There are numerous parallels between Hamilton and Elon Musk, both visionary immigrants with grand ambitions, immense energy, and many overlapping ventures. Both were polarizing figures who attracted fierce opposition from those who saw their projects as dangerous concentrations of power.

‘This Spirit of Gambling‘

July 4, 2026 marks not only the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence but also — less celebrated — the 235th anniversary of the IPO for the Bank of the United States, both occurring in Philadelphia. Hamilton championed the bank as a necessary component for building a prosperous America with a stable financial system.

The public offering was for share subscriptions called “script” or “scrip.” The IPO on July 4, 1791 was oversubscribed, as SpaceX’s was. George Washington saw it as a good sign:

This, I believe, exceeds the expectation of the most sanguine among us … the whole number of shares were taken up, and four thousand more applied for than were allowed by the Institution … This circumstance was not only pleasing as it related to the confidence in Government; but as it exhibited an unexpected proof of the resources of our Citizens.

Among Hamilton’s many enemies was Thomas Jefferson, who preferred that America remain an agrarian society unsullied by finance and commerce. Jefferson took a different view of the oversubscribed IPO:

… the bank filled and overflowed in the moment it was opened … it is impossible to say where the appetite for gambling will stop … As yet the delirium of speculation is too strong to admit sober reflection … I am afraid it is the intention to nourish this spirit of gambling …

Leverage is part of the story. The bank script was sold for $25 but represented $400 of equity; buyers owed the remaining $375 over two years. Many traders borrowed money to buy the script, piling leverage atop leverage. Similarly, in the case of SpaceX, at least 11 leveraged single-stock ETFs were introduced immediately after the IPO.

‘A Moral Certainty of Gain‘

Script prices surged immediately after the IPO. Here’s James Madison, writing from New York City on July 10:

It seems admitted on all hands now that the plan of the institution gives a moral certainty of gain to the Subscribers with scarce a physical possibility of loss. … Nothing new is talked of here. In fact stockjobbing drowns every other subject. The Coffee House is in an eternal buzz with the gamblers.

Madison’s “moral certainty of gain” echoes the current argument that SpaceX is a sure thing, given its near-monopoly on commercial space launch. SpaceX, we’re told, holds a position that “is nearly impossible to replicate” and is “too big to fail.”

‘No Small Share of Envy‘

By August, the bubble had reached its peak, with the price rising from $25 to $200. Here’s Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence:

The city of Philadelphia for several days has exhibited the marks of a great gaming house   … The great speculators became talkative and communicative or dull, sullen, silent, and peevish. Genl. Stewart, who had just begun to deal in Script, said that he could not sleep at nights. Never did I see so universal a frenzy. Nothing else was spoken of in all companies, even by those who were not interested in it. 

It excited febrile diseases in three persons who became my patients. In one of them, the acquisition of twelve thousand dollars in a few minutes by a lucky sale, brought on madness which terminated in death in a few days. The whole city felt the impulse of this paroxysm of avarice. 

While I’m unaware of any deaths caused by trading SpaceX, many of the other symptoms described by Rush seem relevant today. Then, as now, FOMO played a role:

The late rise of paper and bank stock … has excited no small share of envy among those who might have made money by it, yet did not.

Pardon Me, Are You William Duer, Sir?

The bubble ultimately collapsed, leading to the Panic of 1792. Here’s Rush:

… great distress prevails in New York. Men are often seen to weep in the streets.

Many blamed William Duer, the Bernie Madoff of the 1790s.

Once Hamilton’s right-hand man at the Treasury, Duer was an embezzler who raised money for his financial schemes from widows, orphans, merchants, mechanics, and butchers, being a pioneer of “democratizing finance.” When it all came crashing down, Duer surrendered to the New York authorities for his own protection, as his investors were howling for his blood. Here’s Jefferson:

… all that stuff called scrip, of whatever description, was folly or roguery … It was reported here last night that there had been a collection of people round the place of Duer’s confinement of so threatening an appearance as to call out the Governor and militia, and to be fired on by them: and that several of them were killed. 

In fact, there were no fatalities. Duer spent the remainder of his life in debtors’ prison, dying in 1799. 

‘Things Must Assume Their Proper Sizes‘

Now, I’m not predicting The Panic of 2027, with men weeping in the streets and leveraged ETF promoters in debtors’ prison. But if 1791 reminds you of 2026, you’ve got to be concerned. Let me conclude with a poem published at the height of the bubble:

Touched by the wand of speculation,
A frenzy runs throughout the nation;
For soon or late, so truth advises,
Things must assume their proper sizes —
And sure as death all mortals trips.
Thousands will rue their faith in SCRIPS.

“Things must assume their proper sizes.” I think there’s a lot of wisdom in those words. Whatever ends up happening with SpaceX, AI, and the stock market, I’m pretty sure that things will eventually assume their proper sizes.

The opinions expressed in Fortune.com commentary pieces are solely the views of their authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and beliefs of Fortune.

Owen Lamont is a Senior Vice President and Portfolio Manager at Acadian Asset Management, where he writes the Owenomics column on behavioral finance and investor behavior.