Listen up, you modern mandarins of the administrative state, you high priests of deference, of balancing tests and “evolving standards.” You think the Nobility Clauses are some quaint relic, a dusty curio from 1787, fit only for museum shelves and pro se lunatics? You think “No Title of Nobility shall be granted” is just rhetorical flourish, a polite suggestion the Founders tossed in twice while they were busy inventing the rest of the Constitution?

Wrong. Dead wrong. And dangerously wrong. The text is clear as a bell rung by a blacksmith:

“No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States.”

“No State shall… grant any Title of Nobility.”

It does not say “unless Congress consents” or “except when administratively convenient.” Nor does it say “subject to rational‑basis review” or “national‑security balancing” or any of the other mealy‑mouthed solvents you pour over the Constitution’s hardest commands.

The Founders did not whisper about aristocracy

Madison, in Federalist No. 10, warns of factions; those combinations united by passion or interest adverse to the rights of others. He does not say “let the majority sort it out.” He says the Constitution’s design: republican representation, extended sphere, separation of powers, is meant to control the mischief of faction, not unleash it. And what greater factional mischief is there than the artificial aristocracy of the political party duopoly, corporate personhood, clearance castes, and regulatory nobility that now runs this country like a chartered monopoly?

Hamilton, in Federalist No. 84, dismisses the need for a bill of rights by pointing to the structural safeguards already in the document, among them the prohibition on titles of nobility. He calls it one of the “great securities” against “the danger of aristocracy.” He was not kidding. He was not being cute. He was being deadly serious.

Adams, in his letters and in Defense of the Constitutions, wrote with the fury of a man who had seen artificial privilege destroy republics before. Equality before the law, he insisted, means no artificial distinctions. No titles = no legal castes, no government‑created lords.

Jefferson drew the line with a razor: a natural aristocracy of virtue and talents is fine, inevitable, even desirable. But an artificial aristocracy grounded in birth, wealth, or privilege? “A mischievous ingredient in government.” He said, “provision should be made to prevent its ascendancy.”

This is curious indeed. Provision was made. The Constitution already speaks plainly. Article I, Section 9, Clause 8 and its companion in Section 10 erect a categorical bar on titles of nobility and a conditional bar on foreign emoluments. Congress decided to go further a few years later.

Jefferson again, warning Logan: “I hope we shall crush in its birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare already to challenge our government to a trial of strength and bid defiance to the laws of our country.” He was not speaking metaphorically.

The Amendment That Almost Was (and Could Be Yet)

In 1810, Congress proposed the Titles of Nobility Amendment (TONA), intended to become the original Thirteenth Amendment. Some say it was indeed the 13th amendment (fully ratified and the law of the land); reportedly because printers of the era, never a model of precision, obligingly began inserting it into their constitutions and legal books as such. Virginia’s statutory code carried it from 1819 to 1867. Confusion followed, as confusion often does.

The official story is TONA fell just short of ratification requirements and was eventually forgotten just like the absolute domestic ban in the clause it is named after. When Congress submitted TONA on May 1, 1810, ratification required 13 states. By early 1812, 11 had ratified and the amendment looked poised to succeed.

Then the Republic Did What Republics Do: It Grew

Louisiana became the eighteenth U.S. state on April 30, 1812, raising the ratification threshold. TONA definitely didn’t fall short because of intrigue; it fell short because of math.

Then There Was the War of 1812 – The One Where They Burned Down Washington, DC

The war began on June 18, 2012, adding confusion but definitely not mystery. When British forces entered Washington on August 24, 1814, they burned the White House, the Capitol, the Treasury, the War Department and the Navy Yard but not the TONA paperwork. Many congressional and departmental records were lost, especially from the War, Navy, and Treasury departments. But the State Department (custodian of treaties, diplomatic correspondence, and constitutional paperwork) had already acted.

Two days before the attack, Secretary of State James Monroe sent President James Madison a blunt warning: “You had better remove the records.” (August 22, 1814). And they did just that. The State Department did not yet have statutory custody of amendment ratifications, but it had practical custody of the nation’s diplomatic and constitutional archives long before a formalized arrangement.

The Man Who Actually Moved the Documents

The person who physically saved the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and the State Department’s archives (including the TONA amendment paperwork), who packed the documents into linen sacks, commandeered wagons, moved them out of Washington hours before the British arrived, who chose the hiding locations and personally supervised their transport and concealment was Stephen Pleasonton, a low‑ranking but astonishingly competent State Department clerk.

Where the Documents Went: Two Real Places, Both Known

Pleasonton moved the records to two specific locations, both chosen for speed, safety, and distance. The initial hiding place was a gristmill owned by Edgar Patterson, located on the Virginia side of the Potomac. It was close enough to reach quickly, far enough to avoid the immediate danger, and sturdy enough to store heavy boxes. This was a temporary staging point; a “get it out of the blast radius” move. From the mill, Pleasonton moved the documents to the Rokeby estate, owned by Richard Henderson, in Leesburg, Virginia. Rokeby was remote, defensible, large enough to hide crates and owned by a family trusted by the State Department. The documents stayed there until the British withdrew.

The State Department preserved the record before it had the legal duty to do so; a reminder that sometimes the Constitution survives not by statute, but by competence.

The Ratification Record – Which Is Definitely Not A Mystery Thanks To Sketchy Characters Way Back When

On February 27, 1818, President James Monroe transmitted to Congress the official tally: TONA had not met the constitutional threshold.

Ratified

1. Maryland – Dec. 25, 1810
2. Kentucky – Jan. 31, 1811
3. Ohio – Jan. 31, 1811
4. Delaware – Feb. 2, 1811
5. Pennsylvania – Feb. 6, 1811
6. New Jersey – Feb. 13, 1811
7. Vermont – Oct. 24, 1811
8. Tennessee – Nov. 21, 1811
9. North Carolina – Dec. 23, 1811
10. Georgia – Dec. 31, 1811
11. Massachusetts – Feb. 27, 1812
12. New Hampshire – Dec. 9, 1812

Rejected

1. Virginia – Feb. 14, 1811
2. New York – Mar. 12, 1812
3. Connecticut – May 13, 1813
4. Rhode Island – Sept. 15, 1814

Failed to act

1. South Carolina – the only pre-1812 state that did nothing
2. Louisiana – newly admitted, didn’t act

And that was apparently the end of that even though TONA has no expiration date and is still pending.

Strangely enough, South Carolina appears in the historical scholarship as one of the states where TONA was printed as if it were part of the Constitution, even though the surviving copies are limited. The Marquette Law Review’s comprehensive study notes that TONA was “widely believed to be part of the Constitution” and printed in numerous state and territorial codes, even where no ratification occurred and South Carolina is included in that group. Virginia published the same in their statuary code for near 50 years as was mentioned earlier. Maybe those “Thirteenthers” aren’t as crazy as some would have us believe.

On April 20, 1818, Congress enacted a statute placing amendment‑certification duties in the hands of the Secretary of State, where they remained until 1950, when Congress transferred the function to the Administrator of General Services. In 1984, Congress vested the responsibility in the Archivist of the United States, where it resides today.

High Strangeness from Tip to Tail

TONA’s operative text is not subtle. It mirrors the structure of the original clauses but adds teeth, the kind that bite.

If any citizen of the United States shall accept, claim, receive, or retain any title of nobility or honour, or shall, without the consent of Congress, accept and retain any present, pension, office or emolument of any kind whatever, from any emperor, king, prince or foreign power, such person shall cease to be a citizen of the United States, and shall be incapable of holding any office of trust or profit under them, or either of them.

TONA’s Structure

• Domestic ban: If any citizen accepts, claims, receives, or retains any title of nobility or honour… → loss of citizenship.
• Foreign‑influence ban: …or shall, without consent of Congress, accept and retain any present, pension, office, or emolument… from any emperor, king, prince, or foreign power… → same penalty.

The domestic prohibition is absolute. The foreign prohibition is conditional. Congress may consent to the latter; it may not consent to the former.

Compare the “Emoluments Clause” (also routinely called the “Foreign Emoluments Clause,” perhaps because that part they’d like to continue ignoring is still binding):

No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State.

Binding Clause Structure

• Domestic ban: No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: → Absolute No.
• Foreign influence ban: …And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State. → Conditional.

The symmetry is unmistakable. The Constitution already drew the line. TONA merely proposed to enforce it with very stiff consequences.

The Framers Knew EXACTLY What They Were Doing

They knew chartered monopolies, hereditary privileges, crown-granted estates, and every other species of artificial aristocracy choked the life out of liberty in the Old World. They wrote two ironclad prohibitions, one for the federal government, one for the states, because they intended to slaughter the serpent before it could coil again in the new republic.

And yet here we are, two and a quarter centuries later, watching the serpent not merely survive but thrive and slither around in the respectable garb of “regulatory flexibility,” “public-private partnership,” “national security deference,” and every other euphemism you invent to avoid calling it what it is: nobility by regulation.

So let’s speak plainly.

Super PACs with coordination loopholes that drown the field in money? Titles of Nobility

The political duopoly itself? Titles of Nobility

Gerrymandering that predetermines winners before a single vote is cast? Titles of Nobility

Clearance castes that create a permanent class of “trusted” insiders? Titles of Nobility

Watchlists that brand citizens as perpetual suspects with no exit? Titles of Nobility

Corporate personhood that lets artificial entities outspend, outlive, and out‑litigate citizens? Titles of Nobility on stilts

Regulatory carve‑outs that shield entire industries from liability? Titles of Nobility

Licensing regimes that turn basic participation into a privilege granted by the state? Titles of Nobility

Civil‑asset forfeiture systems that treat some citizens as presumptively untrusted? Titles of Nobility

Trusted‑traveler and pre‑clearance identity tiers? Titles of Nobility

Immunity doctrines that place government actors above ordinary legal consequence? Titles of Nobility

Exclusive contracting pipelines reserved for legacy firms? Titles of Nobility

And this list contains only a few of the most visible examples. The full architecture of modern caste‑creation is far larger.

These are not “policy choices.” They are not “necessary.” And they are most definitely not “rational.”

The Framers called them forbidden. The Constitution does not say “balance this.” It does not say “defer to the agency.” It does not say “apply Chevron.” It says shall not.

And because the Titles of Nobility Clauses are self‑executing and complete on their face and mandatory and enforceable without implementing legislation, a single court that recovers its spine can strike these hierarchies down tomorrow. No deference. No balancing. No evolving standards. Just the binding text.

So laugh at it, call it quaint, obsolete, fringe. But when the hammer falls, and it will because the Constitution does not ask permission to enforce itself, the laughter stops and those in their government-granted nobility stations begin to tremble.

The Titles of Nobility Clauses are not a polite suggestion. They are not symbolic. They are the kill switch the Framers installed because they knew in their bones that power, whether born in a palace or a boardroom, will always seek to create artificial superiority and enforce it through law.

The Republic still remembers what it was built to prevent.