The two men did not exchange a remark during the rest of the sitting, but Jefferson boiled slowly and steadily; Hamilton’s words had raised welts under which he would writhe for some time to come.  When the Cabinet adjourned he remained, and followed Washington into the library, under cover of a chat about seeds and bulbs, a topic of absorbing interest to both.  When their legs were extended before the fire, Jefferson said, as abruptly as if the idea had but just presented itself:—­

“Mr. President, we are both Virginians, and had cut our wisdom teeth—­not that for a moment I class myself with you, sir—­while young Hamilton was still in diapers.”

“Children do not wear diapers in the West Indies,” interrupted Washington, in his gravest accents.  “I spent some months on the Island of Barbadoes, in the year seventeen hundred and fifty-one.”

“Was he born In the West Indies?  I had never heard.  But, if I may continue, I have therefore summoned up my courage to speak to you on a subject close to my heart—­for no subject can be so close as the welfare of a country to which we have devoted our lives.”

He paused a moment, prepared with an answer, did the President haughtily warn him not to transgress the bounds of etiquette; but Washington was staring at the fire, apparently recalling the scenery of the Tropics.

Jefferson continued:  “In the length and breadth of this Union there is not a man, not even the most ardent Republican, who has not implicit faith in the flawless quality of your patriotism and in your personal wisdom; but, and possibly unknown to you, sir, the extreme and high-handed measures, coupled with the haughty personal arrogance, of our Secretary of the Treasury have inspired a widespread belief, which is permeating even his personal friends, that he entertains subtle and insidious monarchical designs, is plotting to convert our little Republic into a kingdom.  Personally, I do not believe this—­”

“I should hope not.  You have always seemed to me to be a man of singular wisdom and good sense.  Therefore I feel sure that you are as heartily sick of all this absurd talk about monarchism as I am.  There is not a word of truth in Mr. Hamilton’s ‘monarchical designs’; it is impossible that you should not know this as well as I do.  You must also be as well aware that he has rendered services to this country which will be felt as long as it remains united.  It is doubtful if anyone else could have rendered these same services, for, to my knowledge at least, we have no man in the country who combines financial genius with an unexampled boldness and audacity.  He has emphatically been the man for the hour, abruptly transferred from his remote birthplace, it has seemed to me, by a special intervention of Providence; free of all local prejudices, which have been, and will continue to be, the curse of this country, and with a mettle unacted upon by years of doubt and hesitation.  I do no other man in public