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The years from 1779 to 1783 included a most interesting period of American history, and in this brief space a number of events occurred which not only directly concerned Hamilton, but also his father-in-law. In the late spring of 1780 Sir Henry Clinton had captured Charleston and returned to New York, leaving Cornwallis in command, who reorganized the British forces and defeated Gates at Camden in September of that year, putting the latter to inglorious flight. Even Greene, who was considered the best general of the American army, and who had been sent to succeed Gates, was twice defeated, once at Guilford Courthouse and again at Hobkirk Courthouse, in South Carolina. Later Cornwallis proceeded northward, making a junction with Arnold, who had espoused the British cause and escaped to the man-of-war Vulture after eluding Hamilton who was sent to capture him near West Point. Arnold, however, was sent to New York to join Clinton who had become alarmed. Washington, whose good generalship was always evident, with the aid of Rochambeau, made a pretended assault upon that city, with the result that Clinton was so embarrassed that he hastily sent to Cornwallis, begging for additional help. The next step was the advance of the American army into Virginia where, with the co-operation of the French fleet under DeGrasse and the French allies under Rochambeau, the attack was made upon Cornwallis who had intrenched himself at Yorktown, It is hardly necessary to refer to the surrender of the brave English leader, or the details of the siege or battle; suffice it to say that Hamilton's conduct had much to do with the success of the American forces, and gained for him a great deal of his military reputation.

Clinton was yet in New York, but the Patriot army, still further reduced by its late experience, preferred to play a waiting game, and no attack was made. Meanwhile General Schuyler had been active in the north, but through a conspiracy and the action of an incompetent and prejudiced Congress, he was suspended and deprived of his command by Gates.

Profiting by Schuyler's partially accomplished work. Gates forced the surrender of Burgoyne; he, however, ultimately met with reverses and his own triumph was short-lived. When puffed up with ambition he later attempted not only to undermine and supplant Washington with the help of the notorious Conway Cabal, but essayed a military role which was a failure, and was subsequently ignominiously defeated by Cornwallis. In this connection a letter written by General Schuyler to Hamilton throws much light upon the disordered state of affairs in the upper part of the State of New York.

Philip Schuyler to Alexander Hamilton

Saratoga, November 12, 1780

My dear Sir: Both your favors of the 17th and 22d I had the pleasure to receive about the latter end of the month, since which this place has been a scene of Confusion and distress, the Inhabitants flying for shelter to the Interior part of the state, and the Militia moving up with a tardiness which has given me more real Concern than the Enemy's depredations have done, as It evinces either disaffection in too many, or that they are heartily tired of the Contests. I fear there is too much of both.

I hope General Green will reach Virginia in time to Collect a body of troops and bring matters into proportion before the troops you suspect to be destined from N York for Virginia arrive there, as by the affair of the 6^th of August Gen. Gates has lost the command in that quarter, I Consider rather favorable to us, for certain I am that his want of abilities would have proved extremely prejudicial to us, I sincerely wish he may never command, at any Important post.—

The disaster which the British have experienced in the Spanish dominions on this continent will I hope rid Spain of her fears and Induce unanimity in the Court of Madrid. A peace at this Juncture between Spain and Britain would very Materialy Injure our cause.

I am exceedingly sorry to find that a certain expedition was not agreeable to Count De Rochambeau and the more so as I know how Impracticable It is to prosecute one without the immediate aid of the French troops. I believe the Gallic commander has private Instructions to the Contrary, otherwise I think he would not forego a command in which he would reap many laurels with little trouble, for as to success It appears to me that would have been beyond a doubt. —The reduction of Canada since the Indians are generally become hostile is a matter certainly of the first Importance, as we shall have no alternative left in the ensuing Campaign but that of abandoning the present frontiers from Virginia to New Hampshire Inclusive, or keeping a body of troops for their protection equal to the Conquest of Canada.

I was on the point of commencing my Journey to Hartford when the british on Lake Champlain a second time reached this quarter, that and their manoeuvre on the Grants prevented me from prosecuting It, and It is now too late. Mr. Benson' paid me a visit a few days before he set out for Hartford. The conversation we had together I hope will tend to public utility. He is strongly Impressed with the necessity of Immediately and permanently compleating the army, and of another matter which I formerly mentioned to you. Both appear to me so necessary that I form no great expectations from the first without the latter.

I have advised the Governor to call the Assembly at any early day. I think It of great importance that a final surrender should be made with the people on the Grants. They are capable of strengthening the army and aiding In the defense of the pontoons, and I do not despair of rendering them useful in both ways. If I can bring the legislature to adopt my Ideas.

Be assured that we shall be happy to see the Gentlemen you mention, and such others as you may bring with you.

Mrs. Schuyler joins me in the most affectionate wishes.

Adieu. I am Dear Sir Most Sincerely,

Your serv. etc.

Ph. Schuyler,

Colo. Hamilton.

The "grants" here referred to were those allotted to the settlers by Governor Wentworth, the territory being that which now forms the States of New Hampshire and Vermont, but at that early time was a disputed region not comprised in the lands deeded to New York by Massachusetts and Connecticut, and lying above the division line.

Hamilton's duties were most engrossing, and the available correspondence that passed between him and his superiors and friends makes us wonder that he found time for any social distractions whatever. It appears that he was sent to meet Rochambeau, and again was despatched to West Point to capture Benedict Arnold, while his connection with the trial of Major Andre at about the same time shows that his billets were numerous and important. However, he found sufficient opportunity to fall in love with Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, who was the second of the General's daughters, a girl of about his own age, she having been born in 1757.

In the winter of 1779-80 Washington was for the second time encamped at Morristown, under very much better conditions than when he was there previously, and, thanks to the provisions made by Robert Morris and General Schuyler and the help afforded by France, the troops were better clad and housed, although there was still great destitution and, later, great discontent. This, in measure, was due to the fact that they had not, for a long time, been paid, and a mutinous spirit was engendered which had been taken advantage of—without any success, however—by British emissaries.

In spite of all this, as well as the proximity of the British, who came over from Staten Island to Elizabethtown, there may be said to have been a breathing spell for the little American army.

Washington and his officers, despite their discomfort and sufferings, managed to extract a considerable amount of pleasure from life, and there appears to have been a great deal of gayety, which was participated in by a merry collection of young people, among whom were the Frenchmen attached to head-quarters.

Governor William Livingston, who had befriended Hamilton upon his arrival in America in 1772, occupied his large, comfortable house known as Liberty Hall at Elizabethtown, which was built in 1776. With him were his pretty daughters, one of whom, Sarah, married John Jay, and the youngest, Kitty, who was an attached friend of Elizabeth Schuyler. These charming young women with their neighbors. Lady Kitty Stirling and her sister, and Susan Boudinot, vied with each other in making the routine life of the young army officers more bearable.

In the neighborhood were the quarters of Generals Greene, Knox, Philip Schuyler, and Surgeon-General Cochran.

Routs and balls were common, and the letters of the time detail in the quaint style of the period much of the camp gossip. The military family, as it was called, of Washington planned many entertainments, and the chief spirits were Hamilton, Tilghman, and McHenry.

On March 18, 1780, McHenry wrote to Hamilton, who had been sent off to exchange prisoners:

The family since your departure have given hourly proofs of a growing weakness. Example I verily believe is infectious. For such a predominance is beauty establishing over their hearts, that should things continue to wear as sweet an aspect as they are now beheld in, I shall be the only person left, of the whole household, to support the dignity of human nature. But in good earnest God bless both you, and your weakness, and preserve me your sincere friend.

The Vicomte de Chastellux, afterward marquis, was one of the many French noblemen who risked their lives in the War of Independence, and have left us unique impressions of the men, manners, and customs of that period, and especially of the Morristown encampment.

During the winter of 1780 he took advantage of the lull in operations to go on a journey from his post in Rhode Island to visit General Washington at his head-quarters in Morristown, then to visit General Schuyler at Albany, and to inspect the various scenes of the struggles in which he himself had not participated.

Bad weather, still worse roads, the intense cold, and difficulties in obtaining shelter for man and beast could not dampen his spirits, or lessen his interest in all he heard and saw, and it may be the contrast with the forlorn outer world that prompted him to give so vivid a picture of the home comforts and pleasant intimacy that he found at Morristown.

Amongst other delightful comments upon his arrival and welcome he describes the first dinner and says: "I adapt myself very well to the English toast; one has very small glasses—one pours for oneself the quantity of wine desired without being urged to take more, and the toast is but a kind of refrain to the conversation; and again: " I observed that at dinner the toasts were more ceremonious: some were for etiquette, others were suggested by the General and named by whichever aide-de-camp was doing the honors; for every day one of them sits at the end of the table beside the General in order to help all the dishes and dole out the bottles; now, that night the toasts were called by Colonel Hamilton and he gave them just as they occurred to him, haphazard and informally.

"At the end of supper the guests are always asked to give a sentiment, that is, any woman to whom they may be attached by some sentiment, either love, friendship, or simple preference. This supper or conversation lasts from nine to eleven at night, always easy and agreeable."

Notwithstanding Chastellux's stories of the prodigality of Washington's table, and the apparent luxurious mode of life during his visit, it may be stated on the authority of Tre-velyan that the entire cost of maintaining the Head-quarters' Staff, and the obligatory hospitality to outsiders during four and one-half months, and of a hungry army for the same time, was less than £500.

Washington's head-quarters were in the old Jacob Ford place. According to Lossing the General and his family occupied the whole of the house except two rooms on the eastern side which were reserved for Mrs. Ford and her family. Two log additions made to the house were used as a kitchen, and as an office for Washington, Tilghman, and Hamilton, while near the head-quarters were huts erected for the life guard, then commanded by General William Colfax, who had succeeded Caleb Gibbs.

Hamilton's love-making was evidently pursued with the same activity as everything else he did, and his addresses, as was the fashion of the day, necessitated a vast expenditure of paper, ink, and blotting sand; and some of his characteristic letters are presented. His attentions to Miss Schuyler met with the hearty approval of her father, who wrote to him as follows:

You cannot my dear Sir, be more happy at the connection 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 the moment I discovered on whom she had placed her affections. I am pleased with every instance of delicacy in those who are dear to me, and I think I read your soul on that occasion you mention. I shall therefore only entreat you to consider me as one who wishes in every way to promote your happiness, and I shall.

Shortly after this he wrote to his future mother-in-law the following:

Alexander Hamilton to Mrs. Philip Schuyler

Madam : The inclosed letter came to hand two days ago, and I take the earliest opportunity of forwarding it. I cannot forbear indulging my feelings, by entreating you to accept the assurances of my gratitude for your kind compliance with my wishes to be united to your amiable daughter.... I leave it to my conduct rather than expressions to testify the sincerity of my affection for her—the respect I have for her parents—the desire I shall always feel to justify their confidence and merit their friendship. May I hope Madam, you will not consider it as mere profession, when I add, that though I have not the happiness of a personal acquaintance with you, I am no stranger to the qualities which distinguish your character—and these make the relation in which I shall stand to you, not one of the least pleasing circumstances of my union with your daughter. My heart anticipates the sentiment of that relation and wishes to give you proof of the respectful and affectionate attachment with which I have the honor to be

Madam

Yours

Alexander Hamilton.

Hd. qr. Apnl 14. 80.

But few letters remain which enable us to mark the advance of Hamilton's wooing, but a little verse is in my possession which was found in a tiny bag hanging from his wife's neck after her death, and which she had evidently always worn, and it was quite probably given to her when they were together this winter. What is apparently a sonnet was written upon a piece of torn and yellow paper, fragments of which had been sewn together with ordinary thread.

ANSWER TO THE INQUIRY WHY I SIGHED

Before no mortal ever knew

A love like mine so tender—true—

Completely wretched—you away—

And but half blessed e'en while you stay.

If present love [illegible] face

Deny you to my fond embrace

No joy unmixed my bosom warms

But when my angel's in my arms."

The letters written to his sweetheart varied much in their nature—some were ardent and full of the extravagant language of the time, others were of greater interest to the historical student of to-day, because in narrative form they gave a graphic idea of the happenings at this important period. It is impossible to separate them, and, as the dates are sometimes omitted, identification is difficult. It is hoped, however, that their presentation will at least afford some idea of what Hamilton felt and did during the time he was paying his addresses to Elizabeth Schuyler.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

MORRISTOWN, July 2, 1780.

I have been waiting, my love, for an opportunity of writing to you but none has offered. I sit down to have a line ready for a sudden call which will be enclosed to Col. Hay. The enclosed was sent to you at Morristown, but missed you, as it contains ideas that often occur to me I send it now. Last evening Dr. Cochran delivered me the dear lines you wrote me from Nicholsons. I shall impatiently long to hear of your arrival at Albany and the state of your health. I am perfectly well proof against anything that can assail mine. We have no change in our affairs since you left us. I should regret the time already lost in inactivity if it did not bring us nearer to that sweet reunion for which we so ardently wish. I never look forward to that period without sensations I cannot describe.

I love you more and more every hour. The sweet softness and delicacy of your mind and manners, the elevation of your sentiments, the real goodness of your heart—its tenderness to me—the beauties of your face and person—your unpretending good sense and that innocent symplicity and frankness which pervade your actions, all these appear to me with increasing amiableness, and place you in my estimation above all the rest of your sex.

I entreat you, my charmer, not to neglect the charges I gave you, particularly that of taking care of yourself and that of employing all your leisure in reading. Nature has been very kind to you, do not neglect to cultivate her gifts and to enable yourself to make the distinguished figure in all respects to which you are entided to aspire. You excel most of your sex in all the amiable qualities, endeavor to excel them equally in the splendid ones. You can do it if you please, and I shall take pride in it,—It will be a fund too to diversify our enjoyment and amusements and fill all our moments to advantage.

I have received a letter from Major Laurens soliciting an interview, on the Pennsylvania Boundary. The General had half consented to its taking place. I hope to be permitted to meet him, if so I will go to Philadelphia and then you may depend, I shall not forget the picture you requested. Yours, my angel, with inviolable fidelity—

Alex. Hamilton.

July 4.

It is now the fourth and no opportunity has offered. I open my letter just to tell you your Papa has been unwell with a touch of the Quinsy, but is now almost perfectly recovered. He hoped to be at Head Quarters today. He is eight miles off. I saw him last evening and heard from him this morning. I mention this least you should hear of his indisposition through an exaggerated channel and be unnecessarily alarmed.

Affectionately present me to your Mamma.

Adieu my love.

The engagement of Elizabeth Schuyler certainly created a stir among her young friends, and Kitty Livingston, a boon companion, in a letter written from Lebanon, June 20,1780, says: " If you should see the Col. present my compliments and tell him I hope to see him on the Banks of Hudson near Claremont where Flora shall mix his Laurels with Flowers and Pomona heap him with fruit."

Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler were engaged some time during 1779, but were separated for a great part of the time, and the courtship was interrupted by long journeys undertaken by him, and by the occurrence of important conferences, or of dramatic events of the most thrilling character. He had been sent to Perth Amboy to exchange prisoners, and undoubtedly the social courtesies for the time prevailed. Doubdess many of the English officers who toasted Elizabeth Schuyler and her sister had, at an earlier period, accepted General Schuyler's hospitality at Albany or Saratoga.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

Amboy, Mar. 17, 1780.

Thursday afternoon.

My dearest girl: I wrote you a hasty letter two days ago, since which I have had the happiness of hearing you were well by Colonel Webb, and did not forget me when he was coming away. Every moment of my stay here becomes more and more irksome, but I hope two or three days will put an end to it. Colonel Webb tells me you have sent for a carriage to go to Philadelphia. If you should go out before I return, have the goodness to leave a line informing me how long you expect to be there. I beg, too, you will not suffer any considerations respecting me to prevent your going, for though it will be a tax upon my love to part with you so long, I wish you to see that city before you return. It will afford you pleasure and whatever does that will always be most agreeable to me, only let me entreat you to endeavor not to stay there longer than the amusements of the place interest you in complaisance to friends, for you must always remember your best friend is where I am. If possible, and you give me your consent, I shall try to make a short visit to the city while you are there, but it is very uncertain whether I shall be able to do it. If I were not afraid of making you vain, I would tell you that Mrs. Carter, Peggy and yourself are the daily toast at our table, and for this honor you are chiefly indebted to the British gentlemen; though, as I am always thinking of you, this naturally brings Peggy to my mind, who is generally my toast. Captain Beebe is here and talks of her sometimes, but I will not give my consent to his being her favorite. I do not think him clever enough for her. He sings well and that is all. Your little Delancey is not of the party. I am told he is a pretty fellow. I have learned a secret by coming down here. Our interview is attended with a good deal of sociability and good humor, but I begin, notwithstanding, to be tired of our British friends. They do their best to be agreeable and are particularly civil to me, but, after all, they are a compound of grimace and jargon and, out of a certain fashionable routine, are as dull and empty as any gentlemen need to be. One of their principal excellencies consists in swallowing a large quantity of wine every day, and in this I am so unfortunate that I shall make no sort of figure with them. You must not think me prejudiced, for the picture is a true one.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

September 6, 1780.

Most people here are groaning under a very disagreeable piece of intelligence just come from the southward, that Gates has had a total defeat near Camden, in South Carolina.

Cornwallis and he met in the night of the fifteenth, by accident, marching to the same point. The advanced guards skirmished, and the two armies halted and formed till morning. In the morning, a battle ensued, in which the militia and Gates with them, immediately ran away, and left the Continental troops to contend with the enemy's whole force.

They did it obstinately, and probably are most of them cut off. Gates, however, who writes to Congress, seems to know very little what has become of his army. He showed that age and the long labors and fatigues of a military life had not in the least impaired his activity, for in the three days and a half he reached Hilleborough, one hundred and eighty miles from the scene of action, leaving all his troops to take care of themselves, and get out of the scrape as well as they could.

He has confirmed, in this instance, the opinion I always had of him. This event will have very serious consequences to the southward. People's imaginations have already given up North Carolina and Virginia; but I do not believe either of them will fall. I am certain Virginia cannot. This misfortune affects me less than others, because it is not in my temper to repine at evils that are past, but to endeavor to draw good out of them, and because I think our safety depends on a total change of system, and this change of system will only be produced by misfortune.

A. Hamilton.

Benedict Arnold, who had married a daughter of Edward Shippen, had become involved in debt and led an extravagant life, in consequence of which he was accused of questionable financial operations and 'disorderly official conduct." Having been taken to task for this, an aggrieved animosity was engendered which led him to revenge himself by plotting treason with the enemy, and every one is too familiar with his scheme for the betrayal of West Point, his utilization of Major Andre, and with the pitiful end of that brave and gallant young officer.

No better account of these happenings can be found than in the two following letters written by Hamilton, which may be reproduced as examples of the sensible correspondence in which Hamilton and Miss Schuyler indulged, and showing, as well, that she was quite in sympathy with all he did, and quite familiar with his military duties.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

September 35, 1780.

Arnold, hearing of the plot being detected, immediately fled to the enemy. I went in pursuit of him, but was much too late; and could hardly regret the disappointment, when, on my return, I saw an amiable woman, frantic with distress for the loss of a husband she tenderly loved; a traitor to his Country and to his fame; a disgrace to his connexions; it was the most affecting scene I ever was witness to. She, for a considerable time, entirely lost herself. The General went up to see her, and she upbraided him with being in a plot to murder her child. One moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Sometimes she pressed her infant to her bosom, and lamented its fate, occasioned by the imprudence of its father, in a manner that would have pierced insensibility itself. All the sweetness of beauty, all the loveliness of innocence, all the tenderness of a wife, and all the fondness of a mother, showed themselves in her appearance and conduct. We have every reason to believe, that she was entirely unacquainted with the plan, and that the first knowledge of it, was when Arnold went to tell her he must banish himself from his country and from her forever. She instantly fell into a convulsion, and he left her in that situation.

This morning she is more composed. I paid her a visit, and endeavoured to soothe her by every method in my power; though you may imagine she is not easily to be consoled; added to her other distresses, she is very apprehensive the resentment of her country will fall upon her (who is only unfortunate) for the guilt of her husband.

I have tried to persuade her that her fears are ill-founded; but she will not be convinced. She received us in bed, with every circumstance that would interest our sympathy, and her sufferings were so eloquent, that I wished myself her brother, to have a right to become her defender. As it is, I have entreated her to enable me to give her proofs of my friendship. Could I forgive Arnold for sacrificing his honour, reputation, and duty, I could not forgive him for acting a part that must have forfeited the esteem of so fine a woman. At present she almost forgets his crime in his misfortunes; and her horror at the guilt of the traitor is lost in her love of the man. But a virtuous mind cannot long esteem a base one; and time will make her despise if it cannot make her hate.

A. Hamilton.

Hamilton was probably at New Windsor when the following letter was written, which, at the time, was occupied by the American Army:

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

(Written probably in October, 1780.)

I have told you and I told you truly that I love you too much. You engross my thoughts too entirely to allow me to think anything else. You not only employ my mind all day, but you intrude on my sleep. I meet you in every dream and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. 'Tis a pretty story indeed that I am to be thus monopolized by a little nut brown maid like you and from a soldier metamorphosed into a puny over. I believe in my soul you are an enchantress; but I have tried in vain, if not to break, at least to weaken the charm and you maintain your empire in spite of all my efforts and after every new one I make to draw myself from my allegiance, my partial heart still returns and clings to you with increased attachment. To drop figures my lovely girl, you become dearer to me every moment. I am more and more unhappy and impatient under the hard necessity that keeps me from you, and yet the prospect lengthens as I advance. Harrison has just received an account of the death of his Father and will be obliged to go to Virginia. Meade's affairs (as well as his love) compel him to go there also in a little time. There will then remain too few in the family to make it possible for me to leave it till Harrison's return, but I have told him I will not be delayed beyond November.

Oct. 5th.

P. S. I promised you a particular account of Andre. I am writing one of the whole affair of which I will send you a copy.

Indeed, my dear Betsey, you do not write me often enough. I ought at least to hear from you by every post, and your last letter is as old as the middle of September. I have written you twice since my return from Hartford. You will laugh at me for consulting you about such a trifle, but I want to know whether you would prefer my receiving the nuptial benediction in my uniform or in a different habit. It will be just as you please, so consult your whim and what you think most consistent with propriety. . . . Tell my Peggy I will shortly open a correspondence with her. I am composing a piece, of which, from the opinion I have of her qualifications, I shall endeavor to prevail upon her to act the principal character. The tide is "The way to get him, for the benefit of all single ladies who desire to be married." You will ask her if she has any objections to taking part in the piece and tell her that if I am not much mistaken in her, I am sure she will have none. For your own part, your business is now to study the way to keep him, which is said to be much the most difficult task of the two, though in your case I thoroughly believe it will be an easy one and that to succeed effectually you will only have to wish it sincerely. May I only be as successful in pleasing you, and may you as happy as I shall ever wish to make you.

MAJOR ANDRÉ

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler

Tappan, Oct, 2d, 1780.

Poor Andre suffers today. Everything that is amiable in virtue, in fortitude, in delicate sentiment, and accomplished manners, pleads for him; but hard-hearted policy calls for a sacrifice. He must die.—I send you my account of Arnold's affair; and to justify myself to your sentiments, I must inform you, that I urged a compliance with Andre's request to be shot; and I do not think it would have had an ill-effect; but some people are only sensible to motives of policy, and sometimes, from a narrow disposition, mistake it.

When Andre's tale comes to be told, and present resentment is over; the refusing him the privilege of choosing the manner of his death will be branded with too much obstinacy.

It was proposed to me to suggest to him the idea of an exchange for Arnold; but I knew I should have forfeited his esteem by doing it, and therefore declined it. As a man of honour he could not but reject it; and I would not for the world have proposed to him a thing which must have placed me on the unamiable light of supposing him capable of meanness, or of not feeling myself the impropriety of the measure. I confess to you, I had the weakness to value the esteem of a dying man, because I reverenced his merit.

A. Hamilton.

There is some doubt about the date of the marriage, the general opinion being that it occurred in December, 1780.

No better place could have been chosen for this happy event than the grand old house of General Schuyler, built in 1765, which has been so well pictured by Chastellux and which has been the scene of so many interesting episodes, among them the famous attempt to kidnap its owner by Waltermeyer—and the dramatic escape of his daughter Margaret from the savages, to which reference has already been made. It was during the Revolution and before, visited by many distinguished people, among them Benjamin Franklin, Charles Carroll, de Noailles, General St. Clair, Baron Riedesel, and even Burgoyne, who enthusiastically described the generous hospitality of Its owner.

But little remains of its former elegance for, like many old places, it has suffered through the ravages of time, or been encroached upon by a growing duty, or has been so altered as to lose its characteristic charm of former days. There is little to carry one back to the joyous happenings that took place within its walls during the American Revolution; it is at present occupied by Sisters of Charity, orphans, and the poor children of the neighborhood.

The house, which is now occupied as a Catholic school, and surrounded by a squalid tenement settlement, retains much of its original attractiveness. ... It is built of yellow brick. On each side of the hexagonal vestibule are three windows; above these are seven windows, measuring the unusual breadth of the house.

Within is a spacious hall sixty feet long, to which the windows on each side of the door give light. It is a noble room, wainscotted in white. Doors lead on one side into the sitting-room, on the other into the drawing-room, splendidly lighted, with deep window-seats and broad mantels handsomely carved. . . .

The main hall is divided from the back hall, which is divided by a fine old colonial door, with fan and side lights enriched by delicate tracery, and making an attractive feature of the larger hall. The back hall receives the staircase, not more remarkable for its historic incidents than for the beautiful sweep of its lines, and the fine carving of its splendid balustrade.

GENERAL PHILIP SCHUYLER'S HOMESTEAD AT ALBANY

Behind the sitting-room is the dining-room, the scene of forty years of generous hospitality. On the other side the drawing-room leads into a private hall and a room, . . . that was used as a nursery. Behind this was the library. Here there is the story of a bricked-up enclosure which formerly led to a subterranean passage in connection with the river, to be used in case of surprise. The staircase leads to the upper hall. . . . This was used as a ballroom, and on either side are the chambers, in which cluster so many historic reminiscences.

McHenry, then a member of Washington's staff, went to Albany for Hamilton's wedding and wrote these verses, which he subsequently sent to his friend, Otho Williams, on the morning after:

'Tis told, my friend, in poets lore.

The muse has an exhaustless store

From which she draws with wond'rous skill

Of choicest fancies what she will.

With these she decks the heroes' hearse.

Or forms with these immortal verse.

Last night I sought her dear retreat

And laid me at the fair one's feet.

She knew my errand, sway'd her wand.

Then pointed to a rising stand.

From whence the fairy world was seen

And you embosomed with your Queen.

(As thus ye lay the happiest pair

A rosy scent enriched die air

While to a music softly sounding

Breathing, panting, slow, rebounding)

Love arose with pow'rful spell.

Hence, he cried, to dismal dell

Imps who haunt the gloomy breast

Ever jealous—never blest;

This is ground for holy feet

Here the sports and pleasure meet.

Then in whispers caught the ear

What the gifted only hear.

"Chains of Priests or modes of art

"Weakly hold the human heart,

"Hence my Eloisa said

"Give me those that love has made."

Now his fluttering wings outspread

Three times he bless'd the bridal bed.

While o'er it Faith her mantle threw

And said small care would keep it new.

Last Prudence came» in sober guise

With Pilgrim's pace, and wisdom's eyes;

Forth from his stole a tablet took

Which you received with thankful look.

Genius had deeply mark'd the ground.

And Plutus finely edg'd it round.

This done, he bade you long improve

In all the sweets of mutual love.

And now would friendship's voice prevail

To point the moral of the tale.

Know then, dear Ham a truth confest

Soon beauty fades, and love's a guest.

Love has not settled place on earth;

A very wan'rer from his birth;

And yet who happiness would prove.

Like you must build his hopes on love.

When love his choicest gifts has giv'n

He flies to make another heav'n;

But as he wheels his rapid flight

Calm joys succeed and pure delight.

Faith adds to all; for works we're told

Is Love's alloy, and faith the gold.

Now genius plays the lover's part;

Now wakes to many a throb the heart;

With ev'ry sun brings something new.

And gaily varies every view;

Whilst Prudence all his succour lends

To mark the point where pleasure ends.

For, borne beyond a certain goal.

The sweetest joys disgust the soul.

He too instructs us how to use,

What's more a blessing than the muse (wealth):

For well he knows, deprived of this

That toil and care is human bliss.

All these attendants Ham are thine,

Be't yours to treat them as divine;

To cherish what keeps love alive;

What makes us young at sixty-five.

What lends the eye its earliest fires;

What rightly managed still inspires.

To which Hamilton answered:

I thank you Dear Mac for your poetry and your confidence. The piece is a good one—your best. It has wit, which you know is a rare thing. I see by perseverence all ladies may be won. The Muses begin to be civil to you, in spite of Apollo and my prognosis.

You know I have often told you, you wrote prose well but had no genius for poetry. I retract. Adieu.

A. Hamilton.

Sep. 12, (1780)

Hamilton certainly benefited by his marriage and by his connection with a powerful family with far-reaching influence, and one having so much to do with the early history of the country. As Oliver intimates, Hamilton was too proud and independent in regard to money matters to accept any aid from his father-in-law, and it does not appear that any financial assistance was ever offered him. Even after his death and when his poverty became known Mrs. Hamilton, who was sensitive to a degree, indignantly denied a story that she was in possession of six thousand dollars, given to her by her father some time before, and wrote to one of her brothers:

"Let me assure you it is an untrudi. It has given me some pain that I should be held up to the public in so unfavorable a point of view as on the one hand to request you to make provision for me, by some arrangement, and on the other, (as it is said) to be so amply provided for by my father. What but ill intent toward me could have been the motive to have given such an idea to the world and to my sisters and brothers? But this world is a world of evil passions, and I thank my God He strengthens my mind to look on them as steps to an entire resignation to His will, which I pray may fast approach me, and in that fullness of grace which may be pleasing in His sight. Oh! my brother, may my sighing and sorrowing be seen by Him who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb—shorn, indeed, to the quick." She continues: "My friend here has taken the necessary steps towards bending the public mind from this ill impression and he is very much gratified by your correct, liberal and affectionate conduct to me."

It is true that General Schuyler at all times sent to the young pair prodigal gifts and supplies from the Albany homestead, and when the Grange was built some years later, supplied Hamilton with most of the lumber. Like most patriots Schuyler was not really well-to-do, although he owned a great deal of land which, in those days, was not worth much, and some of it was rented by small farmers for trifling sums. His contributions to the cause of independence were very large, however, and at one time, at the request of Robert Morris, he sent to the destitute army a thousand barrels of flour, with little or no assurance that he would be repaid.

Through the peculiar position of his property and the fact that it appeared to be open to the attacks of marauding forces, he suffered immense losses during the early part of the war. Not only did the cannon of Burgoyne wreck and set on fire his great house at Saratoga, but to prevent their crops from falling into the hands of the enemy his wife, Catherine Schuyler, applied the torch to the ripening grain. There was, however, not only enough left to shower hospitality upon the many distinguished strangers who were always welcome, but in material ways to add to the comfort of his many children.

Hamilton's honeymoon was a short one, and during the early months of 1781 he was not only busy with military affairs, but prepared his second memorandum upon the establishment of a national bank, which was sent to Robert Morris. He was then but twenty-four. In May, with Washington and others, he again met Rochambeau at Hartford, and with de Ternay, the commandant of the French fleet, made arrangements for a joint campaign. De Grasse, in command of the squadron then in the West Indies, was to proceed toward the north, which he later did.

Hamilton during the summer had gone South to crown his military career, taking part in the investment of York-town, and the attack which led to the surrender of Corn-wallis.

His letters to his wife, at this time, detail his plans and the operations of the army.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton

August, 1781.

In my last letter I informed you that there was a greater prospect of activity now, than there had been heretofore, did this to prepare your mind for an event which, I am sure, will give you pain. I begged your father, at the same time, to intimate to you, by degrees, the probability of its taking place.

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. But let no idea, other than of the distance we shall be asunder disquiet you. Though I said the prospects of activity will be greater, I said it to give your expectations a diflPerent turn, and prepare you for something disagreeable. It is ten to one that our views will be disappointed, by Cornwallis retiring to South Carolina by land. At all events, our operations will be over by the latter end of October, and I will fly to my home. Don't mention I am going to Virginia.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton

Head of Elk, September 6,1781.

Yesterday, my lovely wife, I wrote to you, inclosing you a letter in one to your father, to the care of Mr. Morris. Tomorrow the post sets out, and tomorrow we embark for Yorktown. I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of writing you a few lines. Constantly uppermost in my thoughts and affections, I am happy only when my moments are devoted to some office that respects you. I would give the world to be able to tell you all I feel and all I wish, but consult your own heart and you will know mine. What a world will soon be between us! To support the idea, all my fortitude is insufficient. What must be the case with you, who have the most female of female hearts? I sink at the perspective of your distress, and I look to heaven to be your guardian and supporter.

Circumstances that have just come to my knowledge, assure me that our operations will be expeditious, as well as our success certain. Early in November, as I promised you, we shall certainly meet. Cheer yourself with this idea, and with the assurance of never more being separated.

Every day confirms me in the intention of renouncing public life, and devoting myself wholly to you. Let others waste their time and their tranquillity in a vain pursuit of power and glory; be it my object to be happy in a quiet retreat with my better angel.

A. Hamilton.

Shortly before the end of the war he wrote this letter:

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton

Philadelphia, July 22, 1783.

I wrote you, my beloved Eliza, by the last post, which I hope will not meet with the fate that many others of my letters must have met with. I count upon setting out to see you in four days; but I have been so frequently disappointed by unforeseen events, that I shall not be without apprehensions of being detained, till I have begun my journey.

The members of Congress are very pressing with me not to go away at this time, as the House is thin, and as the definitive treaty is momently expected.

Tell your father that Mr. Rivington, in a letter to the South Carolina delegates, had given information, coming to him from Admiral Arbuthnot that the Mercury frigate is arrived at New York with the definitive treaty, and that the city was to be evacuated yesterday, by the treaty. I am strongly urged to stay a few days for the ratification of the treaty; at all events, however, I will not be long absent.

I give you joy of the happy conclusion of this important work in which your country has been engaged. Now, in a very short time, I hope we shall be happily settled in New York. My love to your father.

Kiss my boy a thousand times.

A. Hamilton.

Before this Hamilton had left the army and had gone to Albany to study law—and on August 11 his friend, McHenry, wrote:

James McHenry to Alexander Hamilton

If you are not in the humor to read a long letter, do, prithee, give this to the child to play with and go on with your amusement of rocking the cradle.' To be serious, my dear Hamilton, I have been thinking of late upon my own situation and this led me as often to think of yours. Some men, I observe, are so born & tempered, that it is not till after long bustling & battling it in the world (and some scarcely then) that they come to learn a little prudence. Much I begin to suspect that you & I want a great deal of this quality to bring us on a level with our neighbors and to carry us cheerfully through life. Have we not both of us continued long enough in the service of the public? Should not I exercise my profession or some profitable business & should not you, putting off the politician, exert yourself only to acquire a profession? I find that to be dependent on a father is irksome, because I feel that it is in my power to be independent by my own endeavours. I see that the good things of this world are all to be purchased with money and that the man who has money may be whatever he pleases.

Hamilton, there are two lawyers in this Town, one of which has served the public in the General Assembly for three years with reputation, and to the neglect of his practice. The other has done nothing but attend to his profession, by which he has acquired a handsome competency. Now the people have taken it into their heads to displace the lawyer which has served them till he is become poor, in order to put in his stead the lawyer who has served himself & become rich. Let me add to this anecdote a bon mot of our friend Fleury's. Talking to me the other day. "You are a senator," said he, "pray what is your salary." I told him it might perhaps defray about two thirds of our expenses while attending the Senate, and that we were only paid during our attendance, provided one was unmarried & lived frugally. "Then," said he, "I pity Maryland, for her Senate must be composed chiefly of rich fools." What is the moral of all this, my dear friend, but that it is high time for you and I to set about in good earnest, doing something for ourselves.

I hear you are chosen a delegate to Congress. Will you forgive me for saying that I would rather have heard that you had not been chosen. If you accept of the office, there is a stop to any further study of the law, which I am desirous you should finish, because a few years practice at the bar would make you independent, and do you more substantial good than all the fugitive honors of Congress. This would put it in your power to obtain them and to hold them with more certainty, should you still be inclined to risque in a troubled sea. The moment you cease to be a candidate for public places, the people will lament your loss and wait with impatience till they can persuade a man of your abilities to serve them. In the mean time, you will be doing justice to your family. Besides, you know that there is nothing at present to be had worthy your acceptance. The negotiators for peace have been long since appointed. The great departments of Government are all filled up. Our foreign ministers sit firm in their seats. It is not to be expected that any new ministers will be created before a peace. And when this comes, be assured, long residence and large possessions in this country will prelude superior merits.

I wish, therefore, my dear friend that I could prevail upon you to avoid a disappointment & a loss which I think I foresee. For, should you go to Congress, you will lose another year of time that is become more precious than ever and retire, perhaps in disgust, to renew your studies and to those domestic endearments which you will regret to have forsaken. How would it vex me to learn that you had exclaimed in the stile of an English cardinal—If I had best served my family as faithfully as I have the public, my affairs would have been today in a very different order.

It appears to me, Hamilton, to be no longer either necessary or a duty, for you and I to go on to sacrifice the small remnant of time that is left us. We have already immolated largely on the altar of liberty. At present, our country neither wants our services in the field or the cabinet, so that it is incumbent upon us to be useful in another line. By pushing your studies to a conclusion, you at once perfect your happiness. But, I wonder, nor recollect, whilst my own life runs on in idleness and small follies that I stand in most need of the advice which I am presuming to offer. You have a wife and an increasing offspring to urge you forward, but I am without either—without your incitements to begin a reform or your perseverance to succeed. Write me, then, what you are doing—What you have done and what you intend to do, that I may endeavor to follow your example. And be full, for I really intend to be wise and you shall be my Apollo.

I have been a second time on the point of gaining immortality by a fever. It seized me a little after the arrival of the French troops here and has only permitted me to come abroad a few days since Mrs. Carter & Miss Peggy' are with us and of course you will think I have been often with them. But I must tell you something of your relations. Mr. Carter is the mere man of business and I am informed has riches enough, with common management, to make the longest life very comfortable. Mrs. Carter is a fine woman. She charms in all companies. No one has seen her, of either sex, who has not been pleased with her, and she pleased every one, chiefly, by means of those qualities which made you the husband of her sister. Peggy, though perhaps a finer woman, is not generally thought so. Her own sex are apprehensive that she considered them poor things, as Swift's Vanessa did, and they, in return, do not scruple to be displeased. In short, Peggy, to be admired as she ought, has only to please the men less and the ladies more. Tell her so. I am sure her good sence will soon place her in her proper station.

My dear Hamilton, adieu. Remember a man who lives in this world, without being satisfied with it. Who strives to seem happy among a people who cannot inspire happiness, but who thinks it unbecoming the dignity of man to leave his part, merely because it does not please him. I am melancholly you perceive. This plaguy fever has torn me to pieces and my mind yet shares in the weakness of my body. But I will recover spirits, as I recover strength. In the meanwhile do not fail to write me. Again my friend and philosopher adieu.

James McHenry.

It is somewhat interesting to note, despite McHenry's warning, that Hamilton not only entered public life, but at the same time made a success at the bar.