Dinner at Mr. Jefferson's: Part 1

Among the most insolent actions one can commit, eavesdropping is the most informative. Especially when you're eavesdropping on three of America's greatest minds at dinner.

Let me explain.

Our nation, fresh from the battlefields, was composed of the thinnest fabric, and any slip or collision would tear it to shreds. The dream was, for every citizen, that the officials high in office would peacefully blend together, their conversations filled with compromise and congeniality. When my cousin, Mr. Jefferson, met Secretary Alexander Hamilton, the awakening was rude. Jefferson had been the latecomer, as we all had already assumed our positions within the new government, and were busy tending to our stations. In the early fall, we were still stumbling about, attempting to gain a sense of whom we really are in these new offices, and what their meaning is in this complex form of government. By the time Thomas accepted the position of Secretary of State, General Washington had already been without one for almost a year (of course, Secretary Hamilton was on top of and handling foreign affairs in general, but that's a different story altogether.) The dilemma of who was to be the Secretary of State had plagued him, as he was in hung in the balance between the expertise of Mr. John Jay, an experienced diplomat and statesman, and Mr. Jefferson, who possessed all the same qualities. The issue was solved when Mr. Jay kindly asked to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. It took Thomas almost five months to accept, and almost another month to arrive in the temporary capital in New York City.
He did not miss the opportunity to make himself at home as much as possible for as long as New York City was the capital. After deciding on a modest home at 75 Maiden Lane, after desperately scavenging for one on the intersecting street of "the Broad Way," [original spelling retained], he began extensive renovation.
Here is where the present day location is. One can find now there a restaurant and a salon, as well as an abstract piece of art in the center of the road which still continues to play with my mind.
In relation to important places, he keeps near the presidential mansion on the Broad Way, but really missed with having easy accessibility to Fraunces Tavern, the politically "hip place" in town.


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He immediately cast his "spell" over the place, spending more money on one feature alone than was the annual rent (cabinetwork- because intricately carved cabinets are a real necessity in the world of politics). His grand additions were no help to his collection of debt, something that wasn't his top priority.

But enough about my cousin and his lavish spending. There was another typical, large-mansion dinner, and I intended to make Mr. Jefferson familiar with his colleagues. I don't know where I went wrong, but that ball was the beginning of one the greatest feuds in the history of democratic republics (however scarce that might be). After several pleasant introductions with Mr. Maclay and Mr. Knox, I found Secretary Hamilton at the cocktail bar devouring shrimp in the most civilized way possible. They must have been some pretty good shrimp, for I timed it, and he consumed at least five shrimp a minute. We politely waited nearby as he finished his conversation with Mr. Duer, but when it seemed they were about to plunge into the financial standing of Rhode Island’s central bank, I immediately stepped in.
“Ah, excuse us, gentlemen.”
“Good evening, Mr. Randolph, Mr. Jefferson.”
They both deeply bowed.
“Mr. Randolph, I don’t believe you have yet introduced me to this fine gentleman here.”
Colonel Hamilton looked keenly at Mr. Jefferson with scrutiny. I had given him a basic report on Hamilton’s status, history, and achievements.
“Why, yes, this is the esteemed Thomas Jefferson, the present Secretary of State and author of the Declaration of Independence.”
I had a tendency to lay it on.
“It is an honor, Mr. Jefferson, to be in your esteemed presence.”
He bowed again, and seemed to look through to his soul.
“As it is in yours, Mr. Secretary.”
He bowed as well, and had a bit of difficulty looking at him. While Hamilton was at least several inches beneath Thomas, he was as intimidating as hawk to a mouse. Sometimes, the ceremony of conversation, with all the bows and what nots, irked me extremely.
“May I ask how you are enjoying your stay in the city?”
“It is comparable to honorable exile from one’s family and affairs, but the thought of serving one’s nation can never be diminished by personal feelings.”
Hamilton pondered the thought, seeking the deeper meaning, and finally replied,
“Much agreed. I would suppose that the hustle and bustle, coupled with our roaming pigs, is a bit of rude awakening from your pastoral retreat at Monticello.”
The night continued forth as so, and one would have never guessed they were to become bitter enemies. But I foresaw the result. They were complete opposites, one dynamic to the point of nausea, and the other, “A Man of the People,” would who inevitably come to resent the other’s federal views.


I suppose I ought to furthermore explain this deep feuding that held the president in knots over the uncertainty of the result. Despite the pleasant evening they spent together, Jefferson, along with his diminutive friend James Madison, came to a joint certainty that Hamilton was a monarchist at heart, and the only obstacle Hamilton encountered on his path to making America a lean, green, angry machine (a new phrase I heard on the Senate floor regarding infectious plant life) was the scheming duo. This, of course, posed great danger to America’s finances: did the financial system without Hamilton mean collapse? Of course, I was assigned the very unceremonious task of being the mediator between the two, ending up nothing more than a distant call for resolution. They denounced one another in newspapers with so much venom I felt as if they were taking out their deepest, personal guilt, secrets, dislikes, and animosity, coupled with any symptoms of depression or suicidal thoughts they may have experienced in their lifetime. Which truly posed an ironic situation in my head. A least a week ago, before he began his scathing attacks, he sent me a letter:
I have preserved through life a resolution never to write in a public paper without subscribing my name, and to engage openly an adversary who does not let himself be seen, is staking all against nothing. The indecency too of newspaper squabbling between two public ministers, besides my own sense of it, has drawn something like an injunction from another quarter.
As if I didn’t know Philip Freneau existed.
Despite the president’s futile attempts and desperate pleading, coupled with my ant-like position in their arguments, the verbal assaults, newspaper venom, mud-pie slinging, and general animosity continued until what I predicted would be the resignation of either, or both, but even then, Jefferson would attempt to use his conservative tactics to frame Hamilton as a monarchist and scheming, belligerent, fraudulent politician and official. I was surprised they had not yet challenged one another to a duel.

At that point in time, two issues gripped the hearts and minds of our politicians: Secretary Hamilton’s Assumption Plan, which was to assume all the state debts, which coupled with national debt for a grand total off $79 million dollars, to then hand out bonds, furthermore giving investors the power to gain interest while at the same time aiding the government financially, and where the capital ought to be. The second issue was especially touchy, as the Massachusetts senators and representatives want it in Boston, the New Yorkers don’t want us to leave, the Pennsylvanians are attempting to revive Philadelphia, and so forth. The gentlemen of the South are especially indignant that the capital should be in the South in relation with the fact that the capital had always been in the North. I personally believed it should be smack dab in the middle. It is speculated that a location on the Potomac, near Georgetown, is favored by some and the President. Some allege that Washington favors it so that he and his properties nearby may personally benefit from it. Thomas, and Hamilton, have been trying to combine the two problems, which have opened an abyss on the House floor, and compromise them, which never really seemed to work. Thus, the debatings continued, escalating with excitement and depressing with frustration and the realization that the light at the end of the tunnel was a microscopic speck. Then, IT occurred. IT is the codename for the first of two of the most defining meetings in American history (this is my opinion because I am living only in the beginning). It is also the beginning of my eavesdropping spree.
IT occurred as so:
I happened to be passing the President’s house one day on the other side of the street, when I noticed Hamilton and Jefferson speaking. I knew the occasion was one of great importance as it appeared that they were not arguing, but rather the latter listening to the other. I quickly proceeded to the end of the street, made it to the other side, and hide behind the heavily pollinated bushes next to the President’s house. It was probably one of the more physically challenging experiences I’ve had, and, oh, how I wished to be that bee hovering so intently above my ear. Hamilton looked like he had come into the abyss of failed assumption plans and out. He had dark rims on his eyes, making him a bit comical. His hair had taken a life of its own, either that, or he fired his hairdresser. He even appeared older. His face was pale and drawn, a frown characterizing it all. It spoke of gloominess, depression, doom, isolation, and lack of hope. His eyes were as empty and hollow as a barrel, their usual sparkle and excitement lost. He frantically, yet calmly, spoke with Mr. Jefferson, who actually appeared to be taking some interest in what he was saying for once. He seemed to understand the serious nature of the conversation.
The bee was really bothering me.
“Ah.. ah.. ah-CHOO!”
They looked around for a moment, and resumed their conversation.
“As I am sure you understand, this stuff of this plan is essential to sustaining the Union. The gentlemen of New England are an especial worry in this sense. They are so determined to have the bill passed, considering the numerous funds they spent, that they have gone so far as to consider it a essential condition for the preservation. It is the apex of my career as I see it, and its very essence. Its failure will force my resignation. It is especially significant to its passage that the gentlemen of the South should be persuaded… perhaps by your sound opinions and thoughts?”
“I understand the urgency, Mr. Secretary, but time away from this land has impaired me to be in touch with its occurrences.”
They continued their conversation, and soon after parted. I so much excited that I stumbled out of the bushes, and scared the living daylights out of Mr. Jefferson. I timed him, and I believe his airtime was ten seconds.
“Mr. Randolph! How you… uh… oh, where did you come from?”
“That shouldn’t concern you. Tell me, what are you going to do about it? It seems he relies on you.”
He gave me a look of sheer death, and roughly drew me aside into an alleyway.
“What you heard is between you, me, and Colonel Hamilton.”
“Don’t forget the bee.”
He stared at me for a brief second, and continued.
“The state of our Union, and its future hangs in the balance.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I am persuaded that men of sound heads and honest views needed nothing more than mutual understanding to enable them to unite in some measures which might enable us to get along. In other words, on the consideration of the situation of things, I thought the first steps towards some conciliation of views would be to bring Mr. Madison and Colonel Hamilton to a friendly discussion of the subject. I shall immediately write to each to come and dine with me the tomorrow. We should probably be alone.”
“Agreed.”
“But it is solely between you, me, and Colonel Hamilton.”
I gave him a look.
“Yes, and the bee. But do you understand?”
“Uh-huh.”