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Much misapprehension exists as to the appearance of Hamilton, some of which is due to the idea that because his birthplace was the West Indies, he presented the physical characteristics of those born under a tropical sun.

He is referred to by various authors as a "Creole," or a "swarthy young West Indian," and most of his biographers picture him as being dark in color, and "having black hair and piercing black eyes." One enthusiastic negro preacher, extolling his virtues as champion of that race during the Revolutionary War, when he favored the enlistment of black soldiers, recently went so far as to suggest, at a public meeting in the city of New York, that Hamilton's veins surely contained African blood. In reality he was fair and had reddish-brown hair, and a specimen before me proves this to have been the case. It has a certain glint which was probably more marked at an earlier period; but even now there is no difficulty in finding that it belonged to a person of the semi-blonde type. His eyes were a deep blue—almost violet—and he undoubtedly presented the physical appearance of his Scotch father rather than his French mother:

His eyes were deep set, his nose long, and of the Roman type, and he had a good chin, the jaw being strong; the mouth firm and moderately large. He is variously referred to by his biographers as "The Little Lion," and "The Little Giant/' but although short of stature, he was not notably so, being about five feet seven inches in height.

Sullivan described him as "under middle size, thin in person, but remarkably erect and dignified in his deportment. His hair was turned back from his forehead, powdered and collected in a club behind. His complexion was exceedingly fair, and varying from this only by the almost feminine rosiness of his cheeks. His might be considered, as to figure and color, an uncommonly handsome face. When at rest it had rather a severe, thoughtful expression, but when engaged in conversation it easily assumed an attractive smile. When he entered a room it was apparent, from the respectful attention of the company, that he was a distinguished person."

From the available portraits, which are numerous but are not artistically remarkable, and most of them evidently unreliable, very little impression is to be gained of his figure or how he actually looked, in repose or when animated. Even such a fruitful painter as Trumbull rarely produced the same results in his different pictures; although his portraits are all powerful, yet they have a dramatic quality which is somewhat artificial. One of the most notable gives Hamilton bow-legs, while another in the Governor's Room in the New York City Hall portrays him as a well-shaped and graceful man, of more than medium height. This artist seemed to have had special facility for studying his subject for he was always an intimate and devoted friend and after his death left a large number of personal relics of Hamilton, among them a fowling-piece and other belongings of his early friend, which he had evidently carefully treasured until the end of his life.

At the end of the eighteenth century, itinerant portraits being in vogue, we find all kinds of daubs, and all grades of depicted ugliness in the canvases that have been preserved. Those of Peale are often decidedly unflattering, for he does not seem to have known how to paint the eyes of his subjects, and he has made sad work with Hamilton. There are numerous other portraits, but many of them are said to be those of other persons.

The history of the Hamilton pictures is interesting, but it is often difficult to trace their wanderings. That of Trumbull was painted at the request of Gulian Verplanck and others, who, in the year 1791 requested that it should "typify some act of his public career," but Hamilton deprecated any such advertising in the following words: "I shall cheerfully obey their wish as far as respects the taking of my portrait, but I ask that they will permit it to appear unconnected with any incident of my political life. The simple representation of their fellow-citizen and friend will best accord with my feelings." This is the picture that hangs in the New York Chamber of Commerce, and of which there are several replicas. The best likenesses, however, were evidently those of Sharpless, an English artist who came to Philadelphia about 1796, and made various pictures of prominent people, after the Revolution, many of which are to-day in existence. Most of his portraits were small, but all were very carefully finished, and one of them is the frontispiece of this book. The most notable is the so-called Talleyrand miniature, by reason of the fact that this devoted friend and wily old diplomat was supposed to have purloined the picture while visiting in Philadelphia and taken it to France, later returning a copy in 1805. The picture he took was really a pastel by Sharpless, and upon the 6th of December, 1805, Mrs. Hamilton wrote, asking that it be returned to her, to which she received a reply from Theophile Cazenove, who for many years had been president of the Holland Company and a friend of Talleyrand, with this letter:

Theophile Cazenove to Elizabeth Hamilton

Paris, 10th September, 1805.

My dear and highly esteemed Lady: Your letter of the 6th of December last did not reach me until July, and owing to the absence of M. Talleyrand it was sometime before I received an answer in reply to your request for the picture of the friend we have all lost. Notwithstanding the great value M. Talleyrand sets upon the image of the friend of whom we speak almost daily, your request and the circumstances are of a nature requiring self-sacrifice. The picture being executed in pastel, time and crossing the sea have impaired it, yet the likeness still remains, and on seeing it I fear your tender and afflicted heart will bleed, but tears will assuage these pangs, and my tears will flow with yours. May it bring comfort to the wife of the man whose genius and firmness have probably created the greatest part of the United States, and whose amiable qualities, great good sense, and instruction have been a pleasure to his own friends. Good God—must such a man fall in such a manner! . . . In fear the original picture should not reach you with my present letter, I have ordered a copy of it in oil-painting, which I send by another opportunity, and which I request you will give to my godson in case the original shall reach you; if not to dispose of the copy in the manner you shall wish. . . . M. Talleyrand desires me to tell you of his respect and friendship and the part he has taken in your affliction.

Your obedient servant and friend,

Theophile Cazenove.

The sculptor's chisel has also been busy, but with little result in the way of serious artistic production, if we may except the Ceracci bust, the Ball statue which was destroyed by fire, and the excellent modem work of Ordway Partridge, one of whose striking statues stands in front of a Hamilton Qub in Brooklyn, and the other at the entrance of Hamilton Hall, a building of Columbia University. Ceracci's bust, which is very strong in its classical character, suggests a head of one of the Caesars, and is more familiar than any other, although Houdin about the same time made a bust, when he executed that of Washington, which is also well known. Many other stiff and conventional statues exist, among them that in Central Park. The majority, however, are unworthy of serious consideration because they are commonplace or inartistic. Giuseppe Ceracci came here during the French Revolution, but returned to France and was guillotined after being concerned in a conspiracy against the life of Napoleon. A rather amusing entry in Hamilton's expense-book is the following: $620.oo on March 3rd, 1796. For this sum through delicacy paid upon Ceracci's draft for making my bust on his own importunity, & 'as a favour to me.'"

Ceracci seems to have been a person with rather grandiose ideas, for he wrote to Hamilton from Amsterdam in July, 1797, suggesting that he should be employed by the United States Government to execute "a colossal, monumental group to commemorate National Triumph, and to celebrate the Epoch of Glory, to perpetuate the heroes of the Revolution. ... To give an idea of the grandeur of the subject it is necessary to imagine a group in sculpture sixty feet high, and having a base three hundred feet in circumference. It is to be composed of sixteen statues fifteen feet high, of Colonels, and other characters in marble, an Eagle, and other objects; the whole to be surmounted by a figure of Hero in bronze. The blocks of marble for each statue would measure 16x6 perches." The cost was to be $50,000, an enormous sum in those days, and it was to be paid in ten portions.

There is little contemporary information regarding Hamilton's actual physical appearance, but two interesting Frenchmen who saw much of him and his family have written delightfully of the social life in New York during the latter half of the eighteenth century, giving us a quaint idea of the city as it then was. One of these was J. P. Brissot de Warville, who, during the French Revolution was a Girondist and bitterly opposed to both Damon and Robespierre, and took a radical and active part in the affairs of the ever-troubled and unstable republic. As editor of the Moniteur and the Patriot Francais and other newspapers at the time of the Directory, he is pictured by Sergent Marceau as the original yellow journalist, for his attacks upon his companions and his attempts at blackmail were of the orthodox kind. His first book was published in 1791. Finding his position a dangerous one after the overthrow of the Girondists he again came to the United States, and on his return published a second book of travels. In this he said: f Mr. Ham-ikon is the worthy fellow-laborer of Mr. Madison. He appears to be a man of thirty-eight or forty; he is not tall, his features are firm and his expression decided; his manner is frank and martial. He was aide de camp to Gen. Washington who had great confidence in him, and he well merited it. Mr. Hamilton has the determined air of a Republican— Mr. Madison the meditative air of a politician."

The Duke de Rochefoucauld-Liancourt was a chivalrous loyal gentleman of another kind, and remained with his king as long as he could without actual danger to his neck, escaping to England with other Royalists. It will be remembered that he was the Grand Master of the king's wardrobe, when he broke the news of the capture of the Bastille to his royal master, and was the first person to tell Louis XVI that the Revolution had actually begun.

At a later period, when Louis was urged to escape to England, he offered him protection, the whole of his fortune, reserving only one hundred louis a year for his children, and an asylum in the Chatteau de Gallon, near Rouen. On August 7, 1792, the king accepted this magnificent and unselfish offer, but almost immediately after changed his mind, as he was so in the habit of doing.

He, too, finally had to leave France, and came to America with a letter of introduction 'to Alexander Hamilton from John Jay who was then in London, and the following from. Angelica Church, and later became one of Hamilton's warmest friends.

Angelica Church to Alexander Hamilton

London, September 19, 1794.

My dear Brother: I have very particular and very good motives to ask your kindness for the Duke de Liancourt, he loved liberty with good sence and moderation; and he meant so well towards his country as to introduce into France a better system of Agriculture and to soften the situation of the Lower class of people there. Virtue, has not found its reward, for in the many scenes of distress that has afflicted his unfortunate country, he like many more good men, has been obliged to leave his possessions and seek an Asylum in this country.

He goes to America, and goes there without a friend, unless my dear Brother, who is always so good, will extend to Monsieur de Liancourt his care—besides many good qualities, this gentleman is the friend of the Marquis de La-Fayette.

Adieu my dear friend, remember me to Beaumetz and Monsieur de Talleyrand.

Angelica Church.

In writing later he said: "I met again in New York M. Hamilton, one of the most interesting men in America. He united with dignity and feeling, and much force and decision, delightful manners, great sweetness, and was infinitely agreeable. As was generally known he exerted a positive influence, and at the same time had much to do with the administration of General Washington during the last year of the Presidency." And again: "Mr. Hamilton is one of the finest men in America, at least of those I have seen. He has breadth of mind, and even genuine clearness in his ideas, facility in their expression, information on all points, cheerfulness, excellence of character, and much amiability. I believe that even this eulogy is not adequate to his merit."

FAC-SIMILE OF APPOINTMENT AS AIDE-DE-CAMP

Alexander Hamilton to Angelica Church

Philadelphia, Dec. 8, 1794.

Liancourt has arrived, and has delivered your letter. I pay him all the attention due to his misfortunes and his merits. I wish I was a Croesus; I might then afford solid consolation to these children of adversity, and how delightful it would be to do so. But now sympathy, kind words, and occasionally a dinner are all I can contribute.

Hamilton's personality appears from all sources of information to indicate a mixture of aggressive force and infinite tenderness and amiability. The former led him always to speak his mind freely—perhaps too freely for his own comfort when he knew he was right, and when he had a wrong to master or disclose, or an end to accomplish.

This he did with an unselfishness and absolute fixity of purpose, and he often wondered why others did not think and act as he did, the righteous necessities of the case seemingly being so apparent. The energy of his nature is often shown in his letters, some of which are full of resentful impatience. In writing to Rufus King in regard to repudiation of the national debt, he says:

Alexander Hamilton to Rufus King

Kingston, Feb. 21, 1795.

My dear King: The unnecessary and capricious and abominable assassination of the national honor by the rejection of the propositions respecting the unsubscribed debt in the House of Representatives haunts me every step I take, and afflicts me more than I can express. To see the character of the government and the country so sported with—exposed to so indelible a blot—puts my heart to the torture. Am I, then, more of an American than those who drew their first breath on American ground? Or what is it that thus torments me at a circumstance so calmly viewed by almost everybody else? Am I a fool—a romantic Quixote—or is there a constitutional defect in the American mind? Were it not for yourself and a few others, I could adopt the reveries of De Paux as substantial truths, and could say with him that there is something in our climate which belittles every animal, human or brute.

I conjure you, my friend, make a vigorous stand for the honor of your country! Rouse all the energies of your mind, and measure swords in the Senate with the great slayer of public faith-the hackneyed veteran in the violation of public engagements. Prevent him if possible from triumphing a second time over the prostrate credit and injured interests of his country. Unmask his false and horrid hypotheses. Display the immense difference between an able statesman and the man of subtleties. Root out the distempered and noisome weed which is attempted to be planted in our political garden, to choke and wither in its infancy the fair plant of public credit.

I disclose to you without reserve the state of my mind. It is discontented and gloomy in the extreme. I consider the cause of good government as having been put to an issue and the verdict rendered against it.

Introduce, I pray you, into the Senate, when the bill comes up, the clause which has been rejected, freed from embarrassment by the bills of credit, bearing interest on the nominal value. Press its adoption in this, the most unexceptionable shape, and let the yeas and nays witness the result.

Among the other reasons for this is my wish that the true friends of public credit may be distinguished from its enemies. The question is too great a one to undergo a thorough examination before the community. It would pain me not to be able to distinguish. Adieu. God bless you!

P. S.—Do me the favor to revise carefully the course of the bill respecting the unsubscribed debt and let me know the particulars. I wish to be able to judge more particularly of the under-plot I suspect.

He never hesitated to assail the corrupt wherever they were to be found, to quickly ferret out abuses and to publicly expose them. For this reason he made numerous bitter enemies, who did not hesitate on repeated occasions to try to ruin him. In a way he was at times tactless, but it cannot be denied that he rarely erred in judgment. The passing of years undoubtedly has increased the number of his admirers, and has diminished the force of such faults as he had during his lifetime. As to his influence with men, reference may be made to the words of Oliver, who says:

"No man whose object is personal glory will sacrifice his popularity to his opinions, and this was Hamilton's constant habit. At no great crisis of his life do we ever find him engaged in considering whether a certain course of action will or will not conduce to his personal aggrandizement. He belonged to the class of men with whom the accomplishment of their objects is their most powerful motive. In the pursuit of renown he hardly rose above the average of public characters, but his desire for achievement was a passion."

John Adams disliked him in his way no less than Jefferson or Burr, and eventually quarrelled with nearly all the Federalists who were friendly to Hamilton. Some years before the powerful Livingstons in his own State had deserted the Federal cause, being ambitious of more power than was accorded them by Hamilton and Schuyler, and resented the election of Rufus King to the Senate, so that at the end but a few adherents remained, among them the doughty Timothy Pickering, who upon every occasion assailed not only Adams but Jefferson, and even after Hamilton's death worked valiantly to defend his memory against the assaults of unscrupulous political adversaries.

During Hamilton's official career his vigorous methods kept him constantly in hot water, but he always emerged from each particular trouble, after the discomfiture of his enemies, quite ready for a new experience. While it is not possible in the limited space here available to go into these various plots, two or three well-known examples may be referred to that throw light upon his character and evidence his preparedness, for he was not found napping, and the accounts of his office were in such good condition and so well systematized that he never had any trouble whatever in producing documents and briefs to vindicate his good name in all attacks. In 1783, after he had won the test case of Rutgers vs. Waddington which was the death of the unfair trespass act, he was most unpopular.

After Jay's treaty with Great Britain he was violently assailed in print, and as was the custom in those days replied in a forceful series of letters signed Phocion, to those of one Ledyard who was known as Mentor. The repudiation policy which had been favored by Governor Clinton at one time, and which was obnoxious to Hamilton and conflicted with his ideas of justice, was attacked by him with a force and convincing directness which enraged Ledyard's adherents. The result was that the members of a club of amiable gentlemen, of which the latter was the head, determined that Hamilton was best dead and out of the way, and without the knowledge of their president gravely proposed that they should challenge him in turn to fight until some one was so successful as to remove him. They, however, were quickly taken to account by Ledyard, who angrily repudiated this absurd plan, and taunted his associates because their act, if carried out, would be an admission that they were unable to refute Hamilton's charges. Upon two other occasions he was charged with financial irregularities by discharged treasury clerks who found the ears of his political enemies (see p. 54); in fact, it would appear that during his entire tenure of office much of his time was given to meeting assaults upon his integrity.

The admixture of Scotch and French blood which flowed in his veins was responsible for many of his striking traits and for many of his inconsistencies, if it be a fault, his great obstinacy in pursuing objects which were to be attained only at great risk and effort may be instanced and he sometimes persisted in disregard of the caution that ordinarily belongs to the Scot. This often implied that he did not resort to the smaller methods where conciliation would have been much better than coercion. He was not always a diplomat and did not possess the qualities of Burr or other more astute politicians; in fact, he was above chicanery.

Upon an early occasion his dislike for Governor Clinton, which was an outgrowth of the behavior of the latter at the Poughkeepsie Convention and his imperious methods, led to the alienation of members of his own party and subsequent defeat, and undoubtedly the election of Burr and Jefferson was largely brought about by his insistence, and failure to provide for lesser politicians who surrounded him.

It is not extraordinary that a person whose mind was so constantly engaged to the point of profound absorption—for what he did was with the exercise of all his powers—should have his periods of absent-mindedness. We are told by Trevelyan that "the New York Company of Artillery was a model of discipline; its captain a mere boy with small, delicate, and slender frame who, with cocked hat pulled down on his eyes, and apparently lost in thought, marched behind his cannon, patting it every now and then as if it were a favorite horse or pet plaything." Possibly this was the same kind of abstraction that was later shown and described in a letter written by General Schuyler to his daughter.

Philip Schuyler to Elizabeth Hamilton

Albany, October 6, 1789.

My beloved Eliza: The following anecdote which I learned from Judge Benson may amuse. A gentleman travelling from New York to this place stopped at Kinder-hook and made several turns in the street passing to and fro before the store of a Mr. Rodgers. Apparently in deep contemplation, and his lips moving as rapidly as if he was in conversation with some person—he entered the store, tendered a fifty-dollar bill to be exchanged. Rodgers refused to change it, the gentleman retired. A person in the store asked Rodgers if the bill was counterfeited. He replied in the negative. Why then did you not oblige the Gentleman by exchanging It,—because said Rodgers the poor Gentleman has lost his reason; but said the other, he appeared perfectly natural. That may be said Rodgers, he probably has his lucid intervals, but I have seen him walk before my door for half an hour, sometimes stopping, but always talking to himself, and If I had changed the money and he had lost It I might have received blame.—Pray ask my Hamilton if he can't guess who the Gentleman was. My Love to him, in which you participate. Adieu my Beloved Child.

Ever yours. Ph. Schuyler.

It would appear, from Hamilton's written productions, that what he did was always so thorough and systematic and he was so given to detail that the activity of his cerebration must have been intense and his power of attention and application quite out of the ordinary. He undoubtedly possessed that form of nervous instability common to many active public men and characterized by varying moods, which was sometimes expressed by alternating depression on the one hand and gayety on the other. His perception was quick, and, despite the criticism of Mr. Lodge, he possessed a lively imagination, and was also deeply sensitive, as is shown in many little ways in his family life. In his letters to his wife his emotional changes are most evident, and his varying playfulness and gayety are at times dominant.

He wrote to her from Philadelphia, November, 1798:

"I am always very happy my dear Eliza, when I can steal a few moments to sit down and write to you. You are my good genius; of that kind which the ancient philosophers called a familiar: and you know very well that I am glad to be in every way as familiar as possible with you. I have formed a sweet project, of which I will make you my confidant when I come to New York, and in which I rely that you will cooperate with me cheerfully.

You may guess and guess and guess again Your guessing will be still in vain.

But you will not be the less pleased when you come to understand and realize the scheme.

Adieu best of wives and best of mothers Heaven ever bless you & me in you.

A. H. And again:

"After I had sent my letter to you to the Post Office I received yours of the instant. My beloved chides me for not having written on my first arrival here. I hope my letter by Col. Burr will have removed her uneasiness as it informed her that ill health and fatigue had been the cause of my omission. Indeed, my Betsey, you need never fear a want of anxious attention to you, for you are now dearer than ever to me. Your happiness is the first and sweetest object of my wishes and cares. How can it be otherwise? You are all that is charming in my estimation and the more I see of your sex the more I become convinced of the judiciousness of my choice.

I hear your Heart ready to ask me, why instead of writing this I do not come myself to tell it you—Your father's pressing desire must be my excuse for reasons I shall explain when we meet. But my departure will not be postponed beyond Friday, that is, the day after tomorrow. I go in your father's shay to Poughkeepsie and thence with Benson in his shay to New York.

Monday at furthest I embrace my angel.

That Heaven may heap its blessings upon her and the dear pledges of our affection is the constant prayer of her

A. Hamilton.

Wednesday afternoon.

To Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton,

No. 57 Wall Street.

And still another letter, illustrating his tender solicitude is this:

I was made very happy, my beloved Betsey, by the receipt of your letter, informing me that one of mine had at length got to hand and that your spirits were recovered. I had suffered not a little at the idea that I must have appeared to you negligent, nor am I able to imagine what can have become of my other letters. There is certainly some very foul and abominable practice, which it will not be my fault, if I do not detect.

You said that you would not stay longer at Albany than twenty days which would bring it to the first of September. How delighted shall I be to receive you again to my bosom and to embrace with you my precious children! And yet, much as I long for this happy moment, my extreme anxiety for the restoration of your health will reconcile me to your staying longer where you are upon condition that you really receive benefit from it, and that your own mind is at rest. But I do not believe that I shall permit you to be so long absent from me another time.

Be cheerful, be happy my beloved, and if possible return to your husband with that sweet bloom on your looks which can never fail to delight him.

You must inform me beforehand when you set out. My intention is to meet you at Elizabeth Town. For I am unwilling to go through the bustle of another visit to New York so soon after my last.

Think of me—dream of me—and love me my Betsey as I do you.

Yrs. for ever, A. Hamilton.

Aug. 21,

Mrs. Hamilton.

There was at all times not a little sadness and sober sentiment mixed with concern as to her welfare.

The lightheartedness, which at times he manifested until the very end of his life appeared all the more striking when the stress and strain under which he labored are taken into consideration, and we bear in mind that he was constantly engaged with important public matters, some of the utmost seriousness. Most men would have been crushed by the malignant assaults of enemies who never ceased to lay traps and pitfalls, but these he easily avoided and laughed at because of his absolute consciousness of rectitude and his easy conscience.

There was something almost feminine in Hamilton's gentleness and concern for the comfort and happiness of other people. It is a matter of tradition that he endeared the soldiers of his own company to him by sharing their hardships, and providing them with necessities out of his own almost empty pocket. With his own children he was ever tender, entering into their sports, and forgetting all his serious cares for the moment. When New York and Philadelphia were crowded with refugees he would hunt up the poorest, and direct his wife to send food and little delicacies for the women and children. It had been his habit to travel upon the Circuit, as was the custom in those days with the different judges. One of these was Chancellor Kent, who told a story illustrating Hamilton's consideration and thoughtfulness. After a disagreeable, wintry ride of many miles they reached a comfortless inn. Kent had gone to bed early after a jolly evening which broke up prematurely as Kent was out of sorts. The night was cold, and the kindly nature of Hamilton was evidently disturbed by the indisposition of his friend. On his retiring he entered Judge Kent's room bearing an extra blanket, which he insisted on tucking carefully about the recumbent figure saying, "Sleep warm, little Judge, and get well. What should we do if anything should happen to you?"

JAMES KENT By permission of Little. Brown & Co.

He had a love of the fine arts and was something of a print collector and an amateur painter, for it appears he advised Mrs. Washington in regard to the paintings she bought; but his purse was evidently too small to gratify his own tastes in this direction. Not only does his expense book contain items showing the occasional modest purchase of a print/ but he left behind numerous wood and copper line engravings and etchings, that to-day would be very valuable. I distinctly remember a set of Mantegna's superb chiaro-oscuro of the "Triumph of Caesar," and a particularly fine Dürer which were in my father's possession; but the others have been scattered and can no longer be identified.

He had a rich voice, and rendered the songs of the day, among which was "The Drum," which he last sung at a meeting of the Cincinnati, a few days before the duel with Burr, which ran:

'Twas in the merry month of May

When bees from flower to flower did hum.

Soldiers through the town marched gay.

The village flew to the sound of the drum.

The clergyman sat in his study within

Devising new ways to battle with sin:

A knock was heard at the parsonage door,

And the Sergeant's sword clanged on the floor.

"We're going to war, and when we die

We'll want a man of God near by.

So bring your Bible and follow the drum.

His daughter Angelica often accompanied him upon the piano or harp, and appears to have been given all the advantages of a musical education.

It has been said that Hamilton was vain. Gouvemeur Morrisy, whose cynicism and disposition to patronize his contemporaries was notorious, and who was said to be a friend of Hamilton's, and helped others to disentangle his affairs after his death seems to have been the only person to think him vain. At least no other available reference can be found where this criticism has been made, although in a vituperative age he undoubtedly came in for his share of abuse. Morris in his Diary thus soliloquizes after he had been asked by Mr. Hammond to deliver the funeral oration of his friend: "The first point of his biography is that he was a stranger of illegitimate birth; some plan must be contrived to pass over this handsomely. He was indiscreet, vain, and opinionated," and so he continues, making mental reservations, and damning the dead man with faint praise; yet on the 14th of July he delivered a fulsome funeral oration, seeming to have gotten over the struggle with himself as to what was "safe" to say and what to omit. Disregarding the humiliating confession Hamilton had made in the Reynolds case, to save his honor when accused of peculation, Morris said, "I must not either dwell on his domestic life: he has long since foolishly published the avowal of conjugal infidelity." After his return from the funeral he adds: "I find that what I have said does not answer the general expectation."

While it is true that Hamilton had very decided opinions of his own, and undoubtedly was self-reliant and enthusiastically assertive, there is not a letter or published paper of his that indicates the existence of the least vanity or boastfulness—in fact, he never indulged in self-exploitation, but as a rule submerged himself. As an evidence of his modes may be instanced the anonymous letter he wrote to Robert Morris, then a member of Congress in 1780, recommending a financial scheme that undoubtedly led to his being made Secretary of the Treasury. If Morris wished to know more of the views of his unknown correspondent, he was to address James Montague, Esq.— b, lodger in the post office of Morristown," which would be a safe channel for all communications. It must be admitted that, although he prepared a large number of public papers and wrote many of Washington's letters in the field, and had a great deal to do with the preparation of the Farewell Address of the latter, he, upon no occasion, attempted to profit by what he did, or to glorify himself in any way, and it appears beyond question that he always assumed the position of one who toiled with others for the production of a common result, without thinking of reward, either in the nature of approbation or material return. At a time when the lawlessness of the French Republic had extended to the United States, Hamilton was called an aristocrat; and even before this he had been sneered at by his opponents at the Poughkeepsie Convention, Melancthon Smith having "thanked his God that he was a plebeian." A great deal of the dislike of decency, and contempt for blood and brains existed, and found vent in socialistic and even anarchistic conflicts with good order. Possibly some of this abuse was due to Hamilton's advocacy of our obligation to another foreign power, and his uphill work in making a large number of people live up to their treaty with Great Britain. To some minds this meant respect for an aristocratic country, and he was spoken of as a "British sympathizer"; upon one occasion an outrageous story was spread by a lawyer named Purdy, with the evident connivance of Governor George Qinton, to the effect that Hamilton and Adams and the King of England had) in 1798, entered into negotiations to introduce a monarchy into America, and that Canada was to be ceded to the United States, and that Prince Frederick, the Duke of York, and titular Bishop of Osnaburg was to be the ruler. After Hamilton's angry remonstrance Clinton, in a letter written in March, 1804, disclaimed any part in the ridiculous charge, and Hamilton replied as follows:

Alexander Hamilton to George Clinton.

Albany, March 9, 1804.

Sir: I had the honor of receiving yesterday your Excellency's letter of the 6th inst. It is agreeable to me to find in it a confirmation of the inference that you have given no countenance to the supposition of my agency or co-operation in the project to which the story of Judge Purdy relates; and it only remains for me to regret that it is not in your power to furnish the additional clue, of which I was desirous, to aid me in tracing the fabrication to its source.

I shall not only rely on the assurance which you give me as to the future communication of the copy of the letter in question, should it hereafter come to your hands, but I will take the liberty to add a request, that you will be pleased to make known to me any other circumstances, if any should reach you, which may serve to throw light upon the affair. I feel an anxiety that it should be thoroughly sifted, not merely on my own account, but from a conviction that the pretended existence of such a project, long travelling about in whispers, has had no inconsiderable influence in exciting false alarms, and unjust suspicions to the prejudice of a number of individuals, every way worthy of public confidence, who have always faithfully supported the existing institutions of the country, and who would disdain to be concerned in an intrigue with any foreign power, or its agents, either for introducing monarchy, or for promoting or upholding any other scheme of government within the United States.

Even his friend, Gouvemeur Morris, ignoring the existence of The Federalist and everything else that Hamilton had written and done in regard to the construction of the Constitution, could not forbear condemning him, and quite unjustly. "Speaking of General Hamilton," he said, "he had little share in forming the Constitution. He disliked it, believing a Republican Government to be radically defective, the British Constitution which I consider as an Aristocracy in fact, though a Monarchy in name. General Hamilton hated Republican Government because he confounded it with Democratic government, and he detested the latter because he believed it must end in despotism and be, in the meantime, destructive of public morals."

Morris's criticism, which was and is in accord with the views of those who prefer to misunderstand, or who are unable to appreciate Hamilton's consistent and persistent efforts to build up a republic in the true sense of the word, finds refutation in this letter to Timothy Pickering, in which he said:

This plan was in my conception conformable with the strict theory of a government purely republican; the essential criteria of which are, that the principal organs of the executive and legislative departments be elected by the people, and hold their offices by a responsible and temporary or defeasible tenure.

And again,

I may truly then say, that I never proposed either a president, or senator, for life; and that I neither recommended or meditated the annihilation of the state governments. . . .

These were the genuine sentiments of my heart and upon them I acted.

If Hamilton was called an aristocrat it was because he was intolerant of presumptuous ignorance, and possessed an intense contempt for anything that was low or coarse or harmful to the country as a whole. It was his warfare upon these things, and his blunt defiance of mob rule that earned for him this reputation.

If aristocracy be "the rule of the best in the land" his efforts were directed to that end, and the progress of history has certainly made us aware of the contrast between the staid and respectable forms of government, and the emotional and disreputable forms, and the triumph in the end of the stable kind of administration. It is true that for a long time Jefferson and Madison and their party flourished by the utilization of Hamilton's principles for their guidance long after his death, even though they pretended to despise them.

Hamilton certainly had respect for good blood and its belongings, and his friends were the well-bred and educated men of the world, many of whom came from France; yet in the true meaning of the word, he was intensely democratic, if we are to consider the simplicity of his daily life and his regard for the lowly and oppressed, and the readiness he always manifested to make friends with good men of all conditions and parties always furthering the protection of individual rights.

That Hamilton was ambitious is demonstrated by everything he did, yet it was not the ambition of selfish men nor the kind which led him to sacrifice others for his own advancement. A parallel, for instance, may be drawn between Napoleon, who was a contemporary, and himself, to the detriment of the former.

Estabrook, an eloquent New York lawyer, in a rare appreciation says:

To sum up Hamilton's temperament, therefore, I would say that he was nobly ambitious, but wisely cautious, sometimes most tentative when he was really most assured." When Washington wrote to Adams in his behalf he said: "By some he is considered as an ambitious man, and therefore a dangerous one; that he is ambitious I shall readily grant, but it is of the laudable kind which prompts a man to excel in whatever he takes in hand. He is enterprising—quick in his perceptions—and his judgment intuitively great." The first few words have especial significance, when we consider that Hamilton's enemies had insinuated to Adams that the ambitious designs of the former would minimize his influence.

At an early age he longed to distinguish himself in the world, and his familiar letter to Edward Stevens, the friend of his childhood, may, in part, be reproduced to illustrate his early aspirations. This was written when he was a boy about twelve.

Alexander Hamilton to Edward Stevens.

St. Croix, Nov. 11, 1769.

... As to what you say respecting your soon having the happiness of seeing us all, I wish for zn accomplishment of your hopes, provided they are concomitant with your welfare, otherwise not: though I doubt whether I shall be present or not, for to confess my weakness, Ned, my ambition is prevalent, so that I contemn the grovelling condition of a clerk or the like, to which my fortune condemns me, and would willingly risk my life, though not my character, to exalt my station. I am confident, Ned, that my youth excludes me from any hopes of immediate preferment, nor do I desire it; but I mean to prepare the way for futurity. I'm no philosopher, you see, and may be justly said to build castles in the air; my folly makes me ashamed, and beg you'll conceal it: Yet, Neddy, we have seen such schemes successful when the projector is constant. I shall conclude by saying I wish there was a war.

Whatever his ambition may have been, in later years there does not appear to have been any indication that he expected political preferment or that he was engaged in any attempt to advance himself, and although he had been seriously considered as a successor to Washington, it is doubtful if he would have accepted the great office. On the other hand, it seems to have been his constant and only desire to labor for the welfare of his country so long as he could do any good, and to retire as soon as possible to the quiet pursuit of a pastoral life.

Like all other public men, he had been approached by friends who did not think it amiss that he should give them information of impending public transactions that might be utilized for speculation. He undoubtedly had his temptations to help his friends, but he ever resolutely refused to disclose the operations of his own department. Even so circumspect a man as Henry Lee wrote a letter to him, which probably was sent without any dishonorable intentions whatever, but was ill advised.

"My dear Sir;" wrote Lee in 1789, "Your undertaking is truly arduous, but I trust as you progress in the work, difficulties will vanish. From your situation you must be able to form with some certainty an opinion concerning the domestic debt; will it speedily rise? Will the interest accruing command specie, or anything nearly as valuable—what will become of the indents already issued? These queries are asked for my private information. Perhaps they may be improper. I do not think them so, or I would not propound them. Of this you will decide, and act accordingly— nothing can induce me to be instrumental in submitting my friends to an impropriety. . . .

"The anti-federal gentlemen in our own assembly do not relish the amendments proposed by Congress to the constitution. Yours always and affectionately,

"Henry Lee.

"To Col. Alexander Hamilton."

Hamilton replied:

My dear Friend: I received your letter of the 16th of November. I am sure you are sincere when you say that you would not subject me to an impropriety, nor do I know there would be any in answering your queries; but you remember the saying with regard to Caesar's wife. I think the spirit of it applicable to every man concerned in the administration of the finances of the country. With respect to the conduct of such men, suspicion is ever eagle-eyed, and the most innocent things may be misinterpreted. Be assured of the affection and friendship of yours.

A great deal of nonsense has been written about Hamilton's gallantry, and his name has been quite unjustifiably connected with that of Madame Jumel, the widow of a French wine-merchant, and before this the widow of a British officer with whom she eloped. Although her home at the upper part of Manhattan Island was a rendezvous for the gay young men of the day, it does not appear that either Washington or Hamilton, as has been alleged, knew her particularly well. Certainly it is absurd to say that Hamilton had an amour with her, as has been suggested, and this gossip may, with other contemporary scandal, be disregarded. She subsequently married Aaron Burr when he was an elderly man, but the union did not last, for he misappropriated her funds and otherwise behaved badly.

It is quite to be supposed that Hamilton with his attractive equipment was like many others of his time so far as his moral laches was concerned, but his tender devotion to, and kindly care of his wife were always evident in his letters that have been preserved.

With Angelica Church he kept up a sprightly correspondence, which bristles with badinage, and to many suggests the existence of a more tender feeling than would appear to be conventional, but an inspection of his whole life and hers disproves this.

Some of her letters, of which the following is an example, are written in the flowery style of the day:

Angelica Church to Alexander Hamilton.

London, Oct 2, 1787.

You have every right, my dear brother, to believe that I was very inattentive not to have answered your letter, but I could not relinquish the hopes that you would be tempted to ask the reason of my silence, which would be a certain means of obtaining the second letter when perhaps had I answered the first, I should have lost all the fine things contained in the latter. I indeed my dear Sir, if my path was strewed with as many roses as you have filled your letter with compliments, I should not now lament my absence from America, but even Hope is weary of doing anything for so assiduous a votary as myself. I have so often prayed at her shrine that I am now no longer heard. Church's head is full of Politics, he is so desirous of making one in the British House of Commons, and where I should be happy to see him if he possessed your eloquence. All the graces you have been pleased to adorn me with, fade before the generous and benevolent action of my sister in taking the orphan Antil under her protection. I do not write by this packet to either of my sisters, nor to my father. It is too melancholy an employment today, as Church is not here to be my consolation; he is gone to New Market. You will please to say to them for me everything you think that the most tender and affectionate attachment can dictate. Adieu, my dear brother! be persuaded that these sentiments are not weakened when applied to you and that I am very sincerely your friend,

A. C.

After the appearance of his report upon the finances which was presented to Congress, January 7, 1790, she wrote:

Many thanks to my dear Brother for having written to his friend at a moment when he had the affairs of America on his mind; I am impatient to hear in what manner your Budget has been received and extremely anxious for your success.

I sometimes think you have now forgot me and that having seen me is like a dream which you can scarcely believe.— adieu I will not write this idea of being lost in the tumult of business and ambition does not enliven my spirits—adieu soyex heureux au dessus de tout le monde.

At a time when he thought it possible that he might be sent to Europe to facilitate the acceptance of Jay's treaty, she wrote on August 15, 1793:

Are you too happy to think of us? Ah petit Fripon you do not believe it:—no I am not too happy, can I be so on this side of the Atlantic? ask your heart, and read my answer there.

My silence is caused by dispair; for do not years, days and moments pass and still find me separated from those I love! yet were I in America, would ambition give an hour to Betsey and to me. Can a mind engaged by Glory taste of peace and ease?

You and Betsey in England. I have no ideas for such happiness, but when will you come and receive the tears of joy and affection?

Your devoted Angelica.

August 15th 1793.

When Hamilton became Secretary of the Treasury his sister-in-law wrote about him: "All the members of Congress have made the first visit to the General, it is very rare to find a person in political or private life so respected and beloved—shall I say by both sexes?

"We dine tomorrow with Mrs. Bingham and Viscomte Importance, Madame de Tilley is quite a la francaise, rouge and short petticoats—poor young creature she has been the victim to a negligent education. I have seen enough of Philadelphia."

The real and only authenticated mistake, which would have been the ruin of a weaker man, was the affair with the notorious Mrs. Reynolds which was brought to light by the mean traps laid for him, principally by Monroe.

For a long time, as has been said, persistent attempts had been made when Hamilton was Secretary of the Treasury to find him guilty of peculation and misuse of the government funds, but each time Hamilton vindicated himself and put the combination to rout. Finally, Monroe, Muhlenberg, and Venables waited upon him with supposed damning proof that Hamilton had supplied one Reynolds and a confederate, Clingman, then in jail, with money to speculate in the public funds upon information supplied by Hamilton, who was supposed to make use of the knowledge of national affairs he possessed. The precious pair were in prison, but one of them subsequently escaped. These confident confederates, armed with ammunition supplied by the rascals who had already been turned out of their positions and arrested at the instance of the Secretary of the Treasury, were finally delighted with the idea that the daring Federalist might be shorn of his power and disgraced; but when he quietly made his innocence absolutely clear, two of them, Muhlenberg and Venables, were convinced and manfully made amends in apology, but Monroe for a long time held out and preferred to take his original view that Hamilton was guilty. This led to a virulent correspondence and demands from Hamilton that Monroe should retract, which, after much delay, he reluctantly did. Even then the question of a duel was raised. The copy of a challenge written by Monroe, but never sent, has been preserved.

It was necessary at this time for Hamilton to make, perhaps, the greatest sacrifice that can be imagined to save his honor, and this he did. He had given money to Reynolds, but it was in payment of blackmail imposed by that person and his wife, the former having been a mari complaisant for a long period. Oliver says:

"Hamilton elected to tell the whole story; to publish every document in his possession, and to expound the situation, the motives of the parties, and the dangers to the community and to public life arising out of such methods, in that vehement and copious manner which he was famed for pursuing at the bar. . . .

"He exhausted the case. When he had made an end there was nothing more to be said. The statement is without a reservation, and yet it is never familiar. He shirks nothing, nor seeks for any shelter against the opinion of the world. His sole aim is to set his honesty in discharge of his public duty beyond attack. A single departure from the strictest rule of simplicity, a single disingenuous excuse or sentimental quaver, would have made the statement odious. Temptations to an eternal loss of dignity lay on every side, but he had only one concern; to clear his honour. No one has yet been bold enough to challenge the completeness of his vindication."

The wonder is, how a man of Hamilton's refinement and critical sense should ever have been led into an amour with a coarse and illiterate woman, apparently of a very low class, and this is quite inconceivable to most people. The letters and notes of Mrs. Re]molds to him are monuments of vulgarity and bad spelling, and it is to be wondered what he found to admire in such a person that would lead him to run the risk he did. There certainly could not have been anything but rather indifferent physical attractions. Such an entanglement can only be understood by those who are familiar with the sporadic lapses upon the part of other great men who have been tempted to give way to some such impulse, and for a time degrade themselves, often to their lasting ruin. To the psychiatrist the matter is simple, for it is a well-known fact that those possessing the highest order of intelligence; professional men, great statesmen, and others; even those teaching morals, manifest at times what can be only looked upon as a species of irresponsibility that accompanies the highest genius, and impulsively plunge into the underworld in obedience to some strange prompting of their lower nature.