attacks in Freneau's paper which were outrages on common decency. His
intimacy with the President enabled him to judge of the effect of the
blows. He noticed, with the cool precision of an experimental observer,
the symptoms of pain and annoyance which Washington could not always
conceal. Freneau was Jefferson's clerk; a word would have stopped him.
'But I will not do it,' Jefferson says; 'his paper has saved our
Constitution, which was galloping forth into monarchy.' Jefferson's
underhand attack upon Vice-President Adams, in the note he wrote by way
of preface to the American publisher of Paine's 'Rights of Man,' is a
domestic treachery of the same kind, though very much less in degree.
That note might have been written on the impulse of the moment; but what
shall we say of his practice of committing to paper Hamilton's sayings
in the freedom of after-dinner conversation--a time when open-hearted
men are apt to forget that there may be a Judas at table--and of saving
them up to be used against him in the future? Jefferson explains away
these and other dubious passages in his life with great ingenuity. He
had to make such explanations too often. An apology implies a mistake,
wilful or accidental. Too many indicate, to say the least, a lack of
discretion. What a difference between these explanations, evasions,
excuses, denials, and the majestic manliness of Washington, who never
did or wrote or said anything which he hesitated to avow openly and
without qualification!

Another dissimilarity between these two worth heeding, is Jefferson's
want of that thrift which produces independence, comfort, and
self-respect. He lived beyond his means, and died literally a beggar.

Jefferson was deficient in that happy combination of courage, energy,
judgment, and probity, which mankind call character, for want of a more
distinctive word--but which, in fact, in its highest expression, is