You cannot, my dear sir, be more happy at the connexion you have

made with my family than I am. Until the child of a parent has made

a judicious choice, his heart is in continual anxiety; but this

anxiety was removed on the moment I discovered it was on you she

had placed her affections. I am pleased with every instance of

delicacy in those who are so dear to me; and I think I read your

soul on the occasion you mention. I shall therefore only entreat

you to consider me as one who wishes in every way to promote your

happiness.

General Schuyler was ordered by Congress to Morristown to confer with

Washington. He took a house, sent for his family, and remained until

late in the summer. The closest friendship was formed between Schuyler

and Hamilton, which, with common political interests and deepening

sympathy, increased from year to year. The good fairies of Nevis who had

attended Hamilton's birth never did better for him than when they gave

him Elizabeth Schuyler for wife and Philip Schuyler for father and

friend. And they had blasted the very roots of the chief impediment to

success, for he triumphed steadily and without effort over what has

poisoned the lives of many men; and triumphed in spite of the fact that

the truth was vaguely known always, and kept in the quiver of his

enemies.

As Hamilton was absent from Headquarters but seldom during General

Schuyler's sojourn, the lovers met almost every evening, and

occasionally Washington, who possessed certain sympathies based on long

experience, would give Hamilton a morning free, and suggest a ride

through the woods. Never were two people happier nor more inherently

suited. Hamilton's instinct had guided him safely past more brilliant

women to one who willingly would fold herself round his energetic

individuality of many parts, fitting into every division and crevice.

She was receptive, sympathetic, adaptive, with sufficient intelligence

to appreciate the superlative brain of the man whom she never ceased to

worship and to regard as a being of unmortal clay. A brilliant ambitious

wife in the same house with Hamilton might have written a picturesque

diary, but the domestic instrument would have twanged with discords.

Hamilton was unselfish, and could not do enough for those he loved; but

he was used to the first place, to the unquestioned yielding of it to

his young high-mightiness by his clever aspiring friends, by the army of

his common acquaintance, and in many ways by Washington himself. Had he

married Angelica Schuyler, that independent, high-spirited, lively,

adorable woman, probably they would have boxed each other's ears at the

end of a week.

Hamilton made the dash on Staten Island with Lord Sterling, and in March

went with General St. Clair and Colonel Carrington to negotiate with the

British commissioners for the exchange of prisoners; before the battle

of Springfield he was sent out to reconnoitre. Otherwise his days were

taken up bombarding the Congress with letters representing the necessity

of drafting troops to meet the coming emergencies.

He and Miss Betsey Schuyler had a very pretty plan, which was nothing

less than that they should go to Europe on their wedding tour, Congress

to find his presence necessary at the Court of France. The suggestion

originated with Laurens, who had been asked to go as secretary to

Franklin. He had no wish to go, and knowing Hamilton's ardent desire to

visit Europe and growing impatience with his work, had recommended his

name to the Congress. General Schuyler would have procured a leave of

absence for his impending son-in-law, and sent the young couple to

Europe with his blessing and a heavy wallet, but Hamilton would as soon

have forged a man's name as travelled at his expense. He hoped that the

Congress would send him. He was keenly alive to the value of studying

Europe at first hand before he was called upon to help in the modelling

of the new Republic, and the vision of wandering in historic lands with

his bride kept him awake at night. Moreover, he was desperately tired of

his life at Headquarters. When the expedition to Staten Island was in

question, he asked Washington, through Lafayette, to give him the

command of a battalion which happened to be without a field-officer.

Washington refused, partly from those motives of policy to which he ever

showed an almost niggling adherence, but more because he could not spare

his most useful aide. Hamilton, who was bursting for action of any sort,

retired to his detested little office in angry disappointment. But he

was a philosopher. He adjusted himself to the Inevitable, and dismissed

the matter from his mind, after registering a vow that he would take

advantage of the first excuse which might offer to resign his position.

The Schuylers returned to Albany. The French fleet arrived, and hovered

well beyond the range of British guns, having no desire to risk an

engagement until reinforced. Its Admiral, Count Rochambeau, having a

grievance, Hamilton advised a personal conference.

"We might suggest that he meet us halfway--say at Wethersfield, near

Hartford," he added. "That would save us something in travelling

expenses."

Washington sighed heavily. "We are worse off than you think," he said.

"I might scrape together money enough for half the journey, but no more.

Lafayette and his aide must go with us--to say nothing of the escort.

Think of the innkeepers' bills, for ourselves and horses. What to do I

confess I do not know, for I should confer with this Frenchman at once."

"Go we must, sir," said Hamilton, decidedly, "if we have to take up a

collection--why not? If an object cannot be accomplished one way, try

another." He stood up and emptied the contents of his pockets on the

table. "Only five hundred beggarly continentals," he said ruefully.

"However, who knows what treasures may line more careful pockets than

mine? I know they will come forth as spontaneously. Have I your

permission to try, sir?"

Washington nodded, and Hamilton ran downstairs, pressed Meade into

service, and together they made the round of the officers' quarters. He

returned at the end of an hour and threw a huge bundle of paper on the

table. "Only eight thousand dollars, sir," he said. "It's the best that

any man could do. But I think it may carry us through."

"It will have to," said Washington. "Remind me, my dear boy, if you see

me eating too much. I have such an appetite!"

They set out on their journey a week later, having communicated with

Rochambeau, who agreed to meet them at Wethersfield. All went well, for

the wretched inns were not exorbitant, until they reached Hartford. They

arrived late in the afternoon, weary and ravenous. After a bath and a

glimpse of luxurious beds, they marched to the dining room and sat down

to a sumptuous repast, whose like had greeted neither nostril nor palate

for many a day. The wines were mellow, the tobacco green, the

conversation gay until midnight. Hamilton sang "The Drum," and many

another song rang among the rafters. Washington retired first, bidding

the youngsters enjoy themselves. The young men arose at their accustomed

hour next morning, with appetites renewed, but waited in vain for their

Chief. Hamilton finally knocked at his door. There was no response, and

a servant told him that the General had gone out nearly an hour before.

He went in search, bidding Lafayette and M'Henry remain behind. As he

had anticipated, he found Washington in a secluded nook, engaged in

prayer. He waited a few moments, then coughed respectfully. Washington

immediately rose, his harassed face showing little relief.

"Is anything wrong, sir?" asked Hamilton, anxiously.

"Alas!" said the General, "I wonder that you, too, are not driven to

prayer, to intercede for help in this distressing predicament. Think of

that extravagant repast we consumed last night. God help me, but I was

so famished I never gave a thought to consequences. Unquestionably, the

breakfast will be on a like scale. _And we have but eight thousand

dollars with which to pay the bill_!"

"It is true! I never gave the matter a thought--I am cursedly

extravagant. And we must get home! I suppose we shall have to fast all

the way. Well, we've fasted before, and the memory of last night's

dinner may sustain us--"

"But this man's bill! How are we to meet it?"

"Shall I speak to him, sir? Tell him unreservedly our predicament--that

these wretched eight thousand dollars are all we have in the world?

Perhaps he is a good patriot, and will call the account square."

"Do," said Washington, "and come here and tell me what he says. I am too

mortified to show my face. I shall not enter the house again."

Hamilton walked slowly to the house, little caring for his errand. He

returned on a dead run.

"We are saved, sir!" he cried, almost in Washington's arms. "Governor

Trumbull has sent word to all the hostelries that we are to be his

guests while we are in the state of Connecticut!"

Washington said his prayers again, and ate two chickens for breakfast.

On the return from this conference, when approaching the house of

General Benedict Arnold, opposite West Point, where they were invited

for breakfast, Washington suddenly decided to accompany Lafayette, who

wished to inspect some earthworks.

"You need not come," he said to Hamilton and M'Henry.

"I know that you are both in love with Mrs. Arnold. Go on. We will join

you presently."

The young men were greeted with effusion by the pretty hostess, with

absent reserve by her husband. Mrs. Arnold left the room to order that

the breakfast be delayed. While she was absent, a note was brought to

Arnold. He opened it, turned green, and rising hastily, announced that

his presence was demanded at West Point and left the room. The sound of

a smothered scream and fall came from above. A moment later the aides

heard the sound of galloping hoofs.

Their suspicions aroused, they ran outside. A messenger, with a despatch

from Colonel Jameson, awaited Washington's arrival. Hamilton tore open

the paper. It contained the news that a British spy had been captured

within the lines. In an instant Hamilton and M'Henry were on their

horses and off in pursuit of the fugitive. That Arnold was a traitor and

had fled to the British war-ship, _Vulture_, hovering in Haverstraw Bay,

a slower wit than Hamilton's would have assumed. The terrified scoundrel

was too quick for them. He had ridden over a precipice to the shore

below, and under protection of a flag of truce was far down the river

when his pursuers sighted him. They returned with all speed.

I shall not repeat the oft-told tale of André's capture, trial, and

death. Nowhere has it been so well told as by Hamilton himself, in a

letter to Laurens, printed at the time and universally read. It is only

necessary here to allude to his share in that unhappiest episode of the

war. When Washington reached the house his aide was engaged in consoling

Mrs. Arnold, who was shrieking and raving, weeping and fainting;

imposing on Hamilton a task varied and puzzling, even to one of his

schooling. But she was very young, very charming, and in a tragic

plight. Washington himself wiped away a tear, and for a moment forgot

the barely averted consequences of her husband's treason, while he

assisted Hamilton in assuaging a grief so bitter and so appealing. As

soon as was possible he sent her through the British lines.

But Hamilton quickly forgot Mrs. Arnold in his sympathy and admiration

for the unfortunate André. He conceived a quick and poignant friendship

for the brilliant accomplished young Englishman, with the dreamy soft

face of a girl, and a mettle which had brought him to destruction.

Hamilton did all he could to save him, short of suggesting to André to

ask Sir Henry Clinton to offer Arnold in exchange. He enlisted the

sympathy of the officers at West Point in the prisoner's behalf, gave up

his leisure to diverting André's mind, and persuaded Washington to delay

the execution and send an indirect suggestion to Clinton to offer the

exchange himself. When all hope was over, he personally begged

Washington to heed André's request for a soldier's death, and not

condemn such a man to the gibbet. Washington gladly would have saved his

interesting prisoner's life, and felt deeply for him, but again those

motives of policy prevailed, and André was executed like a common

malefactor.

VIII

Washington was in temporary quarters--a cramped and wretched tavern--at

Liberty Pole, New Jersey. The inaction being oppressive, Hamilton

concentrated his thoughts on the condition and needs of the country.

I am sorry that the same spirit of indifference to public affairs

prevails, [he wrote to Sears]. It is necessary we should rouse and

begin to do our business in earnest, or we shall play a losing

game. We must have a government with more power. We must have a tax

in kind. We must have a foreign loan. We must have a bank on the

true principles of a bank. We must have an administration distinct

from Congress, and in the hands of single men under their orders.

We must, above all things, have an army for the war.... We are told

here there is to be a Congress of the neutral powers at the Hague

for meditating of peace. God send it may be true. We want it; but

if the idea goes abroad, ten to one if we do not fancy the thing

done, and fall into a profound sleep till the cannon of the enemy

waken us next campaign. This is our national character.

Hamilton, the High Priest of Energy, had long since declared war against

the genius of the American people, who believed in God and the art of

leisure. Hamilton believed in God and a cabinet of zealous ministers. He

was already a thorn in the side of estimable but hesitant patriots, and

in times to come his unremitting and remorseless energy was to be a

subject of reproach by associates and enemies alike. Even Jefferson,

that idol of the present as of the past democracy, had timidly declared

against separation in 1774, while Hamilton, a boy of seventeen, had been

the first to suggest the resort to arms, and incessant in his endeavours

until the great result was accomplished. He had countless other schemes,

and he knew that eventually he would succeed in driving the American

people before the point of his quill. That his task would be long and

arduous did not daunt him for a moment. By this time he knew every want

of the country, and was determined upon the reorganization of the

government. The energy which is one of the distinguishing

characteristics of the American nation to-day was generated by Hamilton,

might, indeed, be said to be the persistence and diffusion of his ego.

For the matter of that, all that is greatest in this American evolution

of a century was typified in Hamilton. Not only his formidable energy,

but his unqualified honour and integrity, his unquenchable optimism, his

extraordinary nimbleness of mind and readiness of resource, his gay

good-nature, high spirits, and buoyancy, his light philosophy

effervescing above unsounded depths, his inability to see when he was

beaten, his remorseless industry, his hard common sense, combined with a

versatile cleverness which makes for shallowness in another race, his

careless generosity, his aptitude for detail and impatience of it, his

reckless bravery in war and intrepidity in peace, even his highly strung

nerves, excitability, and obliging readiness at all times for a fight,

raise him high above history as the genius of the American race. The

reverse side of the national character we owe to the greatest of his

rivals; as will be seen hereafter.

During the sojourn at Liberty Pole, Washington and he sat through many

nights discussing the imperative need of the reorganization of the

government, and the best methods by which it could be accomplished. The

result was Hamilton's letter to James Duane, an important member of the

Congress.

This letter, no doubt the most remarkable of its kind ever written, and

as interesting to-day as when Hamilton conceived it, is far too long to

be quoted. It began with an exhaustive analysis of the reasons for the

failure of Congress to cope with a situation which was becoming more

threatening every hour, and urged the example of the Grecian republics

and the Swiss cantons against the attempted confederation of the States

without a strong centralized government. Lacking a common tie of

sufficient strength, the States would inevitably drift toward

independent sovereignty, and they had given signal proof in the matter

of raising troops, contributing money, and in their everlasting disputes

about boundary lines, as to the absolute lack of any common public

spirit. His remedy, in brief, was a convention of the States for the

purpose of creating a Federal Constitution, the distributing of the

powers of government into separate departments, with Presidents of War,

Marine, and Trade, a secretary of Foreign Affairs, and a Financier,

defining their prerogatives; the States to have no privileges beyond an

internal police for the protection of the property and the rights of

individuals, and to raise money by internal taxes; the army to be

recruited on a permanent establishment. In addition, there was an

elaborate system of taxation, by which the country could be supported in

all its emergencies. His favourite plan of a National Bank was

elaborated in minute detail, the immediate necessity for a foreign loan

dwelt upon with sharp reproof, and examples given of the recruiting of

armies in European states.

Out of a multitude of suggestions a few were adopted within a short

time, but the great central suggestion, the calling of a convention for

the purpose of creating a Federal Constitution, was to be hammered at

for many weary years before jealous States and unconfident patriots

could be persuaded to a measure so monarchical and so bold. But the

letter is on record, and nothing more logical, far-sighted, and

comprehensive ever was written. It contained the foundation-stones upon

which this government of the United States stands to-day. Congress put

on its spectacles and read it with many grunts, magnanimously expressing

admiration for a youth who had fearlessly grappled with questions which

addled older brains; but its audacious suggestions of a government

greater than Congress, and of a bank which would add to their troubles,

were not taken seriously for a moment.

Hamilton also found time to write a good many love letters. Here is one

of them:--

I would not have you imagine, Miss, that I write you so often to

gratify your wishes or please your vanity; but merely to indulge

myself, and to comply with that restless propensity of my mind

which will not be happy unless I am doing something in which you

are concerned. This may seem a very idle disposition in a

philosopher and a soldier, but I can plead illustrious examples in

my justification. Achilles liked to have sacrificed Greece and his

glory to a female captive, and Anthony lost a world for a woman. I

am very sorry times are so changed as to oblige me to go to

antiquity for my apology, but I confess, to the disgrace of the

present time, that I have not been able to find as many who are as

far gone as myself in the laudable Zeal of the fair sex. I suspect,

however, if others knew the charm of my sweetheart as I do, I could

have a great number of competitors. I wish I could give you an idea

of her. You can have no conception of how sweet a girl she is. It

is only in my heart that her image is truly drawn. She has a lovely

form and still more lovely mind. She is all goodness, the gentlest,

the dearest, the tenderest of her sex. Ah, Betsey, how I love her!

His reiterated demand for a foreign loan, and the sending of a special

envoy to obtain it, at last wrung a reluctant consent from Congress.

Lafayette was his politic suggestion, and Congress would have indorsed

it, but that adventurous young hero had not come to America to return

and beg money on his own doorstep. There was a prospect of fighting in

the immediate future, and he was determined to add to his renown. The

choice then lay between Hamilton and Laurens, who had received the

thanks of Congress for his distinguished services in the field, and

whose father had been a president of that body. Lafayette and all the

Frenchmen were anxious that the mission be given to Hamilton. The former

went to Philadelphia and talked to half the Congress. He offered

Hamilton private letters which would introduce him to the best society

of Europe; adding, "I intend giving you the _key_ of the cabinet, as

well as of the societies which influence them."

Laurens, by this time, was eager to go. His father, who had started for

Holland as Minister Plenipotentiary, had been captured by the British

and confined in the Tower of London; the foreign mission would give him

an opportunity to attempt his liberation. Moreover, life was very dull

at present, and he knew himself to be possessed of diplomatic talents.

But he was also aware of Hamilton's ardent desire to visit Europe, all

that it would mean to that insatiate mind, his weariness of his present

position. Washington would give his consent to the temporary absence of

Hamilton, for the French money was the vital necessity of the Republic's

life, and he knew that his indomitable aide would not return without it

Therefore Laurens wrote to Hamilton, who was in Albany awaiting his

wedding-day, that he should resign in his favour, and congratulated him

on so brilliant and distinguished a honeymoon.

The struggle in Hamilton's mind was brief. The prospect of sailing with

his bride on a long and delightful journey that could not fail to bring

him highest honour had made his blood dance. Moreover, in the previous

month Washington had again refused his request for an independent

command. It took him but a short time to relinquish this cherished dream

when he thought of the unhappy plight of Mr. Laurens, and remembered the

deep anxiety of the son, often expressed. He wrote to Laurens,

withdrawing in the most decisive terms. Laurens was not to be outdone.

He loved his father, but he loved Hamilton more. He pressed the

appointment upon his friend, protesting that the affairs of the elder

Laurens would be quite as safe in his hands. Hamilton prevailed, and

Congress, having waited amiably while the two martial youths had it out,

unanimously appointed Laurens. He could not sail until February, and as

soon as the matter was decided obtained leave of absence and repaired in

all haste to Albany, to be present at Hamilton's wedding.

IX

The wedding of Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler was the most

notable private event of the Revolution. The immense social and

political consequence of the Schuylers, and the romantic fame of the

young aide, of whom the greatest things possible were expected, brought

the aristocracy of New York and the Jersies to Albany despite the

inclement winter weather. The large house of the Schuylers gave a

prolonged hospitality to the women, and the men lodged in the

patriarchal little town. But although Hamilton was glad to see the

Livingstons, Sterlings, and Boudinots again, the greater number of the

guests interested him far less than a small group of weather-beaten

soldiers, of which this occasion was the happy cause of reunion. Troup

was there, full of youth and honours. He had received the thanks of

Congress for his services at Saratoga, and been appointed secretary of

the Board of War. Recently he had resigned from the army, and was

completing his law studies. Nicolas Fish came with Lafayette, whose

light artillery he commanded. He was known as a brave and gallant

soldier, and so excellent a disciplinarian that he had won the approval

and confidence of Washington. He still parted his little fringe in the

middle, and his face was as chubby as ever, his eyes as solemn.

Lafayette, who had brought a box full of clothes that had dazzled Paris,

embraced Hamilton with tears, but they were soon deep in conjectures of

the next campaign. Laurens, looking like a king in exile, wrung many

hearts. Hamilton's brother aides, unfortunately, were the more closely

bound by his absence, but they had despatched him with their blessing

and much chaffing.

The hall of the Schuyler mansion was about twenty feet square and

panelled in white. It was decorated with holly, and for three nights

before the wedding illuminated by hundreds of wax candles, while the

young people danced till three in the morning. The Schuyler house, long

accustomed to entertaining, had never been gayer, and no one was more

content than the chatelaine. Although she had been reasonably sure of

Elizabeth, there was no telling at what moment the maiden might yield to

the romantic mania of the time, and climb out of her window at night

while Hamilton stood shivering below. Now all danger was past, and Mrs.

Schuyler moved, large, placid, and still handsome, among her guests,

beaming so affectionately whenever she met Mrs. Carter's flashing eyes

that Peggy and Cornelia renewed their vows to elope when the hour and

the men arrived. General Schuyler, once more on the crest of public

approval, was always grave and stern, but he, too, breathed satisfaction

and relief. He was a tall man of military appearance, powerful,

muscular, slender; but as his nose was large and fleshy, and he wore a

ragged-looking wig with wings like Washington's, he could not be called

handsome. It was a noble countenance, however, and his black eyes

flashed and pierced.

As for Hamilton and Miss Schuyler, who had a trunk full of charming new

gowns, they were as happy as two children, and danced the night through.

They were married on the 20th, in the drawing-room, in front of the

splendid mantel, which the housewives had spent much time in admiring.

The bride wore the white which became her best, made with a long pointed

bodice and paniers, and lace that had been worn by the wife of the first

patroon. She had risen to the dignity of a wig, and her mass of black

hair was twisted mercilessly tight under the spreading white monstrosity

to which her veil was attached. Hamilton wore a black velvet coat, as

befitting his impending state. Its lining and the short trousers were of

white satin. His shapely legs were in white silk, his feet in pumps with

diamond buckles, the present of Lafayette. He, too, wore a wig,--a close

one, with a queue,--but he got rid of it immediately after the ceremony,

for it heated his head.

Hamilton had then reached his full height, about five feet six. His

bride was perhaps three inches shorter. The world vowed that never had

there been so pretty a couple, nor one so well matched in every way.

Both were the perfection of make, and the one as fair and fresh as a

Scot, the other a golden gipsy, the one all fire and energy, the other

docile and tender, but with sufficient spirit and intelligence. It is

seldom that the world so generously gives its blessing, but it might

have withheld it, for all that Hamilton and his bride would have cared.

Hamilton's honeymoon was brief. There was a mass of correspondence

awaiting him, and no place for a bride in the humble Dutch house at New

Windsor where Washington had gone into winter quarters. But the distance

was not great, and he could hope for flying leaves of absence.

Washington was not unsympathetic to lovers; he had been known to unbend

and advise his aides when complications threatened or a siege seemed

hopeless; and he had given Hamilton the longest leave possible.

Nevertheless, the bridegroom set forth, one harsh January morning, on

his long journey, over roads a foot deep in snow, and through solitary

winter forests, with any thing but an impassioned desire to see General

Washington again. Had he been returning to the command of a corps, with

a prospect of stirring events as soon as the snow melted, he would have

spurred his horse with high satisfaction, even though he left a bride

behind him; but to return to a drudgery which he hated the more for

having escaped it for three enchanted weeks, made his spirit turn its

back to the horse's head. He resolved anew to resign if an opportunity

offered. Four years of that particular sort of devotion to the patriot

cause were enough. He wished to demonstrate his patriotism in other

ways. He had accomplished the primary object for which Washington had

pressed him into service, and he believed that the war was nearing its

finish; there was nothing he could now do at Headquarters which the

other aides could not do as well, and he wanted military excitement and

renown while their possibilities existed.

X

The first task awaiting him upon his arrival at Headquarters was to draw

up a letter of instruction for Laurens, a task which required minute

care; for on its suggestions, as much as on Laurens's brilliant talents,

depended the strength of a mission whose failure might mean that of the

American arms. Laurens had requested the letter, and told Hamilton that

he should be guided by it. He did not anticipate a royal condition of

mind which would prompt him practically to carry off the French

money-bags under the king's astonished nose, and he knew Hamilton's

command of every argument connected with the painful subject of

financial needs. Hamilton drew up a lucid and comprehensive letter, in

nine parts, which Laurens could study at his leisure on the frigate,

_Alliance_; then attacked his accumulated duties. They left him little

leisure to remember he was a bridegroom, although he occasionally

directed his gaze toward the North with some longing. His freedom

approached, however, and it was swift and unexpected.

It came on the 16th of February. His office was in his bedroom. He had

just completed a letter containing instructions of an important nature

for the commissary, and started in search of Tilghman, whose duty it was

to see it safely delivered. On the stairs he passed Washington, whose

brow was heavy. The General, with that brevity which was an indication

of his passionate temper fighting against a self-control which he must

have knocked flat with great satisfaction at times, ejaculated that he

wished to speak with him at once. Hamilton replied that he would wait

upon him immediately, and hastened to Tilghman's office, wondering what

had occurred to stir the depths of his Chief. He was but a moment with

Tilghman, but on the stairs he met Lafayette, who was in search of him

upon a matter of business. It is possible that Hamilton should not have

permitted himself to be detained, but at all events he did, for perhaps

two minutes. Suddenly he became conscious that Washington was standing

at the head of the stairs, and wondering if he had awaited him there, he

abruptly broke off his conversation with Lafayette, and ran upward.

Washington looked as if about to thunder anathema upon the human race.

He had been annoyed since dawn, and his passions fairly flew at this

last indignity.

"Colonel Hamilton!" he exclaimed. "You have kept me waiting at the head

of the stairs these ten minutes. I must tell you, sir, you treat me with

disrespect."

Hamilton's eyes blazed and his head went back, but his quick brain leapt

to the long-desired opportunity. He replied as calmly as if his heart

were not thumping, "I am not conscious of it, sir, but since you have

thought it necessary to tell me so, we part."

"Very well, sir!" replied Washington, "if it be your choice!" He turned

his back and strode to his office.

Hamilton went to his room with a light heart, feeling as if the

pigeon-holes were marching out of his brain. The breach was

Washington's; he himself had answered with dignity, and could leave with

a clear conscience. He had not kept Washington waiting above four

minutes, and he did not feel that an apology was necessary.

"Oh," he thought aloud, "I feel as if I had grown wings." He would

return to his bride for a few weeks, then apply once more for a command.

There was a knock, and Tilghman entered. The young men looked at each

other in silence for a moment; Tilghman with an almost comical anxiety,

Hamilton with alert defiance.

"Well?" demanded Hamilton.

"I come from the Chief--ambassador extraordinary. Look out of the

window, or I shall not have courage to go on. He's put the devil to bed

and is monstrous sorry this misunderstanding has occurred--"

"Misunderstanding?" snorted Hamilton.

"You know my love of euphony, Hamilton. Pray let me finish. I'd rather

be Laurens on my way to beg. What is a king to a lion? But seriously, my

dear, the Chief is desperately sorry this has occurred. He has deputed

me to assure you of his great confidence in your abilities, integrity,

and usefulness, and of his desire, in a candid conversation, to heal a

difference which could not have happened but in a moment of passion. Do

go and see him at once, and then we shall all sleep in peace to-night."

But Hamilton shook his head decidedly. "You know how tired I am of all

this," he said, "and that I can be as useful and far more agreeably

active in the field. If I consent to this interview, I am lost. I have

never doubted the Chief's affection for me, but he is also the most

astute of men, and knows my weakness. If, arguments having failed, he

puts his arm about my shoulders and says, 'My boy, _do_ not desert me,'

I shall melt, and vow that neither bride nor glory could beckon me from

him. So listen attentively, mon ami, and deliver my answer as follows:

1st. I have taken my resolve in a manner not to be revoked, 2d. As a

conversation could serve no other purpose than to produce explanations,

mutually disagreeable, though I certainly will not refuse an interview

if he desires it, yet I should be happy if he would permit me to decline

it. 3d. That, though determined to leave the family, the same principles

which have kept me so long in it will continue to direct my conduct

toward him when out of it. 4th. That I do not wish to distress him or

the public business by quitting him before he can derive other

assistance by the return of some of the gentlemen who are absent. 5th.

And that in the meantime it depends on him to let our behaviour to each

other be the same as if nothing had happened."

Tilghman heaved a deep sigh. "Then you really mean to go?" he said.

"Heartless wretch! Have you no mercy on us? Headquarters will be a tomb,

with Washington reposing on top. Think of the long and solemn

breakfasts, the funereal dinners, the brief but awful suppers.

Washington will never open his mouth again, and I never had the courage

to speak first. If ever you deign to visit us, you will find that we

have lost the power of speech. I repeat that you have no heart in your

body."

Hamilton laughed. "If you did not know that I love you, you would not

sit there and revile me. No family has ever been happier than ours. In

four years there has not been a quarrel until to-day. I can assure you

that my heart will ache when the time comes to leave you, but I really

had got to the end of my tether. I have long felt as if I could not go

on another day."

"'Tis grinding, monotonous work," admitted Tilghman, "and we've all

wondered how you have stood it as long as this--every bit of you was

made for action. Well, I'll take your message to the Chief."

Washington consented to waive the explanation and sent Hamilton another

message, thanking him for consenting to remain until Harrison and Meade

returned.

XI

Little Mrs. Hamilton was delighted with the course affairs had taken,

and pleaded for resignation from the army. But to this Hamilton would

not hearken. Anxious as he was for the war to finish, that he might

begin upon the foundations of home and fortune, he had no intention of

deserting a cause to which he had pledged himself, and in which there

still was a chance for him to achieve distinction. So far, his ambitions

were wholly military. If the profound thought he had given to the

present and future needs of the Republic was not wholly impersonal; if

he took for granted that he had a part to play when the Revolution

finished, it was little more than a dream at present. His very

temperament was martial, the energy and impetuosity of his nature were

in their element on the battlefield, and he would rather have been a

great general than the elder Pitt. But although there is no reason to

doubt that he would have become a great general, had circumstance

favoured his pet ambition, yet Washington was a better judge of the

usefulness of his several abilities than he was himself. Not only had

that reader of men made up his mind that a brain like his favourite's

should not be wasted on the battlefield,--left there, perhaps, while

dolts escaped, for Hamilton had no appreciation of fear or danger,--but

he saw in him the future statesman, fertile, creative, executive,

commanding; and he could have no better training than at a desk in his

office. Phenomenally precocious, even mature, as Hamilton's brain had

been when they met that morning on the Heights of Harlem, these four

years had given it a structural growth which it would not have acquired

in camp life, and to which few men of forty were entitled. Of this fact

Hamilton was appreciative, and he was too philosophical to harbour

regrets; but that period was over now, and he wanted to fight.

On April 27th he wrote to Washington, asking for employment during the

approaching campaign, suggesting the command of a light corps, and

modestly but decidedly stating his claims.

Washington was greatly embarrassed. Every arbitrary appointment caused a

ferment in the army, where jealousies were hotter than martial ardours.

Washington was politic above all things, but to refuse Hamilton a

request after their quarrel and parting was the last thing he wished to

do. He felt that he had no choice, however, and wrote at once,

elaborating his reasons for refusal, ending as follows:--

My principal concern rises from an apprehension that you will

impute my refusal of your request to other motives than those I

have expressed, but I beg you to be assured I am only influenced by

the reasons I have mentioned.

Hamilton knew him too well to misunderstand him, but he was deeply

disappointed. He retired into the library behind the drawing-room of the

Schuyler mansion, and wrote another and a more elaborate letter to

Robert Morris. He began with a reiteration of the impotence of Congress,

its loss of the confidence of this country and of Europe, the necessity

for an executive ministry, and stated that the time was past to indulge

in hopes of foreign aid. The States must depend upon themselves, and

their only hope lay in a National Bank. There had been some diffidence

in his previous letter. There was none in this, and he had a greater

mastery of the subject. In something like thirty pages of close writing,

he lays down every law, extensive and minute, for the building of a

National Bank, and not the most remarkable thing about this letter is

the psychological knowledge it betrays of the American people. Having

despatched it, he wrote again to Washington, demonstrating that his case

was dissimilar from those the Chief had quoted. He disposed of each case

in turn, and his presentation of his own claims was equally

unanswerable. Washington, who was too wise to enter into a controversy

with Hamilton's pen, did not reply to the letter, but made up his mind

to do what he could for him, although still determined there should be

no disaffection in the army of his making.

Meanwhile Hamilton received letters from Lafayette, begging him to

hasten South and share his exile; from Washington, asking advice; and

from members of the family, reminding him of their affection and regret.

Tilghman's is characteristic:--

Headquarters, 27th April.

MY DEAR HAMILTON: Between me and thee there is a gulf, or I should

not have been thus long without seeing you. My faith is strong, but

not strong enough to attempt walking on the waters. You must not

suppose from my dealing so much in Scripture phrase that I am

either drunk with religion or with wine, though had I been inclined

to the latter I might have found a jolly companion in my lord, who

came here yesterday. We have not a word of news.... I must go over

and see you soon, for I am not yet weaned from you, nor do I desire

to be. I will not present so cold words as compliments to Mrs.

Hamilton. She has an equal share of the best wishes of

Your most affectionate

TILGHMAN.

The following was from Laurens:--

I am indebted to you, my dear Hamilton, for two letters: the first

from Albany, as masterly a piece of cynicism as ever was penned;

the other from Philadelphia, dated the second March; in both you

mention a design of retiring, which makes me extremely unhappy. I

would not wish to have you for a moment withdraw from the public

service; at the same time my friendship for you, and knowledge of

your value to the United States, makes me most ardently desire that

you should fill only the first offices of the Republic. I was

flattered with an account of your being elected a delegate from New

York, and am much mortified not to hear it confirmed by yourself. I

must confess to you that at the present stage of the war, I should

prefer your going into Congress, and from thence becoming a

minister plenipotentiary for peace, to your remaining in the army,

where the dull system of seniority, and the _tableau_, would

prevent you from having the important commands to which you are

entitled; but, at any rate, I will not have you renounce your rank

unless you entered the career above mentioned. Your private affairs

cannot require such immediate and close attention. You speak like a

_paterfamilias_ surrounded with a numerous progeny.

On the 26th of May he had an appreciative letter from Robert Morris,

thanking him for his suggestions, and assuring him of their

acceptability. He promises a bank on Hamilton's plan, although with far

less capital; still it may afterward be increased to any extent.

The northern land was full of amenities, the river gay with pleasure

barges. The French gardens about the Schuyler mansion were romantic for

saunterings with the loveliest of brides; the seats beneath the great

trees commanded the wild heights opposite. Forty of the finest horses in

the country were in General Schuyler's stables, and many carriages.

There was a constant stream of distinguished guests. But Hamilton, who

could dally pleasurably for a short time, had no real affinity for

anything but work. There being no immediate prospect of fighting, he

retired again to the library and began that series of papers called _The

Continentalist_, which were read as attentively as if peace had come.

They examined the defects of the existing league of states, their

jealousies, which operated against the formation of a Federal

government, then proceeded to enumerate the powers with which such a

government should be clothed.

Hamilton did not wait with any particular grace, but even the desired

command came to him after a reasonable period of attempted patience. At

Washington's request he accompanied him to Newport to confer with

Rochambeau. Although the Chief did not allude to Hamilton's last letter,

their intercourse on this journey was as natural and intimate as ever;

and Washington did not conceal his pleasure in the society of this the

most captivating and endearing of his many young friends. After the

conference was over, Hamilton returned to Albany for a brief visit, then

determined to force Washington to show his hand. He joined the army at

Dobbs Ferry, and sent the Chief his commission. Tilghman returned with

it, express haste, and the assurance that the General would endeavour to

give him a command, nearly such as he could desire in the present

circumstance of the army, Hamilton had accomplished his object. He

retained his commission and quartered with General Lincoln.

When Washington arrived at Dobbs Ferry and went into temporary quarters,

he gave a large dinner to the French officers, and invited Hamilton to

preside.

His graceful manners and witty speeches provoked universal

admiration [runs the pen of a contemporary]. He was the youngest

and smallest man present. His hair was turned back from the

forehead, powdered, and queued at the back. His face was boyishly

fair, and lighted up with intelligence and genius. Washington,

grave, elegant and hospitable, sat at the side of the table, with

the accomplished Count de Rochambeau on his right. The Duke de

Luzerne occupied a seat opposite. General Knox was present, and so

was Baron Steuben.

Shortly afterward, Hamilton attended a council of war, at Washington's

invitation. The squadron of De Grasse was approaching the coast of

Virginia. For the second time, Washington was obliged to give up his

cherished scheme of marching on New York, for it was now imperative to

meet Cornwallis in the South. The Chief completely hoodwinked Clinton as

to his immediate plans, Robert Morris raised the funds for moving the

army, and Hamilton obtained his command. To his high satisfaction, Fish

was one of his officers. Immediately before his departure for the South

he wrote to his wife. He had attained his desire, but he was too unhappy

to be playful. A portion of the letter is as follows:--

A part of the army, my dear girl, is going to Virginia, and I must,

of necessity, be separated at a much greater distance from my

beloved wife. I cannot announce the fatal necessity without feeling

everything that a fond husband can feel. I am unhappy;--I am

unhappy beyond expression. I am unhappy because I am to be so

remote from you; because I am to hear from you less frequently than

I am accustomed to do. I am miserable because I know you will be

so; I am wretched at the idea of flying so far from you, without a

single hour's interview, to tell you all my pains and all my love.

But I cannot ask permission to visit you. It might be thought

improper to leave my corps at such a time and upon such an

occasion. I must go without seeing you--I must go without embracing

you:--alas! I must go.

The allied armies moved on the 22d of August and arrived within two

miles of the enemy's works at York Town, on the 28th of September.

Hamilton's light infantry was attached to the division of Lafayette, who

joined the main army with what was left of his own. Laurens was also in

command of a company of light infantry in the young French general's

division. He had acquitted himself brilliantly in France, returning, in

spite of all obstacles and the discouragement of Franklin, with two and

a half million livres in cash, part of a subsidy of six millions of

livres granted by the French king; but he felt that to be in the field

again with Washington, Hamilton, Lafayette, and Fish was higher fortune

than successful diplomacy.

The allied army was twelve thousand strong; Cornwallis had about

seventy-eight hundred men. The British commander was intrenched in the

village of York Town, the main body of his troops encamped on the open

grounds in the rear. York Town is situated on a peninsula formed by the

rivers York and James, and into this narrow compass Cornwallis had been

driven by the masterly tactics of Lafayette. The arrival of De Grasse's

fleet cut off all hope of retreat by water. He made but a show of

opposition during the eight days employed by the Americans in bringing

up their ordnance and making other preparations. On the 9th the trenches

were completed, and the Americans began the bombardment of the town and

of the British frigates in the river. It continued for nearly

twenty-four hours, and so persistent and terrific was the cannonading,

that the British, being unfortunate in their embrasures, withdrew most

of their cannon and made infrequent reply. On the night of the 11th new

trenches were begun within two and three hundred yards of the British

works. While they were completing, the enemy opened new embrasures, from

which their fire was far more effective than at first. Two redoubts

flanked this second parallel and desperately annoyed the men in the

trenches. It was determined to carry them by assault, and the American

light infantry and De Viomenil's grenadiers and chasseurs were ordered

to hold themselves in readiness for the attack. Laurens, with eighty

men, was to turn the redoubt in order to intercept the retreat of the

garrison, but Hamilton, for the moment, saw his long-coveted

opportunity glide by him. Washington had determined to give it to our

hero's old Elizabethtown tutor, Colonel Barber, conceiving that the

light infantry which had made the Virginia campaign was entitled to

precedence. Hamilton was standing with Major Fish when the news of this

arrangement was brought to him. He reached the General's tent in three

bounds, and poured forth the most impetuous appeal he had ever permitted

himself to launch at Washington. But he was terribly in earnest, and the

prospect of losing this magnificent opportunity tore down the barriers

of his self-possession. "It is my right to attack, sir!" he concluded

passionately, "I am the officer on duty!" Washington had watched his

flushed nervous face and flashing eyes, which had far more command in

their glances than appeal, and he never made great mistakes: he knew

that if he refused this request, Hamilton never would forgive him.

"Very well," he said. "Take it."

Hamilton ran back to Fish, crying: "We have it. We have it;" and

immediately began to form his troops. The order was issued to advance in

two columns, and after dark the march began, Hamilton leading the

advance corps. The French were to attack the redoubt on the right.

The signal was a shell from the American batteries, followed by one from

the French. The instant the French shell ascended, Hamilton gave the

order to advance at the point of the bayonet; then his impatience, too

long gnawing at its curb, dominated him, and he ran ahead of his men and

leaped to the abatis. For a half moment he stood alone on the parapet,

then Fish reached him, and together they encouraged the rest to come on.

Hamilton turned and sprang into the ditch, Fish following. The infantry

was close behind, and surmounting the abatis, ditch, and palisades,

leaped into the work. Hamilton had disappeared, and they feared he had

fallen, but he was investigating; he suddenly reappeared, and formed the

troops in the redoubt. It surrendered almost immediately. The attack

took but nine minutes, so irresistible was the impetuosity of the

onslaught. Hamilton gave orders at once to spare every man who had

ceased to fight. When Colonel Campbell advanced to surrender, one of the

American captains seized a bayonet and drew back to plunge it into the

Englishman's breast. Hamilton thrust it aside, and Campbell was made

prisoner by Laurens. Washington was delighted. "Few cases," he said,

"have exhibited greater proofs of intrepidity, coolness, and firmness

than were shown on this occasion." On the 17th, when Washington received

the proposition for surrender from Cornwallis, he sent for Hamilton and

asked his opinion of the terms. To Laurens was given the honour of

representing the American army at the conference before the surrender.

Tilghman rode, express haste, to Philadelphia with the first news of the

surrender of Cornwallis and his army.

Hamilton's description of his part in the conquest that virtually put an

end to the war is characteristic.

Two nights ago, my Eliza [he wrote], my duty and my honour obliged

me to take a step in which your happiness was too much risked. I

commanded an attack upon one of the enemy's redoubts; we carried it

in an instant and with little loss. You will see the particulars in

the Philadelphia papers. There will be, certainly, nothing more of

this kind; all the rest will be by approach; and if there should be

another occasion, it would not fall to my turn to execute it.

"It is to be hoped so," she said plaintively to her mother. "Else shall

I no longer need to wear a wig."

XII

The next few years may be passed over quickly; they are not the most

interesting, though not the least happy of Hamilton's life. He returned

home on furlough after the battle of York Town and remained in his

father-in-law's hospitable home until the birth of his boy, on the 22d

of January. Then, having made up his mind that there was no further work

for him in the army, and that Britain was as tired of the war as the

States, he announced his intention to study for the bar. His friends

endeavoured to dissuade him from a career whose preparation was so long

and arduous, and reminded him of the public offices he could have for

the asking. But Hamilton was acquainted with his capacity for

annihilating work, and at this time he was not conscious of any

immediate ambition but of keeping his wife in a proper style and of

founding a fortune for the education of his children. His military

ambition had been so possessing that the sudden and brilliant finish at

York Town of his power to gratify it had dwarfed for a while any other

he may have cherished.

He took a little house in the long street on the river front, and

invited Troup to live with him. They studied together. He had been the

gayest of companions, the most courted of favourites, since his return

from the wars. For four months even his wife and Troup had, save on

Sundays, few words with him on unlegal matters. His brain excluded every

memory, every interest. For the first time he omitted to write regularly

to Mrs. Mitchell, Hugh Knox, and Peter Lytton. All day and half the

night he walked up and down his library, or his father-in-law's,

reading, memorizing, muttering aloud. His friends vowed that he marched

the length and width of the Confederacy. He never gave a more striking

exhibition of his control over the powers of his intellect than this.

The result was that at the end of four months he obtained a license to

practise as an attorney, and published a "Manual on the Practice of

Law," which, Troup tells us, "served as an instructive grammar to future

students, and became the groundwork of subsequent enlarged practical

treatises." If it be protested that these feats were impossible, I can

only reply that they are historic facts.

It was during these months of study that Aaron Burr came to Albany.

This young man, also, was not unknown to fame; and the period of the

Revolution is the one on which Burr's biographers should dilate, for it

was the only one through which he passed in a manner entirely to his

credit. He was now in Albany, striving for admittance to the bar, but

handicapped by the fact that he had studied only two years, instead of

the full three demanded by law.

While Burr did not belong to the aristocracy of the country, his family

not ranking by any means with the Schuylers, Van Rensselaers,

Livingstons, Jays, Morrises, Roosevelts, and others of that small and

haughty band, still he came of excellent and respectable stock. His

father had been the Rev. Aaron Burr, President of Princeton College, and

his mother the daughter of the famous Jonathan Edwards. He was

quick-witted and brilliant; and there is no adjective which qualifies

his ambition. He was a year older than Hamilton, about an inch taller,

and very dark. His features were well cut, his eyes black, glittering,

and cold; his bearing dignified but unimposing, for he bent his

shoulders and walked heavily. His face was not frank, even in youth, and

grew noticeably craftier. He and Hamilton were the greatest fops in

dress of their time; but while the elegance and beauty of attire sat

with a peculiar fitness on Hamilton, seeming but the natural

continuation of his high-bred face and easy erect and graceful bearing,

Burr always looked studiously well-dressed. In regard to their height, a

similar impression prevailed. One never forgot Burr's small stature, and

often commented upon it. Comment upon Hamilton's size was rare, his

proportions and motions were so harmonious; when he was on the platform,

that ruthless test of inches, he dominated and controlled every brain in

the audience, and his enemies vowed he was in league with the devil.

Burr brought letters to General Schuyler, and was politely given the run

of the library. He and Hamilton had met casually in the army, but had

had no opportunity for acquaintance. At this time the law was a subject

of common interest, and they exchanged many opinions. There was no shock

of antagonism at first, and for that matter they asked each other to

dinner as long as Hamilton lived. But Hamilton estimated him justly at

once, although, as Burr was as yet unconscious of the depths of his own

worst qualities, the most astute reader of character hardly would

suspect them. But Hamilton read that he was artificial and

unscrupulous, and too selfish to serve the country in any of her coming

needs. Still, he was brilliant and fascinating, and Hamilton asked him

to his home. Burr, at first, was agreeably attracted to Hamilton, whose

radiant disposition warmed his colder nature; but when he was forced to

accept the astounding fact that Hamilton had prepared himself for the

bar in four months, digesting and remembering a mountain of knowledge

that cost other men the labour of years, and had prepared a Manual

besides, he experienced the first convulsion of that jealousy which was

to become his controlling passion in later years. Indeed, he established

the habit with that first prolonged paroxysm, and he asked himself

sullenly why a nameless stranger, from an unheard-of Island, should have

the unprecedented success which this youth had had. Social victory,

military glory, the preference of Washington, the respect and admiration

of the most eminent men in the country, a horde of friends who talked of

him as if he were a demi-god, an alliance by marriage with the greatest

family in America, a father-in-law to advance any man's ambitions, a

fascination which had kept the women talking until he married, and

finally a memory and a legal faculty which had so astounded the

bar--largely composed of exceptional men--that it could talk of nothing

else: it was enough for a lifetime, and the man was only twenty-five.

What in heaven's name was to be expected of him before he finished? The

more Burr brooded, the more enraged he became. He had been brought up to

think himself extraordinary, although his guardian had occasionally

birched him when his own confidence had disturbed the peace; he was

intensely proud of his military career, and aware of his fitness for the

bar. But in the blaze of Hamilton's genius he seemed to shrivel; and as

for having attempted to prepare himself for practice in four months, he

might as well have grafted wings to his back and expected them to grow.

It was some consolation to reflect that, as aide and confidential

secretary for four years to Washington, Hamilton had been a student of

the law of nations, and that thus his mind was peculiarly fitted to

grasp what confronts most men as a solid wall to be taken down stone by

stone; also that himself acknowledged no rival where the affections of

women were concerned. But while he lifted the drooping head of his

pride, and tied it firmly to a stake with many strong words, he chose to

regard Hamilton as a rival, and the idea grew until it possessed him.

In July Robert Morris, after some correspondence, persuaded Hamilton to

accept the office of Continental Receiver for a short time.

Your former situation in the army [he wrote], the present situation

of that very army, your connexions in the state, your perfect

knowledge of men and measures, and the abilities with which heaven

has blessed you, will give you a fine opportunity to forward the

public service.

Hamilton, who had no desire to interrupt his studies, was placed in a

position which gave him no choice; his sense of public duty grew

steadily.

For my part [he wrote to Morris], considering the late serious

misfortune to our ally, the spirit of reformation, of wisdom, and

of unanimity, which seems to have succeeded to that of blunder and

dissension in the British government, and the universal reluctance

of these states to do what is right, I cannot help viewing our

situation as critical, and I feel it the duty of every citizen to

exert his faculties to the utmost.

But in spite of the onerous and disagreeable duties of his position, he

continued to pursue the course of study necessary for admission to the

bar as a counsellor. He also found time to write a letter to Meade. The

following extract will show that the severity of his great task was

over, and that he was once more alive to that domestic happiness to

which so large a part of his nature responded.

You reproach me with not having said enough about our little

stranger. When I wrote last I was not sufficiently acquainted with

him to give you his character. I may now assure you that your

daughter, when she sees him, will not consult you about her choice,

or will only do it in respect to the rules of decorum. He is truly

a very fine young gentleman, the most agreeable in conversation and

manners of any I ever knew, nor less remarkable for his

intelligence and sweetness of temper. You are not to imagine by my

beginning with his mental qualifications that he is defective in

personal. It is agreed on all hands that he is handsome; his

features are good, his eye is not only sprightly and expressive,

but it is full of benignity. His attitude in sitting is, by

connoisseurs, esteemed graceful, and he has a method of waving his

hand that announces the future orator. He stands, however, rather

awkwardly, and as his legs have not all the delicate slimness of

his father's, it is feared he may never excel as much in dancing,

which is probably the only accomplishment in which he will not be a

model. If he has any fault in manners, he laughs too much. He has

now passed his seventh month.

Happy by temperament, Hamilton was at this time happier in his

conditions--barring the Receivership--than any vague, wistful, crowded

dream had ever presaged. His wife was adorable and pretty, sprightly and

sympathetic, yet accomplished in every art of the Dutch housewife; and

although he was far too modest to boast, he was privately convinced that

his baby was the finest in the Confederacy. He had a charming little

home, and Troup, the genial, hearty, and solid, was a member of it. In

General and Mrs. Schuyler he had found genuine parents, who strove to

make him forget that he had ever been without a home. He had been forced

to refuse offers of assistance from his father-in-law again and again.

He would do nothing to violate his strong sense of personal

independence; he had half of the arrears of his pay, Troup his share of

the expenses of the little house. He knew that in a short time he should

be making an income. The cleverest of men, however, can be hoodwinked by

the subtle sex. The great Saratoga estate of the Schuylers furnished the

larder of the Hamiltons with many things which the young householder was

far too busy to compare with his slender purse.

He heard constantly from his friends in the army, and finally was

persuaded to sit for a portrait, to be the common property of six or

eight of them. Money was desperately tight, they could not afford a copy

apiece, but each was to possess it for two months at a time so long as

he lived; he who survived the others to dispose of it as he chose. For

Hamilton to sit still and look in one direction for half an hour was

nothing short of misery, even with Betsey, Troup, and the Baby to amuse

him; and only the head, face, stock, and front of the coat were

finished. But the artist managed to do himself justice with the massive

spirited head, the deep-set mischievous eyes, whose lightnings never

were far from the surface; the humour in the remarkable curves of the

mouth, the determination and suppressed energy of the whole face. It was

a living portrayal, and Betsey parted from it with tears. When she saw

it again her eyes were dim with many tears. The last of its owners to

survive fell far into poverty, and sold it to one of her sons. It is

to-day as fresh, as alive with impatient youth and genius, as when

Hamilton estimated portrait painters thieves of time.

Meanwhile a compliment was paid to him which upset his plans, and placed

him for a short time in the awkward position of hesitating between

private desires and public duty: he was elected by the New York

legislature, and almost unanimously, a delegate to Congress. Troup

brought him the news as he was walking on the broad street along the

river front, muttering his Blackstone, oblivious of his fellow-citizens.

"Go to Congress!" he exclaimed. "Who goes to that ramshackle body that

is able to keep out of it? Could not they find someone else to send to

distinguish himself by failure? I've my living to make. If a man in

these days manages to support his wife and child, there is nothing else

he can do which so entitles him to the esteem of his fellow-citizens."

"True," said Troup, soothingly; "there certainly is nothing in that body

of old women and lunatics, perpetually bickering with thirteen

sovereign, disobedient, and jealous States, to tempt the ambition of any

man; nor, ordinarily, to appeal to his sense of usefulness. But just at

present there are several questions before it with which it is thought

you can cope more successfully than any man living. So I think you ought

to go, and so does General Schuyler. I know all that you will sacrifice,

domestic as well as pecuniarily--but remember, you solemnly dedicated

yourself to the service of this country."

"I'm not likely to forget it, and I am willing to sacrifice anything if

I am convinced of my usefulness in a given direction, but I see no

chance of accomplishing aught in Congress, of doing this country any

service until it is a nation, not a sack of scratching cats."

Not only was great pressure brought to bear upon him, but he was not

long convincing himself that it was his duty to take his knowledge of

certain subjects vexing the Confederation, to the decrepit body which

was feebly striving to save the country from anarchy. He had given

little attention to the general affairs of the country during the past

six months, but an examination of them fired his zeal. He accepted the

appointment, and returned to his law books and his dispiriting struggle

with the taxes.

In the autumn Hamilton received the second of those heavy blows by which

he was reminded that in spite of his magnetism for success he was to

suffer like other mortals. Laurens was dead--killed in a petty skirmish

which he was so loath to miss that he had bolted to it from a sick-bed.

Hamilton mourned him passionately, and never ceased to regret him. He

was mercurial only among his lighter feelings. The few people he really

loved were a part of his daily thoughts, and could set his heartstrings

vibrating at any moment. Betsey consoled, diverted, and bewitched him,

but there were times when he would have exchanged her for Laurens. The

perfect friendship of two men is the deepest and highest sentiment of

which the finite mind is capable; women miss the best in life.

In October Hamilton resigned the Receivership, having brought an

honourable amount of order out of chaos and laid down the law for the

guidance of future officials. November came, and he set off for

Philadelphia philosophically, though by no means with a light heart. The

baby was too young to travel; he was obliged to send his little family

to General Schuyler's, with no hope of seeing them again for months, and

a receding prospect of offering them a home in New York. His

father-in-law, not unmindful that consolation was needed, drove him

two-thirds of the distance, thus saving him a long ride, or its

alternative, the heavy coach. In Philadelphia he found sufficient work

awaiting him to drive all personal matters out of his head.

It was during this year of hard work and little result that he renewed

an acquaintance with James Madison, Jr., afterward fourth President of

the United States, and Gouverneur Morris, one of the most brilliant and

disinterested young men in the country, now associated with Robert

Morris in the Department of Finance. With the last the acquaintance

ripened into a lifelong and intimate friendship; with Madison the

friendship was equally ardent and intimate while it lasted. Madison had

the brain of a statesman, energy and persistence in crises, immense

industry, facility of speech, a broad contempt for the pretensions and

mean bickerings of the States, and a fairly national outlook. As

Hamilton would have said, he "thought continentally." But he lacked

individuality. He was too patriotic, too sincere to act against his

principles, but his principles could be changed by a more powerful and

magnetic brain than his own, and the inherent weakness in him demanded a

stronger nature to cling to. It happened that he and Hamilton, when they

met again in Congress, thought alike on many subjects, and they worked

together in harmony from the first; nevertheless, he was soon in the

position of a double to that towering and energetic personality, and

worshipped it. In their letters the two young men sign themselves,

"yours affectionately," "yours with deep attachment," which between

men--I suppose--means something. So noticeable was Madison's devotion to

the most distinguished young man of the day, and a few years later so

absorbed was he into the huge personality of his early friend's

bitterest enemy, that John Randolph once exclaimed in wrath, "Madison

always was some great man's mistress--first Hamilton's, then

Jefferson's:" a remark which was safe in the days of our ancestors, when

life was all work and no satiety.

Gouverneur Morris had sacrificed home, inheritance, and ties in the

cause of the Revolution, most of his family remaining true to the crown.

His education was thorough, however, and subsequently he had nine years

of Europe, of which he left to posterity an entertaining record. Tall,

handsome, a wit, a beau, notable for energy in Congress, erratic,

caustic, cynical, but the warmest of friends, he was a pet of society, a

darling of women, and trusted by all men. He and Hamilton had much in

common, and to some degree he took Laurens's place; not entirely, for

Laurens's idealism gave him a pedestal in Hamilton's memory which no

other man but Washington ever approached; and Morris was brutal in his

cynicism, placing mankind but a degree higher than the beasts of the

forest. But heart and brain endeared him to Hamilton, and no man had a

loftier or more burning patriotism. As for himself, he loved and admired

Hamilton above all men. He was as strong in his nationalism, believing

Union under a powerful central government to be the only hope of the

States. Both he and Madison were leaders; but both, even then, were

willing to be led by Hamilton, who was several years their junior.

The three young enthusiasts made a striking trio of contrasts as they

sat one evening over their port and walnuts in a private room of a

coffee-house, where they had met to discuss the problems convulsing the

unfortunate country. Madison had the look of a student, a taciturn

intellectual visage. He spoke slowly, weightily, and with great

precision. Morris had, even then, an expression of cynicism and contempt

on his handsome bold face, and he swore magnificently whenever his new

wooden leg interfered with his comfort or dignity. Hamilton, with his

fair mobile face, powerful, penetrating, delicate, illuminated by eyes

full of fire and vivacity, but owing its chief attraction to a mouth as

sweet as it was firm and humorous, made the other men look almost heavy.

Madison was carelessly attired, the other two with all the picturesque

elegance of their time.

"A debt of $42,000,000," groaned Morris, "interest $2,400,000; Robert

Morris threatening to resign; delirious prospect of panic in

consequence; national spirit with which we began the war, a stinking

wick under the tin extinguisher of States' selfishness, stinginess, and

indifference--caused by the natural reversion of human nature to first

principles after the collapse of that enthusiasm which inflates mankind

into a bombastic pride of itself; Virginia pusillanimous, Rhode Island

an old beldam standing on the village pump and shrieking disapproval of

everything; Jay, Adams, and Franklin, after years of humiliating

mendicancy, their very hearts wrinkled in the service of the stupidest

country known to God or man, shoved by a Congress not fit to black their

boots under the thumb of the wiliest and most disingenuous diplomatist

in Europe--much France cares for our interests, provided we cut loose

from Britain; Newburg address and exciting prospect, in these monotonous

times, of civil war, while peace commission is sitting in London; just

demands of men who have fought, starving and naked, for a bare

subsistence after the army disbands, modest request for arrears of

pay,--on which to relieve the necessities of their families turned out

to grass for seven years,--pleasantly indorsed by the Congress, which

feels safe in indorsing anything, and rejected by the States, called

upon to foot the bill, as a painful instance of the greed and depravity

of human nature--there you are: no money, no credit, no government, no

friends,--for Europe is sick of us,--no patriotism; immediate prospects,

bankruptcy, civil war, thirteen separate meals for Europe. What do you

propose, Hamilton? I look to you as your Islanders flee to a stone house

in a hurricane. You are an alien, with no damned state roots to pull up,

your courage is unhuman, or un-American, and you are the one man of

genius in the country. Madison is heroic to a fault, a roaring

Berserker, but we must temper him, we must temper him; and meanwhile we

will both defer to the peculiar quality of your mettle."

Madison, who had not a grain of humour, replied gravely, his rich

southern brogue seeming to roll his words down from a height: "I have a

modest hope in the address I prepared for the citizens of Rhode Island,

more in Hamilton's really magnificent letter to the Governor. Nothing

can be more forcible--nay, beguiling--than his argument in that letter

in favour of a general government independent of state machinery, and

his elaborate appeal to that irritating little commonwealth to consent

to the levying of the impost by Congress, necessary to the raising of

the moneys. I fear I am not a hero, for I confess I tremble. I fear the

worst. But at all events I am determined to place on record that I left

no stone unturned to save this miserable country."

"You will go down to posterity as a great man, Madison, if you are never

given the chance to be one," replied the father of American humour and

coinage; "for it is not in words but in acts that we display the faith

that is not in us. Well, Hamilton?"

"I must confess," said Hamilton, "that Congress appears to me, as a

newcomer, rooted contentedly to its chairs, and determined to do

nothing, happy in the belief that Providence has the matter in hand and

but bides the right moment to make the whole world over. But I see no

cause to despair, else I should not have come to waste my time. I fear

that Rhode Island is too fossilized to listen to us, but I shall urge

that we change the principle of the Confederation and vote to make the

States contribute to the general treasury in an equal proportion to

their means, by a system of general taxation imposed under continental

authority. If the poorer States, irrespective of land and numbers, could

be relieved, and the wealthier taxed specifically on land and houses,

the whole regulated by continental legislation, I think that even Rhode

Island might be placated. It may be that this is not agreeable to the

spirit of the times, but I shall make the attempt--"

"Considering there is no spirit _in_ the times, we might as well expect

to inform its skull with genius by means of a lighted candle. You think

too well of human nature, my boy; expect nothing, that ye be not

disappointed, especially in the matter of revenue."

"I have no exalted opinion of human nature, but if I did not think more

hopefully of it than you do, I should yield up that enthusiasm without

which I can accomplish nothing. You have every gift, but you will end as

a dilettante because your ideal is always in the mud; and it is only

now and again that you think it worth while to pick it up and give it a

bath."

"Right, right," murmured Morris, good-naturedly. "Would that I had your

unquenchable belief in the worth while. Allied to your abilities it will

make the new world over and upset the wicked plans of the old. Analyst

and disbeliever in man's right to his exaggerated opinion of himself,

how do you keep enthusiasm abreast with knowledge of human kind? Tell

me, Hamilton, how do you do it?"

"I fear 'tis the essence of which I am made. My energies will have

outlet or tear me to pieces. When there is work to do, my nostrils

quiver like a war-horse's at the first roar and smoke--"

"Your modesty does you infinite honour; the truth is, you have the holy

fire of patriotism in an abnormal degree. I have it, but I still am

normal. I have made sacrifices and shall make more, but my ego curls its

lip. Yours never does. That is the difference between you and most of

us. Hundreds of us are doggedly determined to go through to the bitter

end, sacrifice money, youth and health; but you alone are happy. That is

why we love you and are glad to follow your lead. But, I repeat, how can

you labour with such undying enthusiasm for the good of human kind when

you know what they amount to?"

"Some are worth working for, that is one point; I don't share your

opinion of general abasement, for the facts warrant no such opinion. And

the battle of ideas, the fight for certain stirring and race-making

principles,--that is the greatest game that mortals can play. And to

play it, we must have mortals for puppets. To create a new government, a

new race, to found what may become the greatest nation on the

earth,--what more stupendous destiny? Even if one were forgotten, it

would be worth doing, so tremendous would be the exercise of the

faculties, so colossal the difficulties. I would have a few men do it

all; I have no faith in the uneducated. The little brain, half opened by

a village schoolmaster, is pestilential; but in the few with sufficient

power over the many,--from whom will be evolved more and more to rank

with the first few,--in those I have faith, and am proud to work with

them."

"Good. I'd not have a monarchy, but I'd have the next thing to it, with

a muzzle on the rabble. Perhaps I, too, have faith in a few,--in

yourself and George Washington; and in Madison, our own Gibraltar. But

the pig-headed, selfish, swinish--well, go on with your present plans.

'Tis to hear those we met to-night, not to analyze each other. Tell us

all, that we may not only hope, but work with you."

"The army first. If retirement on half pay is impossible, then full pay

for, say six years,--and the arrears,--paid upon the disbanding of the

army. Washington, by the exercise of the greatest moral force, but one,

that has appeared in this world, has averted a civil war--I am persuaded

that horror is averted, and I assume that the country does not care

eternally to disgrace itself by letting its deliverers, who have

suffered all that an army can suffer, return to their ruined homes

without the few dollars necessary for another start in life. I have

resigned my claim to arrears of pay, that my argument may not be

weakened. Then a peace establishment. Fancy leaving our frontiers to the

mercy of state militia! I shall urge that the general government have

exclusive power over the sword, to establish certain corps of infantry,

artillery, cavalry, dragoons, and engineers, a general system of land

fortifications, establishment of arsenals and magazines, erection of

founderies and manufactories for arms, of ports and maritime

fortifications--with many details with which I will not bore you. I

shall urge the necessity of strengthening the Federal government through

the influence of officers deriving their appointment directly from

Congress--always, always, the necessity of strengthening the central

government, of centralizing power, and of putting the States where they

belong. It is federation or anarchy. Then--moderate funds permanently

pledged for the security of lenders. I have preached that since I have

dared to preach at all, and that is the only solution of our present

distress, for we'll never get another foreign loan--"

"We've accepted your wisdom, but we can't apply it," interposed Morris.

"Our only hope lies in your national government--but go on."

"A moment," said Madison. "This, in regard to the peace establishment:

Do we apply a war congress to a state of peace, I fear we shall too

clearly define its limits. The States may refuse obedience, and then the

poor invalided body will fall into greater disrepute than ever."

"I have thought of that," replied Hamilton, "and if the worst comes to

the worst, I have a radical plan to propose,--that Congress publish

frankly its imperfections to the country--imperfections which make it

impossible to conduct the public affairs with honour to itself or

advantage to the United States; that it ask the States to appoint a

convention, with full powers to revise the Confederation, and to adopt

and propose all necessary alterations--all to be approved or rejected,

in the last instance, by the legislatures of the several States. That

would be the first step toward a national government. With that, all

things would be possible,--the payment of our foreign loan, of our army,

duties on foreign goods, which is a source of revenue to which they are

incredibly blind; the establishment of a firm government, under which

all will prosper that are willing to work, of a National Bank, of a

peace army--"

"Of Utopia!" exclaimed Morris. "Hamilton, you are the least visionary

man in this country, but you are God knows how many years ahead of your

times. If we are ever on two legs again, you will put us there; but your

golden locks will thin in the process, and that rosy boyish face we love

will be lined with the seams of the true statesman. Only you could

contemplate imbuing these fossilized and commonplace intellects,

composing our Congress of the Confederation--mark the ring of it!--with

a belief in its own impotency and worthlessness. You are not mortal. I

always said it. When Duane gave me your letter to read, I remarked: 'He

withdrew to heaven, and wrote that letter on the knee of the Almighty;

never on earth could he have found the courage and the optimism.' No,

Hamilton, I would embrace you, did my wooden leg permit me to escape

your wrath, but I can give you no encouragement. You will fail

here--gloriously, but you will fail. Mark my words, the army will go

home cursing, and scratch the ground to feed its women. The States will

have no peace establishment to threaten their sovereign rights, we will

pay nobody, and become more and more poverty-stricken and contemptible

in our own eyes, and in the eyes of Europe; we will do nothing that is

wise and everything that is foolish--"

"And then, when the country is sick unto death," interrupted Hamilton,

"it will awake to the wisdom of the drastic remedy and cohere into a

nation."

"Query," said Madison, "would it not be patriotic to push things from

bad to worse as quickly as possible? It might be a case of justifiable

Jesuitism."

"And it might lead to anarchy and the jaws of Europe," said Hamilton.

"It is never safe to go beyond a certain point in the management of

human affairs. What turn the passions of the people may take can never

be foretold, nor that element of the unknown, which is always under the

invisible cap and close on one's heels. God knows I have not much

patience in my nature, and I do not believe that most of my schemes are

so far in advance of even this country's development; but certain

lessons must be instilled by slow persistence. I have no faith in

rushing people at the point of the bayonet in times of peace."

"I think you are right there," said Morris. "But mark my words, you'll

propagate ideas here, and the result in time will be the birth of a

nation--no doubt of that; but you must rest content to live on hope for

the present. I was a fettered limb in this body too long. I know its

inertia."

He knew whereof he spoke. Hamilton won little but additional reputation,

much admiration, half resentful, and many enemies. The army went home

unpaid; the peace establishment consisted of eighty men; little or

nothing was done to relieve the national debt or to carry on the

business of government. Even his proposition to admit the public to the

galleries of Congress, in the hope of interesting it in governmental

affairs, only drew upon him the sneer that he could go out on the

balcony and make his speeches if he feared his eloquence was wasted. He

was accused of writing the Newburg address inciting the officers to

civil war, because it was particularly well written, and of hurrying

Congress to Trenton, when threatened by a mutinous regiment. But he

worked on undaunted, leaving his indelible mark; for he taught the

States that their future prosperity and happiness lay in giving up to

the Union some part of the imposts that might be levied on foreign

commodities, and incidentally the idea of a double government; he

proposed a definite system of funding the debts on continental

securities, which gradually rooted in the common sense of the American

people, and he inveighed with a bitter incisiveness, which was tempered

by neither humour nor gaiety, against the traitorous faction in the pay

of France. He dissuaded Robert Morris from resigning, and introduced a

resolution in eulogy of Washington's management of his officers in the

most critical hour of the Union's history. But his immediate

accomplishment was small and discouraging, although his foresight may

have anticipated what George Ticknor Curtis wrote many years later:--

The ideas of a statesman like Hamilton, earnestly bent on the

discovery and inculcation of truth, do not pass away. Wiser than

those by whom he was surrounded, with a deeper knowledge of the

science of government than most of them, and constantly enunciating

principles which extended far beyond the temporizing policy of the

hour, the smiles of his opponents only prove to posterity how far

he was in advance of them.

The following extract from a letter of James M'Henry, Lafayette's former

aide, and a member of the Congress, is interesting as a commentary on

the difficulties of our hero's position while a member of that body.

DEAR HAMILTON: The homilies you delivered in Congress are still

remembered with pleasure. The impressions they made are in favour

of your integrity; and no one but believes you a man of honour and

of republican principles. Were you ten years older and twenty

thousand pounds richer, there is no doubt but that you might obtain

the suffrages of Congress for the highest office in their gift.

You are supposed to possess various knowledge, useful, substantial,

and ornamental. Your very grave and your cautious, your men who

measure others by the standard of their own creeping politics,

think you sometimes intemperate, but seldom visionary: and that

were you to pursue your object with as much cold perseverance as

you do with ardour and argument, you would become irresistible. In

a word, if you could submit to spend a whole life in dissecting a

fly you would be, in their opinion, one of the greatest men in the

world. Bold designs; measures calculated for their rapid execution;

a wisdom that would convince from its own weight; a project that

would surprise the people into greater happiness, without giving

them an opportunity to view it and reject it, are not adapted to a

council composed of discordant elements, or a people who have

thirteen heads, each of which pay superstitious adorations to

inferior divinities.

Adieu, my dear friend, and in the days of your happiness drop a

line to your

M'HENRY.

At the end of 1783 Hamilton was convinced that he was of no further

immediate use to the country, and refused a reelection to the Congress,

despite entreaty and expostulation, returning to the happiness of his

domestic life and to his neglected law-books. The British having

evacuated New York, he moved his family there and entered immediately

upon the practice of his profession.