Hamilton had never been more alert.  The moment he was awake to the danger his mind closed to every other demand upon it, and he flung himself into the thick of the fight.  He would have none of Burr’s methods, but he spoke daily, upon every least occasion, and was ready to consult at all hours with the distracted leaders of his party.  Morris, Troup, Fish, and other Federalists, accustomed to handling the masses, also spoke repeatedly.  But Adams had given the party a terrible blow, scattering many of its voters far and wide.  They felt that the country had been humiliated, that it was unsafe in the hands of a man who was too obstinate to be advised, and too jealous to control his personal hatreds for the good of the Union; the portent of tyranny in the Alien and Sedition laws had terrified many, and the promises of the Republicans were very alluring.  The prospect of a greater equality, of a universal plebeianism, turned the heads of the shopkeepers, mechanics, and labouring men, who had voted hitherto with the Federalist party through admiration of its leaders and their great achievements.  In vain Hamilton reminded them of all they owed to the Federalists:  the Constitution, the prosperity, the peace.  He was in the ironical position of defending John Adams.  They had made up their minds before they went to hear him speak, and they went because to hear him was a pleasure they never missed.  Upon one occasion a man rushed from the room, crying, “Let me out!  Let me out!  That man will make me believe anything.”  Frequently Hamilton and Burr spoke on the same platform, and they were so polite to each other that the audience opened their mouths and wondered at the curious ways of the aristocracy.  It was a period of great excitement.  Men knocked each other down daily, noses were pulled,—­a favourite insult of our ancestors,—­and more than one duel was fought in the woods of Weehawken.

The elections began early on the 29th of April and finished at sunset on May 2d.  Hamilton and Burr constantly addressed large assemblages.  On the first day Hamilton rode up to the poll in his district to vote, and was immediately surrounded by a vociferating crowd.  Scurrilous handbills were thrust in his face, and his terrified horse reared before a hundred threatening fists.  A big carter forced his way to its side and begged Hamilton to leave, assuring him there was danger of personal violence, and that the men were particularly incensed at his aristocratic manner of approaching the polls.

“Thank you,” said Hamilton, “but I have as good a right to vote as any man, and I shall do it in the mode most agreeable to myself.”

“Very well, General,” said the carter.  “I differ with you in politics, but I’ll stick by you as long as there is a drop of blood in my body.”

Hamilton turned to him with that illumination of feature which was not the least of his gifts, then to the mob with the same smile, and lifted his hat above a profound bow.  “I never turned my back upon my enemy,” he said, “I certainly shall not flee from those who have always been my friends.”