Historians Henry Adams, Henry Cabot Lodge, Theodore Roosevelt, and other writers, who are modern outcroppings of the old Federalist vein, amuse one another by keeping alive the legend of Jefferson's "timidity and vacillation." Because he would not stoop to personal brawls, because he would not lower himself to have a newspaper controversy with Hamilton, he has been pictured as a coward who could be frightened from any position he took, and scared off from any route he proposed to travel. Political prejudice, partizan rancor, and intemperate abuse could not go much further than this in scouting facts.

In his day, Mr. Jefferson combated a greater number of laws which were oppressive, customs which were stale, tendencies which were undemocratic, and fixed opinions which were popular than any other man in public life. He attacked systems and creeds where they were most sensitive. He aroused vested interests which were the most powerful, and which when alarmed are the most vindictive. Yet never once in all his long life did he falter, surrender, or apostatize.

He took the unpopular side of slavery, and held to it. He defied the religious bigotry of his times, and continued to defy it. He challenged the organized power of land monopoly and class rule in his own State and overthrew it. He dared to take issue with the great Washington himself, in the

State where they both lived, and into the ears of the dying Washington rang the shouts of Jefferson's victory as Virginia swung away from Federalism and marshaled her hosts for Jefferson and Democracy.

Do cowards raise and ride such storms as these?

Do men who are "weak and irresolute" plan such campaigns, and win such triumphs as these?

One is not much surprised that Henry Adams should preserve in his books the hereditary hatred of the Adamses for Thomas Jefferson; but when Theodore Roosevelt, in his Winning of the West, refers to our great leaders as " politicians of the infamous stripe of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison," and alludes to Jefferson, time and again, as timid, weak, and vacillating, one is pained, disappointed, discouraged.

Comparisons, if odious, are sometimes the only methods of measurement.

It so happens that since Mr. Roosevelt's book was written he himself has assumed the rôle of a great reformer. In New York State he was given power and opportunity to effect reforms, to destroy the wicked, and to purify the political atmosphere. In his State of New York he had just the same chances to combat hoary wrongs as Jefferson enjoyed in Virginia.

As President of the United States, also, Mr.

Roosevelt has had the widest field, the largest opportunity, to show his courage and his ability.

day.

There was class greed to curb, as in Jefferson's

Common humanity, sorely oppressed, called for a champion, as in Jefferson's day.

The weak, trampled upon by the strong, cried aloud for mercy, as in Jefferson's day.

Is Mr. Roosevelt a "politician of the infamous stripe"?

By no means.

Is he "weak, timid, vacillating"?

Far from it.

Then where are his trophies, such as Jefferson won?

What battles has he fought for the people, such as Jefferson fought? What vested wrongs has he abolished, what abuses has he remedied, what evil laws has he repealed, what unjust system has he reformed, what victim of social and industrial tyranny has he freed?

Where has he confronted class despotism and, with battle-ax in hand, said, "Turn loose!"? Yes, comparisons are odious.

Mr. Roosevelt will be fortunate if, after his reign is over, posterity shall forget that he pil loried Thomas Jefferson as "a politician of the infamous stripe."

CHAPTER XXXIX

DEFEAT FOR THE FEDERALISTS

It would be difficult to name a period in which partizan rancor raged with greater violence. Nobody escaped, and slander recognized no limits. George Washington was denounced as defaulter, a man who had debauched his country, the tool of Great Britain, and the dupe of Hamilton; James Monroe was abused as a fool and a bribe-taker; and Jefferson was assailed as an atheist, a robber of the widow and orphan, a father of mulatto children, an enemy to law, order, and property. As to Hamilton, it became necessary to prove that he was not a corrupt Treasurer; and he did it by confessing a filthy, disgraceful amour with a married woman named Maria Reynolds. Maria's husband was a party to the intrigue, and Hamilton's own residence was often the place of assignation.

This violence of political passion seems to have had its origin in the Jay Treaty excitement. Riotous crowds thronged the streets of Philadelphia, New York, and other large cities. Jay was burned in effigy, and Hamilton was stoned. Nothing but the unwearied efforts of the merchant class, the

strength of Washington, and the alarm which friends of the Government began to feel for its very existence, ever turned the tide and rammed that odious treaty down the throats of the people.

President Adams was inclined to take himself as seriously as Washington had done, and to affect an attitude of stateliness. In George Washington, form and ceremony and a pose of loftiness were more or less natural. People conceded all that to so great a man. Back of him, and whatever he might choose to do, was a record which said, "It is my right."

Therefore, when George Washington's creamcolored coach and his six magnificent horses pranced through the streets of Philadelphia, with liveried white servants, outriders, etc., nobody audibly lifted the voice of lamentation. George Washington and "Lady Washington" were unique, a law unto themselves, a noble pair at whom "filthy Democrats " must not rail-except in newspapers, private letters, and low-voiced conversation.

But when John Adams essayed to bend this particular bow of Ulysses, the effect was not happy. In his way, John Adams was a worthy man, but he was not George Washington. And Mrs. Abigail Adams was a most estimable wife, mother, neigh