“There have been times when I have sat down and stared into myself with horror; when I have felt as if sitting in the ruins of my nature.  I have caught myself up again and again, realizing where I was drifting.  I have let a fiend loose within me, and I have turned upon it at times with a disgust so bitter and a terror so over-mastering that the mildness which has resulted has made me feel indifferent and even amiable to mine enemies.  Whether this intimate knowledge of myself will save me, God knows; but when some maddening provocation comes, after reaction has run its course, I rage more hotly than ever, and only a sense of personal dignity keeps me from using my fists.  I am two-thirds passion, and I am afraid that in the end it will consume me.  I live so intensely, in my best and my worst!  I would give all I possess for your moderation and balance.”

“No, you would not,” said Washington.  “War is the breath of your nostrils, and peace would kill you.  Not that the poise I have acquired brings me much peace in these days.”

Hamilton, who had spoken dejectedly, but with the deep relief which every mortal feels in a moment of open and safe confession, sprang to his feet, and stood on the hearth rug, his eyes sparkling with humour.  “Confess, sir,” he cried gaily.  “You do not like Jefferson any better than I do.  Fancy him opposite to you day after day, stinging you with honeyed shafts and opposing you with obstacle after obstacle, while leering with hypocrisy.  Put yourself in my place for an instant, and blame me if you can.”

“Oh,” said Washington, with a deep growl of disgust, “o-h-h!” But he would not discuss his Secretary of State, even with Hamilton.

XXVII

The bombardment from Freneau’s Gazette opened at once.  It began with a general assault upon the Administration, denouncing every prominent member in turn as a monarchist or an aristocrat, and every measure as subversive of the liberties of the country.  Vice-President Adams received a heavy broadside, his “Discourses on Davila,” with their animadversions upon the French Revolution in particular and Democracy in general, being regarded as a heinous offence against the spirit of his country, and detrimental to the political morals of the American youth.  But although the Gazette kept up its pretence of being an anti-Administration organ, publishing in the interests of a deluded people, it soon settled down to abuse of Hamilton.

That a large number of the articles were from Jefferson’s damning pen few of the Republican leader’s friends denied with any warmth, and the natural deductions of history would have settled the question, had not Freneau himself confessed the truth in his old age.  What Jefferson did not write, he or Madison inspired, and Freneau had a lively pen of his own.  They had promising material in General St. Clair’s recent and disastrous defeat by the Indians, which,