in the right, his opponent, or even he who differs from him, entirely in the wrong.  The Virginian trio had by this, at all events, talked themselves into the belief that Hamilton was a menace to the permanence of the Union, and that it was their pious duty to relegate him to the shades of private life.  That in public life he would infallibly interfere with their contemplated twenty-four years Chair Trust may have been by the way.  They were all men with a consciousness of public benefits to their credit, and some disinterested patriotism.  If their ignoble side is constantly in evidence in their dealings with Hamilton, it by no means follows that two, at least, of our most distinguished Presidents—­Monroe was a mere imitationist—­had no other.  Had that been the case, they would have failed as miserably as Burr, despite their talents, for the public is not a fool.  But that their faults were ignoble, rather than passionate, their biographers have never pretended to deny.  In many instances no apology is attempted.  On the other hand, the most exhaustive research among the records of friends and enemies has failed to bring to light any evidence of mean and contemptible traits in Hamilton.  No one will deny his faults, his mistakes; but they were the mistakes and faults of passion in every instance; of a great nature, capable of the extremest violence, of the deadliest hate and maddest blows, but fighting always in the open; in great crises unhesitatingly sacrificing his personal desires or hatreds to the public good.  Even his detractors—­those who count in letters—­have admitted that his nature and his methods were too high-handed for grovelling and deceit, that the mettle of his courage was unsurpassed.  Jefferson and Madison had the spirit of the mongrel in comparison; Monroe was a fighter, but cowardly and spiteful.  In point of mettle alone, Adams and Clinton were Hamilton’s most worthy opponents.

Burr had not shown his hand as yet.  He was at war with Clinton himself, and an active and coruscating member of the Senate.  But Hamilton, by this, knew him thoroughly.  He read his lack of Public spirit in every successive act of his life, recognized an ambition which would not hesitate to sacrifice his best friend and the country he was using, and a subtlety and cunning which would, with his lack of principle and property, make him the most dangerous man in America should he contrive to grasp the reins of power.  Therefore he checkmated his every move, careless of whether he made another powerful enemy or not.

Hamilton attempted no delusions with himself.  He knew that he hated Jefferson with a violence which threatened at times to submerge all the good in him, horrified him when he sat down and looked into himself.  On the other hand, he knew himself to be justified in thwarting and humiliating him, for the present policy of the country must be preserved at any cost.  But he was too clear and practised an analyst to fail