“I have the privilege of being true to my own convictions, I suppose.  They are not Mr. Hamilton’s and never will be.  I do not impugn the purity of his motives, but I have no desire to see George Washington king, nor Hamilton, neither.  I wish you good day, sirs,” and he strode up Broadway to the Fields with dignity in every inch of him.

“This constant talk of Hamilton’s monarchical principles makes my gorge rise,” said Livingston.  “Did he not fight as hard as he was permitted, to drive monarchy out of the country?  Was he not the first to sound the call to arms?”

“Hamilton’s exact attitude on that question is not clearly understood,” replied Duane, soothingly, for the heat of Livingston’s republicanism had never abated.  “I fancy it is something like this:  So far no constitution has worked so well as the British.  Montesquieu knew whereof he praised.  The number of men in this country equal to the great problem of self-government are in a pitiful minority.  The anarchic conditions of the States, the disgrace which they have brought upon us, their inefficiency to cope with any problem, the contemptible depths of human nature which they have revealed to the thinking members of the community—­all these causes inspire Hamilton, incomparably the greatest brain in the country, with a dread of leaving any power whatever in their hands.  He believes firmly in the few of tried brain and patriotism.  I very much doubt if he has considered the subject of actual monarchy for a moment, for he is no dreamer, and he knows that even his followers have been Republicans too long.  But that he will fight for the strongest sort of national government, with the least possible power vested in the States—­oh, no doubt of that.”

“Our people are hopeless, I fear,” said Livingston, with a sigh.  “This period of independency seems to have demoralized them when it should have brought out their best elements.  Well, Mr. Marshall, what say you?  You have been modestly silent, and we have been rudely voluble when so distinguished a guest should have had all the floor.”

“I have been deeply entertained,” replied Marshall, with a grin.  “My visit to New York is by no means wasted.  I envy Mr. Hamilton; but let him look out for Mr. Burr.  There are just five feet seven inches of jealous hate in that well-balanced exterior, and its methods would be sinuous, I fancy, but no less deadly.  But Hamilton has had many escapes.  What was that atrocious story I heard of a duelling cabal?  When the rolling stone of gossip reaches Virginia from New York, it has gathered more moss than you would think.”