Part 31 (1/2)
He laughed, and quite as light-heartedly as ever; but Was.h.i.+ngton looked at him with uneasiness.
”You are a terrible fighter, Hamilton,” he said. ”I have never seen or dreamed of your equal. Why not merely oppose to them a ma.s.sive resistance? Why be continually on the warpath? They give you a tentative scratch, and you reply with a blow under the jaw, from which they rise with a sullener determination to ruin you, than ever. When you are alone with your pen and the needs of the country, you might have the wisdom of a thousand years in your brain, and I doubt if at such times you remember your name; you are one of the greatest, wisest, coolest statesmen of any age; but the moment you come forth to the open, you are not so much a political leader as a warlike Scot at the head of his clan, and readier by far to make a dash into the neighbouring fastness than to wait for an attack. Are you and Jefferson going to fight straight through this session?--for if you are, I shall no longer yearn so much for the repose of Mount Vernon as for the silences of the tomb.”
Was.h.i.+ngton spoke lightly, as he often did when they were alone, and he had returned from Virginia refreshed; but Hamilton answered contritely:--
”We both behaved abominably last year, and it was shocking that you should bear the brunt of it. I'll do my best to control myself in the Cabinet--although that man rouses all the devil in me; but not to fight at the head of my party. Oh! Can the leopard change his spots? I fear I shall die with my back against the wall, sir, and my boots on.” ”I haven't the slightest doubt of it. But be careful of giving too free and constant a play to your pa.s.sions and your capacity for rancour, or your character will deteriorate. Tell me,” he added abruptly, narrowing his eyes and fixing Hamilton with a prolonged scrutiny, ”do you not feel its effects already?”
By this time the early, half-unwilling, half-magnetized affection which the boy in Hamilton had yielded to his Chief had given place to a consistent admiration for the exalted character, the wisdom, justice, and self-control of the President of the United States, and to a devoted attachment. The bond between the two men grew closer every day, and only the end of all things severed it. Hamilton, therefore, replied as frankly as if Was.h.i.+ngton had asked his opinion on the temper of the country, instead of probing the sacred recesses of his spirit:--
”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, G.o.d 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 pa.s.sion, 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 Was.h.i.+ngton. ”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 Was.h.i.+ngton, 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 a.s.sault 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, publis.h.i.+ng 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 d.a.m.ning 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, by a triumph of literary ingenuity, was ascribed to the ease and abundance with which the Secretary of the Treasury had caused money to circulate. But a far stronger weapon for their malignant use was the ruinous speculation which had maddened the country since the opening of the Bank of the United States. It was not enough that the Bank was a monarchical inst.i.tution, a machine for the corruption of the Government, a club of grasping and moneyed aristocrats, but it had been purposely designed for the benefit of the few--the ”corrupt squadron,” namely, the Secretary and his friends--at the expense of the many. The subsequent failure for $3,000,000 of one of these friends, William Duer, gave them no pause, for his ruin precipitated a panic, and but added distinction to his patron's villany.
For a time Hamilton held his peace. He had enough to do, steering the financial bark through the agitated waters of speculation, without wasting time on personal recrimination. Even when, before the failure, he was accused of being in secret partners.h.i.+p with Duer, he did not pause for vindication, but exerted himself to alleviate the general distress. He initiated the practice, followed by Secretaries of the Treasury at the present moment, of buying Government loan certificates in different financial centres throughout the country, thus easing the money market, raising the price of the certificates, and strengthening the public credit. He used the sinking-fund for this purpose.
There was comparative peace in the Cabinet, an armed truce being, perhaps, a more accurate description of an uneasy psychological condition. Hamilton had made up his mind not only to spare Was.h.i.+ngton further annoyance, if possible, but to maintain a dignity which he was keenly conscious of having relinquished in the past. The two antagonists greeted each other politely when they met for the first time in the Council Chamber, although they had crossed the street several times previously to avoid meeting; and if Jefferson discoursed unctiously and at length, whenever the opportunity offered, upon the lamentable consequences of a lamentable measure, and indulged in melancholy prognostications of a general ruin, in which the Government would disappear and be forgotten, Hamilton replied for a time with but an occasional sarcasm, and a change of subject. One day, however, a long-desired opportunity presented itself, and he did not neglect it. He was well aware that Jefferson had complained to Virginia that he had been made to hold a candle to the wily Secretary of the Treasury in the matter of a.s.sumption, in other words, that his guileless understanding, absorbed in matters of State, had been duped into a bargain of which Virginia did not approve, despite the concession to the Potomac.
About two months after Congress opened, Was.h.i.+ngton, as his Cabinet seated itself, was detained in his room with a slight indisposition, but sent word that he would appear presently. For a time, Randolph and Knox talked feverishly about the Indian troubles, while Hamilton looked over some notes, and Jefferson watched his antagonist covertly, as if antic.i.p.ating a sudden spring across the table. Hamilton was not in a good humour. He was accustomed to abuse in Congress, and that it was again in full tide concerned him little, for he was sure of ultimate victories in both Houses; and words which were powerless to result in a defeat for himself, or his party, he treated with the scorn which impotence deserved. But it was another matter to have his private character a.s.sailed day after day in the press, to watch a subtle pen insinuate into the public mind that a woman imperilled her reputation in receiving him, and that he was speculating in secret with the reckless friend whom he had warned over and over, and begged to desist. Freneau sent him three copies of the _Gazette_ daily, lest he miss something, and he had that morning left Betsey in tears. Fenno was fighting the Secretary's battles valiantly; but there was only one pen in America which could cope with Jefferson's, and that was Hamilton's own. But aside from his acc.u.mulating cares, it was a strife to which he did not care to descend. To-day, however, he needed but a match, and Jefferson, who experienced a fearful fascination in provoking him, applied it.
”I hear that Duer is on the verge of failure,” he remarked sadly.
”Yes,” said Hamilton; ”he is.”
”I hold it to be a great misfortune that he has been connected with the Administration in any way.”
”His connection was quite distinct from your department. I alone was responsible for his appointment as my a.s.sistant. There is no necessity for you to shed any hypocritical tears.”
”What concerns the honour of the Administration naturally concerns the Secretary of State.”
”There is no question of honour. If Duer fails, he will fail honourably, and the Administration, with which he is no longer connected, will in no way be involved.”
”Of those facts of course I am sure, but I fear the reflections in the press.”
”Keep your own pen worthily employed, and the Administration will take care of itself.”
”I do not understand you, sir,” said Jefferson, with great dignity.
”I am quite ready to be explicit. Keep your pen out of Freneau's blackguard sheet, while you are sitting at Was.h.i.+ngton's right hand, at all events--”