Alexander Hamilton

by Ron Chernow

  Acknowledgments

  Any biographer foolhardy enough to attempt an authoritative life of Alexander Hamilton must tread a daunting maze of detail. Matters that at first seem susceptible to easy solution prove slippery indeed. Hence, my special gratitude to the generous people who provided guidance. During the early stages of my research, I had a parttime assistant, Daniel Wein, who extracted countless articles and book excerpts and was a delightful, stimulating luncheon companion. After that period, I enlisted research assistants only for isolated projects that would have required extensive travel.

  The most opaque portion of Hamilton’s life is obviously his myth-shrouded boyhood on Nevis and St. Croix, where the intrepid biographer must cope with brown, brittle documents and ledgers devoured by illiterate insects. Many pertinent eighteenth-century documents have also been obliterated by hurricanes, war, neglect, and other mishaps.

  To track down those elusive phantoms James Hamilton and Rachel Faucette Lavien, I drew on the help of many people. In St. Croix, I am especially indebted to William Cissel, a first-class historian and park ranger at the Christiansvaern fort, who identified the prison cell that had held Hamilton’s mother and also served up a graphic account of her misery. My thanks as well to Carol Wakefield and Barbara Hagan-Smith at the Whim Library of the St. Croix Landmarks Society. It was there that I stumbled upon Hamilton’s prolific freelance journalism for the Royal Danish American Gazette. Patricia Ramirez assisted me at the Florence A. S. Williams Library in Christiansted, while Edgar Lake and William Wallace jogged my imagination as to the lasting impact upon Hamilton of his Caribbean origins. Elizabeth A. Armstrong and Barbara Armstrong Jamieson supplied me with some island history.

  In Nevis, I enjoyed the hospitality of Joan Robinson of the Museum of Nevis History (the re-created Alexander Hamilton house), Lornette Hanley of the Nevis Historical and Conservation Society, and Mova David in the local registrar’s office. On neighboring St. Kitts, I was able to search the government archives thanks to Victoria Borg O’Flaherty and her daughter, Tamara. Beverly Smith helped at the Von Scholten Collection of the Enid M. Baa Library and Archives on St. Thomas. My friend and special emissary Emily Altman volunteered for research duty on Trinidad and Tobago, where Nadia Gajadhar also rendered assistance.

  Perhaps the most surprising finds came in a distant corner of the Caribbean: St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Through the courteous cooperation of Eldon Millington and Dr. Earl Kirby on St. Vincent, I was able to locate the deed that documented the impoverished existence of James Hamilton on Bequia. The Bequia Tourism Association steered me to two local historians, Rodger Durham and Nolbert Simmons, who alerted me to the 1776 map in the Library of Congress that pinpointed the exact location of James Hamilton’s property.

  To extend my Caribbean research, I hired Tim Guest, a young English writer, who reviewed numerous colonial papers at the Public Record Office at Kew, while Rikke Vindberg, a history student at the University of Copenhagen, pored over papers related to St. Croix in the Danish national archives. (Judith Goldstein and Bo Lidegaard provided entrée in Denmark.) Paul Jenkins and M. H. Kaufman of the Royal Medical Society in Edinburgh contributed information about Hamilton’s childhood friend Edward Stevens. Thanks to the combined efforts of three people in South Carolina—Liz Newcombe of the Charleston County Public Library, Carey Lucas Nikonchuk of the South Carolina Historical Society, and Judge Kenneth Fulp of the Beaufort County Probate Court—I was able to locate the will of Hamilton’s half brother, Peter Lavien. Carol Kahn Strauss and Dana Ledger at the Leo Baeck Institute in New York helped me ponder the intriguing question of whether Johann Michael Lavien was of Jewish ancestry.

  To probe the Scottish background of James Hamilton, I traveled to Glasgow and was able to verify his early trade apprenticeship in the Division of Business Records and Family History at the splendid Mitchell Library. At the North Ayrshire Archives in Ardrossan, Jill McColl, Elizabeth Bell, Peggy O’Brien, and John Millar plied me with local lore and directed me to the ruins of Kerelaw Castle, where James Hamilton grew up.

  It is impossible to discuss Hamilton’s West Indian boyhood without encountering the subject of his racial identity. Despite an absence of evidence, the presumption remains widespread among many in the Caribbean and the African-American community that Hamilton, as an illegitimate West Indian orphan, must have been partly black. So formidable a black scholar as W. E. B. DuBois referred to him proudly as “our own Hamilton.” Far from resisting this thesis, I was eager to test it and either confirm it or lay it to rest. I consulted two of the world’s top geneticists— Dr. Victor McKusick of The Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and Sir Alec J. Jeffreys of the University of Leicester—to determine whether a surviving lock of Hamilton’s hair might yield up secrets about his racial ancestry. They persuaded me that genetic testing wouldn’t furnish conclusive answers, and I decided it might only confuse the issue. I then discovered that a retired professor at Pennsylvania State University, Gordon Hamilton (no descendant of Alexander), was coordinating a Hamilton DNA Project intended to trace genetic linkages among the extended Hamilton family. Hoping that such a project might provide answers about Hamilton’s paternity—specifically, whether he was the son of James Hamilton or of Thomas Stevens—I offered to pay for the genetic testing of any direct Hamilton descendants. The results are pending.

  Another will-o’-the-wisp during my research was whether Hamilton had fathered an illegitimate mulatto child. This extraordinary tale was first brought to my attention by Donald Yacovone, an assistant editor of The Black Abolitionist Papers, who pointed out that William Hamilton (1773–1836), a free black carpenter and a noted journalist and abolitionist before the Civil War, claimed to be Hamilton’s son. I explored this prospect with several well-qualified parties—Roy Finkenbine, director of the Black Abolitionist Archives of the University of Detroit Mercy; Robert F. Gibson of the New York Genealogical and Biological Society; W. E. B. DuBois biographer David Levering Lewis; Christopher Moore and Howard Dodson of the Schomburg Center in Harlem; and Brent Staples of The New York Times, who has written on racial identity in American history. While I remain dubious about William Hamilton’s claim—he was born in 1773, the hectic year that Hamilton escaped from St. Croix and began intense preparation for college in Elizabethtown, New Jersey—the paucity of evidence makes it impossible to deliver a final verdict. The matter seemed too tenuous to merit inclusion in the text.

  As a New York resident, I found myself in fertile territory for Hamilton research. The Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the Butler Library at Columbia University holds massive Hamilton resources. While compiling the collected papers for Columbia University Press, Harold Syrett and his team gathered a vast trove of Hamilton-related documents. In addition, many Hamilton family members deposited papers there, permitting discoveries in private letters and on old scraps of paper. My thanks to Jean Ashton and the library’s pleasant, efficient staff. Marilyn Pettit, the director of University Archives at the Columbiana Library, alerted me to her useful doctoral dissertation, which situates Eliza Hamilton in the milieu of evangelical women activists in early-nineteenth-century New York. Poul Jensen, president of Graham Windham Services, the successor organization to the Orphan Asylum Society cofounded by Eliza, allowed me to delve into the organization’s early records, with the assistance of Susan Gunn of the Graham School.

  The highly professional staffs of the New-York Historical Society and the New York Public Library shepherded me through numerous manuscript collections, including those relating to the duel. The New-York Historical Society houses the papers of both Hamilton’s second, Nathaniel Pendleton, and Burr’s second, William P. Van Ness, permitting a fully rounded view of events from firsthand sources. The society’s superb collection of historical newspapers permitted my discovery of Hamilton’s undergraduate “Monitor” essays as well as his 1796 “Phocion” essays with their eye-opening comments on Adams, Jefferson, and slavery. Valerie Komor provided much-appreciated help in tr
acking down historical images. Besides Hamilton and Schuyler family papers, the New York Public Library has abundant pamphlets showing the ample stock of slurs made against Burr in the 1804 election and revealing just how many “despicable opinions” Hamilton could have drawn upon. I also want to thank the staffs of the Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site in Albany and the Schuyler House in Schuylerville, New York.

  In pursuit of fresh materials about the duel, I approached J. P. Morgan Chase, which owns the brace of dueling pistols with the best claim to authenticity. Jean Elliott and Shelley M. Diamond allowed me to sift through bank documents pertaining to the purchase of the pistols and also arranged for me to lift and aim them. (Nobody, luckily, was killed.) An unexpectedly good source on the duel was the Weehawken Free Public Library, where Eric Negron supplied me with two fascinating folders of articles on the history of the local dueling ground.

  Christine McKay, consulting archivist at the Bank of New York, made available bank records concerning the secret trust fund set up for Hamilton’s family. She also passed along the revelatory letter written by Dirck Ten Broeck that shows Hamilton’s positive frame of mind the day before the duel. Brian Thompson and Meg Ventrudo at the Museum of American Financial History furnished me with early newspaper articles that I hadn’t found elsewhere. Eugene Tobin, president of Hamilton College in Clinton, New York, was a consistently cheerful supporter of this project. At Trinity Church, archivist Gwynedd Cannan trawled through baptismal records and pew rentals and provided key information on Hamilton’s religious life. Christopher Keenan and John Daskalakis, park rangers at the Hamilton Grange National Memorial, responded patiently to questions, as did Judith Mueller and Kathy Hansen at the Federal Hall National Memorial on Wall Street. At the New York Society Library, Mark Piel, Edmee B. Reit, and Sara Holliday helped with the reading habits of Hamilton and Burr. Steven Wheeler at the New York Stock Exchange responded to questions about its early history.

  Finally, to round out my New York sources, I would like to thank Fred Bassett, senior librarian at the New York State Library in Albany; Darwin Stapleton and Tom Rosenbaum at the Rockefeller Archive Center, which owns Schuyler papers; Vin Montuori, vice president of marketing for the New York Post; Roy Fox, curator of the King Manor Museum in Jamaica, Queens; and the staff of the Morris-Jumel Mansion in Washington Heights.

  In New Jersey, Kathy Grimshaw at the Passaic County Historical Society in Paterson, New Jersey, helped me unearth revealing documents of the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures. James Lewis of the New Jersey Historical Society provided background on Hamilton’s first American teacher, Francis Barber. I profited from a trip to the Morristown National Historical Site and the Joint Free Public Library of Morristown and Morris Township, as well as a tour of the Schuyler Hamilton House in Morristown, conducted by Phyllis R. Sanftner. At Princeton University, three eminent classicists—Edmund Keeley, Robert Fagles, and Edward Champlin—tried to unravel the thorny riddle of what Hamilton meant when he coined the code name “Savius” for Burr in 1792. They convinced me that the name probably didn’t refer to an extremely obscure figure in Roman history, Saevius Plautus, who is identified in St. Jerome’s “Chronicle” as having defiled his son and then committed suicide during the subsequent trial. This story has led some recent writers to claim that Hamilton, in making his “despicable” charge against Burr, accused him of incest with his daughter, Theodosia—a hypothesis originated by Gore Vidal in his entertaining novel Burr. To my mind, the Savius mystery remains unsolved.

  The Library of Congress contains the largest haul of Hamilton papers, including many of the letters printed in his collected papers. I would like to thank the staff of the Manuscript Division, especially Jeffrey M. Flannery. Ditto for Nicholas Graham and the staff of the Massachusetts Historical Society, another source of original papers. I am further indebted to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, and to Rob Cox and Roy Goodman of the American Philosophical Society. At the Christ Church Preservation Trust, I had an illuminating chat about Hamilton’s religion with Neil Ronk. At Yale University, Ellen Cohn, chief editor of the Benjamin Franklin Papers, was kind enough to survey Franklin’s still-unpublished papers for any stray references to Hamilton. In England, Valerie Cromwell of the History of Parliament Trust sketched in background information about John Barker Church. David Hildebrand of the Colonial Music Institute provided lyrics and learned commentary on the songs that Hamilton might have sung right before the duel.

  Fellow historians were generous in responding to my queries. My special thanks to David McCullough, who graciously encouraged me to undertake this project. Two knowledgeable Hamilton hands, Joanne Freeman of Yale and Carol Berkin of Baruch College and the CUNY Graduate Center, responded to miscellaneous questions with alacrity. James F. Gaines of Mary Washington College regaled me with a wonderful disquisition on Molière’s nurse. Others who provided support, suggestions, or research materials include Joseph McCarthy, who has made a documentary film about Lord Stirling; Leon Friedman, a First Amendment expert and an aficionado of The Federalist Papers; Schuyler Chapin, a direct descendant of General Philip Schuyler; Walter Russell Mead, who has analyzed Hamiltonian foreign policy at the Council on Foreign Relations; Roxana Robinson, who showed me an unpublished Hamilton document; Scott P. Lindsay, president of the Alexander Hamilton Historical Society; and two people who offered help with Hamilton family genealogy: Alexander Hamilton (no direct descendant of the treasury secretary) and Louis Auchincloss. My thanks as well to Hamilton descendants John Rhinelander, Mary Rhinelander McCarl, and Tony Rhinelander.

  It was my longtime agent, Melanie Jackson, who saw, with a touch of clairvoyance, that Hamilton should be my next biographical subject and that I should give a breather to the tycoons of the Gilded Age. She has been an indispensable figure in my career, a matchless business manager, literary adviser, and trusted friend, all rolled into one. Her assistant, Andrea Schaefer, ably fielded many questions these past few years.

  My editor, Ann Godoff, performed an astonishing feat of acrobatics as she kept this project moving along smoothly despite her departure from Random House and her creation of The Penguin Press. Never once did I feel adrift: the good ship Hamilton continued to sail along, protected by Ann from the smallest ripples. Her editorial comments, as usual, were invaluable and her dedication to the book exemplary. During this busy start-up period, I benefited from the good-natured support of her assistant, Meredith Blum. I feel lucky to have again secured the copyediting services of the meticulous Timothy Mennel, assisted by senior production editor Bruce Giffords, and to have Lynn Goldberg, Mark Fortier, Tracy Locke, and Rachel Rokicki aboard for publicity. Gabriele Wilson created a beautiful cover that captures the mood of the book with uncanny precision. Sandra J. Markham provided knowing assistance with the picture section, as did Amanda Dewey, and Michelle McMillian created the interior design. I thank Sigrid Estrada for the excellent jacket photo.

  It will come as no surprise to readers of my previous books that at this point I will pause and genuflect to my selfless wife, Valerie. She has shared all of my exhilaration and despair, trooped along on research trips, suffered tropical heat and inedible food, listened to me read aloud every line of the book, and functioned as a perceptive surrogate editor. Whatever her own private woes, she refused to let them interfere with the completion of this book. For a comparable case of love and loyalty, one would have to turn to Eliza Hamilton.

  Notes

  Abbreviations

  CU-DWCP Columbia University, New York, N.Y., De Witt Clinton Papers

  CU-FFP Columbia University, Fish Family Papers CU-HFP Columbia University, Hamilton Family

  Papers

  CU-HPPP Columbia University, Hamilton Papers

  Publication Project

  CU-JCHP Columbia University, John Church

  Hamilton Papers

  LC-AHP Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.,

  Alexander Hamilton Papers

  LC-WPP Library of Congress, Will
iam Plumer

  Papers

  LPAH The Law Practice of Alexander Hamilton. Ed.

  Julius Goebel, Jr., et al. 5 vols. New York: Columbia University Press, 1964–1981.

  MHi-TPP Massachusetts Historical Society,

  Boston, Timothy Pickering Papers

  NYHS-DGFP New-York Historical Society, New

  York, N.Y., De Groot Family Papers

  NYHS-MM New-York Historical Society, Miscellaneous Microfilms

  NYHS-NPP New-York Historical Society,

  Nathaniel Pendleton Papers

  NYHS-NYCMS New-York Historical Society, New

  York City Manumission Society Papers

  NYHS-RTP New-York Historical Society, Robert

  Troup Papers

  NYHS-WVNP New-York Historical Society,

  William Van Ness Papers

  NYPL-AYP New York Public Library, Abraham

  Yates, Jr., Papers

  NYPL-JAHP New York Public Library, James A.

  Hamilton Papers

  NYPL-KVB New York Public Library, Pamphlet

  Collection for New York election, spring 1804 NYPL-PSP New York Public Library, Philip

  Schuyler Papers

  NYSL New York State Library, Albany, N.Y. PAH The Papers of Alexander Hamilton. Ed. Harold