I found an interesting - yet questionable - miniature of Alexander Hamilton. According to The Walter Art Museum, it was painted by Ellen Sharples, the wife of James Sharples, in 1796. Although the miniature lacks any date or signature.
Ellen Wallace Sharples was an English painter who specialized in pastel portraiture and watercolor miniatures on ivory. She met artist James Sharples in Bath when she became his student. They married in 1787, and she became his third wife. The couple emigrated with their children to the US around 1794, where they would follow in the footsteps of English artists who capitalized on the burgeoning demand for portraiture in the New World. Ellen began drawing portraits professionally around 1797, while they were residing in Philadelphia, to supplement the financial well-being of the family. Ellen's career flourished as a result of her husband's original portraits being copied on request, and her miniature reproductions were sold for the same as her husband's. Miniature portraits, such as the Sharples', were affordable and interesting, and made good gifts to significant others—alternative to Gilbert Stuart's and John Trumbull's larger scale and more formal portraits.
Evidently Ellen's artstyle is almost completely identical to her husband's, as you can see when you compare Ellen's to Sharples's version of Hamilton that was also painted in 1796. Which makes me think Ellen's above was one of the copies she made, considering the similarities and same date. Ellen also made portraits of other notable figures like Washington, Theodosia Burr Alston, and even Elizabeth Hamilton (Also in 1796).
What caught my interest the most though was the braided hair in the back. The contrasting colors indicate that they belonged to separate people, an auburn brown with ginger highlights, and a dark brown. It is my best guess that these were Hamilton's and Eliza's hairs, as they seem to match roughly with them. Eliza kept many clippings of Hamilton's hair, as it was tradition for the time. To quote Susan Holloway Scott; “But hair from from a famous head became more than a mourning memento. It was history, a surviving reminder of a notable man or woman. Famous hair was collected and treasured as a tangible reminder of a more glorious past.” [x] Besides her sons inheriting the treasured strands of hair, she also had a mourning ring with Hamilton's hair locked inside. [x]
And the hairs on Ellen's miniature seem to decently match Hamilton's surviving ones;
Valley Memorialize
Summary: Eliza gazed into the mirror, taking stock of her appearance.
Eliza gazed into the mirror, taking stock of her appearance. Her hair had been primped and allowed to fly free, to the point where she hardly recognized herself. It had been so long since she’d done something like this, and it felt strange to see herself in such a state. Reaching up, she tucked the strand of black pearls more securely amid her hair, and made sure that the matching bow was fixed as well.
“Eliza?”
Her eyes left her own image in the mirror and turned to gaze upon Alexander’s reflection. He stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple black coat with a white cravat. Unlike her, he had chosen to powder his hair, giving him that dignified air that he so often sought when sitting for his portraits. Eliza herself had decided against powder, recalling that she had worn powder in her hair the last time she had sat for a portrait – goodness, had it really been eight years?
In truth, she had been hesitant to agree to all of this. Their finances still were not entirely repaired, and Eliza had thought it an unnecessary expense. But Alexander had insisted on it, and had even located a painter of portraits who charged much less than the likes of Mr. Stuart and Mr. Trumbull. The portraits would not be large, grand things, but they would be perfectly respectable, as apparently Mr. Sharples came highly recommended for both his talents and his fees.
Eliza remembered the bright, excited expression Alexander had worn when he’d told her of the arrangement and, in the end, just hadn’t the heart to resist further.
Standing up from her dressing table, Eliza turned to face him, letting him see the entirety of what she had chosen to be painted in. The pearls had been a gift from her parents some years before, but the dress was relatively new, a confection of white and cream silk and taffeta, with a low-cut bodice.
Alexander’s eyes roved over her, taking everything in, and Eliza tried not to laugh. “Do I pass muster, husband?” she asked him lightly as she swept closer, intending to begin the journey downstairs. She didn’t even make it out of the room, because Alexander caught her by the arms, leaning in to nuzzle at her exposed neck.
“You are ravishing, my love,” he murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss on her pulse. “And so… inspiring. I have so many ideas now… ideas that will delay our appointment with Mr. Sharples.”
Eliza shivered against the sensation of his lips on her skin. “Now, now,” she breathed, and then firmly pushed him back a step. “I did not do all of this just to have it taken apart within five minutes, dearest,” she told him, and then she gave him her a naughty grin. “You’ll just have to wait until this evening. We shan’t be interrupted then.”
It was true, after all. With the children all visiting her parents, she and Alexander were in that rarest of states – alone in the house. And he was also remembering that, if the hungry gleam in his eyes was anything to go by.
“Just you wait, my lovely minx,” Alexander murmured in her ear as she slipped past him.
They made the journey downstairs to the parlor together. As they entered, Eliza was pleased to see that Mr. Sharples was already waiting for them, his easel and other tools already arranged neatly. What surprised her, however, was that he was not alone. He was accompanied by a young matron with chestnut curls peeking out from beneath her cap, who also had several sketching tools of her own organized and laid out neatly.
“Ah yes,” Alexander said from beside her, as though he was just remembering a previously forgotten detail. “My dear, permit me to introduce you to Mrs. Sharples. She is an artist herself, and often paints alongside Mr. Sharples here.”
Pleasantries were exchanged, but they were short. It was obvious to Eliza that the couple clearly wished to get on with their work, so she did nothing to impede them beyond asking if they would care for any refreshment. They politely accepted the offer, and Eliza called for their hired girl to bring them a tray of tea and other dainties that could easily be nibbled on while the couple went about their work.
It was Mr. Sharples who guided her and Alexander to sit in the pose he required. Instead of facing forward, he would be painting them both in profile. “Please,” he told Eliza, gesturing to one of the chairs, “sit here, Mrs. Hamilton. This angle will permit us to an excellent view of all pertinent details.”
By which, Eliza gathered, he meant her bow and pearls. So her efforts had not gone to waste, she thought, pleased.
Alexander was then left to the other chair, which was directly in front of Eliza, placing his back to her. As he seated himself, Eliza noted that, yet again, he had not completely covered his hair in powder, covering only the hair atop his head, at his temples, and part of the way down. The last few inches were still quite visibly their normal color. She smiled in amusement.
“Ah!” Mrs. Sharples cried out suddenly, “Just there, Mrs. Hamilton! Pray, do not move an inch!”
Eliza blinked, surprised by the younger woman’s exuberance, but did as she was told.
“You have a lovely smile, Mrs. Hamilton,” Mrs. Sharples continued, to which her husband hummed his agreement. Eliza could not see them clearly, but from the corner of her eye, she could detect the way their pencils flew over their work. “Mr. Hamilton showed us the portrait created by Mr. Earl, and he was most insistent that we do our best to capture that same liveliness. I had worried that we might not be able to, for people so often change over time, but now I see we need not have been concerned.”
“Quite so,” Alexander agreed cheerfully. “My Betsey is as lovely as she was the day we met!”
Eliza laughed. “And you are just as smooth-talking, my Alexander.”
The rest of the sitting passed pleasantly enough, and within an hour or two, Mr. and Mrs. Sharples had done enough preliminary work that they could return to their workshop. They would, of course, need to return for supplementary sketches, to catch further details, but that would not be for some days yet, and promised to send word to arrange a convenient time for another sitting.
Eliza saw them to the door with Alexander, and watched as they hurried down the street on foot. She turned away when Alexander shut the door on the outside world, and spotted a few pieces of mail sitting on the entry table. She walked over and picked them up, and brightened when she spotted her sister’s familiar handwriting. Before Eliza could open it, however, Alexander cleared his throat behind her. She turned and found him leaning against the closed door, staring at her intently.
She cocked her head. “Is something wrong, dearest?”
He shook his head. “No, just remembering what you said earlier.” Alexander gave her a slow, almost predatory smile, and asked, “Must we really wait until evening?”
Eliza paused, and then remembered her earlier words. She eyed him and, after setting Angelica’s letter back down, tapped her lips with her finger, giving him a mock-considering look. “Hmm,” she said. “We really should. ‘Tis almost supper time, and we –”
Alexander cut her off as he darted toward her, clearly intent on ambushing her. Eliza, however, knew this game very well, and her reflexes could be just as fast as his. In a flash, she turned on her heel and fled before him, holding her voluminous skirts up as she raced up the stairs. She could hear him pounding up the steps after her, just a few feet behind, and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh as she struggled to increase her pace in spite of her cumbersome attire.
He would catch her, of course. Alexander always caught her, not that she minded.
Most likely, they would have a late supper.
-----
Note: The portraits Eliza and Alexander are sitting for her are the 1795 portrait for Eliza, and the 1796 portrait of Alexander. Both portraits are credited to James Sharples, but his third wife, Ellen, was very much an artist in her own right, and was known to work right alongside her husband. She painted a portrait of George Washington in the same year as the one of Alexander (the two look very similar to my admittedly untrained eye). I combined their sittings, just so Eliza and Alexander could keep one another company, and have some fun together afterward.
Elizabeth Hamilton by James Sharples, 1795. Happy birthday Eliza!
“Hers was a strong character with its depth and warmth, whether of feeling or temper controlled, but glowing underneath, bursting through at times in some emphatic expression.”
“I was prepossessed in fav’ of this young Lady the moment I saw her. A Brunette with the most good natured lively dark eyes that I ever saw, which threw a beam of good temper and benevolence over her whole Countenance. [...] I fancy Miss Schuyler had been used to ramble over and climb grounds of this sort for she distained all assistance and made herself merry at the distress of the other Ladies.“
- Tench Tilghman
“She had not the beauty of her splendid mother [...] but the high resolute nature was all there when the young widow found in her own sorrow and her own orphaned children the motive for a life which should lift neglect and sorrow from thousands of children. Her ‘talents’ were many; illustrious names and a powerful family, the tenderest sympathy of a whole nation, and her own pitying loving nature blended with a rare sense of justice - all these she dedicated to the care of orphan children.”
- Jessie Benton Frémont
“Eliza was often the sole defender of her husband's legacy, but she was not a perfect historian. Too close to her subject, she sought to create a perfect image of her husband, which resulted in erasing her husband's history of enslavement from the historical record. Yet Eliza left behind enough information on Hamilton so that current historians can now fill in these gaps in the narrative - especially in relationship to her husband's history as an enslaver. By doing this, we are able to create a fuller, more truthful depiction of Hamilton.
Without Eliza's efforts, we would not have any of the biographies, historical fiction books, the Hamilton musical, or even our own Hamilton Focus Tour. By continuing to tell Hamilton's story honestly, we further not only his legacy, but Eliza's, because it is as much hers as his. Eliza outlived her husband by 50 years, dying in Washington D.C. at the age of 97. Her children decided there was no better place to bury her than next to their father in Trinity Church Churchyard in Manhattan. After fifty long years, she was finally reunited with her Hamilton.”
Hi! I just wanted to say that I love your icon! That's my favorite portrait of Eliza. I think that her 1787 portrait doesn't really do her justice. Sharples' portrait is amazing. There's this gentleness yet playfulness in her gaze that I love. I love her soft smile. Idk, i can easily imagine Eliza looking at Ham like that while Sharples painted her.
Thanks! It’s my favorite portrait of her, too! I agree, she looks far more natural and comfortable in the Sharples portrait. Interestingly, when I was at Mount Vernon, I saw a portrait Sharples did of Martha Washington, and learned from their write-up that Sharples used something called a physiognotrace, which was a mechanical device that allowed him to make an exact copy his subject’s silhouette. He’d then fill in that exact outline as he painted. I suppose that’s why his paintings always feel so true to life!
what would you say is the most accurate painting of Hamilton?
According to Elizabeth and Hamilton's grandson, Allan McLane, the most accurate in Hamilton's likeness was James Sharples's and John Trumbull's;
"Most of the portraits of Alexander Hamilton, of which there seem to be many, are inartistic and disagreeable, because of their crudity and ugliness, a large number being the work of the peripatetic painters who flourished during the early part of the century, and up to the discovery of Daguerre. Exceptions, however, are the portraits of Trumbull and Sharples. The work of the former is characterized by its dash and spirit, and an artistic excellence which is generally conceded. The merit of the work of the latter lies chiefly in the fidelity of the likeness. The Trumbull portraits of Hamilton are well known, that belonging to the New York Chamber of Commerce having been often copied and engraved. The Sharples portrait, which is here presented, has never been reproduced.”
“James Sharples (or Sharpless), an Englishman, came to the United States in 1796, and won im- mediate popularity through the novelty and cleverness of his profile pastel portraits. That of Washington was followed by many others of persons identified with the Revolution. This picture of Hamilton is from one of his few portraits in oil, a small cabinet picture measuring eight by ten inches, which was owned by my grandmother, Mrs. Alexander Hamilton, who survived her husband fifty-two years, and died in the city of New York in 1856, at the age of ninety-seven years. She bequeathed it to my father, the late Philip Hamilton, who was their youngest son. She always maintained that the Sharples portrait was the only satisfactory likeness she had known. So far as I can learn, it was painted when Hamilton was about thirty-nine years old, and after he had retired from the treasury and had resumed the practice of law in New York.”
(source — The Century)
Alexander Hamilton by James Sharples, c. 1796
Alexander Hamilton by John Trumbull, c. 1806
There is actually a matching portrait by Sharples of Elizabeth too, although Trumbull's is arguably the most beloved and is usually the iconic one you will see whenever searching around Hamilton on the internet.
But of course, there is also the unforgettable marbel bust of Hamilton. By Ceracchi, who was a sculptor from Rome who had proposed to Congress a memorial to the American Revolution, however Congress would decide against his proposal. But that was after he would sculp several prominent figures like; Washington, Jefferson, and as we all know, Hamilton. In July 1792, Ceracchi wrote Hamilton that he was “impatient to receive the clay that I had the satisfaction of forming from your witty and significant physiognomy”. When Ceracchi heard the memorial proposal was rejected, he sent the completed busts to each of his models in 1794. But also hilariously sent them each a bill for the work they didn't ask for. And while Washington tried to return the bust rather than pay that outrageously for a marbel copy of his face, Hamilton shamelessly paid $620 “for this sum through delicacy paid upon cherachi’s draft for making my bust on his own importunity & as a favour to him.” because he wanted that bust for himself if he could.
The Hamilton family kept the bust until 1896 when they donated it to the New York Public Library, there is also a copy on display at the Grange. This bust would be utilized as a common reference for Hamilton's appearance posthumously; Trumbull used the bust as model for a series of 1804-1808 portraits of Hamilton (Example above). And the first US Postal Service stamp to honor Hamilton was an 1870 30-cent stamp using this bust as a model. Also in 1880 while the bust was owned by Hamilton's son, John Church Hamilton, he lended it so it could be used as a model for the head of the granite statue of Hamilton by Carl Conrads.
ello u amazing person so this might come across a tad strange but imma big fan of ur blog and ofc Eliza but since i'm legally blind i really can't get a good feeling to how she looks in portraits done of her so i was wondering if u or u know somewhere that describes her appearance like what body type petite or athletic if she was pretty or plane or any other features of eliza hamilton I thank u so much if ur able to help
Wow, thank you! I’ll do my best to describe her! I’d say she had an athletic build, and that her face is more plain, in the sense that she never seemed to wear much make up. She had very striking black eyes and dark, curly hair, which she wore powered and piled high atop her head in Ralph Earl’s 1787 portrait. In that portrait, she’s also wearing a lovely long-sleeved white gown with a thick pink ribbon wrapped around her waist, and a black ribbon tied around her neck in place of a necklace. In the 1796 Sharples portrait, she’s also wearing a white gown, but her hair is it’s natural dark color. I think the most compelling thing about her, in both portraits, is how open and friendly she appears. Her lips quirk up slightly in a subtle smile, and you can see in her face how loving and kind she was as a person. Hope that does her justice, and helps you to picture her better!!
