Hamilton and Lansing debated with a lively exchange of acrimonious wit.

Smith spoke in behalf of the Constitution. Then Hamilton rose for what

all felt was to be a grand final effort, and even his friends

experienced an almost intolerable excitement. On the other side men

trembled visibly with apprehension, not so much in fear of the result as

of the assault upon their nervous systems. They hardly could have felt

worse if on their way to execution, but not a man left his seat; the

fascination was too strong to induce even a desire to avoid it.

Hamilton began dispassionately enough. He went over the whole

Constitution rapidly, yet in so emphatic a manner as to accomplish the

intelligent subservience of his audience. Then, with the unexaggerated

eloquence of which he was so consummate a master, he pictured the

beauty, the happiness, the wealth of the United States under the new

Constitution; of the peace and prosperity of half a million homes; of

the uninterrupted industry of her great cities, their ramifications to

countless hamlets; of the good-will and honour of Europe; of a vast

international trade; of a restored credit at home and abroad, which

should lift the heavy clouds from the future of every ambitious man in

the Republic; of a peace between the States which would tend to the

elevation of the American character, as the bitter, petty, warring, and

perpetual jealousies had incontestably lowered it; of, for the beginning

of their experiment, at least eight years of harmony under George

Washington.

He spoke for two hours in the glowing terms of a prophecy and an

optimism so alluring, that load after load seemed to roll from the

burdened minds opposite, although Clinton snorted as if about to thrust

down his head and paw the earth. When Hamilton had made his hearers

thoroughly drunk with dreams of an ecstatic future, he advanced upon

them suddenly, and, without a word of warning transition, poured upon

them so terrible a picture of the consequences of their refusal to enter

the Union, that for the first few moments they were ready to leap upon

him and wrench him apart. The assault was terrific, and he plunged on

remorselessly. He sketched the miseries of the past eleven years, the

poverty, the dangers, the dishonour, and then by the most precise and

logical deduction presented a future which, by the commonest natural and

social laws, must, without the protection of a high and central power,

be the hideous finish. The twilight came; the evening breeze was

rustling through the trees and across the sultry room. As Hamilton had

calculated, the moment came when he had his grip on the very roots of

the enemy's nerves. Chests were rising, handkerchiefs appearing. Women

fainted. Clinton blew his nose with such terrific force that the

messenger below scrambled to his feet. Hamilton waited during a

breathless moment, then charged down upon them.

"Now listen, gentlemen," he said. "No one so much as I wishes that this

Constitution be ratified to the honour of the State of New York; but

upon this I have determined: that the enlightened and patriotic minority

shall not suffer for the selfishness and obstinacy of the majority. I

therefore announce to you plainly, gentlemen, that if you do not ratify

this Constitution, with no further talk of impossible amendments and

conditions, that Manhattan Island, Westchester, and Kings counties shall

secede from the State of New York and form a State by themselves,

leaving the rest of your State without a seaport, too contemptible to

make treaties, with only a small and possibly rebellious militia to

protect her northern boundaries from the certain rapacity of Great

Britain, with the scorn and dislike of the Union, and with no hope of

assistance from the Federal Government, which is assured, remember, no

matter what her straits. That is all."

It was enough. He had won the day. The Constitution was ratified without

further parley.

X

Hamilton reëntered New York to the blaze of bonfires, the salute of

cannon, and the deafening shouts of a multitude that escorted him to his

doorway. Betsey was so proud of him she hardly could speak for a day,

and his library was flooded with letters of congratulation from all

parts of the Union. For several days he shut himself up with his family

and a few friends, for he needed the rest; and the relaxation was

paradisal. He played marbles and spun tops with his oldest boys, and

dressed and undressed Angelica's doll as often as his imperious daughter

commanded. Troup and Fish, now the dignified Adjutant-General of State,

with his bang grown long and his hair brushed back, spent hours with him

in the heavy shades of the garden, or tormenting a monkey on the other

side of the fence. Madison came at once to wrangle with him over the

temporary seat of government, and demanded the spare bedroom, protesting

he had too much to say to waste time travelling back and forth. He was a

welcome guest; and he, too, sat on the floor and dressed Angelica's

doll.

The city was _en fête_, and little business was transacted except at the

public houses. Bands of citizens awoke Hamilton from his sleep, shouting

for "Alexander the Great." Anti-Federalists got so drunk that they

embraced the Federalists, and sang on Hamilton's doorstep. The hero

retreated to the back room on the top floor. The climax came on the 5th

of August, in the great procession, with which, after the fashion of

other triumphant cities, New York was to demonstrate in honour of the

victory of the Constitution.

But, unlike its predecessors, this procession was as much in honour of

one man as of the triumph of a great principle. To have persuaded New

York, at that time, that Hamilton had not written the Constitution, and

secured its ratification in the eleven States of the Union by his

unaided efforts, would have been a dissipation of energy in August which

even Clinton would not have attempted. To them Hamilton was the

Constitution, Federalism, the genius of the new United States. And he

was their very own. "Virginia has her Madison," they reiterated,

"Massachusetts her Adamses--and may she keep them and be damned; other

States may think they have produced a giant, and those that do not can

fall back on Washington; but Hamilton is ours, we adore him, we are so

proud of him we are like to burst, and we can never express our

gratitude, try as we may; so we'll show him an honour that no other

State has thought of showing to any particular man."

And of the sixth of New York's thirty thousand inhabitants that turned

out on that blazing August day and marched for hours, that all the

eager city might see, at least two-thirds bore a banner emblazoned with

Hamilton's portrait or name, held on high. The procession was

accompanied by a military escort; and every profession, every trade, was

represented. A large proportion of the men who marched were gentlemen.

Nicolas Fish was on the staff of the grand marshal, with six of his

friends. Robert Troup and two other prominent lawyers bore, on a

cushion, the new Constitution, magnificently engrossed. Nicolas Cruger,

Hamilton's old employer, again a resident of New York, led the farmers,

driving a plough drawn by three yoke of oxen. Baron Polnitz displayed

the wonders of the newly perfected threshing-machine. John Watts, a man

who had grown gray in the highest offices of New York, before and since

the Revolution, guided a harrow, drawn by horses and oxen. The

president, regents, professors, and students of Columbia College, all in

academic dress, were followed by the Chamber of Commerce and the members

of the bar. The many societies, led by the Cincinnati, followed, each

bearing an appropriate banner.

And in the very centre of that pageant, gorgeous in colour and costume,

from the green of the foresters to the white of the florists, was the

great Federal ship, with HAMILTON, HAMILTON, HAMILTON, HAMILTON,

emblazoned on every side of it. In the memory of the youngest present

there was to be but one other procession in New York so imposing, and

that, too, was in honour of Hamilton.

He stood on a balcony in the Broadway, with his family, Madison, Baron

Steuben, and the Schuylers, bowing constantly to the salutes and cheers.

Nicolas Cruger looked up and grinned. Fish winked decorously, and Troup

attempted a salaam, and nearly dropped the Constitution. But Hamilton's

mind served him a trick for a moment; the vivid procession, with his

face and name fluttering above five thousand heads, the compact mass of

spectators, proud and humble, that crowded the pavements and waved their

handkerchiefs toward him, the patriotically decorated windows filled

with eager, often beautiful, faces, disappeared, and he stood in front

of Cruger's store on Bay Street, with his hands in his linen pockets,

gazing out over a blinding glare of water, passionately wishing for the

war-ship which never came, to deliver him from his Island prison and

carry him to the gates of the real world beyond. He had been an

ambitious boy, but nothing in his imaginings had projected him to the

dizzy eminence on which he stood to-day. He was recalled by the salute

of the Federal ship's thirteen guns to the president of the Congress and

its members, who stood on the fort in the Battery.

After all, perhaps it was the proudest and the happiest day of his

career, for the depths in his nature still slumbered, the triumph was

without alloy; and he knew that there were other heights to scale, and

that he should scale them. It was the magnificent and spontaneous

tribute of an intelligent people to an enlightened patriotism, to years

of severe and unselfish thought; and hardly an enemy grudged him his

deserts. The wild feeling of exultant triumph which surged behind his

smiling face receded before the rising swell of the profoundest

gratitude he had ever known.

The day finished with a great banquet at Mr. Bayard's country-seat, near

Grand Street, where tables were spread for six thousand persons, in a

pavilion surmounted by an image of Fame, and decorated with the colours

of the nations that had formed treaties with the United States. Later,

there was a grand display of fireworks.

XI

On the following day Hamilton went to Albany to march at the head of a

Federal procession with General Schuyler, then returned to

"Hamiltonopolis" and such legal work as he was permitted to accomplish;

for not only were leaders consulting him on every possible question from

the coming elections to the proper seat for the new government, and his

duties as a member of Congress pressing, but Edward Stevens, now

established as a doctor in Philadelphia, paid him a visit of a week, and

they talked the night through of St. Croix and old times. One of the

pleasantest results of these years of supremacy was the unqualified

delight of his Island friends. Hugh Knox was so proud of him, and of

himself and the debt which Hamilton acknowledged, that he wrote

explosive reams describing the breathless interest of St. Croix in his

career, and of the distinguished gatherings at the Governor's when he

arrived with one of their lost citizen's infrequent epistles. Mrs.

Mitchell, poor soul, wrote pathetically that she would no longer regret

his loss could she love him less. Hamilton wrote to her as often as he

could find the time, and Betsey selected a present for her several times

a year. Gratitude is the privilege of a great soul, and Hamilton had a

full measure of it. Even his father and brother wrote occasionally,

respectfully, if with no great warmth; and if their congratulations were

usually accompanied by the experimental sigh of poverty, Hamilton was

glad to respond, for at this period he was making a good deal of money.

His promised bow to Mrs. Croix he deferred from day to day, pleading to

himself the pressure of work, which was submerging; but while he

reproached himself for ingratitude, he knew that he dreaded the meeting:

the old spirit of adventure within him, long quiescent, tapped

alluringly on the doors of his prudence. That she did not write again,

even to congratulate him as other friends had done, but added to his

discomfort, for he knew that her pride was now in arms, and that she

must be deeply wounded. He heard of her constantly, and at the

procession in his honour he had seen her, leaning on the arm of General

Knox, a dazzling, but angelic vision in blue and white, at which even

the bakers, wig-makers, foresters, tanners, and printers had turned to

stare. One of the latter had leaped down from the moving platform on

which he was printing a poem of occasion by William Duer, and begged her

on his knee to deign to receive a copy. She held weekly receptions,

which were attended by two-thirds of the leading men in town, and

Hamilton's intimate friends discoursed of her constantly. Croix was

supposed to have been seized with a passion for travelling in savage

jungles, and it was the general belief that his death would be

announced as soon as the lady should find it convenient to go into

mourning. It was plain to the charitable that he had left her with

plenty of money, for she dressed like the princess she looked, and her

entertainments lacked no material attraction. The gossip was more

furious than ever, but the most assiduous scandal-monger could connect

no one man with her name, nor trace her income to other than its reputed

source. More than once Hamilton had passed her coach, and she had bowed

gravely, with neither challenge nor reproach in her sweet haughty eyes.

After these quick passings Hamilton usually gave her a few moments of

intense thought. He marvelled at her curious intimate knowledge of him,

not only of the less known episodes of his career, but of more than one

of his mental processes. It is true, she might have led Troup or Fish

into gossip and analysis, but her sympathy counted heavily. She drew him

by many strings, and sometimes the response thrilled him unbearably. He

felt like a man who stood outside the gates of Paradise, bolting them

fast. Still, he could quite forget her in his work; and it is probable

that but for chance he never would have met her, that one of the

greatest disasters in history would have been averted.

Betsey, who had not been well for some time, went to the northern

forests of her old home to strive for "spring" and colour. She took the

children with her, and Hamilton, who hated to live alone, filled his

deserted rooms with Troup, Fish, and Baron Steuben, whose claims he had

been pressing upon Congress for years, practically supporting him

meanwhile. The old soldier felt keenly the ingratitude of the country he

had served, but in time it made him ample compensation; meanwhile the

devotion of a few friends, and the lionizing of society, helped him to

bear his lot with considerable fortitude. He spent hours in the nursery

of the little Hamiltons, and was frequently seen in the Broadway with

one in his arms and the other three attached to his person.

All the talk was of Washington and the first administration, Hamilton

having carried his point in Congress that New York should be the

temporary seat of government; there was jealousy and wrangling over

this, as over most other matters involving state pride, but Hamilton

believed that should the prize fall to Philadelphia, she would not

relinquish it as lightly as New York, which geographically was the more

unfit for a permanent gathering, and that the inconvenience to which

most of the members, in those days of difficult travel over a vast area,

would be subjected, would force them the sooner to agree upon a central

and commonly agreeable locality,--one, moreover, which would not meet

with the violent opposition of New York. Madison, who had been in favour

of Philadelphia, finally acknowledged Hamilton's sagacity and gave him

his influence and vote.

That point settled, all eyes were turned to Mount Vernon. The masses

took for granted that Washington would respond to every call of duty the

public chose to make, and it was inconceivable that anyone else should

fill the first term of that great executive experiment. The universal

confidence in Washington and belief that he was to guide the

Constitution over the more critical of its shoals, had operated more

than any other factor in the ratification of that adventurous

instrument. It was a point upon which Hamilton had harped continually.

That a whole country should turn, as a matter of course, to a man whom

they revered for his virtues rather than for any brilliant parts he may

have effectually hidden within his cold and silent exterior, their

harmonious choice unbroken by an argument against the safety and dignity

of the country in the hands of such a man, certainly is a manifest of

the same elevation of tone that we infer from the great popularity of

the writings of Hamilton and the deference to such men as Jay and Philip

Schuyler. But although they had all the faults of human nature, our

forefathers, and were often selfish and jealous to a degree that

imperilled the country, at least they had the excuse, not only of being

mere mortals, but of living in an era of such changes, uncertainty, and

doubt, that public and private interests seemed hopelessly tangled.

They were not debased by political corruption until Jefferson took them

in hand, and sowed the bountiful crop which has fattened so vast and so

curious a variation upon the original American.

The Federal leaders by no means shared the confidence of the people in

Washington's response to their call, and they were deeply uneasy. They

knew that he had been bombarded with letters for a year, urging upon him

the acceptance of the great office which would surely be offered him,

and that he had replied cautiously to each that he could not share their

opinion of his indispensability, that he had earned the repose he loved

after a lifetime spent in the service of his country, and had no desire

to return to public life. Hamilton, at least, knew the motive that lay

behind his evasion; without ambition, he was very jealous of his fame.

That fame now was not only one of the most resplendent in history, but

as unassailable as it was isolated. He feared the untried field in which

he might fail.

One evening, late in September, as Hamilton and his temporary household

were entering the dining room, Gouverneur Morris drove down Wall Street

in his usual reckless fashion, scattering dogs and children, and pulling

his nervous sweating horses almost to their haunches, as he reached

Hamilton's door. As he entered the house, however, and received the

enthusiastic welcome to which he was accustomed, his bearing was as

unruffled as if he had walked down from Morrisania reading a breviary.

"I grow desperately lonely and bored out on my ancestral domain, and

long for the glare and glitter, the intrigues and women, of Europe--our

educated ones are so virtuous, and the others write such shockingly

ungrammatical notes," he announced, as he took his seat at the board.

"Educated virtue is beneficial for the country, but we will all admit

that politics are our only excitement, and my blood dances when I think

of Europe. However, I did not come tearing through the woods on a hot

night to lament the virtue of the American woman. I've written to

Washington, and he won't listen to me. We all know how many others have

written, including Lafayette, I hear. And we all know what the

consequences will be if--say John or Sam Adams, Hancock, or Clinton

should be our first president. I long for Paris, but I cannot leave the

country while she is threatened with as grave a peril as any that has

beset her. Would that he had a grain of ambition--of anything that a

performer upon the various chords of human nature could impress. I

suppose if he were not so desperately perfect, we should not be in the

quandary we are, but he would be far easier to manage. As I awoke from

my siesta just two hours ago, my brain was illuminated by the idea that

one man alone could persuade him; and that was Alexander Hamilton. He

likes us, but he loves you. If he has a weak spot, it has yearned over

you since you were our infant prodigy in uniform, with your curls in

your eyes. You must take him in hand."

"I have mentioned it to him, when writing of other things."

"He is only too glad of the excuse to evade a mere mention. You must

write to him as peremptorily as only you dare to write to that majestic

presence. Don't mince it. Don't be too respectful--I was, because he is

the one being I am afraid of. So are all the others. Besides, you have

the most powerful and pointed pen in this country. We have spoiled you

until you are afraid of no one--if you ever were. And you know him as no

one else does; you will approach him from precisely the right sides.

Your duty is clear, and the danger is appalling. Besides, I want to go

to Europe. Promise me that you will write to-night."

"Very well," said Hamilton, laughing. "I promise." And, in truth, his

mind had opened at once to the certainty that the time was come for him

to make the final effort to insure Washington's acceptance. He had felt,

during the last weeks, as if burrowing in the very heart of a mountain

of work; but his skin chilled as he contemplated the opening of the new

government without Washington in the presidential Chair.

Two hours after dinner Morris escorted him to the library and shut him

in, then went, with his other friends, to Fraunces' tavern, and the

house was quiet. Hamilton's thoughts arranged themselves rapidly, and

before midnight he had finished his letter. Fortunately it has been

preserved, for it is of as vital an interest as anything he ever wrote,

not only because it was the determining factor in Washington's

acceptance of an office toward which he looked with reluctance and

dread, but because of its consummate sagacity and of its peremptory

tone, which no man but Hamilton would have dared to assume to

Washington.

It ran:--

NEW YORK, September, 1788.

... I should be deeply pained, my dear sir, if your scruples in

regard to a certain station should be matured into a resolution to

decline it; though I am neither surprised at their existence, nor

can I but agree in opinion, that the caution you observe in

deferring an ultimate determination, is prudent. I have, however,

reflected maturely on the subject, and have come to a conclusion

(in which I feel no hesitation), that every public and personal

consideration will demand from you an acquiescence in what will

_certainly_ be the unanimous wish of your country. The absolute

retreat which you meditated at the close of the late war was

natural, and proper. Had the Government produced by the Revolution

gone on in a _tolerable_ train, it would have been most advisable

to have persisted in that retreat. But I am clearly of opinion that

the crisis which brought you again into public view, left you no

alternative but to comply; and I am equally clear in the opinion,

that you are by that act _pledged_ to take a part in the execution

of the Government. I am not less convinced, that the impression of

this necessity of your filling the station in question is so

universal, that you run no risk of any uncandid imputation by

submitting to it. But even if this were not the case, a regard to

your own reputation, as well as to the public good, calls upon you

in the strongest manner, to run that risk.

It cannot be considered as a compliment to say, that on your

acceptance of the office of President, the success of the new

Government, in its commencement, may materially depend. Your agency

and influence will be not less important in preserving it from the

future attacks of its enemies, than they have been in recommending

it, in the first instance, to the adoption of the people.

Independent of all considerations drawn from this source, the point

of light in which you stand at home and abroad will make an

infinite difference in the respectability with which the Government

will begin its operations, in the alternative of your being or not

being at the head of it. I forbear to urge considerations which

might have a more personal application. What I have said will

suffice for the inferences I mean to draw.

First. In a matter so essential to the well being of society, as

the prosperity of a newly instituted government, a citizen, of so

much consequence as yourself to its success, has no option but to

lend his services if called for. Permit me to say it would be

inglorious, in such a situation, not to hazard the glory, however

great, which he might have previously acquired.

Secondly. Your signature to the proposed system pledges your

judgement for its being such an one as, upon the whole, was worthy

of the public approbation. If it should miscarry (as men commonly

decide from success, or the want of it), the blame will, in all

probability, be laid on the system itself; and the framers of it

will have to encounter the disrepute of having brought about a

revolution in government, without substituting anything that was

worthy of the effort. They pulled down one Utopia, it will be said,

to build up another. This view of the subject, if I mistake not, my

dear sir, will suggest to your mind greater hazard to that fame,

which must be and ought to be dear to you, in refusing your future

aid to the system, than in affording it. I will only add, that in

my estimate of the matter, that aid is indispensable.

I have taken the liberty to express these sentiments, and to lay

before you my view of the subject. I doubt not the considerations

mentioned have fully occurred to you, and I trust they will finally

produce in your mind the same result which exists in mine. I

flatter myself the frankness with which I have delivered myself

will not be displeasing to you. It has been prompted by motives

which you could not disapprove. I remain, my dear sir,

With the sincerest respect and regard,

Your obedient and humble servant,

A. HAMILTON.

XII

Hamilton folded and sealed the letter, then determined to take it to the

post-office himself. The night was hot and his head was throbbing: he

had worked, dined, wined, talked, and written, since eight in the

morning, with no interval for fresh air or exercise. He was not tired,

but very nervous, and after he had disposed of his letter, he set off

for a stroll along the river front, and walked for two miles up the

quiet road on the east side, listening to the lap of the water, and

pausing to watch the superb effect of the moonlight on the bright

ripples and on the wooded heights of Long Island. The little village of

Brooklyn twinkled here and there for a time, then lay like a sombre

shadow in the silences of her forest. As he returned, there was not a

light anywhere, except now and again at a masthead, for it was very

late. The clock in Trinity steeple struck one as he reëntered the town.

He moved through the narrow dark and crooked streets with a lagging

step, although he had walked briskly for the past hour. There seemed to

be no sleep in him, and the idea of his quiet room was an irritation.

"That woman is on my nerves," he thought. "I've written a letter

to-night that may bridge this country over another crisis, and I should

be sleeping the sleep of the self-sufficient statesman, or at least

excogitating upon weighty matters; and for the last hour I've given no

thought to anything but an unknown woman, who has electrified my

imagination and my passions. Is there, perhaps, more safety in meeting

her and laying the ghost? Imagination plays us such damnable tricks. She

may have a raucous voice, or too sharp a wit; or she may love another by

this. I'll ask Nick to take me there to-morrow."

The drawing-room windows of the dwellings were but a few feet above the

ground, and many of them abutted on the pavement. The narrow street was

almost dark, in spite of the moonlight, but Hamilton saw that some one

sat at a lower window but a few feet ahead of him. It was a woman, for

her arm hung over the sill There was nothing to arrest his attention in

the circumstance, beyond the vague beauty of the arm and hand, for on

these dog nights many sat at their windows until the chill of early

morning; but he suddenly remembered that he was in Pearl Street. For a

moment he meditated retreat; with no enthusiasm, however. He shrugged

his shoulders and walked on, but his breath was short. As he approached

he could see that she was watching him, although her face was almost

invisible. He paused beneath the window, half in defiance, his eyes

striving to pierce the heavy shade of the room. The hand closed abruptly

about the lower part of his face. It trembled, but there was as much

determination as warmth in the finger tips; and he seemed to have been

transported suddenly to a field of violets.

XIII

"Nick," said Hamilton, a few evenings later as they were peeling

walnuts, "This is the night on which Mrs. Croix receives, is it not? Do

you attend? I will go with you. The lady has kindly been at pains to let

me know that I shall not be unwelcome."

Troup pushed back his plate abruptly, and Baron Steuben burst into a

panegyric. Fish replied that he had not intended to go, but should

change his mind for the sake of the sensation he must create with such a

lion in tow. He left the table shortly after, to dress, followed by

Steuben, who announced his intention to make one of the party. The host

and Troup were left alone.

"What is the matter?" asked Hamilton, smiling. "I see you disapprove of

something. Surely you have not lost your heart--"

"Nonsense," exclaimed Troup, roughly, "but I have always hoped you would

never meet her."

"_Have_ you?"

"If you want to know the truth she has pumped me dry about you. She did

it so adroitly that it was some time before I discovered what she was up

to. At first I wondered if she were a spy, and I changed my first mind

to avoid her, determined to get to the bottom of her motives. I soon

made up my mind that she was in love with you, and then I began to

tremble, for she is not only a very witch of fascination, but she has

about forty times more power of loving, or whatever she chooses to call

it, than most women, and every mental attraction and fastidious

refinement, besides. There is not a good woman in the country that could

hold her own against her. I have no wish to slander her, and have never

discussed her before; but my instincts are strong enough to teach me

that a woman whose whole exterior being is a promise, will be driven by

the springs of that promise to redeem her pledges. And the talk of you

banishes all that regal calm from her face and lets the rest loose. I

suppose I am a fool to tell you this, but I've been haunted by the idea

from the first that if you know this woman, disaster will come of it. I

do not mean any old woman's presentiment, but from what I know of her

nature and yours. You do astonishingly few erratic things for a genius,

but in certain conditions you are unbridled, and my only hope has been

that the lightning in you would strike at random without doing much

harm--to you, at all events. But this volcano has a brain in it, and

great force of character. She will either consume you, ruining your

career, or if you attempt to leave her she will find some way to ruin

you still. God knows I'm no moralist, but I am jealous for your genius

and your future. This has been a long speech. I hope you'll forgive it."

Hamilton had turned pale, and he hacked at the mahogany with the point

of his knife. He made no attempt to laugh off Troup's attack, Troup

watched him until he turned pale himself. "You have met her," he said

abruptly.

Hamilton rose and pushed back his chair. "I promise you one thing," he

said: "that if I happen to lose my nethermost to Mrs. Croix, the world

shall never be the wiser. That I explicitly promise you. I dislike

extremely the position in which I put the lady by these words, but you

will admit that they mean nothing, that I am but striving to allay your

fears--which I know to be genuine. She will probably flout me. I shall

probably detest her conversation. But should the contrary happen, should

she be what you suspect, and should a part of my nature which has never

been completely accommodated, annihilate a resistance of many months, at

least you have my assurance that worse shall not happen."

Troup groaned. "You have so many sides to satisfy! Would that you could

have your truly phenomenal versatility of mind with a sweet simplicity

of character. But we are not in the millennium. And as you have not the

customary failings of genius,--ingratitude, morbidity, a disposition to

prevaricate, a lack of common-sense, selfishness, and

irresponsibility,--it is easy for us to forgive you the one inevitable

weakness. Come to me if you get into trouble. She'd have no mercy at my

hands. I'd wring her neck."

Many people were at their country-seats, but politics kept a number of

men in town, and for this political and wholly masculine _salon_ of Mrs.

Croix, Gouverneur Morris drove down from Morrisania, Robert Livingston

from Clermont; Governor Clinton had made it convenient to remain a day

longer in New York. Dr. Franklin had been a guest of my lady for the

past two days. They were all, with the exception of Clinton, in the

drawing-room, when Hamilton, Steuben and Fish arrived; and several of

the Crugers, Colonel Duer, General Knox, Mayor Duane, Melancthon Smith,

Mr. Watts, Yates, Lansing, and a half-dozen lesser lights. Mrs. Croix

sat in the middle of the room, and her chair being somewhat higher and

more elaborate than its companions, suggested a throne: Madame de Staël

set the fashion in many affectations which were not long travelling to

America. In the house, Mrs. Croix discarded the hoopskirt, and the

classic folds of her soft muslin gown revealed a figure as superb in

contour as it was majestic in carriage. Her glittering hair was in a

tower, and the long oval of her face gave to this monstrous head-dress

an air of proportion. Her brows and lashes were black, her eyes the

deepest violet that ever man had sung, childlike when widely opened, but

infinitely various with a drooping lash. The nose was small and

aquiline, fine and firm, the nostril thin and haughty. The curves of her

mouth included a short upper lip, a full under one, and a bend at the

corners. There was a deep cleft in the chin. Technically her hair was

auburn; when the sun flooded it her admirers vowed they counted twenty

shades of red, yellow, sorrel, russet, and gold. Even under the soft

rays of the candles it was crisp with light and colour. The dazzling

skin and soft contours hid a jaw that denoted both strength and

appetite, and her sweet gracious manner gave little indication of her

imperious will, independent mind, and arrogant intellect. She looked to

be twenty-eight, but was reputed to have been born in 1769. For women so

endowed years have little meaning. They are born with what millions of

their sex never acquire, a few with the aid of time and experience only.

Nature had fondly and diabolically equipped her to conquer the world, to

be one of its successes; and so she was to the last of her ninety-six

years. Her subsequent career was as brilliant in Europe as it had been,

and was to be again, in America. In Paris, Lafayette was her sponsor,

and she counted princes, cardinals, and nobles among her conquests, and

died in the abundance of wealth and honours. If her sins found her out,

they surprised her in secret only. To the world she gave no sign, and

carried an unbroken spirit and an unbowed head into a vault which looks

as if not even the trump of Judgement Day could force its marble doors

to open and its secrets to come forth. But those doors closed behind her

seventy-seven years later, when the greatest of her victims had been

dust half a century, and many others were long since forgotten.

To-night, in her glorious triumphant womanhood she had no thought of

vaults in the cold hillside of Trinity, and when Hamilton entered the

room, she rose and courtesied deeply. Then, as he bent over her hand:

"At last! Is it you?" she exclaimed softly. "Has this honour indeed come

to my house? I have waited a lifetime, sir, and I took pains to assure

you long since of a welcome."

"Do not remind me of those wretched wasted months," replied Hamilton,

gallantly, and Dr. Franklin nodded with approval. "Be sure, madam, that

I shall risk no reproaches in the future."

She passed him on in the fashion of royalty, and was equally gracious to

Steuben and Fish, although she did not courtesy. The company, which had

been scattered in groups, the deepest about the throne of the hostess,

immediately converged and made Hamilton their common centre. Would

Washington accept? Surely he must know. Would he choose to be addressed

as "His Serene Highness," "His High Mightiness," or merely as

"Excellency"? Would so haughty an aristocrat lend himself agreeably to

the common forms of Republicanism, even if he had refused a crown, and

had been the most jealous guardian of the liberties of the American

people? An aristocrat is an aristocrat, and doubtless he would observe

all the rigid formalities of court life. Most of those present heartily

hoped that he would. They, too, were jealous of their liberties, but had

no yearning toward a republican simplicity, which, to their minds,

savoured of plebianism. Socially they still were royalists, whatever

their politics, and many a coat of arms was yet in its frame.

"Of course Washington will be our first President," replied Hamilton,

who was prepared to go to Mount Vernon, if necessary. "I have had no

communication from him on the subject, but he would obey the command of

public duty if he were on his death-bed. His reluctance is natural, for

his life has been a hard one in the field, and his tastes are those of a

country gentleman,--tastes which he has recently been permitted to

indulge to the full for the first time. Moreover, he is so modest that

it is difficult to make him understand that no other man is to be

thought of for these first difficult years. When he does, there is no

more question of his acceptance than there was of his assuming the

command of the army. As for titles they come about as a matter of

course, and it is quite positive that Washington, although a Republican,

will never become a Democrat. He is a grandee and will continue to live

like one, and the man who presumes to take a liberty with him is lost."

Mrs. Croix, quite forgotten, leaned back in her chair, a smile

succeeding the puzzled annoyance of her eyes. In this house her words

were the jewels for which this courtly company scrambled, but Hamilton

had not been met abroad for weeks, and from him there was always

something to learn; whereas from even the most brilliant of women--she

shrugged her shoulders; and her eyes, as they dwelt on Hamilton,

gradually filled with an expression of idolatrous pride. The new delight

of self-effacement was one of the keenest she had known.

The bombardment continued. The Vice-President? Whom should Hamilton

support? Adams? Hancock? Was it true that there was a schism in the

Federal party that might give the anti-Federalists, with Clinton at

their head, a chance for the Vice-Presidency at least? Who would be

Washington's advisers besides himself? Would the President have a

cabinet? Would Congress sanction it? Whom should he want as confreres,

and whom in the Senate to further his plans? Whom did he favour as

Senators and Representatives from New York? Could this rage for

amendments be stopped? What was to be the fate of the circular letter?

Was all danger of a new Constitutional Convention well over? What about

the future site of the Capital--would the North get it, or the South?

All these, the raging questions of the day, it took Hamilton the greater

part of the evening to answer or parry, but he deftly altered his orbit

until he stood beside Mrs. Croix, the company before her shrine. He had

encountered her eyes, but although he knew the supreme surrender of

women in the first stages of passion, he also understood the vanities

and weaknesses of human nature too well not to apprehend a chill of the

affections under too prolonged a mortification.

Clinton entered at midnight; and after almost bending his gouty knee to

the hostess, whom he had never seen in such softened yet dazzling

beauty, he measured Hamilton for a moment, then laughed and held out his

hand.

"You are a wonderful fighter," he said, "and you beat me squarely. We'll

meet in open combat again and again, no doubt of it, and I hope we will,

for you rouse all my mettle; but I like you, sir, I like you. I can't

help it."

Hamilton, at that time of his life the most placable of men, had shaken

his hand heartily. "And I so esteem and admire you, sir," he answered

warmly, "that I would I could convert you, for your doctrines are bound

to plunge this country into civil war sooner or later. The Constitution

has given the States just four times more power than is safe in their

hands; but if we could establish a tradition at this early stage of the

country's history that it was the duty of the States always to consider

the Union first and themselves as grateful assistants to a hard-working

and paternal central power, we might do much to counteract an evil

which, if coddled, is bound to result in a trial of strength."

"That is the first time I ever heard you croak, except in a public

speech where you had a point to gain," said Livingston. "Do you mean

that?"

"What of it?" asked Clinton. "Under Mr. Hamilton's constitution--for if

it be not quite so monarchical as the one he wanted, it has been saddled

upon the United States through his agency more than through any other

influence or group of influences--I say, that under Mr. Hamilton's

constitution all individualism is lost. We are to be but the component

parts of a great machine which will grind us as it lists. Had we

remained thirteen independent and sovereign States, with a tribunal for

what little common legislation might be necessary, then we might have

built up a great and a unique nation; but under what is little better

than an absolute monarchy all but a small group of men are bound to live

and die nonentities."

"But think of the excited competition for a place in that group," said

Hamilton, laughing. The disappointed Governor's propositions were not

worthy of serious argument.

"I do not think it is as bad as that, your Excellency," said Dr.

Franklin, mildly. "I should have favoured a somewhat loose

Confederation, as you know, but the changes and the development of this

country will be so great that there will be plenty of room for

individualism; indeed, it could not be suppressed. And after a careful

study of this instrument that you are to live under--my own time is so

short that my only rôle now is that of the prophet--I fail to see

anything of essential danger to the liberties of the American people. I

may say that the essays of "The Federalist" would have reassured me on

this point, had I still doubted. I read them again the other week. The

proof is there, I think, that the Constitution, if rigidly interpreted

and lived up to, must prove a beneficent if stern parent to those who

dwell under it."

Clinton shrugged his shoulders. "I would I could share your optimism,"

he said. "What a picture have we! The most venerable statesman in the

country finding some hope for individual liberty in this Constitution;

the youngest, an optimist by nature and habit, sanguine by youth and

temperament, trembling for the powers it may confer upon a people too

democratically inclined. This is true, sir--is it not?"

"Yes," said Hamilton. "Democracy is a poison, just as Republicanism is

the ideal of all self-respecting men. I would do all I could to vitalize

the one and nullify the other. The spirit of democracy exists already,

no doubt of it. If we could suppress it in time, we should also suppress

the aspirations of encouraged plebianism,--a dangerous factor in any

republic. It means the mixing of ignoble blood with good, a gradual

lowering of ideals until a general level of sordidness, individualism in

its most selfish and self-seeking form, and political corruption, are

the inevitable results. You, your Excellency, are an autocrat. It is odd

that your principles should coincide so closely with the despotism of

democracy."

"Oh, I can't argue with you!" exclaimed Clinton, impatiently. "No one

can. That is the reason you beat us when we clearly were in the right.

What says Madam? She is our oracle." "If she would but bring him under

her foot!" he said to Yates. "She is heart and soul with us. I augur

well that he is here at last."

"It is long since our fairy queen has spoken," Franklin was saying;

gallant to all women, he was prostrate before this one. "Her genius

directs her to the most hidden kernels."

"What do you wish?" she asked lightly. "A prophecy? I am no Cassandra.

Unlike Dr. Franklin, I am too selfish to care what may happen when I am

dead. At this date we are assured of two elements in government:

unselfish patriotism and common-sense. There never has been a nobler nor

a more keenly intelligent group of men in public life than General

Washington will be able to command as assistants in forming a

government. And should our Governor lead his own party to victory," she

added, turning to Clinton with so brilliant a smile that it dissipated a

gathering scowl, "it would be quite the same. The determined struggle

of the weaker party for the rights which only supremacy can insure them

is often misconstrued as selfishness; and power leads their higher

qualities as well as their caution and conservatism to victory. I am a

philosopher. I disapproved the Constitution, and loved the idea of

thirteen little sovereignties; but I bow to the Inevitable and am

prepared to love the Constitution. The country has too much to

accomplish, too much to recover from, to waste time arguing what might

have been; it is sure to settle down into as complacent a philosophy as

my own, and adjust itself to its new and roomy crinoline."

"Crinoline is the word," growled Clinton, who accepted her choice of

words as a subtle thrust at Hamilton. "It is rigid. Wherever you move it

will move with you and bound your horizon."

"Oh, well, you know," said Hamilton, who was tired of the conversation,

"like a crinoline it can always be broken."

XIV

Washington was President of the United States. He had come over grandly

from the Jersey shore in a magnificent barge manned by twelve oarsmen in

white uniform, escorted by other barges but a shade less imposing. A

week later he had taken the oath of office on the new Broad Street

gallery of Federal Hall, amidst the breathless silence of thousands,

surrounded by the dignitaries of state and three personal friends,

Hamilton, Steuben, and Knox. The anti-Federalists were crushed, no

longer of dignity as a party, although with ample resources for

obstruction and annoyance. The country, after an interval of rejoicing,

had settled down to another period of hope and anxiety.

And Hamilton had incurred the dislike of Adams and the hostility of the

Livingstons. He had thought it best to scatter the votes for the

Vice-President, lest there be the slightest risk of Washington's defeat;

and Adams who thought quite as much of himself as he did of George

Washington, and had expected to be elected with little less than

unanimity, instead of by a bare thirty-four votes, never forgave

Hamilton the humiliation. "I have seen the utmost delicacy used toward

others," he wrote to a friend, "but my feelings have never been

regarded." He knew that Hamilton believed him to have been in sympathy

with the Conway Cabal,--a suspicion of which he never cleared

himself,--and attributed to the Federal leader the motive of wishing to

belittle his political significance, lest he should endeavour to use his

power as President of the Senate to hamper and annoy the Administration.

Perhaps he was right. Far be it from anyone to attempt a journey through

the utmost recesses of Hamilton's mind. He was frank by nature and

habit, but he had resolved that the United States government should

succeed, and had no mind to put weapons into the hands of Washington's

rivals. He believed in Adams's general integrity, patriotism, and

federalism, however, and brought him to power in his own fashion. He

achieved his objects with little or no thought of personal consequences;

and although this has been characterized as one of the great political

mistakes of his career, it must be remembered that it was a time for

nervousness and exaggerated fears. Washington had enemies; no other man

was believed, by the men who did the thinking for the country, to be

able to hold the United States together until they were past their

shoals, and the method of election was precarious: each elector casting

two votes without specification, the higher office falling to the

candidate who received the larger number of votes.

The Livingstons had desired a seat in the Senate of the new Congress for

one of their powerful family, and Hamilton had given the prize to Rufus

King. No gift could have been more justly bestowed; but the Livingstons

felt themselves flouted, their great services to the country unrewarded.

Their open hostility roused all the haughty arrogance of Hamilton's

nature, and he made no effort to placate them. When the great office of

Chief Justice of the United States was given to John Jay, instead of to

Robert Livingston, they attributed the discrimination to Hamilton's

influence over Washington; and the time came when this strong and

hostile faction lent themselves to the scheming of one of the subtlest

politicians that has ever lived.

The contest for the prizes of the two Houses had been hot and bitter,

and Hamilton had never been more active. As a result, the Federalists

controlled the Senate, and they had elected four of the six

Representatives. Philip Schuyler had drawn the short term in the Senate,

and the antagonism of the Livingstons to Hamilton enabled Burr to

displace him two years later. The signal mistakes of Hamilton's

political career were in his party management. One of the greatest

leaders in history, cool and wise, and of a consummate judgement in all

matters of pure statesmanship, he was too hot-headed and impetuous, too

obstinate when his righting blood was up, for the skilful manipulation

of politics. But so long as the Federal party endured, no other leader

was contemplated: his integrity was spotless, his motives unquestioned,

his patriotism and stupendous abilities the glory of his party; by sheer

force of genius he carried everything before him, whether his methods

were approved by the more conservative Federalists or not.

Madison, who mildly desired an office, possibly in the Cabinet, he

despatched South to get himself elected to Congress, for he must have

powerful friends in that body to support the great measures he had in

contemplation; and that not unambitious statesman, after a hot fight

with Patrick Henry, was obliged to content himself with a seat in the

House. Before he went to Virginia he and Hamilton had talked for long

and pleasant hours over the Federal leader's future schemes. In all

things he was in accord with his Captain, and had warmly promised his

support.

It was some weeks before Hamilton had a private interview with

Washington, although he had dined at his house, entertained him, and

been present at several informal consultations on such minor questions

as the etiquette of the Administration. But delicacy held him from

embarrassing Washington in a familiar interview until he had been

invited formally to a position in the contemplated cabinet. He knew that

Washington wished him to be Secretary of the Treasury, but he also knew

that that most cautious and conscientious of men would not trust to his

own judgement in so grave a matter, nor take any step without weeks of

anxious thought. The more deeply were Washington's affections or desires

engaged, the more cautious would he be. He was not a man of genius,

therefore fell into none of the pitfalls of that terrible gift; he was

great by virtue of his superhuman moral strength--and it is safe to say

that in public life he never experienced a temptation--by a wisdom that

no mental heat ever unbalanced, by an unrivalled instinct for the best

and most useful in human beings, and by a public conscience to which he

would have unhesitatingly sacrificed himself and all he loved, were it a

question of the nation's good. But Hamilton knew whom he would consult,

and devoted himself to his legal work without a qualm for the future. As

he had anticipated, Washington wrote to Robert Morris for advice, and

the reply of that eminent financier, that "Hamilton was the one man in

the United States competent to cope with the extreme difficulties of

that office," pleasantly ended the indecision of the President, and he

communicated with Hamilton at once.

Hamilton answered by letter, for Washington was wedded to the

formalities, but he followed it with a request for a private interview;

and after the lapse of eight years Washington and Hamilton met once more

for a purely personal colloquy.

Washington was occupying temporarily the house of Walter Franklin, on

the corner of Cherry Street and Franklin Square, a country residence at

which society grumbled, for all the world lived between the present site

of the City Hall and Battery Park. Hamilton rode up on horseback, and

was shown into the library, which overlooked a pleasant garden. The

President, in the brown suit of home manufacture which he had worn at

the inauguration, as graceful and erect as ever, although with a more

elderly visage than in the days of war, entered immediately, closed the

door carefully, then took both Hamilton's hands in his enormous grasp.

The austere dignity of his face relaxed perceptibly.

"Oh!" he said. "I am glad to see you!"

"It is not a return to old times, alas!" said Hamilton, gaily; "for what

we all had to do then was a bagatelle to this, and you have made the

supreme sacrifice of your life."

Washington seated himself in an arm-chair, motioning Hamilton to one

opposite. "I wrote Knox," he said, "that I felt as if setting out to my

own execution; and I swear to you, Hamilton, that if it had not been for

you I doubt if my courage would not have failed me at the last moment. I

had a moment of nervous dread this morning before I opened your letter,

but I believed that you would not fail me. It is a colossal enterprise

we are embarked upon, this constructing of a great nation for all time.

God knows I am not equal to it, and although I shall always reserve to

myself the final judgement, I expect a few of you to think for me--you,

in particular. Then with the Almighty's help we may succeed, but I can

assure you that it has cost me many wakeful nights--and cold sweats."

He spoke with his usual slow impressiveness, but he smiled as he watched

Hamilton's flashing eyes and dilating nostrils. "You look but little

older," he added. "Not that you still look a stripling, controlling your

temper with both hands while I worked you half to death; but you have

the everlasting youth of genius, I suppose, and you look to me able to

cope with anything."

Hamilton laughed. "I am far older in many things, sir. I fear I often

seemed ungrateful. I have blessed you many times, since, for the

discipline and the invaluable knowledge I gained in those years."

"Ah!" exclaimed Washington. "Ah! I am very glad to hear you say that. It

is like your generosity, and I have had many anxious moments, wondering

if there might not still be a grudge. But not only were your peculiar

gifts indispensable to this country, but, I will confess, now that it is

over, I mortally dreaded that you would lose your life. You and Laurens

were the most reckless devils I ever saw in the field. Poor Laurens! I

felt a deep affection for him, and his death was one of the bitterest

blows of the war. If he were here now, and Lafayette, how many pleasant

hours I should look forward to; but I have you, and God knows I am

grateful. Lafayette, I am afraid, has undertaken too great a business

for his capacity, which is admirable; but he is not strong enough to be

a leader of men."

"I wish he were here, and well out of it."

"I have not sufficiently thanked you for the letter you wrote me last

September. It was what I had earnestly hoped for. My position was most

distressing. It was impossible for me not only to ask the advice of

anyone, but the temper of the public mind regarding myself. To assume

that I must be desired--but I need not explain to you, who know me

better than anybody living, the extreme delicacy of my position, and the

torments of my mind. Your letter explained everything, told me all I

wished to know, made my duty clear--painfully clear. You divined what I

needed and expressed yourself in your usual frank and manly way, without

the least hesitation or fear. I take this occasion to assure you again

of my deep appreciation."

"Oh, sir," said Hamilton, who was always affected unbearably by

Washington's rare moments of deep feeling, "I was merely the selected

instrument to give you what you most needed at the moment; nothing more.

This was your destiny; you would be here in any case. It is my pride, my

reward of many years of thought and work, that I am able to be of

service to your administration, and conspicuous enough to permit you to

call me to your side. Be sure that all that I have or am is yours, and

that I shall never fail you."

"If I did not believe that, I should indeed be deep in gloomy

forebodings. Jay will officiate as Secretary of State for the present;

Knox, as Secretary at War. I contemplate inviting Randolph to act as

Attorney-General, and Jefferson as permanent Secretary of State, if he

will accept; thus dividing the appointments between the North and the

South. What do you think of the wisdom of appointing Mr. Jefferson? He

is a man of great abilities, and his long residence abroad should make

him a valuable Secretary of State, his conspicuous services acceptable

to both sections of the country. It is the selection over which I have

hesitated longest, for it is a deep and subtle nature, a kind I have no

love of dealing with, but so far as I know it is not a devious one, and

his talents command my respect."

"I am unable to advise you, sir, for he is not personally known to me,"

said Hamilton, who was not long wishing that he had had a previous and

extensive knowledge of Thomas Jefferson. "Madison thinks well of him--is

a close personal friend. He has rendered great services to the State of

Virginia, his experience is wide, and he possesses a brilliant and

facile pen--I can think of no one better fitted for the position. His

record for personal bravery is not untarnished, but perhaps that will

insure peace in the Cabinet."

Washington laughed. "Jefferson would slide under the table if you

assaulted him," he said. "It is you only that I fear, as it is you only

upon whom I thoroughly rely, and not for advice in your own department

alone, but in all. I think it would perhaps be better not to hold

collective meetings of the Cabinet, but to receive each of you alone. It

is as well the others do not know that your knowledge and judgement are

my chief reliance."

XV

Hamilton, on his way home, stopped in at the chambers of Troup.

"Bob," he said, "you are to wind up my law business. I am to be

Secretary of the Treasury."

Troup half rose with an exclamation of impatience. "Good heavens!" he

exclaimed. "Have you not an introductory line in your nature? It has

been bad enough to have been anticipating this, without having it go

straight through one like a cannon-ball. Of course it is no use to

reason with you--I gave that up just after I had assumed that you were a

small boy whom it was the duty of a big collegian to protect, and you

nearly demolished my not too handsome visage with your astonishing

fists for contradicting you. But I am sorry. Remain at the bar and you

have an immediate prospect of wealth, not too many enemies, and the

highest honours. Five years from now, and you would lead not only the

bar of New York but of the whole country. Jay may be the first Chief

Justice, but you would be the second--."

"Nothing would induce me to be Chief Justice. I should be bored to

death. Can you fancy me sitting eternally and solemnly in the middle of

a bench, listening to long-winded lawyers? While I live I shall have

action--."

"Well, you will have action enough in this position; it will burn you

out twenty years before your time. And it will be the end of what peace

and happiness a born fighter could ever hope to possess; for you will

raise up enemies and critics on every side, you will be hounded, you

will be the victim of cabals, your good name will be assailed--."

"Answer this: do you know of anyone who could fill this office as

advantageously to the country as I?"

"No," said Troup, unwillingly. "I do not."

Hamilton was standing by the table. He laid his hand on a volume of

Coke, expanding and contracting it slowly. It was perhaps the most

beautiful hand in America, and almost as famous as its owner. But as

Troup gazed at it he saw only its superhuman suggestion of strength.

"The future of this country lies there," said Hamilton. "I know, and you

know, that my greatest gift is statesmanship; my widest, truest

knowledge is in the department of finance; moreover, that nothing has so

keen and enduring a fascination for me. I could no more refuse this

invitation of Washington's than I could clog the wheels of my mind to

inaction. It is like a magnet to steel. If I were sure of personal

consequences the most disastrous, I should accept, and without

hesitation. For what else was the peculiar quality of my brain given me?

To what other end have I studied this great question since I was a boy

of nineteen--wild as I was to fight and win the honours of the field?

Was ever a man's destiny clearer, or his duty?"

"I have no more to say," said Troup, "but I regret it all the same.

Have you heard from Morris--Gouverneur?"

"Oh, yes, I had a long screed, in almost your words, spiced with his own

particular impertinence. Will you wind up my law business?"

"Oh, of course," said Troup.

The new Congress, made up, though it was, of many of the ablest men in

the country, had inherited the dilatory methods of the old, and did not

pass an act establishing the Treasury Department until the 2d of

September. Hamilton's appointment to this most important portfolio at

the disposal of the President was looked upon as a matter of course. It

created little discussion, but so deep a feeling of security, that even

before the reading of his famous Report business had revived to some

extent. This Report upon the public credit was demanded of him at once,

but it was not until the recess of Congress that he could work

uninterruptedly upon it; for that body, floundering in its chaos of

inherited difficulties, turned to the new Secretary for advice on almost

every problem that beset it. I cannot do better here than to quote from

the monograph on Hamilton by Henry Cabot Lodge, who puts with admirable

succinctness a series of facts important to the knowledge of every

American:--

In the course of a year he was asked to report, and did report with

full details, upon the raising, management, and collection of the

revenue, including a scheme for revenue cutters; as to the

estimates of income and expenditure; as to the temporary regulation

of the chaotic currency; as to navigation laws, and the regulation

of the coasting trade, after a thorough consideration of a heap of

undigested statistics; as to the post-office, for which he drafted

a bill; as to the purchase of West Point; on the great question of

public lands and a uniform system of managing them; and upon all

claims against the government. Rapidly and effectively the

secretary dealt with all these matters, besides drawing up as a

voluntary suggestion a scheme for a judicial system. But in

addition to all this multiplicity of business there were other

matters like the temporary regulation of the currency, requiring

peremptory settlement. Money had to be found for the immediate and

pressing wants of the new government before any system had been or

could be adopted, and the only resources were the empty treasury

and broken credit of the old confederacy. By one ingenious

expedient or another, sometimes by pledging his own credit,

Hamilton got together what was absolutely needful, and without a

murmur conquered those petty troubles when he was elaborating and

devising a far-reaching policy. Then the whole financial machine of

the Treasury Department, and a system of accounting, demanded

instant attention. These intricate problems were solved at once,

the machine constructed, and the system of accounts devised and put

into operation; and so well were these difficult tasks performed

that they still subsist, developing and growing with the nation,

but at bottom the original arrangements of Hamilton. These

complicated questions, answered so rapidly and yet so accurately in

the first weeks of confusion incident to the establishment of a new

government, show a familiarity and preparation, as well as a

readiness of mind of a most unusual kind. Yet while Hamilton was

engaged in all this bewildering work, he was evolving the great

financial policy, at once broad, comprehensive, and minute, and

after the recess in January he laid his ground plan before Congress

in his first report on public credit; a state paper which marks an

era in American history, and by which the massive corner-stone,

from which the great structure of the Federal government has risen,

was securely laid.

New York, meanwhile, had blossomed to her full. Houses had been

renovated, and with all the elegance to be commanded. Many had been let,

by the less ambitious, to the Members of Congress from other States, and

all were entertaining. General Schuyler occupied a house close to

Hamilton, and his daughters Cornelia and Peggy--Mrs. Stephen Van

Rensselaer--were lively members of society. The Vice-President had taken

the great house at Richmond Hill, and General Knox as imposing a mansion

as he could find. Washington, after a few months, moved to the McComb

house in lower Broadway, one of the largest in town, with a reception

room of superb proportions. Here Mrs. Washington, standing on a dais,

usually assisted by Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hamilton, received, with the

rigid formality of foreign courts, all who dared to attend her levees.

She had discarded the simplicity of campaigning days, and attired

herself with a magnificence which was emulated by her "Court." It was

yet too soon to break from tradition, and the Washingtons conducted

themselves in accordance with their strong aristocratic proclivities.

Nor did it occur to anyone, even the most ardent Republican, that

dignity and splendour were inconsistent with a free and enlightened

Republic, until Jefferson began his steady and successful system of

plebeianizing the country.

Washington's levees were frigid; but I have not observed any special

warmth at the White House upon public occasions in my own time. The

President, after the company had assembled, entered in full official

costume: black velvet and satin, diamond knee-buckles, his hair in a bag

and tied with ribbons. He carried a military hat under his arm, and wore

a dress sword in a green shagreen scabbard. He made a tour of the room,

addressing each guest in turn, all being ranged according to their rank.

At his wife's levees he attended as a private individual and mingled

more freely with the guests; but his presence always lowered every voice

in the room, and women trembled with anxiety lest he should not engage

them in conversation, while dreading that he might. The unparalleled

dignity, the icy reserve of his personality, had always affected the

temperature of the gatherings he honoured; but at this time, when to the

height of a colossal and unique reputation was added the first

incumbency of an office, bestowed by a unanimous sentiment, which was to

raise the United States to the plane of the great nations of Europe, he

was instinctively regarded as superhuman, rather as a human embodiment

of the Power beyond space. He was deeply sensitive to the depressing

effect he produced, and not a little bored by the open-mouthed curiosity

he excited. A youngster, having run after him for quite a block, one

day, panting from his exertions, Washington wheeled about suddenly, and

made a bow so profound and satirical that his pursuer fled with a yell

of terror.

The President was very fond of the theatre, and invited a party once a

week to accompany him to John Street. He entertained at table

constantly, and dined out formally and intimately. Congress, he attended

in great state. He had brought to New York six white horses of the

finest Virginian breed, and a magnificent cream-coloured coach,

ornamented with cupids and festoons. For state occasions the horses were

covered over night with a white paste, and polished next morning until

they shone like silver. The hoofs were painted black. When Washington

drove through the city on his way to Congress, attended by postilions

and outriders, it is little wonder that he had a royal progress through

proud and satisfied throngs.

The Adamses, who had counselled all the usages of foreign courts, but

had been outvoted by Hamilton and Jay, entertained but little less than

the President; and so did the Schuylers, Livingstons, Jays, and half the

town. The Hamiltons, of necessity, entertained far more simply; but

Betsey received every Wednesday evening, when her rooms were a crush of

fashion and politics, eager for a glimpse of Hamilton and to do court to

her popular self. They gave at least one dinner a week, but Betsey as a

rule went out with her parents, for her husband was too busy for

society.

The world saw little of Hamilton at this time, and Betsey but little

more. He worked in his library or office for fourteen hours of the day,

while the country teemed with conjectures of his coming Report. A

disposition to speculate upon it was already manifest, and more than one

friend endeavoured to gain a hint of its contents. Not even Madison, to

whom he had talked more freely than to anyone, knew aught of the details

of that momentous Report, what recommendations he actually should make

to Congress; for none knew better than he that a hint derived from him

which should lead to profitable speculation would tarnish his good name

irretrievably. Careless in much else, on the subject of his private and

public integrity he was rigid; he would not have yielded a point to

retain the affection of the best and most valued of his friends.

Fastidious by nature on the question of his honour, he knew, also, that

other accusations, even when verified, mattered little in the long run;

a man's actual position in life and in history was determined by the

weight of his brain and the spotlessness of his public character. He

worked in secret, with no help from anyone; nor could blandishments

extract a hint of his purpose. Against the rock of his integrity passion

availed nothing. As for Betsey, between her growing children, the

delicacy which had followed the birth of her last child, and her heavy

social duties, she would have had little time to assist him had he

confided even in her. Moreover, to keep up a dignified position upon

$3500 a year cost her clever little Dutch head much anxious thought. It

is true that some money had been put aside from the income of her

husband's large practice, but he was the most careless and generous of

men, always refusing the fees of people poorer than himself, and with no

talent for personal, great as was his mastery of political, economy. If

General Schuyler often came to the rescue his son-in-law never knew it.

Hamilton had a vague idea that Betsey could manage somehow, and was far

too absorbed to give the matter a thought. Betsey, it would seem, had

her own little reputation, for it was about this time that M'Henry

finished a letter to Hamilton, as follows:--

Pray present me to Mrs. Hamilton. I have learned from a friend of

yours that she has, as far as the comparison will hold, as much

merit as your treasurer as you have as treasurer of the wealth of

the United States.

XVI

Congress reassembled, and on the 2d of January Hamilton sent in his

Report on Public Credit. By this time excitement and anxiety, to say

nothing of cupidity, were risen to fever pitch. All realized that they

were well in the midst of a national crisis, for the country was

bankrupt, and her foreign and domestic debts footed up to quite eighty

millions of dollars--a stupendous sum in the infancy of a nation, when

there was little specie in the country, and an incalculable amount of

worthless paper, with long arrears of interest besides. If Hamilton

could cope with this great question, and if Congress, with its

determined anti-government party, would support him, the Union and its

long-suffering patriots would enter upon a season of prosperity and

happiness. If the one were inadequate to meet the situation, or the

other failed in its national duty, the consequences must be deeper

wretchedness and disaster than anything they yet had endured. The

confidence in Hamilton was very widespread, for not only were his great

abilities fully recognized, but his general opinions on the subject had

long been known, and approved by all but the politicians on the wrong

side. The confidence had been manifested in a manner little to his

liking: speculators had scoured the country, buying up government

securities at the rate of a few shillings on the pound, taking advantage

of needy holders, who dwelt, many of them, in districts too remote from

the centre of action to know what the Government was about. And even

before this "signal instance of moral turpitude," the fact that so many

old soldiers who had gone home with no other pay than government

securities, to be exchanged for specie at the pleasure of a government

which nobody had trusted, had sold out for a small sum, was one of the

agitating themes of the country; and opinion was divided upon the right

of the assignees to collect the full amount which the new government

might be prepared to pay, while the moral rights of the worthy and

original holder were ignored. It was understood, however, that Hamilton

had given no more searching thought to any subject than to this.

The public was not admitted to the galleries of Congress in those days,

but a great crowd packed Wall and Broad streets while the Report was

reading and until some hint of its contents filtered through the guarded

doors. Hamilton himself was at home with his family, enjoying a day of

rest. It is one of the most curious incidents in his career, as well as

one of the highest tributes to his power over men, that Congress, after

mature deliberation, decided that it would be safer to receive his

Report in writing than in the form of a personal address from a man who

played so dangerously upon the nerve-board of the human nature. There

hardly could be any hidden witchery in a long paper dealing with so

unemotional a subject as finance; but no man could foresee what might be

the effect of the Secretary's voice and enthusiasm,--which was

perilously communicable,--his inevitable bursts of spontaneous

eloquence. But Hamilton had a pen which served him well, when he was

forced to substitute it for the charm of his personality. It was so

pointed, simple, and powerful, it classified with such clarity, it

expressed his convictions so unmistakably, and conveyed his subtle

appeals to human passions so obediently, that it rarely failed to

quiver like an arrow in the brain to which it was directed. And this

particular report was vitalized by the author's overwhelming sense of

the great crisis with which he was dealing. Reading it to-day, a hundred

and eleven years after it was written, and close to the top of a

twelve-story building, which is a symbol of the industry and progress

for which he more than any man who has ever dedicated his talents to the

United States is responsible, it is so fresh and convincing, so earnest,

so insistent, so courteously peremptory, that the great century which

lies between us and that empire-making paper lapses from the memory, and

one is in that anxious time, in the very study of the yet more anxious

statesman; who, on a tropical island that most of his countrymen never

will see, came into being with the seed of an unimagined nation in his

brain.

To condense Hamilton is much like attempting to increase the density of

a stone, or to reduce the alphabet to a tabloid. I therefore shall make

no effort to add another failure to the several abstracts of this

Report. The heads of his propositions are sufficient. The Report is

accessible to all who find the subject interesting. The main points were

these: The exploding of the discrimination fallacy; the assumption of

the State debts by the Government; the funding of the entire amount of

the public debt, foreign, domestic, and State; three new loans, one to

the entire amount of the debt, another of $10,000,000, a third of

$12,000,000; the prompt payment of the arrears and current interest of

the foreign loan on the original terms of the contract; the segregating

of the post-office revenue, amounting to about a million dollars, for a

sinking fund, that the creation of a debt should always be accompanied

by the means of extinguishment; increased duties on foreign commodities,

that the government might be able to pay the interest on her new debts

and meet her current expenses; and more than one admonition for prompt

action, as the credit of the nation was reaching a lower level daily,

besides sinking more hopelessly into debt through arrears of interest.

The indebtedness he divided as follows: The foreign debt, $10,070,307,

with arrears of interest amounting to $1,640,071. The liquidated

domestic debt, $27,383,917, with arrears of interest amounting to

$13,030,168. The unliquidated part he estimated at $2,000,000, and the

aggregate debt of the State at $25,000,000; making a total of nearly

$80,000.000.

He also hinted at his long-cherished scheme of a National Bank, and a

possible excise law, and gave considerable space to the miserable

condition of landed property and the methods by which it might be

restored to its due value.

XVII

The talk in the drawing-room of Mrs. Croix that night was of little else

but the Secretary's Report. Mrs. Croix, so said gossip, had concluded

that this was the proper time for the demise of her recalcitrant

officer, and had retired to weeds and a semi-seclusion while Mrs.

Washington pondered upon the propriety of receiving her. Her court cared

little for the facts, and vowed that she never had looked so fair or so

proud; Hamilton, that she shone with the splendour of a crystal star on

the black velvet skies of the Tropics. She wore, this evening, a few

yards of black gauze which left bare a crescent of her shining neck and

the lower arms. Her bright hair was arranged in a mass of ringlets,

after a fashion obtaining in Europe, and surmounted by a small turban of

gauze fastened with a diamond sun. Many of the men who visited her

habitually called her Lady Betty, for she was one of those women who

invite a certain playful familiarity while repelling intimacy. Hamilton

called her, as the fancy moved him, Egeria, Boadicea, or Lady Godiva.

Clinton came in fuming. "It is not possible," he cried, "that the

Congress can be so mad as to be hoodwinked by this deep political scheme

for concentrating the liberties of the United States under the executive

heel. 'To cement more closely the union of the States and to add to

their security against foreign attack!' Forsooth! This assumption plan

is nothing more nor less than another of his dastardly schemes to

squeeze out of the poor States what little liberty he left them under

the Constitution. He could not obtain at Philadelphia all he wished for,

but now that Washington has given him both reins, he laughs in our

faces. I regret that I ever offered him my hand."

"Then our party in Congress will fight him on political grounds?" asked

Mrs. Croix.

"You may put it that way if you choose. It certainly will not be blinded

by his speciousness and aid him in his subtle monarchism. 'Contribute in

an eminent degree to an orderly, stable, and satisfactory arrangement of

the Nation's finances!' 'Several reasons which render it probable that

the situation of the State creditors will be worse than that of the

creditors of the Union, if there be not a national assumption of the

State debts!' And then his plan of debit and credit, with 'little doubt

that balances would appear in favour of all the States against the

United States!' My blood has boiled since I read that paper. I have

feared apoplexy. He is clever, that West Indian,--do they grow many

such?--but he did not select a country composed entirely of fools to

machinate in."

"My dearest Governor," whispered Mrs. Croix, "calm yourself, pray. Only

you can cope with Mr. Hamilton. You must be the colossal spirit without

the walls of Congress to whom all will look for guidance. If you become

ill, the cause is lost."

Clinton composed himself promptly, and asked Elbridge Gerry, of

Massachusetts, which, section of the Report he expected to attack first.

There were no Federalists present.

Gerry shrugged his shoulders and shot a narrow glance of contempt at the

Governor. "Give me time, your Excellency, pray. Mr. Hamilton's paper has

the thought of a decade in it. It merits at least a week of thought on

our part. I never could agree with him in all things, but in some I am

at one with him; and I acknowledge myself deeply in his debt, insomuch

as he has taught me, among thousands of others, to 'think

continentally,' I certainly agree with him that to pay to present

holders the full value of their certificates, without discrimination, is

a matter of constitutional law, a violation of which would be a menace

to the new government. I shall support him on that point at the risk of

being accused of speculation."

Stone, of Maryland, was striding up and down, but a degree less agitated

than the Governor of New York.

"The man is cleverer than all the rest of us put together!" he

exclaimed. "Let us not forget that for an instant. A greater thought

than this of assumption has never been devised by man. If it be carried

into execution,--which God forbid,--it will prove a wall of adamant to

the Federal government, impregnable to any attempt on its fabric or

operations."

"Oh, is it so bad as that?" asked Gerry. "Every fort falls if the siege

be sufficiently prolonged. I apprehend no such disaster, and I confess I

see much promise in at least two of Mr. Hamilton's schemes. After all,

the redemption of the country is what we must look to first."

"You are a trimmer. Cannot you see that if the whole revenue of the

States be taken into the power of Congress, it will prove a band to draw

us so close together as not to leave the smallest interstice for

separation?"

"But do you meditate separation?" asked Mrs. Croix. "Surely that would

be as great a crime as Mr. Hamilton's monarchical manoeuvres--if it be

true he practises such."

"He is bold enough about them," snorted Clinton. "I do the man justice

to recognize his insolent frankness."

"Those I cannot say I have observed," said Gerry. "Nor do I think that

we meditate separation. We are struggling out of one pit. It would be

folly to dig a deeper. And Massachusetts has a great debt, with

decreasing revenue for interest and redemption. I am not sure that

assumption would not be to her advantage. She stood the brunt of the

war. It is but fair that she should have relief now, even at the expense

of other States whose debt is insignificant; and she is able to take

care of herself against the Federal government--"

"The brunt of the war!" exclaimed the Attorney-General of the Cabinet,

who, with the Speaker of the House, had just entered, and who had

controlled himself with difficulty for several seconds. "I beg to assure

you, sir, that Virginia may claim that honour. Her glorious patriotism,

her contributions in men and money--they exceeded those of any State in

the Union, sir."

Gerry laughed. "I have no means of comparison by which patriotism may be

measured, Mr. Randolph," he said. "But we can produce figures, if

necessary, to prove our title to supremacy in the other matters you

mention. As you have reduced your debt, however, by an almost total

repudiation of your paper money--"

"How about Mr. Madison?" asked Mrs. Croix, hurriedly. "He is your

fellow-statesman, Mr. Randolph, but he is Mr. Hamilton's devoted friend

and follower. Virginia may be sadly divided."

"My fears have decreased on that point," said Randolph, drily. "Mr.

Madison's loyalty toward his State increases daily."

"So does his ambition," observed Muhlenberg. "If I am not mistaken, he

has begun to chafe at Hamilton's arrangement of his destinies--and a

nature like that is not without deep and sullen jealousies. To be a

leader of leaders requires a sleepless art; to lead the masses is play

by comparison. Hamilton is a magician, but he is arrogant and impatient.

With all his art and control of men's minds, he will lose a follower now

and again, and not the least important would be--will be--Madison."

"Have you proof?" asked Clinton, eagerly. "He would be of incomparable

value in our ranks. By the way, Aaron Burr is working to the front. He

is a born politician, if I am not mistaken, and is in a rapid process of

education. I feel sure that I have attached him to our cause by

appointing him Attorney-General of the Staite. He should make an

invaluable party man."

"He will be attached to no cause," said Gerry. "He is, as you say, a

politician. There is not a germ of the statesman in him; nor of the

honest man, either, unless I am deeply mistaken. He is the only man of

note in the country who has not one patriotic act to his credit. He

fought, but so did every adventurous youth in the country; and had there

been anything more to his interest to do at the time, the Revolution

could have taken care of itself. But during all our trying desperate

years since--did he go once to Congress? Did he interest himself in the

Constitution, either at Philadelphia or Poughkeepsie? What record did he

make in the State Legislature during his one term of infrequent

attendance? While other men, notably Hamilton, of whom he betrays an

absurd jealousy, have been neglecting their private interests in the

public cause, he has been distinguishing himself as a femalist, and

thinking of nothing else but making money at the bar. I admit his

brilliancy, his intrepidity, and the exquisite quality of his address,

but I don't believe that an honest man who comes into contact with him

instinctively trusts him."

"Oh, let us not indulge in such bitter personalities," cried Mrs. Croix,

who took no interest at that time in the temporary husband of her old

age. "Surely this coming legislation should compel every faculty. What

of the other debts?--of funding? Or, if it is still too soon to talk of

these matters with equilibrium," she added hastily, as Clinton turned

purple again, "pray tell me that the great question of deciding upon a

site for the Capital is nearing a solution. It has been such a source of

bitter agitation. I wish it were settled."

"The House may or may not pass this bill for ten years in Philadelphia,

and the banks of the Potomac thereafter," growled the Senator from North

Carolina. "The Federalists have the majority, and they are determined to

keep the seat of government in the North, as they are determined to have

their monarchical will in everything. Madison hopes for some fortuitous

coincidence, but I confess I hardly know what he means."

Gerry laughed. "When Madison takes to verbiage," he said, "I should

resort to a plummet and line."

"Sir!" cried Randolph, limping toward the door in angry haste. "Mr.

Madison is one of the loftiest statesmen in the country!"

"Has been. Centrifugal forces are in motion."

"How everybody in politics does hate everybody else!" said Mrs. Croix,

with a patient sigh.

XVIII

The next morning Mrs. Croix sent a peremptory summons to Hamilton.

Although at work upon his "Additional Estimates," he responded at once.

The lady was combing her emotional mane in the sunshine before the

mirror of her boudoir when he arrived, and the maid had been dismissed.

"Well, Egeria," he said, smiling down upon this dazzling vision, "what

is it? What warning of tremendous import have you to deliver, that you

rout a busy Secretary from his work at eleven in the morning? I dared

not loiter, lest your capricious majesty refuse me your door upon my

next evening of leisure--"

"It is not I who am capricious!" cried Mrs. Croix. She pouted

charmingly. "Indeed, sir, I never am quite sure of you. You are all

ardour to-day, and indifference to-morrow. For work I am always put

aside, and against your family demands I do not exist."

"My dear Boadicea," said Hamilton, drily, "I am a mere creature of

routine. I met you after my habits of work and domesticity were well

established. You are the fairest thing on earth, and there are times

when you consume it, but circumstances isolate you. Believe me, I am a

victim of those circumstances, not of caprice."

"My dear Hamilton," replied Mrs. Croix, quite as drily, "you have all

the caprice of a woman combined with all the lordly superiority of the

male. I well know that although I bewitch you, I can do so at your

pleasure only. You are abominably your own master, both in your strength

and your weakness. But there is no one like you on earth, so I submit.

And I work and burrow for you, and you will not even accept my precious

offerings."

"I will not have you playing the rôle of spy, if that is what you mean.

I do not like this idea of confessing my enemies when they think

themselves safe in your house, I prefer to fight in the open, and they

reveal themselves to me sooner or later. What should I think of myself

and you if I permitted you to act as a treacherous go-between."

"You will not permit me to help you! And I could do much! I could tell

you so much now that would put you on your guard. I could help you

immeasurably. I could be your fate. But you care for nothing but my

beauty!" And she dropped dismally into her pocket-handkerchief.

Hamilton was not one of those men who dread a woman's tears. He had

dried too many. His immediate and practical consolation but appeared to

deepen her grief, however, and he was obliged to resort to eloquence.

"Where do I find such hours of mental companionship as here?" he

demanded. "I say nothing of art and literature; do I not discuss with

you the weightiest affairs of State--everything, in fact, upon which my

honour does not compel silence? Never have I thought of asking the

advice, the opinion, of a woman before. You are my Egeria, and I am

deeply grateful for you. If at times I remember nothing but your beauty,

would you have it otherwise? I flatter myself that you would not. Have

you really anything to reproach me for, because I will not hear of your

committing an act which I would not commit myself? I suppose it is

hopeless to talk of honour to the cleverest of women, but you must

accept this dictum whether you understand it or not: I will listen to

none of the confidences of your trusting anti-Federalists. Why cannot

you come out honestly and declare your true politics? You could do far

more good, and I leave you no excuse to perpetrate this lie."

"I will not," sobbed his Egeria, obstinately. "I may be able to be of

service to you, even if you will not let me warn you of Madison's

treachery."

She had scored her point, and Hamilton sprang to his feet, his face as

white as her petticoats. "Madison's treachery!" he exclaimed. "It is

true he comes near me but seldom this Congress. I had attributed his

coldness to temperament. Can it be? So many forces would operate. There

is much jealousy and ambition in him. He can never lead my party. Is he

capable of deserting that he might lead another? One expects that sort

of thing of a Burr; but Madison--I have thought him of an almost

dazzling whiteness at times--then I have had lightning glimpses of

meaner depths. He is easily influenced. Virginia opposes me so bitterly!

Will he dare to continue to defy her? Can he continue to rise if she

combines against him? Oh, God! If he only had more iron in his soul!"

It was characteristic of him that he had forgotten his audience. He was

thinking aloud, his thought leaping from point to point as they sprang

into the brilliant atmosphere of his mind; or using its rapid divining

rod. He threw back his head. "I'll not believe it till I have proof!" he

exclaimed defiantly. "Why, I should feel as if one of the foundations of

the earth had given way. Madison--we have been like brothers. I have

confided deeply in him. There is little in that Report of yesterday that

I have not discussed with him a hundred times--nothing but the ways and

means, which I dared confide to no one. He has always been in favour of

assumption, of paying the whole debt. It is understood that he is to

support me in Congress. I'll hear no more. Dry your tears. You have

accomplished your object with a woman's wit. I believe you did but shed

those tears to enhance your loveliness, my Lady Godiva."

XIX

The immediate consequences of Hamilton's Report were a rise of fifty per

cent in the securities of the bankrupt Confederation, and a bitter

warfare in Congress. All were agreed upon the propriety of paying the

foreign loan, but the battle raged about every other point in turn. One

of the legacies of the old Congress was the principle of repudiating

what it was not convenient to redeem, and the politicians of the country

had insensibly fallen into the habit of assuming that they should start

clear with the new government, and relegate the domestic debt to the

limbo which held so many other resources best forgotten. They were far

from admitting the full measure of their inheritance, however, and

opened the battle with a loud denouncement of the greedy speculator who

had defrauded the impoverished soldier, to whose needs they had been

indifferent hitherto. Most of this feeling concentrated in the

opposition, but many Federalists were so divided upon the question of

discrimination that for a time the other great questions contained in

the Report fell back. Feeling became so bitter that those who supported

the assignees were accused of speculation, and personalities were hot

and blistering. Many of the strongest men, however, ranged with

Hamilton, and were in sight of victory, when Madison, who had hoped to

see the question settle itself in favour of the original holders without

his open support, came out with a double bomb; the first symptom of his

opposition to the Federal party, and an unconstitutional proposition

that the holders by assignment should receive the highest market-price

yet reached by the certificates, by which they would reap no

inconsiderable profit, and that the balance of the sum due, possibly

more than one-half, should be distributed among the original holders.

For a time the reputation for statemanship which Madison had won was

clouded, for his admission of the claims of the assignees nullified any

argument he could advance in favour of the original holders. But he had

his limitations. There was nothing of the business man in his

composition. One of the most notable and useful attributes of Hamilton's

versatile brain was excluded from his, beyond its comprehension. His

proposition was rejected by thirty-six votes to thirteen.

Then the hostile camps faced each other on the questions of the domestic

debt and assumption. In regard to the former, common decency finally

prevailed, but the other threatened to disrupt the Union, for the

Eastern States threw out more than one hint of secession did the measure

fail. Madison, without further subterfuge, came forth at the head of

his State as the leader of the anti-assumptionists. He offered no

explanation to his former chief and none was demanded. For a time

Hamilton was bitterly disgusted and wounded. He shrugged his shoulders,

finally, and accepted his new enemy with philosophy, though by no means

with amiability and forgiveness; but he had seen too much of the

selfishness and meanness of human nature to remain pained or astonished

at any defection.

When June came, however, he was deeply uneasy. On March 29th the

resolutions providing for the foreign debt and for paying in full the

principal of the domestic debt to the present holders passed without a

division. So did the resolution in favour of paying the arrears of

interest in like manner with the principal of the domestic debt. But the

resolution in favour of assumption was recommitted. The next day the

friends of assumption had the other resolutions also recommitted, and

the furious battle raged again. Finally, on June 2d, a bill was passed

by the House, which left the question of assumption to be settled by a

future test of strength.

The anti-assumptionists were triumphant, for they believed the idea

would gain in unpopularity. But they reckoned without Hamilton.

XX

Jefferson had arrived on March 21st, and entered at once upon his duties

as Secretary of State. He disapproved of the assumption measure, but was

so absorbed in the perplexing details of his new office, in

correspondence, and in frequent conferences with the President on the

subject of foreign affairs, that he gave the matter little consecutive

thought. Moreover, he was dined every day for weeks, all the

distinguished New Yorkers, from Hamilton down, vying with each other in

attentions to a man whose state record was so enlightened, and whose

foreign so brilliant, despite one or two humiliating failures. He rented

a small cottage in Maiden Lane, and looked with deep disapproval upon

the aristocratic dissipations of New York, the frigid stateliness of

Washington's "Court." The French Revolution and the snub of the British

king had developed his natural democratism into a controlling passion,

and he would have preferred to find in even the large cities of the new

country the homely bourgeois life of his highest ideals.

No one accused him of inconsistency in externals. With his shaggy sandy

hair, his great red face, covered with freckles, his long loose figure,

clad in red French breeches a size too small, a threadbare brown coat,

soiled linen and hose, and enormous hands and feet, he must have

astounded the courtly city of New York, and it is certain that he set

Washington's teeth on edge. It is no wonder that when this vision rises

upon the democratic horizon of to-day, he is hailed as a greater man

than Washington or Hamilton.

Shortly after the final recommitment of the resolution in favour of

assumption, the Federalist leader met this engaging figure almost in

front of Washington's door, and a plan which had dawned in his mind a

day or two before matured on the instant. He had no dislike for

Jefferson at the time, and respected his intellect and diplomatic

talents, without reference to differences of opinion. Jefferson grinned

as Hamilton approached, and offered his great paw amiably. He did not

like his brother secretary's clothes, and his hitherto averted

understanding was gradually moving toward the displeasing fact that

Hamilton was the Administration; but he had had little time for

reflection, and he succumbed temporarily to a fascination which few

resisted.

Hamilton approached him frankly. "Will you walk up and down with me a

few moments?" he asked. "I have intended to call upon you. You have

returned at a most opportune time. Do you realize, sir, that the whole

business of this nation is at a deadlock? There is nothing in this talk

of the North seceding, but so great is the apprehension that the

energies of the country are paralyzed, and no man thinks of anything but

the possible failure of the Government. I am convinced that assumption

is not only necessary to permanent union, to the solution of the

financial problem, but to the prosperity of the States themselves." He

then proceeded to convince Jefferson, who listened attentively,

wondering, with a sigh, how any man could pour out his thoughts so

rapidly and so well. "Will you turn this over in your mind, and let me

see you again in a day or two?" asked Hamilton, as he finished his

argument. "Let me reiterate that there is no time to lose. The

Government is at a standstill in all matters concerning the

establishment of the country on a sound financial basis, until this

subordinate matter is settled."

"You alarm and deeply interest me," said Jefferson. "I certainly will

give the matter my attention. Will you dine with me to-morrow? We can

then discuss this matter at leisure. I will ask one or two others."

The next day, at Mr. Jefferson's epicureous board, Hamilton played his

trump. Having again wrought havoc with his host's imagination, but by no

means trusting to the permanence of any emotion, he proposed a bargain:

if Jefferson would use his influence with the Virginians and other

Southern anti-assumptionists in Congress, he and Robert Morris would

engage to persuade obstinate Northerners to concede the Capital city to

the South. Hamilton made no sacrifice of conviction in offering this

proposition. There was no reason why the Government should not sit as

conveniently on the banks of the Potomac as elsewhere, and if he did not

carry the Union through this new crisis, no one else would. All his

great schemes depended upon his bringing the hostile States to reason,

and with his usual high-handed impatience he carried his object in his

own way.

Jefferson saw much virtue in this arrangement. The plan was an almost

immediate success. White and Lee of Virginia were induced to change

their votes, and assumption with some modifications passed into a law.

The Government, after a ten years' sojourn in Philadelphia, would abide

permanently upon the Potomac.

XXI

Mrs. Hamilton, albeit she had not a care in the world, sighed heavily.

She was standing before her mirror, arrayed in a triumph of art recently

selected by Mrs. Church, in London. On her head was an immense puff of

yellow gauze, whose satin foundation had a double wing in large plaits.

The dress was of yellow satin, flowing over a white satin petticoat, and

embellished about the neck with a large Italian gauze handkerchief,

striped with white. Her hair was in ringlets and unpowdered. She was a

very plate of fashion, but her brow was puckered.

"What is it?" asked her husband, entering from his room. "You are a

vision of loveliness, my dear Eliza. Is there a rose too few, or a hoop

awry?"

"No, sir, I am well enough pleased with myself. I am worrying lest

General Washington ask me to dance. It will be bad enough to go out with

Mr. Adams, who snaps at me every time I venture a remark, but he at

least is not a giant, and I do not feel like a dwarf. When the President

leads me out--that is to say, when he did lead me out at the

Inauguration ball, I was like to expire of mortification. I felt like a

little polar cub trotting out to sea with a monster iceberg. And he

never opened his lips to distract my mind, just solemnly marched me up

and down, as if I had done something naughty and were being exhibited. I

saw Kitty Livingston giggle behind her fan, and Kitty Duer drew herself

up to her full height, which is quite five feet six, and looked down

upon me with a cruel amusement. Women are so nasty to each other. Thank

heaven I have a new gown for to-night--anyhow!"

Hamilton laughed heartily; she always amused him, she was half his wife,

half the oldest of his children. "And you are fresher far than any of

them; let that console you," he said, arranging her necklace. "I am sure

both the President and the Vice-President will take you out; they hardly

would have the bad taste not to. And you look very sweet, hanging on to

Washington's hand. Don't imagine for a moment that you look ridiculous.

Fancy, if you had to walk through life with either of them."

Betsey shuddered and smoothed her brow. "It _would_ be a walk with the

dear General," she said. "I dare not dwell upon what it would be with

Mr. Adams--or anyone else! You are amazing smart, yourself, to-night."

"This new costume depressed me for a moment, for it is very like one

Laurens used to wear upon state occasions, but I had not the courage to

wear the light blue with the large gilt buttons, and the pudding cravat

Morris inconsiderately sent me; not with Jefferson's agonized eye to

encounter. The poor man suffers cruelly at our extravagance and

elegance."

"He is an old fright," quoth Betsey, "and I'd not dance with him, not if

he went on his knees."

She looked her husband over with great pride. He wore a coat of

plum-coloured velvet, a double-breasted Marseilles vest, white satin

breeches, white silk stockings, and pumps. There were full ruffles of

lace on his breast and wrists. A man of to-day has to be singularly

gifted by nature to shine triumphant above his ugly and uniform garb,

whereas many a woman wins a reputation for beauty by a combination of

taste with the infinite range modern fashion accords her. In the days of

which we write, a man hardly could help looking his best, and while far

more decorative than his descendant, was equally useful. And as all

dressed in varying degrees of the same fashion, none seemed effeminate.

As for Hamilton, his head never looked more massive, his glance more

commanding, than when he was in full regalia; nor he more ready for a

fight. All women know the psychological effect of being superlatively

well dressed. In the days of our male ancestors' external vanities it is

quite possible that they, too, felt unconquerable when panoplied in

their best.

The ball that night was at Richmond Hill, the beautiful home of the

Vice-President and his wife, Abigail Adams, one of the wisest, wittiest,

and most agreeable women of her time. This historic mansion, afterward

the home of Aaron Burr during his successful years, was a country

estate where Varick Street now crosses Charlton in the heart of the

city. It stood on an eminence overlooking the Hudson, surrounded by a

park and commanding a view of the wild Jersey shore opposite. The

Adamses were ambitious people and entertained constantly, with little

less formality than the President. The early hours of their receptions,

indeed, were chilling, and many went late, after dancing was, begun or

the company had scattered to the card-tables. The Vice-President and his

wife stood at the head of the long drawing-room and said good evening,

and no more, as the women courtesied to the ground, or the men bowed as

deeply as their varying years would permit. The guests then stood about

for quite an hour and talked in undertones; later, perhaps, the host and

hostess mingled with them and conversed. But although Mrs. Adams was

vastly popular, her distinguished husband was less so; he was not always

to be counted upon in the matter of temper. This grim old Puritan, of an

integrity which makes him one of the giants of our early history,

despite the last hours of his administration when he was beating about

in the vortex of his passions, and always honest in his convictions,

right or wrong, had not been gifted by nature with a pleasing address,

although he could attach people to him when he chose. He was irascible

and violent, the victim of a passionate jealous nature, without the

saving graces of humour and liveliness of temperament. But his sturdy

upright figure was very imposing; his brow, which appeared to end with

the tip of his nose, so bold was the curve, would have been benevolent

but for the youthful snapping eyes. His indomitability and his capacity

for hatred were expressed in the curves of his mouth. He was always well

dressed, for although a farmer by birth, he was as pronounced an

aristocrat in his tastes as Washington or Hamilton. At this time,

although he liked neither of them, he was the staunch supporter of the

Government. He believed in Federalism and the Constitution,

insignificant as he found his rewards under both, and he was an ally of

inestimable value.

When the Hamiltons entered his drawing-room to-night they found many

people of note already there, although the minuet had not begun. The

President, his graceful six feet in all the magnificence of black velvet

and white satin, his queue in a black silk bag, stood beside his lady,

who was as brave as himself in a gown of violet brocade over an immense

hoop. Poor dame, she would far rather have been at Mount Vernon in

homespun, for all this pomp and circumstance bored and isolated her. She

hedged herself about with the etiquette which her exalted position

demanded, and froze the social aspirant of insufficient pretensions, but

her traditions and her propensities were ever at war; she was a woman

above all things, and an extremely simple one.

John Jay, now Chief Justice of the United States, was there, as ever the

most simply attired personage in the Union. His beautiful wife, however,

beaming and gracious, but no less rigid than "Lady Washington," in her

social statutes, looked like a bird of paradise beside a graven image,

so gorgeous was her raiment. Baron Steuben was in the regalia of war and

a breastplate of orders. Kitty Livingston, now Mrs. Matthew Ridley, had

also received a fine new gown of Mrs. Church's selection, for the two

women still were friends, despite the rupture of their families. Lady

Kitty Duer, so soon to know poverty and humiliation, was in a gown of

celestial blue over a white satin petticoat, her lofty head surmounted

by an immense gauze turban. General and Mrs. Knox, fat, amiable, and

always popular, although sadly inflated by their new social importance,

were mountains of finery. Mrs. Ralph Izard, Mrs. Jay's rival in beauty,

and Mrs. Adams's in wit, painted by Gainsborough and Copley, wore a

white gown of enviable simplicity, and a string of large pearls in her

hair, another about her graceful throat. Mrs. Schuyler, stout and

careworn, from the trials of excitable and eloping daughters, clung to

the kind arm of her austere and silent husband. Fisher Ames, with his

narrow consumptive figure and his flashing ardent eyes, his eloquent

tongue chilled by this funereal assemblage, had retreated to an alcove

with Rufus King, where they whispered politics. Burr, the target of many

fine eyes, was always loyal to his wife in public; she was a charming

and highly respected woman, ten years his senior. Burr fascinated women,

and adorned his belt with their scalps; but had it not been for this

vanity, which led him to scatter hints of infinite devilment and

conquest, it is not likely that he would have been branded, in that era

of gallantry, a devirginator and a rake. All that history is concerned

with is his utter lack of patriotism and honesty, and the unscrupulous

selfishness, from which, after all, he suffered more than any man. His

dishonesties and his treasonable attempts were failures, but he left a

bitter legacy in his mastery of the arts of political corruption, and in

a glittering personality which, with his misfortunes, has begodded him

with the shallow and ignorant, who know the traditions of history and

none of its facts. He was a poor creature, with all his gifts, for his

life was a failure, his old age one of the loneliest and bitterest in

history; and from no cause that facts or tradition give us but the blind

selfishness which blunted a good understanding to stupidity. Selfishness

in public life is a crime against one's highest ambitions.

Mrs. Hamilton kept a firm hold on her husband's arm, and her glance shot

apprehensively from Washington to the Vice-President. The latter could

not dance at present; the former looked as if petrified, rooted in the

floor. Betsey had a clever little head, and she devised a scheme at

once. She was the third lady in the land, and although many years

younger than Mrs. Adams, had entertained from her cradle. No one else

immediately following the entrance of her husband and herself, she did

not move on after her courtesy, but drew Mrs. Adams into conversation,

and the good lady by this time was glad of a friendly word.

"You will be detained here for an hour yet," said Betsey, sweetly. "Can

I help you? Shall I start the minuet? Dear Mr. Adams will be too tired

to dance to-night. Shall I choose a partner and begin?"

"For the love of heaven, do," whispered Mrs. Adams. "Take out Colonel

Burr. He matches you in height, and dances like a courtier."

Other people entered at the moment, and Betsey whispered hurriedly to

Hamilton: "Go--quickly--and fetch Colonel Burr. I breathe freely for the

first time since the clock struck six, but who knows what may happen?"

Hamilton obediently started in quest of Burr. But alas, Ames and King

darted at him from their hiding-place behind a curtain, and he

disappeared from his wife's despairing vision. Ten minutes later he

became aware of the familiar strains of the minuet, and guiltily glanced

forth. Betsey, her face composed to stony resignation lest she disgrace

herself with tears, was solemnly treading the measure with the solemnest

man on earth, clutching at his hand, which was on a level with her

turban. A turn of her head and she encountered her husband's contrite

eye. Before hers he retreated to the alcove, nor did he show himself in

the ball-room again until it was time to take his wife to their coach.

He escaped from the room by a window, and after half the evening in the

library with a group of anxious Federalists,--for it was but a night or

two after his dinner with Jefferson,--he retired to a small room at the

right of the main hall for a short conference with the Chief Justice. He

was alone after a few moments, and was standing before the half-drawn

tapestry, watching the guests promenading in the hall, when Kitty

Livingston passed on the arm of Burr. Their eyes met, and she cut him.

His spirits dropped at once, and he was indulging in reminiscences

tinged with melancholy, for he had loved her as one of the faithful

chums of his youth, niching her with Troup, Fish, and other enthusiastic

friends of that time, when to his surprise she entered abruptly, and

drew the tapestry behind her.