The sudden and tragic death of Alexander Hamilton produced a universal feeling of sympathy and sorrow.  As the leader of the bar, the advocate of the Constitution, the statesman who had given the law to American commerce, the most accomplished soldier in the army, and connected with the still recent glories of the Revolution,—­his name had become familiar to every ear, and was associated with every subject of popular interest.  His career was, in all respects, an extraordinary one.  He came here a stranger, without fortune or powerful family connections.  While yet a school-boy, he had borne a creditable part in the discussion of public affairs.  At an age when the ambition of most young soldiers is satisfied, if, by the performance of their ordinary duties as subalterns, they have attracted the regard of their superiors, he was in a position of responsibility, and occupied with the most serious and complicated matters of war.  He was one of the youngest and at the same time one of the most influential members of the Constitutional Convention.  To this distinction in affairs and arms he added equal distinction at the bar.  It will be difficult to find in our history, or in that of England, an instance of such eminence in three departments of action so distinct and dissimilar.  Although it may he said of Hamilton, that he had not the intuitive perception, which Jefferson possessed, of the necessities imposed upon the country by its anomalous condition, yet, as a statesman under an established government, he was surpassed by no man of his generation.  His talents were of the kind which most attracts the sympathies and impresses the understandings of others.  He was a grave man, occupied with business affairs, but not unequal to occasions which required the display of taste and eloquence.  His solid qualities of mind inspired universal confidence in the soundness of his views upon all questions which were not the subject of political dispute.  There were many plain Republicans of that day who were firmly attached to the principles which Jefferson advocated, but who thought that Jefferson was a dreamer and an enthusiast, and that Hamilton was a far safer man in the ordinary affairs of government.

The grief which the death of Hamilton caused in the nation reacted upon Burr; and when the correspondence was published, a storm of condemnation burst upon him.  Indictments were found against him in New York and New Jersey.  In every pulpit, upon every platform, where the virtues and services of Hamilton were celebrated, the features of his malignant foe were displayed in dramatic contrast.  He was compared to Richard III. and Catiline, to Saul, and to the wretch who fired the temple of Diana.  This feeling was not confined to orators and clergymen, nor to this country.  It reached other communities, and was shared by men of the world like Talleyrand, and retired students like Jeremy Bentham.  The former, a few years before his death, related to an American gentleman,