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LATELY ARRIVED FROM France, Thomas Jefferson appeared worldly and elegant in a fashionable dove gray satin coat and fine French lace cravat as he presented himself at my threshold. His tall frame filled the doorway, making Madison seem even shorter by comparison.
“Secretary Jefferson, what a pleasure it is to see you again,” I said, welcoming the men in from the October chill. “And Mr. Madison, it’s been too long.”
“Your invitation was most welcome, Mrs. Hamilton,” Jefferson said with a little bow. Wisps of silver shot through the Virginian’s ginger hair, but otherwise he looked much the same as he had all those years before in Philadelphia.
Madison bowed, too, and spoke with even more formal reserve than normal, a thing that concerned me. “Mrs. Hamilton. Thank you, as always, for your hospitality.”
“Of course,” I said, showing them into the dining room, where I’d worried over every detail. Angelica had told me that Jefferson was a connoisseur of fine wine, so I had Papa come and bring his best Madeira. I knew, too, that the new secretary of state ate little meat, so I planned a menu with an abundance of peas, greens, and vegetables of every variety. I had Jenny set the table with my finest dishes, and everything was so perfect that Angelica would’ve been proud of me. “Mr. Jefferson, how is your lovely daughter Patsy?”
Jefferson’s smile revealed great fatherly pride. “Patsy has recently married. She’s Mrs. Randolph now.”
“Well, then we shall add that happy occasion to our list of things to toast this evening,” I said.
“A happy occasion indeed, madam,” said Jefferson just as Alexander entered the room and greeted our guests. Though Jefferson accepted the seat of honor at the table when my husband made a show of offering it, he said, “Please, there’s no need for formality among old friends, which I feel us all to be, given our past acquaintance and all your sister-in-law has told me of you. In fact, Mrs. Church sent as a gift to me a copy of The Federalist that your amiable wife inscribed for her.”
Perhaps it was my own vanity in remembering my part in the publication of those essays that made me ask, “Have you had the opportunity to read them?”
“Indeed,” Jefferson said with a smile. “I found it to be the best commentary on the principles of government ever written.” The praise should have made Alexander smile, but neither Madison nor my husband seemed at ease.
Fortunately, Jefferson’s good social graces smoothed things over quickly, and he and Alexander fell into such deep discussion and swift agreement about coins and the mint that they did indeed seem like old friends.
I was glad for that, but the true aim of the occasion was to mend fences with Jemmy Madison, who hung on Jefferson’s every word. When Madison’s eyes lifted to the ceiling at a particularly loud shriek from the children’s nursery, I moved in to say, “My apologies. I believe that’s my daughter. I’m told that little girls are soft and manageable creatures, but mine has a war cry that would make an Iroquois chief proud.”
Madison chuckled at that, but no more. The man had accepted my invitation, as I knew he would. Yet, again and again, I found it difficult to draw Jemmy into conversation. How had a political disagreement about economic policy so chilled our friendship? Perhaps Alexander was right, and Madison had learned about my husband’s machinations against his tariff.
While I worried for Madison’s mood, Jefferson opined on the virtues of the French people. “I’ve been fortunate to see in the course of fourteen years two revolutions as the world has never seen before.”
Jefferson had a way with words that excited within me the idea that we were living in extraordinary times. My husband, by contrast, seemed less inspired by France’s attempts to throw off their monarchy. “As a friend to mankind and liberty, I rejoice in the efforts,” Alexander said. “But I fear much for the fate of those caught up in it.”
Specifically, we worried that harm would come to our friend Lafayette, who was championing the revolution in France. We knew the righteousness of his cause, but the stories of violence in Paris frightened me. I did not believe the French nobles would give up their privileges so easily. And it seemed to me as if the French revolutionaries themselves were beginning to fracture into dangerous rivalries.
But Jefferson sipped appreciatively at the Madeira and asked, “Why should you fear it, Secretary Hamilton?”
To my great vexation, my husband’s eyes traveled the length of the table and settled on Madison. “Because we should all dread destructive and petty disagreements amongst those who once stood united . . .”
My wine lodged itself in my throat, and only with a cough, and some difficulty, did I manage to swallow. If I’d learned anything about Virginians it was that a thing must be approached with them from the side. So why did my husband insist upon a frontal assault? Hadn’t my work in hosting this party been aimed at Alexander’s reconciliation with Madison—if not out of regard for their friendship, then at least in consideration of the fact that he was the one man who could thwart my husband’s plans?
Mr. Jefferson smiled indulgently, appearing to take no notice of the undercurrents. But there was a shrewdness in his eyes that made me think he missed nothing. “I think the present disquiet in France will end well. The nation has been awakened by our revolution, they feel their strength, they are enlightened, their lights are spreading, and they will not retrograde.”
His words caused a swell of patriotism within my breast. “I have always believed our revolution would be a force of good
