’s] quality, blessed with such outstanding gifts, should resign a ministry in order to return to the practice of law and give as his reason that as a minister he did not earn enough to bring up his eight children.” After Hamilton returned to New York, Talleyrand was en route to a dinner party one night when he glimpsed Hamilton toiling by candlelight in his law office. “I have seen a man who made the fortune of a nation laboring all night to support his family,” he said, shocked. After becoming French foreign minister in July 1797, he rejoiced at the plunder placed at his fingertips. “I’ll hold the job,” he confided to a friend. “I have to make an immense fortune out of it, a really immense fortune.” He proceeded to scoop up an estimated thirteen to fourteen million francs during his first two years as foreign minister alone.

-- Ron Chernow, “Alexander Hamilton”

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I dare say we have caught up with the French by now.

Cat Fight

Okay, that was a mistake. I let that one Willy-looking female cat eat at the dish on the patio. She was looking bad, mere skin and bones, like she might be dying, so I gave in and didn't chase her away. However, a little later, I hear an ugly squall of cats and I rush out to see Sammy and Willa fighting each other, rolling on the ground together clawing and biting. I grabbed one of the plastic white patio chairs and chased Willa off.

I warily look over Sammy to assess the damages. I do not see blood anywhere. I do not even see scratches. He holds a fore-paw up a little gingerly, but he is walking well. I did see a thick wad of cat fur stuck on his nails. I am guessing Willa took the worse of it, though based on what I saw of her, she also seemed to get away without any injuries. Although it is a she and smaller, even still somewhat kittenish, like she might not be quite a full-year old yet, she is still wild, feral, whereas my Sammy is a little tame, a little domesticated, civilized (for a cat). Nevertheless, I do not want to take chances like this. I cannot humor Willa again, and I doubt we have seen the last of her. Cats don't scare off easily, especially when they are hungry.

Plain Honest Abe

David Brooks writes about the fast approaching campaign season. He says that he likes to keep Abraham Lincoln in mind, to be held up as a sort of gold standard. He makes the interesting observation, though, that a Lincoln probably could not even be considered a candidate in present-day America: "We will not get a Lincoln. A person with his face could not survive the TV age. A person with his capacity for introspection could not survive the 24/7 self-branding campaign environment." When Americans are more interested in reality-TV shows and pretty people than in reality itself and serious people, you have to have pretty modest expectations. In fact, it is probably a good idea to brace yourself for the worst. We could get Sarah Palin!

[Source: David Brooks at The New York Times]