1797 Hamilton letter thoughts for the poor?
Hello! Absolutely, here you go! Sorry this took a bit of time to answer—though, you’ll see why.
For those unaware, this ask is in reference to this post about a TAI writing update.
On May 2nd, 1797, Alexander Hamilton wrote to his paternal uncle, William Hamilton. The elder Hamilton had written his nephew on March 10, but his letter has not been found. Its contents are made somewhat clear by Alexander Hamilton’s reply: his uncle had reached out with some form of praise, gave Hamilton an account of family happenings in Scotland which was “extremely gratifying,” and presumably asked about Hamilton’s life up until that point.
This letter is notable as it is one of only a few surviving instances of Hamilton speaking about his youth, and also for the fact that this letter contains the fullest account of Hamilton’s life written by himself. For that being the case, however, the account is very straightforward—but still quite interesting. As Hamilton did his usual, I will break this up into sections for reading convenience.
Hamilton wrote concerning his youth:
You no doubt have understood that my father’s affairs at a very early day went to wreck; so as to have rendered his situation during the greatest part of his life far from eligible. This state of things occasionned a separation between him and me, when I was very young, and threw me upon the bounty of my mothers [sic] relations, some of whom were then wealthy, though by vicissitudes to which human affairs are so liable, they have been since much reduced and broken up. Myself at about sixteen came to this Country. Having always had a strong propensity to literary pursuits, by a course of steady and laborious exertion, I was able, by the age of Ninteen to qualify myself for the degree of Batchelor [sic] of Arts in the College of New York, and to lay a foundation, by preparatory study, for the future profession of the law.
While most of this paragraph concerns James Hamilton Sr., any personal reflection by Hamilton of his parenting and “separation” is absent. Most of the emotion here is centered on his mother, Rachel Facucett’s “relations” who as we know did not do the best at helping after her death, and his father’s financial situation—which Hamilton assumes his uncle is familiar with already. What I find more surprising than the lack of further detail about his family is the complete omission of his time working as a clerk for Nicholas Cruger. This was the longest job that Hamilton ever held consecutively, and as recorded by his son in his biography consisted of what Hamilton believed to be his most valuable education. Why Hamilton left this out in his sketch is unknown. Perhaps he thought his uncle would not want to hear about the details, or he considered that period of his life with a tainted view—still agreeing with his younger self’s assessment that he “contemn[ed] the grov’ling and condition” of his clerkship. Or perhaps, in light of Cruger’s business having been international, and this letter to be traveling internationally, Hamilton kept the details to himself in case other eyes would be able to view it. In a world where reputations were everything, what you said about a person could have far reaching effects, and no one could predict whether their letter would miscarry.
Hamilton’s claim that he was sixteen upon arriving in the American colonies would place his birth year at 1756-57, but I’m not opening that can of worms. In all honesty, I find it baffling that the debate over his age has gotten so much attention, and so heated. We place higher value on birthdays than Hamilton or his contemporaries did, so to an extent our interest in this question does make sense, but knowing his exact age does not change the impact of what he said and did throughout his life. Personally, I’m now of the belief that Hamilton, like with many other small things (dinners, social events, conversations, his watch), possibly forgot his exact year of birth—he does clarify with the word “about” in this letter.
That Hamilton was “qualified” for “the degree of Batchelor of Arts” to then “lay a foundation, by preparatory study, for the future profession of the law” is some interesting phrasing. Qualified seems to stand in for earned, in light of Hamilton making a point to mention the “course steady and laborious exertion” he underwent to qualify for the degree. But… Alexander Hamilton did not earn his bachelor’s degree—nor was he ever close to qualifying to earn it. Having entered King’s College (which here he refers to as the “College of New York”—separating it from its direct monarchical ties) in about 1773, Hamilton matriculated the following spring, likely as a member of “the Sophmore class” according to his friend Hercules Mulligan. This means that in 1776, when he would have been nineteen, he would have had a full year remaining before he could receive his degree. By the time Hamilton wrote this letter to his uncle, he had been presented an honorary doctorate by Dartmouth College, but he made no mention of this honorary degree in this letter. Hamilton choosing to present himself to his uncle as a degree holding lawyer is an interesting move, knowing that this was the first time Hamilton had any contact with his paternal family in a number of years. Like with smoothing over the details of his youth, this framing by Hamilton smoothes over the detail that he dropped out of college and never got his degree. The result begins to be a bit of a glossy picture. Hamilton was of course not the only student for whom the war upended their studies, resulting in losses of degrees earned, and he would have been well aware of this in light of continued relations with some of his college friends—making this presentation quite interesting.
Of his service in the American Revolution Hamilton continued:
The American Revolution supervened. My principles led me to take part in it. At nineteen I entered into the American army as Captain of Artillery. Shortly after, I became by his invitation Aide De Camp to General Washington, in which station, I served till the commencement of that Campaign which ended with the seige of York[town], in Virginia, and the Capture of Cornwallis’s Army. This Campaign I made at the head of a corps of light infantry, with which I was present at the seige of York[town] and engaged in some interesting operations.
Clearly, Hamilton was very proud of his participation at Yorktown, for starters. But more seriously, this brief section is interesting. Prior to being appointed captain of the New York Provincial Company of Artillery in March of 1776, Hamilton served in a local New York militia company named the Corsicans (and later possibly the Hearts of Oak) which, according to Nicholas Fish, he joined soon after the news of the battles of Lexington and Concord reached New York City on April 23, 1775. In June, Hamilton appeared on a list of men who, if the provincial government thought it necessary to raise its own troops, would be recommended for officer positions. This being not long after he had enlisted, it is interesting to see here that Hamilton completely omits this piece of the puzzle. Additionally, Hamilton does not explain what his “principles” which led him to “take part in” the war were, nor the challenges he faced while serving as Washington’s aide. With these details not included, the detail that “by his invitation” Hamilton became Washington’s aide serves to benefit both he and Washington’s public perceptions. That Washington invited Hamilton is true, but in the absence of nuance this detail holds significant weight, adding to the more rosy story Hamilton tells about himself in this letter.
Of his career following the war, Hamilton explained:
At the period of the peace with Great Britain, I found myself a member of Congress by appointment of the legislature of this state.
After the peace, I settled in the City of New York in the practice of the law; and was in a very lucrative course of practice, when the derangement of our public affairs, by the feebleness of the general confederation, drew me again reluctantly into public life. I became a member of the Convention which framed the present Constitution of the U States; and having taken part in this measure, I conceived myself to be under an obligation to lend my aid towards putting the machine in some regular motion. Hence I did not hesitate to accept the offer of President Washington to undertake the office of Secretary of the Treasury.
In that office, I met with many intrinsic difficulties, and many artificial ones proceeding from passions, not very worthy, common to human nature, and which act with peculiar force in republics. The object, however, was effected, of establishing public credit and introducing order into the finances.
That Hamilton only gives a one sentence paragraph to his first term serving in Congress both saddens and intrigues me. I’m particularly interested in how he acted in that body—how he voted, who he worked with and against, what the impact of his proposed legislation was or would have been, and ultimately how all of that shaped his early politics. But here, Hamilton seems to rush over it—only mentioning it due to having been appointed by the New York legislator, and thus adding to the “clean” picture. No details about his challenges during the 1782-1783 session, his collaboration with James Madison, or that he left the session early out of frustration, are mentioned. To Hamilton’s credit, the things he wanted to accomplish in that term did not see fruition until long after it, and a story in which you do not overcome your challenges is not always an enjoyable one. Going further on omissions, Hamilton does not discuss his second term in Congress (1788) or his time in the New York Assembly in 1787 at all—only stating that the “derangement of our public affairs . . . drew me again into public life.” Hamilton did indeed desire after his first term in Congress to remain a private citizen—going so far as to write a letter to Samuel London, publisher of the New York Packet in December of 1783 that he was “determined to decline public office” and wanted to make this determination clear in light of ongoing elections for the New York legislator, wherein Hamilton’s name appeared on a list for the Assembly, “to avoid in any degree distracting the votes of my fellow citizens.” However, Hamilton’s lengthy record of advocating for change during the 1780s stands to show that despite feeling “reluctant” he acted quite fervently. Though, I do find this admission interesting for the sake of personal reflection; Hamilton’s private letters during this decade are sparse—in light of secrecy rules within the Confederation Congress, and the 1911 New York State Archives fire which destroyed much of the Assembly’s papers pertaining to the session in which Hamilton served. Hamilton further admitting he thought it was his “obligation to led aid to” the Constitution’s “defense” is just one of those golden quotes in my book. This positioning does further service to the idea of this mini autobiography was written in such a way as to give William Hamilton a rosy picture of his nephew, but Hamilton did explain to James Madison in June of 1788—days before the New York Ratifying Convention was to begin—that “[f]or my own part the more I can penetrate the views of the Antifœderal party in this state, the more I dread the consequences of the non adoption of the Constitution by any of the other states, the more I fear an eventual disunion and civil war.” In essence, Hamilton thought it was his responsibility to see the successful ratification of the Constitution, or else the Union would dissolve into civil war (Hamilton made similar statements about his worries of civil war in other places, but to go through all those instances would result in a long tangent).
Hamilton’s paragraph concerning his tenure as Treasury secretary contains more of the same framing which flows throughout this account. The major difference, though, is the acknowledgment of “difficulties” that arose. It’s clear that the reason this was mentioned was purely for the satisfactory outcome—unlike his legislative service, Hamilton overcame the obstacles put in his way, making for a good story from his perspective. That Hamilton’s opposition was motivated by “passions, not very worthy,“ positions Hamilton on a moral high ground, which he did not stand on in reality. This streak of politics is further interesting for how simultaneously honest and vague it is. It acts as a small kernel of persuasion: presumably, William Hamilton had heard reports of his nephew’s actions while in Washington’s administration, and this is Hamilton’s way to guide the narrative in the direction he wanted. The short of this entire analysis boils down to that, but the notion stands out here.
Hamilton then goes on to discuss his thoughts on public office and the Treasury department further:
Public Office in this Country has few attractions. The pecuniary emolument is so inconsiderable as too amount to a sacrifice to any man who can employ his time with advantage in any liberal profession. The opportunity of doing good, from the jealousy of power and the spirit of faction, is too small in any station to warrant a long continuance of private sacrifices. The enterprises of party had so far succeeded as materially to weaken the necessary influence and energy of the Executive Authority, and so far diminish the power of doing good in that department as greatly to take the motives which a virtuous man might have for making sacrifices. The prospect was even bad for gratifying in future the love of Fame, if that passion was to be the spring of action.
The Union of these motives, with the reflections of prudence in relation to a growing family, determined me as soon as my plan had attained a certain maturity to withdraw from Office. This I did by a resignation about two years since; when I resumed the profession of the law in the City of New York under every advantage I could desire.
It is a pleasing reflection to me that since the commencement of my connection with General Washington to the present time, I have possessed a flattering share of his confidence and friendship.
This first paragraph is lovely for how bluntly Hamilton lays out his dislike and dissatisfaction with the costs of public service. At the same time, some frustration is clearly present in this paragraph that may have been left over from his time in office. The allusion to the effects of budding party politics on the executive branch indicates that Hamilton’s actual subject is his time in Washington’s cabinet. For a letter which was to be delivered across an ocean and could, as mentioned earlier, have miscarried easily, these thoughts are strikingly introspective and make me wonder at how Hamilton balanced the pros and cons of admitting them against the standing of his reputation. The emotion present in this paragraph is fascinating and does make me wonder how much of it was genuine or performative. Though, compared to the more straightforward story being laid out prior, this does come off as a bit of a pivot—or perhaps justification and intended contextual information.
The mentioning of Washington’s friendship on the other hand is no random inclusion. Hamilton understood Washington’s public perception, and directly tying himself to Washington in a letter to an almost complete stranger gives him some credibility. Hamilton’s shiny and polished narrative is admirable to the reader, but ending this section with the note that George Washington was his friend and supporter for many years adds to the polish. Of course, Hamilton did not always agree with Washington, but his thoughts there were only admitted in private to trusted ears.
Hamilton then transitions into discussing his private life:
In the year 1780 I married the second daughter of General Schuyler, a Gentleman of one of the best families of this Country; of large fortune and no less personal and public consequence. It is impossible to be happier than I am in a wife and I have five Children, four sons and a daughter, the eldest a son somewhat passed fifteen, who all promise well, as far as their years permit and yield me much satisfaction. Though I have been too much in public life to be wealthy, my situation is extremely comfortable and leaves me nothing to wish but a continuance of health. With this blessing, the profits of my profession and other prospects authorise an expectation of such addition to my resources as will render the eve of life, easy and agreeable; so far as may depend on this consideration.
This paragraph is very sweet and a nice turn from the more gloomy discussions of public office and politics. However, what is most striking is Hamilton’s remark that “[i]t is impossible to be happier than I am in a wife.” Two months after the writing of this letter, in August of 1797, the “Reynolds Pamphlet” would be published. And before that, rumors had been circulating about Hamilton’s affair with Maria Reynolds. What is also interesting is that even speaking of the present, Hamilton maintains a “clean” and rosy picture of himself and his life.
The remainder of the letter moves away from autobiography into concerns about Hamilton’s father, and I do feel sad seeing Hamilton’s worry clearly displayed on the page. Regarding the majority of this letter though, it’s fascinating to see that this is how Hamilton wanted to present himself to a virtual stranger. Though blood relatives, he and his uncle had no priorly established relationship. With this knowledge, Hamilton presenting his life in such clean lines and his personal character likewise speaks to the looming importance of reputation and personal honor in this period. For more on that subject though, I direct your attention to one of my favorite books, Joanne Freeman’s Affairs of Honor. My perception of Alexander Hamilton as a complicated and messy individual is informed by what was left behind; seeing how Hamilton himself wanted to smooth over that messiness in outlining his life to a stranger illuminates how deeply his status mattered to him—with this stranger being family, that becomes more paramount. Hamilton’s goal as he told his uncle at the end of his letter was to “embrace the Opening which your letter affords me to extend intercourse with my relations in your Country” and that could not be accomplished successfully, he evinces to have thought, without convincing them of his good character and achievements. Hamilton understood his audience and had his own ideas about what they wanted to hear.
