It is odd reading for us, with a bank in every street, not only those old diatribes in Congress against banks of all sorts, but Hamilton’s elaborate arguments in favour of banks in general, the benefits and conveniences they confer upon individuals as well as nations.  But in those days there were but three banks in the Union, and each had been established against violent opposition, Hamilton, in particular, having carried the Bank of New York through by unremitting personal effort.  The average man preferred his stocking.  Representatives from backwoods districts were used to such circulating mediums as military warrants, guard certificates, horses, cattle, cow-bells, land, and whiskey.  They looked askance at a bank as a sort of whirlpool into which wealth would disappear, and bolt out at the bottom into the pockets of a few individuals who understood what was beyond the average intellect.  But by far the most disquieting objection brought forward against this plan of the Secretary’s was its alleged unconstitutionality.

Monroe, although a new man, and speaking seldom, exerted a systematic opposition in the Senate, and Madison, in the House, argued, with lucidity and persistence, that the Constitution had no power to grant a charter to any such institution as the Secretary proposed.  Others argued that the success of this new scheme would infringe upon the rights of the States, and still others thundered the everlasting accusations of monarchical design.  Nevertheless, the bill for granting the required charter passed both Houses by a handsome majority.  The able Federalists had contemptuously dissected the arguments against it with greater skill than even Madison could command; and confidence in Hamilton, by this time, practically was a religion.  The bill was sent to Washington to sign or veto, and the anti-Federalists, disconcerted and alarmed by their signal defeat in Congress, rested their final hope on Jefferson.

The President, according to law, had but ten days in which to sign or veto a bill:  if he hesitated but a moment beyond the constitutional limit, the bill became a law without his signature.  It may safely be said that these ten days were the most miserable of Washington’s life so far, although they were but the forerunner of many to come.

By this time the Cabinet had acquired the habit of assembling for conference about a council table in the President’s house.  Washington sat at the head of the table, with Hamilton on his left, and Jefferson on his right.  Knox, who would have frowned upon the Almighty had he contradicted Hamilton, sat beside his Captain.  Randolph sat opposite, his principles with Jefferson, but his intellect so given to hair-splitting, that in critical moments this passion to weigh every side of a proposition in turn frequently resulted in the wrench of a concession by Hamilton, while Jefferson fumed.  As time went on, Washington fell into the habit of extending his long arms upon the table in front of him, and clasping his imposing hands in the manner of a rampart.