American minister in France, gave the Constitution but a grudging and inconsistent approval, and would prefer that it failed, were not amendments tacked on which practically would nullify its energies.  But although Hamilton had such lieutenants as John Jay, Philip Schuyler, Duane, and Robert Livingston, Madison had the inestimable, though silent, backing of Washington.  The great Chief had, months since, forcibly expressed his sentiments in a public letter; and that colossal figure, the more potent that it was invisible and mute, guided as many wills as Madison’s strenuous exertions and unanswerable dispassionate logic.

But Washington, although sufficiently revered by New Yorkers, was not their very own, as was he the Virginians’; was by no means so impinging and insistent as his excellency, Governor Clinton, he whose powerful will and personality, aided by an enterprise and wisdom that were not always misguided, for eleven years had compelled their grateful submission.  It was difficult to convince New Yorkers that such a man was wholly wrong in his patriotism, particularly when their own interests seemed bound so firmly to his.  It was this dominant, dauntless, resourceful, political nabob that Hamilton knew he must conquer single-handed, if he conquered him at all; for his lieutenants, able as they were, could only second and abet him; they had none of his fertility of resource.  As he rode through the forest he rehearsed every scheme of counterplay and every method that made for conquest which his fertile brain had conceived.  He would exercise every argument likely to appeal to the decent instincts of those ambitious of ranking as first-class citizens, as well as to the congenital selfishness of man, which could illuminate the darker recesses of their Clintonized understandings, and effect their legitimate conversion; then, if these higher methods failed, coercion.

“What imperious method are you devising, Hamilton?” asked Livingston.  “Your lips are set; your eyes are almost black.  I’ve seen you like that in court, but never in good company before.  You look as if considering a challenge to mortal combat.”

Hamilton’s brow cleared, and he laughed with that mercurial lightness which did more to preserve the balance of what otherwise would have been an overweighted mind than any other quality it possessed.

“Well, am I not to fight a duel?” he asked.  “Would that I could call Clinton out and settle the question as easily as that.  I disapprove of duelling, but so critical a moment as this would justify anything short of trickery.  We’ll leave that to Clinton; but although there is no vast difference between my political and my private conscience, there are recourses which are as fair in political as in martial warfare, and I should be found ingenuous and incapable did I fail to make use of them.”

“Well, you love a fight,” said Jay, without experiencing the humour of his remark.  “I believe you would rather fight than sit down in good company at any time, and you are notoriously convivial.  But easy conquest would demoralize you.  If I do not mistake, you have the greatest battle of your career, past or present, immediately ahead of you—­and it means so much to all of us—­I fear—­I fear—­”