Thus the new century found the Government entering upon a new phase of its career. The choleric John Adams had been President for more than two years; but as long as Washington lived the country refused to look upon any one else as its real head.

The way of the transgressor may be hard indeed, but it is a path of roses compared with the thorny

road the successor to a popular idol must tread; and when one reads the frankly expressed opinions of Adams's party friends and party enemies, one's sympathies go out to the man upon whom Washington's Presidential mantle fell. "His Superfluous Highness" was the title the opposition had suggested for him in the days when discussion raged as to what the high officials of the Government were to be called. He had great learning, great patriotism, and an unquenchable spirit; but overlaying and enveloping them all was a positive genius for doing and saying untactful things, for appearing at the worst possible advantage.

President-waiting to step into a dead man's shoes-is thankless at best, carrying with it unjustly enough a little of the opprobrium that clings to the executioner and the scavenger, necessary, but not honored, servants of civilization. But a President can die only once, and is likely not to die at all. The thrifty makers of the Constitution, therefore, bent on having the Vice-President earn his salary, added another duty, fortunately for the incumbent one of great dignity and occasionally of great importance-that of presiding over the Senate, and casting the deciding vote in case of a tie. This links the VicePresident in a manner with the administration of which he is nominally a part, but still leaves plenty of time for criti

A member of his cabinet once said of him that whether he was "sportful, playful, witty, kind, cold, drunk, sober, angry, easy, stiff, jealous, careless, cautious, confident, close, or open," he was "almost always so in the wrong place and with the wrong person." The kindly Franklin characterized him as "always honest, sometimes great, but often mad.' One less genial remarked that even in his soberest moments Adams was "the greatest marplot in nature." And John Randolph of Roanoke, whose tongue added the poison of ridicule to the bitterness of gall, called him "that political Malvolio."

The Vice-Presidency, which he had occupied during the eight years of Washington's term, was not an office fitted to soften the asperities of his nature, or to hide them. The chief duty of a Vice

cism, if he is so inclined.

a man.

Adams sympathized with Washington's general policy, and respected him as He had, indeed, been the one to propose him for commander-in-chief. During the eight years he was Vice-President he loyally cast his vote with the administration when occasion demanded; but he thought Washington's talents overrated, and on becoming President in his turn was ambitious to make a record brilliant enough to overshadow him. It was certainly no easy task, even without the handicap of Adams's obstinate personality.

The twin curses of sensitiveness and unpopularity darkened even the ceremonies of inauguration for this unfortunate man. Writing to his wife about that impressive moment in the Hall of Representatives when every eye was moist, and even Washington's great self-command was sorely tried, he told her that there had been more weeping at the inauguration than at a tragedy, "but whether it was from grief or joy; whether from the loss of their beloved President or from the substitution of an unbeloved one; or

from the novelty of the thing, or from the sublimity of it. . . I know not."

He knew that he was vain. "Thank God I am so!" he exclaimed. "Vanity is the cordial drop which makes the bitter cup of life go down." But it had its lingering after-taste, and justly proud of his record, having, as one of his biographers puts it, "stepped from his little. country law-office and proved himself a match for the diplomatists of Europe," Adams resented the narrow margin by which he had been elected, calling himself with some bitterness "the President of three votes only." It has been said that he achieved the honor only because a political trick missed fire-that the Federalists, like their opponents, considered him a "Superfluous Excellency," and placed him and Charles Cotesworth Pinckney in nomination, intending so to juggle with the election that Pinckney, the less known and more pliable of the two, should receive the larger vote, apparently by accident. Instead, they found themselves saddled with Adams for President, stubborn and unmanageable, while Jefferson, leader of a growing opposition, having reached to within those three votes of the higher office, became, by virtue of the law at that time in force, Vice-President, with a Vice-President's unlimited opportunity for observation and criticism.

It was not then the custom for the cabinet to go out of office with the President. Adams began his term with a group of men that he described as a legacy from General Washington. They smoldered along together in uncongenial accord until about the time of Washington's death, when the inevitable explosion and reorganization took place. But a VicePresident can be removed by nothing short of crime or physical incapacity, and Jefferson remained, an ever-present and irritating thorn in Adams's side. Adams had found it hard to learn and accept the passive rôle demanded by the office, and he evidently took some satisfaction in impressing the same uncongenial lessons upon his successor. Jefferson asserted that he was never consulted upon any question

of government after Adams had been two days in power. And he did not make the charge in the humorous mood of a later incumbent, who used to declare that his chief had asked his advice only once, and that was about the wording of a Thanksgiving proclamation.

Jefferson's party was growing, and he was its undoubted leader. It appeared almost certain that he would be Adams's successor. They had long been personal friends, and were to become good friends again, after lengthening years sent both to the retirement of private life. But as heir-apparent Jefferson was obnoxious, and the breach between them soon became complete. "I believe he always liked me," Adams admitted in a retrospect of his long career, "but he detested Hamilton and my whole administration. Then, he wished to be President of the United States, and I stood in his way. So he did everything that he could to pull me down. But if I should quarrel with him for that, I might quarrel with every one I had anything to do with in life. . . . Did you ever hear the lines:

I love my friend as well as you,
But why should he obstruct my view?

I forgive my enemies, and hope that they may find mercy in Heaven."

Adams, however, had no idea of making life easy for his enemies on earth, and no illusions whatever about being President of the whole people. He was of the opinion that party divisions "begin with human nature," and was prepared to fight every inch of his way to a success rivaling Washington's. That he even found zest in the fighting may be gathered from a remark he once made that he was glad he did not live in the millennium, for that would be "the most sickish life imaginable."

His Presidency in no way resembled the millennium. Before he had been in office a twelvemonth a day came when the street outside the door seethed with excited citizens. The governor ordered out horse and foot to keep the peace. Mem

bers of Adams's household indulged heroic, unnecessary dreams of a sortie into the mob, and the President himself, having caused chests of arms to be brought from the war office by back ways, stood ready to defend his home at the cost of his life, if need be.

And this was only one outward and visible sign of his inward. state, for politics, domestic and foreign, kept him in constant and truculent irritation. England and France each seemed bent on provoking the United States to war, and partizans of the English and French waxed contentious at home. The surging tide of the French Revolution, sending its wash of shipwrecked and distressed across the Atlantic, had made of that great struggle a vital local

then than now, for the natural reason that the country, though wide in extent, was still very small in population, and only a fraction of that population as yet belonged to the governing class. A property qualification remained a barrier between the poor man and his vote in every one of the States, while the difference be

issue. The country had been predisposed to French sympathy, but the excesses of the Terror had naturally enough caused a reaction. Now Adams and his followers pointed to the carnival of butchery and atheism as the logical outcome of those doctrines of equality that Jefferson and his party upheld. It was primarily a question of temperament. Largely, also, it was a question of locality, and in some localities it became a matter of religious prejudice. In New England, for example, Federalism and Christianity were supposed to be on intimate terms, while Democracy was looked upon as "a wicked thing, born of Tom Paine, Tom Jefferson, and the Father of Lies."

Bent on combating this formidable trio, Adams labored on in his unpopular way, striving to harden into custom and precedent the policies that Washington had adopted of necessity. And the faction that had objected to Washington's acts was not slow in condemning his. He was criticized for many things, but chiefly for being himself. Personal likes and dislikes played a greater part in national affairs

tween yeomanry and gentry was still recognized, though, thanks to the new teachings, poor folk plodding along in the dust left behind by great folk as they passed in their coaches were beginning to see that all moved toward a common goal.

The fundamental difference between the two parties lay in this: the theory of the Democratic Republicans was based on the belief that "the people" were reasonable and teachable, and therefore quite capable of taking part in government. The Federals, on the other hand, maintained the superior fitness of the educated and well-· to-do for tasks of this kind, and their consequent obligation to attend to such matters not only for themselves, but for their less-fortunate neighbors. Their position, borne out apparently only too well by tragic events in France, was summed up with picturesque brutality by Hamilton one night in the heat of after-dinner debate, as he flung back the answer:

"Your People, sir-your People-is a great beast!"

Cordially as Adams disliked Hamilton, and shocking as he would have found such words uttered by any one except himself, he agreed with this in principle, grumbling that all projects of government based on the wisdom of the people were "cheats and delusions." Letting his peppery tongue run away with him, he did not scruple to state-to the wrong manhis doubt that the nation could endure unless the executive office was made hereditary. "What necessity of saying

these things, even if he thought so?" his hearer asked in disgust.

Once indeed during Adams's term of office popular sympathy was with the administration. This was when the country learned about Talleyrand's action in what is known as the X. Y. Z. affair. Little as Adams approved French ideals, he had no wish to go to war with France; and even after differences had reached a pass where our American minister was asked to leave Paris, the testy President controlled his resentment, and sent a commission of three distinguished men to see if the trouble could be adjusted. They were kept waiting in anterooms and corridors, put off with transparent excuses and one flimsy pretext after another, until even a babe in diplomacy, innocent of the French premier's tortuous methods, could not fail to see that bribery was hinted at. Pinckney's spirited "Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute" voiced the popular indignation, and turned election majorities into Federal success.

But larger majorities in Congress did Adams little good. With war imminent, it was necessary to raise a new army, and this brought so much added work upon the Government that the President felt obliged to recommend increased salaries for some officials, and even to ask for a new cabinet officer, a secretary of the navy, the work of whose department had heretofore been divided between the war department and the treasury. The opposition was not slow to raise the cry of extravagance, ever potent in republics, and jealousies incurred in assigning commands in the new army proved an added pitfall. By common consent Washington was the one man talked about for commander-in-chief. Many thought Hamilton equally entitled to second place, but distrust of Hamilton blinded Adams alike to justice and policy. He named another. This raised a storm of protest, and Washington, taking sides with the friends of Hamilton, flatly refused to leave his retirement at Mount Vernon until what he deemed a wrong was righted. In the correspondence between them Adams lost not only

his point, but another fraction of popular good-will that he could ill afford to spare.

The alien and sedition laws, too, passed by Congress at the instigation of the administration, overshot the mark. These made it difficult to obtain citizenship, and gave the President authority to order out of the country any foreigner he might deem dangerous without giving his reasons or affording the man under suspicion a trial; and there were other provisions imposing fines for "illegal" combinations and conspiracy, and for "scandalous and malicious" publications against the Government, that proved fine ammunition to Adams's enemies when the next Presidential election drew near.

The Democratic Republicans, using all their political skill, managed, moreover, to take the wind out of the sails of certain administration measures that should have been popular by making them seem like truckling on the part of Adams to the growing anti-Federal sentiment. Altogether the task he had set himself of conducting an administration more brilliant and successful than that of Washington was ending in sad disappointment. This did not increase his serenity and peace of mind. Nothing worked to that end. Even the removal of the seat of government from orderly and conventional Philadelphia to the quagmires of the new capital on the banks of the Potomac was one more trial in his last year of office.

The opposition of Hamilton to Adams's reëlection proved the last straw. How far this was due to Adams's treatment of Hamilton in the military appointments was a question eagerly discussed and gossiped about by their contemporaries. They were all very human men, and the passions of the day were much inflamed. Hamilton lost his usually clear head and wrote a pamphlet attacking Adams that the other Federalist leaders tried vainly to suppress, and which a certain Aaron Burr of New York, whose dislike of Hamilton was notorious, read with malicious glee, and used for his own ends.

Political dread of Hamilton was at this time almost the only sentiment held in