Chapter VI

Rising Even Higher in Washington’s Esteem

Year after year, Hamilton continued to serve as Washington’s top political, diplomatic, advisory, and intelligence officer, including as the first chief of staff in the modern sense in the history of the America’s army. Hamilton’s multiple roles, including as Washington’s chief intelligence officer, most trusted advisor and primary liaison officer to the French, caused Washington’s dependence upon him to steadily grow until it became excessive.1 Hamilton’s masterful intelligence work revealed the Gates-Conway-Lee conspiracy that had been calculated to replace the commander-in-chief. Year after year, he continued to communicate with American spy networks, especially in New York City, including efforts to uncover British spies. Hamilton not only early alerted Washington of this danger at the highest levels, but also played a large role in ensuring that the Virginian did not lose his position as the army’s head, because of his and other staff officer’s timely preemptive actions.2

Most important of all, Hamilton continued to serve “Washington faithfully as an incredibly skilled chief of staff [and therefore the commander-in-chief] wanted him to stay right where he was, where Washington believed he could do the most good for the army.”3 As Washington’s trusty chief protector and guardian who knew how to eliminate threats, Hamilton had been so effective in countering attempts to replace Washington that Gates was convinced that “the entire plot against him [was] masterminded by Alexander Hamilton.”4

After having grown closer to him than any other member of his “family,” especially since the two men were constantly around each other at headquarters and in the field, Washington even perceived Hamilton’s greatest weakness—ambition—in a favorable light. As Washington explained after the war: “That he is ambitious I readily grant [but his motivations and behavior were] of that laudable kind which prompts a man to excel in whatever he takes in hand.”5

Despite all that he had achieved as the leader of Washington’s staff, Hamilton never wavered from his long-elusive goal of obtaining an assignment to active field command. But Hamilton had been consistently (but politely and according to proper protocol) refused by the commander-in-chief in his relentless quest to attain what Laurens had accomplished in leaving the “family” to serve in the field and his native South Carolina. Washington always emphasized the young man’s indispensability to thwart Hamilton’s consuming ambition. With his frustration growing month after month, Hamilton became worried. He again feared at one point that he had gone too far in crossing the line of proper protocol in requesting active command too aggressively.

After the last refusal, Hamilton wrote back to Washington in the hope of soothing what might have been ruffled feathers by emphasizing that the field command which he so passionately desired was simply not that important after all. Thinking ahead as usual and keeping in mind that another opportunity to gain a field command might eventually arise, Hamilton was also concerned that he might have significantly reduced his future chances of receiving a choice assignment. Hamilton rationalized to Washington: “These are my pretensions, at this advanced period of the war, to be employed in the only way, which my situation admits [and] I am capable of wishing to obtain any objective of importance.”6

But Hamilton’s most determined bid in order to force Washington’s hand and escape the “military” was played out near the end of November 1780. He desired to play an active role in Washington’s proposed plan for an expedition, in conjunction with Lafayette, which was to be launched to capture Staten Island. Of course, Lafayette wanted his good friend Hamilton by his side in this offensive operation. To increase Hamilton’s chances for success in his quest to gain a permanent release from Washington’s staff, Lafayette offered to review his letter to Washington and make suggestions for improvement.

As Hamilton penned an ever-so-tactful letter to Washington from Passaic Falls, New Jersey, on November 22, 1780: “Sometime last fall when I spoke to your Excellency about going to the Southward, I explained to you candidly my feelings with respect to military reputation, and how much it was my object to act a conspicuous part in some enterprise that might perhaps raise my character as a soldier above mediocrity. You were so good as to say you would be glad to furnish me with an occasion. When the expedition to Staten Island was on foot a favourable one seemed to offer … I made an application for it though the Marquis [Lafayette], who informed me of your refusal on two principles—one that giving me a whole battalion might be a subject of dissatisfaction, the other that if an accident should have to me, in the present state of your family, you would be embarrassed for the necessary assistance. The project [attack on New York City] you now have in contemplation affords another opportunity. I have a variety of reasons that press me to desire ardently to have it in my power to improve it…. I take this method of making the request to avoid the embarrassment of a personal explanation; I shall only add that however much I have the matter at heart, I wish your Excellency intirely [sic] to consult your own inclination; and not from a disposition to oblige me, to do any thing, that may be disagreeable to you.”7

By any measure, this was a remarkable letter and admission by Hamilton. Despite all that he had accomplished in this war, Hamilton still felt that he had something meaningful to prove, but more to himself than anyone else. Nevertheless, Hamilton had expressed to Washington exactly what had long nagged at his moral conscience and unsettled his sense of emotional and psychological well-being to fill a void that not even Betsey was able to fill: a very personal issue that the young man still held dear to his heart, “my character as a soldier.” More than anything else, Hamilton desired to achieve “my object to act a conspicuous part in some enterprise that might perhaps so raise my character as a soldier above mediocrity,” which meant reassignment from Washington’s staff to active command of infantry in the field during active campaigning.8

Even when carefully asking Washington for a coveted position as diplomatically as possible under delicate circumstances, Hamilton gently took the revered commander-in-chief to task in reminding him about his initial indication that he would grant his heartfelt request: “You were so good as to say you would be glad to furnish me with an occasion” to prove himself on the battlefield, on separating from the “family.”9

By emphasizing Washington’s prior verbal commitment to hold his commander to his word, Hamilton was of course attempting to force Washington’s hand by emphasizing a point of honor. Even more, he was literally pleading for the long-awaited assignment to lead his own command, if only a single regiment, on the battlefield. Hamilton utilized a clever psychological ploy in the hope of making Washington more directly accountable in regard to this sensitive subject. By this means, he hoped to gain a new assignment in order “to avoid the embarrassment” of missing the opportunity to play a leading role in New York City’s capture. He could not bear the thought of having to explain to friends (now including General Schuyler and his family) why he had been passed over for an active command in an important new campaign.10

As Lieutenant Hamilton explained in his November 22, 1780, letter: “I take the liberty to observe, that the command may now be proportioned to my rank, and that the second objection [used by Washington to deny Hamilton the opportunity to lead an infantry battalion in the fall of 1779] ceases to operate, as during the period of establishing our winter quarters, there will be a suspension of material business…. My command may consist of one hundred and fifty or two hundred men….”11

Hamilton not only proposed the command that he should take and its composition, but also its strategic objective. Situated on lower Manhattan Island, the earthen heptagonal-shaped bastion—formerly Fort Bunker Hill which had been defended by him and his New York artillerymen in the summer of 1776—was situated atop Bayard’s Hill. A strategic point, this high elevation overlooked the Hudson and New York City.12 Hamilton could hardly contain his enthusiasm at the mere thought of leading an infantry battalion in an important charge during a climactic battle for possession of America’s largest and most strategic city. Even more, he felt that Providence had finally come to his assistance because he knew his target so well, enhancing his chances of gaining a field command, or so he thought. Hamilton had become well acquainted with William Bayard, although a Loyalist, when this highly motivated artillery captain and his New York gunners had held Fort Bunker Hill on the Bayard family property before the battle of Long Island in late August 1776.13

As Hamilton continued in his November 22, 1780, letter: “The primary idea may be, if circumstances permit, to attempt with my detachment Byard’s [sic] Hill. Should we undertake it, I should prefer it to any thing else, both for the brilliancy of the attempt in itself, and the decisive consequences of which its success would be productive. If we arrive too late to make eligible [then] my corps may form the van of one of the other attacks, and Byard’s [sic] Hill will be a pretext for my being employed in the affair, on a supposition of my knowing the ground…. ”14 What was truly incredible about Hamilton’s bold words to Washington was that he proposed to be in the very vanguard of the assault upon Bayard’s Hill or any other attack on any defensive point around New York City that Washington deemed the most vital and strategic: hence, the most powerful and most dangerous.

Clearly, the “Little Lion” was roaring in an outspoken manner to Washington as to the Congressmen who he had long advised on government, political, and financial matters that urgently needed to be addressed. Despite his impending marriage, Hamilton was practically begging Washington to be allowed to lead the charge in what might well be the war’s most important attack. Consequently, this was the ideal tactical and strategic situation that Hamilton viewed as his long-sought opportunity “to act a conspicuous part … to raise my character as a soldier above mediocrity.”15 In concluding his November 22, 1780, letter to the army’s commander and hoping that Washington might feel grateful for all that he had accomplished for him as chief of staff year after year, Hamilton then added how Washington’s acceptance of his request would “make me singularly happy if your wishes correspond with mine.”16

To additionally enhance Hamilton’s chances to make his great dream come true, Lafayette was to present Hamilton’s letter and personally plead his case to Washington. The young French aristocrat advocated strong support for his friend’s tactical plan. Six days after Hamilton wrote his missive to Washington, Lafayette sent a flattering letter to Hamilton from Paramus, Bergen County, northern New Jersey, on November 28, 1780. Lafayette was optimistic that Hamilton’s ambitions would be finally fulfilled this time. As the Frenchman wrote in agreement with Hamilton’s rationale on this matter that was so important to him: “you deserve from [Washington] the preference; that your advantages are the greatest; I speak of a co-operation; of your being in the family; and conclude, that on every public and private account, I advise him to take you [and] I know the General’s friendship and gratitude for you, my dear Hamilton; both are greater than you perhaps imagine. I am sure he needs only to be told that something will suit you, and when he thinks he can do it, he certainly will. Before this campaign I was your friend, and very intimate friend [and] since my second voyage [to America] my sentiment has increased…. ”17

As this letter revealed, Hamilton could not have had a better advocate than the French nobleman, who was so highly revered by Washington. As mentioned, Hamilton had formed solid relationships and strong connections with a number of leading French officers besides Lafayette, maintaining regular communications with them and strengthening the bonds between allies as throughout the past. One highly impressed French nobleman described him as “firm and [in all matters] decided [and] frank and martial.”18

But Hamilton’s hope of winning the distinguished honor of leading the assault on New York City at the head of an infantry battalion evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared. In the end, Washington “altered his mind,” in Lafayette’s words, to dash the ambitions of his dear friend. Quite simply and as in the past, Washington could not now afford to lose his chief of staff, because of his great value. A victim of his own successes, Hamilton received the bad news from Lafayette’s December 9, 1780, letter, The frustrated young man would seemingly never escape Washington’s giant shadow and chief of staff position that had become a trap, if not a Faustian Bargain of sorts.19

Lafayette explained in his letter upon meeting with Washington how he had “made a verbal application in my own name [and] I can’t express to you, my dear friend, how sorry an disappointed I felt when I knew from him, the General, that (greatly in consequence of our advice,) he had settled the whole matter [in favor of another officer] I confess, I became warmer on the occasion than you would have perhaps wished me to be….”20

But in the same December 9, 1780, letter, Lafayette offered significant consolation to the crestfallen Hamilton, who had missed his coveted opportunity to lead the assault on New York City. Lafayette informed his friend of some good news in a timely compensation: “Congress seem resolved that an Envoy be sent in the way you wish, and this was yesterday [December 8] determined in the house. Next Monday [December 11] the gentleman will be elected. I have already spoken to many [Congressional] members;—I know of a number of voices that will be for you [therefore] I think you ought to hold yourself in readiness, and in case you are called for, come with all possible speed; for you must go immediately [to France and] If you go, my dear sir, I shall give you all public and private knowledge about Europe I am possession of. Besides many private letters, that may introduce you to my friends, I intend giving you the key of the [French] cabinet, as well as of the societies which influence them, In a word, my good friend, any thing in my power shall be entirely yours.”21

Lafayette, who was Hamilton’s greatest French supporter, along with his fellow officers, thanks partly to his unfailing pro-French support especially after the Newport Expedition fiasco, was convinced that Hamilton (nominated by General John Sullivan) was about to become the new French envoy to serve in Paris as a secretary under Benjamin Franklin. With his fluency in French, sophistication, and well-honed diplomatic skills, Hamilton was an ideal choice, especially in regard to securing the French loan.

Long knowing that this war could not be won without a significant French contribution on multiple levels, Hamilton had long emphasized that a French loan was necessary for America’s successful war effort and he had first proposed the vital financial-political mission to France for this express purpose. Lafayette and Hamilton had long served as a natural team for this important initiative. As mentioned, Hamilton had already carefully orchestrated that distinct possibility upon which the fate of America depended. He had earlier nominated Lafayette to Congress for the envoy position to the Court of Versailles on the mission to secure additional assistance from France. If Lafayette gained the position, then he would take Hamilton with him to France as his right hand man, liberating him from Washington’s staff, if everything went according to plan.

But Lafayette instead set his sights on active command in the Southern theater, and Washington naturally ordered his favorite Frenchman south to the southern theater of operations. Then, Lafayette recommended to Congress that Hamilton would be the right man to take his place as envoy. However, Hamilton correctly gave himself little chance for winning the prestigious appointment to an exciting diplomatic role in France, because he had few connections or supporters in Congress and, of course, too many old enemies: the high price paid for having so many enemies in Congress and being considered a recent immigrant to America. As Hamilton had informed Laurens in a September 12, 1780, letter about his many foes who were steadily on the increase, because some people believed that he was a close “friend to military pretensions, however exorbitant,” which evidently meant a general’s rank or perhaps more.22

But the appointment to the French mission never came also because Hamilton kindly deferred unanimously to Laurens, revealing the depth of their friendship. John’s father, Henry Laurens, had been captured by the British while journeying to France. The distinguished former president of the Continental Congress was now imprisoned in the infamous Tower of London. If Laurens became the French envoy, then he would be in a position to win his father’s release. Ironically, Congress had originally requested Laurens as the French envoy. But Laurens had emphasized that Hamilton would make a better choice, which was certainly true. For reasons that were more political than circumspect, however Congress had wanted Laurens as their man in France, and the politicians got their wish.

Therefore, the less-qualified Laurens became the “special envoy” to France in December 1780. Although the mission had slipped from his grasp, Hamilton played a role in improving Laurens’ overall chances for a successful diplomatic effort on the Atlantic’s other side: “The importance of giving a correct view of the state of affairs at this juncture, suggested to Hamilton the idea of a special letter of instructions [carried by Laurens], in addition to that which had been given to the envoy by congress, being addressed to him by General Washington, which, in the opinion of La Fayette, it was supposed would add additional weight to his representations [and] this important duty was delegated to Hamilton by Washington….”23

Indeed, a gracious and wise personal gesture that masked his deep disappointment in not securing the coveted envoy position, Hamilton’s glowing letter (in French) of introduction that lavishly praised Laurens to the French foreign minister at the court of Versailles helped to make the South Carolinian’s vital mission a more successful one in the end. One secret of Hamilton’s success in life (personal and professional) was to overlook setbacks and forge ahead with renewed vigor to accomplish even more impressive achievements. After the Camden, South Carolina, fiasco on August 16, 1780, for instance, Hamilton had written to Betsey, “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….”24

Meanwhile, as if to compensate for unhappiness in his professional life at a time when he felt trapped as the leading member of Washington’s staff, Hamilton’s personal life continued on the upswing. His intense passion, if not obsession, for Betsey was equal to his ardor for gaining an infantry command. Despite his relatively recent immigrant status and lack of social standing or wealth that seemed to mock his high standing with Washington’s staff, all of the aristocratic Schuyler family, including Betsey’s older and married sister Angelica, whom some people took to be Hamilton’s lover and not Eliza because of the intensity of their chemistry, was entirely smitten with Hamilton. At Schuyler’s magnificent yellow-brick mansion that overlooked the Hudson, he was eager to marry Betsey Schuyler and become united with one of America’s leading families.

Because of the shortage of “family” members at his headquarters, Washington was unable to allow Hamilton to take leave for his own wedding, which was then put off out of necessity until December 1780. Hamilton’s reaction has not been recorded, perhaps for ample good reason. Ironically, not unlike Washington himself when he had married one of the wealthiest widows in Virginia, Hamilton had moved seamlessly into one of America’s great aristocratic families with the same skill as leading his men and maneuvering the guns of his New York Battery, heading Washington’s staff, and performing with distinction on the battlefield.

It was virtually impossible for a recent immigrant and illegitimate son to achieve such a swift and sweeping social advancement of a magnitude seldom seen in colonial America. A testament to his own outstanding abilities as the leader of Washington’s staff and his winning personal ways, Hamilton was fully accepted by these members of an American aristocracy that was obsessively concerned about pedigree and lineages. General Schuyler’s family was part of the New York Dutch elite of the Hudson River country. A good judge of character, the general even advised his son to model himself after the seemingly spotless Hamilton, whose most positive qualities never shined brighter than when he was in the midst of the Schuyler family, partly because he had no family of his own. In his personal and professional life, Hamilton continued to astound observers by his seemingly effortless rise to lofty heights that were simply unattainable to other men, especially of his age and background.25

In fact professionally and personally, Hamilton’s rise had been too rapid and meteoric to not have gone to his head, especially for someone in their mid-twenties. His dramatic advances in military and civilian spheres certainly affected Hamilton, but only to a limited degree. By early 1781, Hamilton had changed considerably from the wide-eyed youth who had first stepped off the ship in Boston harbor as a stranger in a new land in 1773. Nevertheless, even at this time, Hamilton’s past and its demons were not far behind him, despite all that he had accomplished for Washington, the Continental Army, and America. Heady from his recent advance up the social ladder to reach dizzying heights, Hamilton’s already healthy ego had grown because so many of his achievements, personal and professional, were truly outsized. However, he still remained firmly grounded in part because of his humble upbringing in the far-away Caribbean in a life that now seemed from a bygone age. America and the war had provided Hamilton with the opportunities for an astonishing rebirth, and he had taken full advantage of what became available to him for the first time in his life.

Additional Frustrated Ambitions

By this time, seemingly everything in Hamilton’s life was on the rise, except his stagnant military career. Although still serving as the respected head of the Virginian’s military “family,” Hamilton’s ambitions as a military officer, who possessed a wide range of tactical and strategic insights, remained entirely unfulfilled. He was still “a man of action,” as he had demonstrated throughout the New York Campaign, at the Raritan River, and in the battles of Trenton, Princeton, and Monmouth. Hamilton had always excelled during the most challenging situations, rising to the occasion again and again. Even while performing the more mundane staff officer duties at his desk at Washington’s headquarters, Hamilton occasionally allowed himself the luxury of dreaming about the missed opportunities if he had continued in active service and never joined Washington’s staff on March 1, 1777. Never one to doubt his abilities but for good reason, he was convinced that he would have garnered a general’s rank, which was probably true. Such nagging thoughts swirled through Hamilton’s mind on dreary nights to his frustration, if not torment, when his periodic dark moods and a sense of loneliness allowed him to believe that his talents as a combat officer had been wasted.

While working long hours at his wooden desk before piles of paperwork, Hamilton never forgot the flow of adrenaline, the excitement of battle, and the ecstasy of victory from past battlefields, where he had distinguished himself. In a paradox that continued to haunt him at Washington’s headquarters, the most vexing frustration in Hamilton’s life was failing to garner an active field command. Ironically, only one man stood in the way of the fulfillment of Hamilton’s last remaining military ambition and this was the individual whom he had faithfully assisted the most year after year: Washington.26 In this sense because he was desk-bound like a prisoner, there was some half-truth in Hamilton’s humor-laden words to Betsey that his love for her had caused his swift personal evolution “from a soldier metamorphosed into a puny lover.”27

In a striking paradox, Hamilton was still very much like the young man who was destined to kill him in the most famous duel in American history in the summer of 1804, Aaron Burr. Born in Newark, New Jersey, in early February 1756, Burr had excelled as a favored member of General Gates’ staff.28 After having decided not to follow his parents’ wishes to enter the ministry, Burr had elected instead to answer his country’s call. At only age nineteen, he had first won recognition for bravery and leadership ability during the doomed attempt to capture Quebec on the last day of December, 1775. Burr had then served in a temporary position on Washington’s staff until late June 1776 when he joined the staff of General Putnam as aide-de-camp. But like Hamilton, Burr had desired to play a more active role well beyond duty on a general’s staff, including Washington’s military “family.” Partly because of his “dislike” for the autocratic ways and perhaps the temper of the commander-in-chief, Burr had “wanted to leave Washington’s staff even before he met the general.”29 But unlike Hamilton, Burr’s ambition had been fulfilled, escaping the general’s staff to follow his own destiny. His long-awaited promotion to active command and gaining a lieutenant colonel’s rank in a New York Continental Regiment came in late June 1777.30

Because of his thwarted ambitions that revealed his paradoxical nature, Hamilton reached his personal low point during the winter of 1779–1780.31 Nothing more bothered Hamilton than the central dilemma and contradicions of his military life. With monotonous regularity, Washington made his usual case of why Hamilton should remain on his staff, which was entirely true: The young man was simply too valuable to let go. Who could possibly replace Hamilton? Of course, Washington already knew the answer. Indeed, by this time, Hamilton had become Washington’s “alter ego” in an unbeatable team and absolutely invaluable on multiple levels. But Washington’s relied-upon rationale had been used for so long that the thoroughly frustrated Hamilton now viewed it with disdain. He was devastated by the refusal to be allowed to embark upon duty in the Southern theater where Laurens now served, qualified American leadership was sorely lacking, and opportunities abounded for officers of promise.

Perhaps Washington, who knew him in a fatherly way and possessed strong paternal instincts, continued to refuse Hamilton the active service that he so passionately craved because Washington very likely did not want to live with the guilt if Hamilton, his favorite of the “family,” was released from headquarters and killed in battle. Ironically, after departing Washington’s staff, Laurens possessed the same idealized concept of a heroic death and eventually met this tragic fate in a small, needless fight of no consequence in a remote backwater region of his native South Carolina.32

Whenever he found time to take his mind off his work at headquarters and his ever-growing sense of frustration, Hamilton’s thoughts focused on Betsey. After they were engaged in March 1780, Hamilton looked forward to the marriage before the year’s end.33 In some amazement, Lieutenant Colonel Tench Tilghman wrote to his brother on May 12, 1780, from Morristown, describing Hamilton’s love for Elizabeth (Betsey) in part due to her “lovely form” and “a mind still more lovely,” (in Hamilton’s words), while hardly believing the native West Indian’s romantic fate because of his abundant past successes as a seductive bachelor: “Hamilton is a gone man, and I am too old for his substitute [as a dashing ladies man]—She had better look out for herself and not put her trust in Man. She need not be jealous of the little Saint—She is gone to Pennsylvania and has no other impressions than those of regard for a very pretty good tempered Girl, the daughter of one of my valuable acquaintances.”34

Like so many others, Tilghman was still impressed by Hamilton’s past successes with the ladies, but now his carefree bachelor days of bedroom conquests were over. Hamilton’s youthful romanticism and idealistic obsession with a heroic death of the battlefield also faded away as his love for Betsey grew. In his own words from a letter that revealed a startling confession that might have saved Hamilton’s life in the end: “I was once determined to let my existence and American liberty end together [in dramatic fashion on a distant battlefield but now] My Betsey has given me a motive to outlive my pride.”35

In fact, Lieutenant Colonel Tilghman knew a good deal about Hamilton’s future wife. The young Marylander was almost as smitten by her as his close friend, who had shown absolutely no caution in his ardent pursuit of Betsey. In late August 1775, Tilghman recounted his first meeting with Hamilton’s future wife in a journal: “A Brunette with the most good natured lively dark eyes that I ever saw, which threw a beam of good tempter and benevolence over her whole Countenance [and] Mr. [William] Livingston informed me that I was not mistaken in my Conjecture for that she was the finest tempered Girl in the World.”36

Hamilton was indeed a “gone man,” expressing thanks for her “tenderness toward me.” However, paradoxically, he still occasionally allowed dark thoughts to intervene into a life of remarkable achievements in only a few years. As he wrote to Laurens on September 12, 1780, and not long before his marriage, Hamilton even felt sorry for himself in the depths of a bout with his reoccurring depression, because of the long-lasting backlash garnered from enemies for speaking too candidly, including influential men in Congress: “The truth is [that] I am an unlucky honest man that speaks my sentiments to all and with emphasis….”37

While Hamilton’s personal life reached an all-time zenith, America’s fortunes continued to flounder and sag from the endless internal dissension that tore at the fabric of a fragile nationalism. Paradoxically, additional revolutionaries began to rise up against the revolution. Anger among Washington’s disgruntled soldiers reached new heights because of these crucial failings of the weak decentralized national and state governments and the bungling of Congressional and state leaders that led to a long list of failures to supply the army with adequate food, clothing, and pay. The suffering in the ranks created radicals among the angry Pennsylvania Continentals, and then New Jersey Continentals. This rising tide of hostility toward the ineffective Articles of Confederation government grew steadily in the ranks just as it had long swelled inside Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton.

Rumors circulated in September 1780 that some leading officers were trying to convince Washington to “assume dictatorial authority,” and the influential Hamilton was seen as the primary culprit. These concerns mounted until Nathanael Greene had to personally assure the chief executive of Pennsylvania, Joseph Reed (Washington’s early staff officer who turned against him in favor of General Lee), that he obtained Hamilton’s personal word and promise that no such plan had been formulated at Washington’s headquarters. Clearly, some highly placed individuals, enemies who were well aware of a young mastermind working tirelessly behind the scenes, believed that Hamilton’s ambitions might well be the hidden force behind such mischief.38

Benedict Arnold’s Treachery

Like a few other generals, especially Gates, Lee, and Putnam, Hamilton had given General Benedict Arnold ample reason to detest him. Washington had long employed Hamilton to lead the way in the always-sensitive dealing with the mercurial and talented general, who had been a magnificent battlefield commander in the past.39

Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton had last seen Arnold, whom he respected for his distinguished combat role in winning the day at Saratoga where General Gates (instead of a more deserving Arnold) reaped the glory, immediately after the Hartford, Connecticut, summit between Washington and Lieutenant General Jean-Baptiste-Donatien de Vimeur, Comte de Rochambeau at the beginning of the third week of September. This was the first meeting between the two leaders that Hamilton had long prodded a reluctant Washington to undertake. With his broad knowledge about the French, Hamilton offered Washington instructions about how to act and even the best argument to take in regard to doing whatever he could to ensure that a French fleet reached American waters. Here, besides acting as interpreter and writing down the summit’s proceedings along with Lafayette in regard to both capacities, Hamilton played a role in strengthening ties between allies, developing solutions for a more workable relationship in the future. The two leaders discussed defending Newport, and targeting New York City for capture—always Washington’s favorite topic as if to wipe out the stain of losing the city in the disastrous 1776 Campaign. Most importantly, the two generals agreed that French naval superior was the key to any future success. At the conclusion of the conference, Hamilton and Lafayette then penned requests for additional French troops and funds, while also making clear copies of the detailed report about the proceedings at Hartford.

Along with an escort of nineteen elite cavalrymen, Washington, Hamilton, Robert Hanson Harrison, Lafayette and his aide James McHenry (formerly Washington’s faithful aide), and Knox rode toward West Point, and stayed at an inn on the night of September 24. General Washington dispatched Hamilton and McHenry to ride ahead with the baggage the fifteen miles to West Point early on next morning to inform General Arnold of Washington’s impending arrival. They then planned to visit West Point on the morning of September 25. Knowing its strategic importance, Washington considered West Point “the key to America.” One of America’s best fighting generals who had been cut down twice while exhibiting inspired leadership on the battlefield, including at Saratoga, Arnold had by now commanded the strategic defensive bastion of West Point since the summer of 1780. Washington planned to confer with the Connecticut-born general on the situation at West Point, and inspect the bastion that dominated the high ground overlooking the Hudson.

However, at Arnold’s headquarters located at the Beverly Robinson House (the owner now served as a colonel of a Loyalist regiment in New York City) located on the east bank of the Hudson just opposite and downriver from West Point, Washington was unable to find the mercurial general. At breakfast, Hamilton and McHenry had talked to Arnold, just before he received a secret letter that told him how the plot to turn over West Point to the British had been exposed.

With the game now over because of co-conspirator Major John André’s capture by New York militiamen who had found incriminating papers hidden in his boot, Arnold had immediately ridden off to escape just before Washington arrived. Naturally, Hamilton and McHenry were puzzled by General Arnold’s sudden departure that violated protocol. Here, Washington arrived and ate breakfast without Arnold present. After eating, Washington conducted his inspection of the defenses of West Point, while Hamilton remained at Arnold’s headquarters to finish his assigned paperwork and perhaps even to enjoy the considerable charms of the ravishing beauty who was Arnold’s wife, Margaret “Peggy” Shippen-Arnold. Closer to Hamilton’s age than her husband who was two decades older than her, Peggy hailed from a leading Loyalist family of Philadelphia.

But what Washington found was more shocking: West Point’s defenses were incomplete and the garrison unready if the British launched an attack. Arnold, of course, had deliberately allowed the defenses to fall into disarray. Ironically, during the Quebec Campaign of 1775–1776, Major Aaron Burr had viewed the first hint of moral flaws in Arnold’s character, and he did not like what he saw. After learning that André had been captured, Arnold had realized that he was about to be exposed for his plot to hand over the defensive bastion of West Point to the British, and had flown the nest by escaping to a British ship.40

Upon learning of Arnold’s treachery after Hamilton handed him a packet of letters that revealed the ugly truth, Washington, knowing that Arnold was one of the army’s best fighting generals, was speechless. In fact, Washington “never had sustained such a shock, but he gave no indication of distress of mind. He merely made it plain that he wished to be alone with Hamilton and Harrison.”41

In a letter to Betsey on September 25, Hamilton wrote that when he learned of the stunning development “that shocked me more than any thing I have met with—the discovery of a treason of the deepest dyes. The object was to sacrifice West Point [because] General Arnold had sold himself of [Major John] André for this purpose.”42 Even more and although unrealized by Hamilton, Washington and his entire staff, including the native West Indian, were to have been captured along with West Point. When the conspiracy was discovered “Arnold, hearing of it being detected, immediately fled to the enemy [and wrote Hamilton] I went in pursuit” of the old hero of Saratoga.43

Along with McHenry, Hamilton met with frustration in his pursuit, after riding down the Hudson’s east bank for around a dozen miles to Verplanck’s Ferry in the vain hope of capturing Arnold. In a hastily written note to Washington from Verplanck’s Ferry, New York, Hamilton explained, “We are too late [because] Arnold went by water to the Vulture,” the appropriately named British warship that saved America’s greatest traitor. Thinking fast in a crisis situation, Hamilton then offered wise council to Washington, while also having the wherewithal of quickly taking the initiative to save West Point, if the British suddenly moved against the strategic bastion perched above the Hudson as expected: “I shall write to General Greene advising him … to be in readiness to march and even to detach a brigade this way [because] it is possible Arnold has made such dispositions with the garrison as may tempt the enemy in [West Point’s] present weakness to make the stroke this night and it seems prudent to be providing against it. I shall endeavor to find [Colonel Return Jonathan] Meigs and request him to march to the garrison and shall make some arrangements here. I hope Your Excellency will approve these steps as there may be no time to be lost.”44

Then, to General Greene at Orangetown, New Jersey, Hamilton wrote a note to explain this “blackest treason [because] West Point was to have been the sacrifice, all dispositions have been made for the purpose and ’tis possible, tho’ not probable, tonight may still see the execution [since] The wind is fair” for a British naval attack and I “advise your putting the army under marching orders and detaching a brigade this way.”45 Hamilton was almost acting like a commander-in-chief in wisely issuing orders and even making adroit suggestions to a senior general on the fly in a crisis situation, when time was of the essence.

Even more and on his own initiative, the fast-thinking Hamilton demonstrated prudence in immediately ordering a Connecticut regiment to march to West Point to reinforce the weak garrison in the hope of saving one of the most strategic points in America. Upon his return from the unsuccessful mission to capture Arnold, Hamilton then handed Washington a recently arrived letter from Arnold that explained his treason and emphasized that his pretty wife was blameless. The first explanation was far more honest than the second.

Here, at the Robinson house, Hamilton fell victim to the skilled acting performance of Arnold’s pretty wife, Peggy. This very clever woman proclaimed her lack of knowledge of Arnold’s sinister plot, which was certainly not the case. She played the right emotional cards to make her words more believable to men of honor. Hamilton’s sympathy for the helpless fell prey to her splendid acting performance that would have probably made her a star in today’s popular Broadway play Hamilton.

As Hamilton, who was reminded of his own father’s abandonment of his mother Rachel and the family on St. Croix in regard to Peggy’s distressed situation after Arnold escaped to leave her alone, wrote in his September 25 letter: “We have every reason to believe she was intirely [sic] unacquainted with the plan [and] Her sufferings were so eloquent that I wished myself her brother, to have a right to become her defender…. Could I forgive Arnold for sacrificing his honor reputation and duty I could not forgive him for acting a part that must have forfieted [sic] the esteem of so fine a woman. At present she almost forgets his crime in his misfortune, 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.”46

Having become a victim to Peggy’s wiles like Washington and Lafayette, Hamilton was also captivated by Major John André’s charms and elegant manner like so many others: ironically like his own beloved Betsey in her not-so-innocent past. Betsey’s first love had been the handsome British officer, who wore his long black hair in a stylish queue, only five years before. He had briefly stayed at the Schuyler mansion at Albany when under house arrest. The musical and poetic British spy, Arnold’s chief covert contact in the plot, had been caught in civilian attire. He impressed Hamilton so favorably, from several visits, that he took André’s letter—a desperate plea requesting a soldier’s proper death by firing squad instead of hanging—to Washington. Hamilton put aside his personal concerns in regard to Betsey’s first romance with the skilled English lady-killer in order to do what he felt was morally right. He saw the dashing major as only a liaison officer in passing communications between British leadership and Arnold. Therefore, Hamilton believed the major was not technically a spy. Because of his unfortunate past in the Caribbean, Hamilton’s compassion and actions revealed his longtime leniency toward people in unfortunate circumstances, including prisoners-of-war.

But since André had been captured in civilian clothing instead of a major’s uniform and while using the name of John Anderson, Washington remained strict and inflexible on this matter. Consequently, the commander-in-chief ignored Hamilton’s heartfelt initiative that urged the fulfillment of André’s request to be shot rather than hang like a fellow officer and gentleman. Hamilton penned in a heartfelt letter to his future wife on October 2, 1780: “I urged a compliance with André’s request to be shot and I do not think it would have had an ill effect; but some people [Washington] are only sensible to motives of policy, and sometimes from a narrow disposition mistake it. When André’s tale comes to be told, and present resentment over, the refusing him the privilege of choosing the manner of death will be branded with too much obduracy…. I confess to you I had the weakness to value the esteem of a dying man; because I reverenced his merit.”47

A week and a half after André was hanged like a criminal instead of an officer when he was in fact the adjutant general of the British Army and one of General Henry Clinton’s closest associates, a saddened Hamilton wrote a tortured letter to his best friend, John Laurens, on October 11, 1780. Noting the central paradox of Major André’s life almost as if he had seen himself in the heart and soul of this doomed young Englishman, who was blessed with so many sterling qualities as an officer and as a man: “There was something singularly interesting in the character and fortunes of André. To an excellent understanding well improved by education and travel, he united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person…. But in the height of his career, flushed with new hope from the execution of a project the most beneficial to his party he was at once precipitated from the summit [and he then] saw all the expectations of his ambition blasted and himself ruined” in the end.48

Especially after having visited the ill-fated Englishman several times in his last hours, Hamilton was long haunted by the agonizing image of André going to his death with a stoic grace that brought universal admiration, before swinging in the air. In the same letter to Laurens, Hamilton described the tragic scene that long nagged at his conscience: “In going to the place of execution, he bowed familiarly as he went along to all those with whom he had been acquainted in his confinement. A smile of complacency expressed the serene fortitude of his mind. Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked with some emotion, must I die in this manner?”49

After he was informed that his manner of execution was “unavoidable,” Major André had calmly gone to his death with a heroic resignation. In Hamilton’s words, André “springing upon the cart performed the last offices to himself with a composure that excited the admiration and melted the hearts of the beholders. Upon being told the final moment was at hand, and asked if he had any thing to say, he answered: ‘nothing, but to request you will witness to the world, that I die like a brave man,’”50

Clearly, in part because the doomed major had tightened the noose around his neck to assist the nervous hangman and blindfolded himself before amazed observers, Hamilton was deeply moved by the demise of the cultured Englishman, who had won his admiration and his future wife’s heart before him. Therefore, the searing memory of the smiling young Briton bravely going to his death haunted Hamilton for the rest of his life. André’s grisly execution (a slow strangulation) also tormented Hamilton’s future wife, who had loved (and perhaps still loved him) the graceful Englishman blessed with so many gifts except luck. André’s death sent Betsey into a deep depression that took some of the romantic bloom off (at least initially) the idyllic relationship with Hamilton for the first time. Hamilton was thankful to have escaped Arnold’s plot for West Point’s capture which would have meant his own captivity, including Washington and his staff. As he penned in an October 11, 1780, letter to Laurens: “our happy escape from the mischief with which this treason was big.”51

After André’s execution, the dynamics in the relationship between Hamilton and Washington changed. Hamilton could never totally forgive Washington for ignoring his desperate plea for fulfill André’s final request to die like a soldier by firing squad instead of like a common criminal or thieving pirate at a gaudy public hanging before a jeering crowd of onlookers. Washington’s inflexibility and “rigid justice” and “hard hearted policy” in Hamilton’s words, had sent the major to his death.

This rift between the commander and his chief of staff caused by André’s hanging was deep. Hamilton was now even more determined to leave Washington’s family once and for all. Therefore, not long after Major André’s death, he applied for the coveted adjutant general position left when Colonel Alexander Scammell, who had served as one of Washington’s staff officers during the New York Campaign and was fated to be killed in the Yorktown Campaign, resigned. The possibility of securing this prized position for Hamilton increased with Generals Greene’s and Lafayette’s recommendations to Washington. Washington eventually informed the two generals that he could not appoint an officer with a lieutenant colonel’s rank to the position of adjutant general, since Scammell held the rank of colonel. After receiving General Greene’s November 19, 1780, recommendation of Hamilton, Washington explained his decision in a letter: “Without knowing that Colo. Hamilton ever had an Eye to the Office of Adjt. General, I did, upon the application of Colo. Scammell to resign it, recommend Genl. Hand for reasons which may occur to you…. It would have been disagreeable therefore to the present Sub-Inspectors, some of them whom are full Colonels, to have had a Lt. Colo. put over them.”52

Ironically, after Arnold’s defection and the distance between the energetic chief of staff and his increastingly autocratic boss grew because of André’s hanging, Washington became even more dependent upon Hamilton to fill the void left by one of his best generals. Meanwhile, Betsey and Hamilton continued to make marriage preparations, despite the native West Indian cautioning his wife that she might end up “a poor man’s wife,” because of the uncertainty of the future since he was determined not to rely on Schuyler family money. But despite bouts of resurfacing cynicism, including toward women in general, Hamilton was sufficiently wise to know that Betsey was “one of the exceptions” to the rule. Hamilton praised her “good hearted” nature and “sweet softness” that had so thoroughly captured his heart. He also marveled in a letter to her: “You are certainly a little sorceress and have bewitched me, for you have made me disrelish everything that used to please me.”53

Hoping to rescue the gifted young man from his headquarters exile, General Sullivan also had attempted to rescue Hamilton from his frustrating dilemma. Like so many others, Sullivan knew that Hamilton possessed a brilliant mind that should be best utilized in high office. Therefore, a possibility for a new position opened when Congress created the executive departments of War, Finance, Marine, and Foreign Affairs. On January 29, 1780, and from Philadelphia while representing New Hampshire in Congress, Sullivan considered nominating Hamilton for the minister of finance, indirectly emphasizing that Hamilton’s financial talents and economic expertise by diplomatically asking Washington what he thought of “Colo. Hamilton as a Financier.”54 Robert Morris was in line for the position however, which eventually caused Sullivan to drop Hamilton’s nomination.

A Dashing Bachelor No More

As if to compensate for this frustrated ambition of failing to obtain independent field command, Hamilton’s other all-consuming dream was about to finally true on December 14, 1780. In late November, Hamilton left Washington’s headquarters on his first leave and not on any official business in more than three and a half years as a staff officer: another indication of his supreme importance to Washington, who seemed determined to squeeze every last ounce of talent out of the young man until there was nothing left. Departing Washington’s headquarters in late November when the army was idle in winter quarters, Hamilton finally had an opportunity to leave the military “family” for an extended period, and rode north with his good friend Colonel James McHenry toward Albany at a brisk pace. McHenry, the best man, filled in for the absence of Hamilton’s father, James Hamilton, Sr., and his older brother, James, Jr. Both of Alexander’s closest remaining relatives were still in the Caribbean, and unable to attend the wedding in Albany. Significantly, Hamilton continued to harbor no resentments toward his father, James, Sr., for having abandoned the family, having invited him to attend the wedding on what he viewed as the most important day of his life.

But the snowfall of still another harsh winter impeded Hamilton’s progress durng the lengthy journey to Albany. Only because General Schuyler’s sleigh easily negotiated the snowy terrain leading up to the heights, the two close friends finally reached Schuyler’s showcase three-story home located atop the bluff overlooking the Hudson. In Laurens’s absence, Hamilton was delighted to have his good friend “Mac” now by his side. Here, in the huge second floor hallway at the brick Georgian mansion, distinguished by six massive columns and a wide porch, known as “the Pastures,” Hamilton’s great dream of a magnificent wedding with “his saucy little charmer” finally came true. Here, in the parlor, the twenty-five-year-old lieutenant colonel married Betsey, age twenty-three, eleven days before Christmas.

During the wedding ceremony at home in the tradition of the Dutch Reformed Church, McHenry was given a starring role, because he stood in to represent the groom’s family. Ironically, this gifted Irishman, who had long marveled at Hamilton’s romantic agility with the ladies, recited an original romantic poem. This poem included an affectionate “dear Ham,” that he had written by the versatile McHenry specially for this memorable occasion. The happy couple then spent their honeymoon at the two-story Schuyler mansion which overlooked Albany.55

While enjoying his honeymoon at “the Pastures,” including during the Christmas Season, and a well-deserved rest away from the hectic pace of the loads of paperwork at Washington’s headquarters, Hamilton took time to write a humorous critique to the good-natured “Mac” about his poem. As Hamilton penned with his usual touch of humor combined with sincerity: “The piece is a good one…. It has wit, which you know is a rare thing…. You know I have often told you, you write prose well but had no genius for poetry. I retract.”56

During this six-week honeymoon period in Albany, four leading French officers from Lieutenant General Jean-Baptiste-Donatien de Vimeur, Comte de Rochambeau’s command paid their respects to General Schuyler and Hamilton, including the Marquis de Chastellux. Not about to live off the lavish wealth of his wife’s family out of his sense of honor and due to pride as he had repeatedly informed Betsey, Hamilton had already contemplated resuming his legal studies once the war ended in America’s favor. Thinking ahead and knowing that he might be hung by the British if America lost this war, Hamilton reflected upon relocating in a distant place “more favourable to human rights”—Geneva, Switzerland. In his journal, the debonair French officer Marquis de Chastellux wrote about his memorable visit to the home of the Schuyler family patriarch: “I had besides given the rendezvous to Colonel Hamilton, who had just married another of his daughters…. General Schuyler’s family was composed of Mrs. Hamilton, his second daughter, who has a mild agreeable countenance.”57

As mentioned and despite the huge social gap that existed between Hamilton and his new father-in-law, General Schuyler, could not have been more pleased with the match. As he revealed to Hamilton, who had returned to Washington’s headquarters from Albany, in a January 25, 1781, letter: “You cannot, my dear sir, be more happy at the connexion [sic] 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 on the moment I discovered it was you on whom she had placed her affections [and] I am pleased with every instance of delicacy in those who are so dear to me.”58

After hiring a guide to lead him south from Albany through rough country, including mountainous terrain covered in snow, Hamilton was now very much of a changed man when he returned to Washington’s headquarters at New Windsor, New York, with his thoughts consumed by his new wife of a rare sweetness and “tenderness” that fairly radiated from her in early January 1781. The wedding, the warm, welcoming Schuyler family, and the bright prospects of a new life made the playing the old subservient role—already something that he wanted badly to escape for some time—harder to play at headquarters than ever before.

Meanwhile, the close relationship between Martha Washington and Elizabeth Schuyler (Betsey) Hamilton, who had shortly joined her husband and now visited Washington’s headquarters on a daily basis, brought new life and vigor to headquarters. The newlyweds had rented a house in New Windsor. The first “home” of Alexander and Betsey was located not far from Washington’s headquarters. Washington’s New Windsor headquarters had been established in a two-story and “rather handsome” Dutch farmhouse located on the west bank of the Hudson River and just south of Newburgh, New York, and north of West Point. From the beginning, Hamilton’s wife was a “great favorite” with Washington, who enjoyed socializing and dancing with the attractive, young woman of Dutch ancestry also known as Eliza, and with the members of his military “family” of hardworking officers.

In a January 21, 1781, letter from Washington’s headquarters, Hamilton revealed that he was a happy man, after having married the woman of his dreams. In this letter to Betsey’s older sister, Margarita (known as Peggy) Schuyler, Hamilton admitted that he was “a fanatic in love.” Even in writing about love and marriage, Hamilton turned philosophical, while basking in his good fortune of having married a remarkable woman. He proclaimed how love was “a very good thing when their stars unite two people who are fit for each other, who have souls capable of relishing the sweets of friendship, and sensibilities…. But it’s a dog of life when two dissonant tempers meet, and ’tis ten to one but this is the case.”59

Revealing more of his brilliance when combined with his well-developed sense of humor that so often shined through his personal correspondence to men and women, Hamilton then teased Margarita by advising her how, “I join her [Betsey] in advising you to marry, I add be cautious in the choice. Get a man of sense, not ugly enough to be pointed at—with some good nature—a few grains of feeling—a little taste—a little imagination—above all a good deal of decision to keep you in order; for that, I foresee will be no easy task. If you can find one with all these qualities, willing to marry you, marry him as soon as you please. I must tell you in confidence that I think I have been very fortunate.”60

Stiff New Challenges of 1781

While the year of 1781 saw America’s fortunes sink to dismal lows, Hamilton’s personal fortunes continued to rise, and he felt thankful for all his blessings. Although the memories of the missed opportunities of 1780, including a coveted position as the minister to Russia still lingered, he felt satisfaction in the fact that Congress had adopted some of his economic proposals for strengthening the government to meet pressing wartime requirements in the future.

Harsh winter weather led to epidemics of disease and desertion that took hundreds of young American soldiers from the ranks. Shortages in provisions and supplies continued to reduce the army’s capabilities that were already low. As usual, the Articles of Confederation government that Hamilton detested with such passion, was unable to adequately supply their troops. And the weak government and Washington still lacked the necessary power to get the necessary results from the states.

Even the most patriotic men lost faith, beginning with Washington’s Pennsylvania Continentals, who suffered severely for shortages in rations, clothing, and pay. These were no ordinary fighting men, but some of Washington’s premier troops. The cancer of mutiny then spread through the ranks, contaminating the Continental troops of the New Jersey Line in early 1781. The army was threatened with dissolution. The key to thwarting the rising tide of mutiny was an early and forceful response. The ever-astute Hamilton realized as much, demonstrating once that he knew how to handle almost any crisis that suddenly developed. Like Washington, Hamilton knew that the only solution to the epidemic of mutinies was “to compel them to unconditional submission,” as he ordered one colonel. Written by Hamilton during the first three months of 1780, Washington’s desperate letters to state authorities to send supplies to their troops had brought no results. Most importantly, Washington quickly crushed the immediate threat of the mutinies, as Hamilton had advocated, with ringleaders forfeiting their lives. In a February 4, 1781, letter to Laurens, Hamilton emphasized the successful formula to the crushing of mutinies: “we uncivilly compelled them to an unconditional surrender and hanged their most incendiary leaders.”61

Knowing that the inherent weaknesses of decentralized government and incompetence were the root of the never-ending problem, Hamilton had in the previous year (1780) proposed a plan to address the army’s deplorable situation, especially in regard to the lack of essential supplies for the long-suffering soldiers. He had sent a letter that contained his well-thought-out remedies to General Schuyler. In a February 5, 1781, letter, the senior New York general agreed with Hamilton’s tough solutions musing, “What might not our soldiery be brought to, if properly fed, paid, and clothed?”62

Hardly writing as the father-in-law of a much younger man, General Schuyler informed Hamilton that the well-conceived “plan you mention for supplying the armies in America, I should be exceedingly be happy to see attempted [and] in the course of the last year [1780], I proposed it repeatedly to individual members, who generally approved, and once or twice took occasion to mention it to congress [and] I am persuaded, if it was adopted, that a saving, at present almost inconceivable, would be induced, and an order and economy in the public expenditures [and] would eradicate the fears which too generally prevail, that we shall sink under the enormous weight of our expenses.”63

Hamilton now enjoyed familial support not only from Betsey (Elizabeth, or Eliza, Schuyler Hamilton) at the army’s winter quarters but also from senior generals: Washington, Greene, and Schuyler. He no longer lamented that “I am a stranger in this country, I have … no connexions” or family in America.64 But the heavy burden of headquarters work kept him far away from Albany and the Schuyler family, which was a deepening source of regret because he had begun to transfer his most familial feelings away from Washington’s military “family” and to a true family of his own by this time.

By early 1781 and despite all that he had accomplished year after year, Hamilton was still a frustrated young man in regard to his lofty military ambitions. All his aspirations to gain independent command and to distinguish himself on the battlefield continued to be thwarted. Hamilton, therefore, believed that he was at a professional dead end, with no prospects to make a name for himself on the field of strife. Even his chief of staff position was an almost secret job behind closed headquarters doors that relatively few people, other than Washington and his staff, understood or appreciated. A fatalistic Hamilton concluded with disgust how even “the stars fight against” me.65

But a brilliant mind continued to conceive new ideas and make contributions behind the scenes. The American people never realized that within the period of only a year, a young man only recently from a small, tropical island that they had never heard about and in the middle of nowhere amid the expansive Caribbean had “produced three plans for saving country.”66 He continued to be focused on how not to lose this war, because the Congress still lacked the authority and powers “for calling forth the resources of the country,” as he lamented. As if these achievements were not enough, Hamilton also had been focused on reforming and “reorganizing the army, [which he had] been doing for three years.”67

In January 1781 to confer with Washington before crossing the Atlantic on his envoy mission, the new French envoy, John Laurens, arrived at the New Windsor headquarters. Here, Hamilton and his best friend were reunited once again in a joyous reunion. On January 15, Hamilton went to work on still another important project. Based on the Washington–Laurens meetings, he carefully drafted a well-thought-out statement about America’s capabilities for reaping a decisive victory. This was a brilliant summarization with a key purpose, providing Laurens with the fundamental argument to present to the French ministry to secure greater support, especially from the French Navy, to achieve the key to decisive victory: naval superiority.68

Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton continued to do all that he could to enhance Laurens’ chances for success in dealing with the country’s aristocratic elite in Paris and in the court of King Louis XVI, because so much was at stake for America. Knowing that his best friend’s temperament was contrary to the delicate and careful diplomacy necessary in dealing with the French elite at the highest levels, especially the king’s court, Hamilton tactically provided sage advice to Laurens like a seasoned international diplomat, after first singing Laurens’ praises to soften truthful words that the young South Carolinian needed to hear: “In the frankness of friendship allow me to suggest to you one apprehension. It is the honest warmth of your temper. A politician My Dear friend must be at all times supple—he must often dissemble [and] I suspect that the French Ministry will try your temper; but you must not suffer them to provoke it [and] When you wish to show the deficiency of the French Administration, do it indirectly by exposing the advantages of measures not taken rather than by a direct criticism of those taken. When you express your fears of consequences have the tone of lamentation rather than of menace [and] take every proper occasion of showing the advantages of the revolution to France without however seeming to insist upon them.”69

Meanwhile, Hamilton remained upbeat about a successful summer of 1781 campaign on the horizon. As he penned to Francois Barbe-Marbois, who was the first secretary of the French ambassador Luzerne, on February 7, 1781, how the “Eastern States are really making great exertions towards the next campaign.”70 Two days later, Hamilton was focused on a new mission to Newport, Rhode Island, with Washington to meet with French leaders. Therefore, out of necessity, he made a special request of a former member of Washington’s “family” and now the army’s adjutant general, Colonel Timothy Pickering of New England: “The bad condition of my horses and the scarcity of forage in Camp induced me to leave them at Saratoga…. I am shortly to make a journey with the General to [Newport] Rhode Island for which I want horses. I therefore request the favour of you to furnish me with a couple of the best Continental horses [one for riding and one for carrying personal belongings] that can be found.”71 However, the trip to Newport for Washington to confer with the Comte de Rochambeau and other French leaders, in which he was to have served as interpreter, was cancelled by Washington until March 2, 1781.72

On February 15 in another letter to Pickering less than a week later, Hamilton was focused on important matters for coordinating the upcoming campaign: “the General directs you with the enclosed dispatch for Count De Rochambeau [who had replaced Admiral d’Estaing in overall command of French forces in America but was ordered by the French Government to serve under Washington for obvious political reasons] very early in the morning with the most positive directions concerning [the upcoming] expedition—It is of great importance that it would arrive to him as quickly as possible [and] be so good to enclose the letter for the Duke De Lauzun to your Deputy at Hartford with directions to deliver it immediately into the Duke’s own hand—the two for [two other leading French officers] to your Deputy at New Port with the same directives each to its proper owner—If you have no deputy, send them to some friend—They are its seems of a very confidential nature.”73

As in regard to so many other missed opportunities, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton still regretted not having secured the coveted position of the army’s adjutant general. After all, Lafayette and Greene had endorsed Hamilton for the position, and the chances seemed good at the beginning. But in the end, Washington appointed Irish-born General Edward Hand, a former officer of a Royal Irish regiment which had been stationed in America before the American Revolution and one of Washington’s best senior officers, on February 1781: still another development that raised the level of Hamilton’s frustration. When Hand became Washington’s last adjutant general, Hamilton was not easily “reconciled to it.” 74

Inevitable Clash of Wills with Washington: February 16, 1781

Fate itself seemingly was about to intervene on Hamilton’s behalf. On February 18, 1781, Hamilton began to write a letter that was literally a bombshell to his father-in-law in Albany: “I am no longer a member of the General’s family. This information will surprise you and the manner of the change will surprise you more.”75

The inevitable, long-overdue personal clash between Hamilton and Washington had splintered the close-knit military “family” and a dynamic team that had functioned effectively for nearly four years. For a wide variety of reasons,, this development was actually only a matter of time because of differences between them that had grown over time: liberal versus conservative; progressive versus traditional; the widening generational divides between the autocratic, older man’s Virginia planter style and the younger man who possessed a host of cosmopolitan qualities; the commander-in-chief decision that resulted in Major André’s hanging instead of shooting him like a soldier; Hamilton’s social elevation and greater outside support with his recent marriage; having long felt the string of Washington’s “ill-humor” as Hamilton called it; and the young man’s hatred of all forms of subservience. But most of all, Hamilton had long quite correctly expected that Washington would reward him with command of a brigade for field duty and action, because of all that he had accomplished for the commander-in-chief for years.

After all and from the very beginning, Washington and Hamilton could not have been more different. The young “brash immigrant” with a dark past contrasted sharply with the older, respected aristocratic member of the colonial elite. But Hamilton was no longer a mere upstart, but one of America’s leading intellectuals and political and economic minds and admired by the highest-ranking French officers in America, but he had been frustrated from moving forward to higher positions by the man he had assisted the most year after year. Clearly, for Hamilton, it was time for a change because he had significantly changed, especially after all that he had accomplished for not only Washington but also America.

As usual by early 1780, the greatest divide that still existed between Hamilton’s relentless ambition to move on with his military career to purse an opportunity to distinguish himself on the battlefield, and the equally stubborn Washington in his repeated refusal to let Hamilton go. To be fair, it was hardly Washington’s fault because of Hamilton’s irreplaceable value as a principal advisor, alter ego, and chief of staff, who seemingly always had the right answer to the most complex questions in regard not only to the army but also the nation.

In addition and despite all that he had accomplished for him, Washington continued to be autocratic and paternalistic toward Hamilton not only because he had long managed slaves at Mount Vernon with typical upper-class ease, but also because he had no son of his own. At some point, he might have looked upon Hamilton almost like a surrogate son, but more like an illegitimate one compared to his true father-son relationship like he enjoyed with Lafayette. Although Hamilton was in fact illegitimate, he needed no father figure because of his independent nature and headedness. He, consequently, had long remained relatively reserved in his personal feelings for Washington since beginning his work at headquarters.

Hamilton, therefore, still saw their longtime partnership as primarily a formal working relationship. Any other kind personal relationship that involved deep emotions, especially as a surrogate son, in a busy work environment that required for a very businesslike setting, would have hampered overall efficiency. Consequently, they had worked successfully together as a highly effective team in a businesslike and professional manner year after year. Hamilton, blessed with endless energy and the well-honed work ethnic inherited from his mother, was always all-business when it came to work.

After all that he had accomplished both inside and outside of his blue uniform and after nearly four years, Hamilton had even more good reason to fundamentally reject the basic premise of a relatively low subordinate status at headquarters, because he still hated such positions and was now much more of military and social equal to the commander-in-chief thanks to his recent marriage. From the beginning, Hamilton especially detested all forms of subservience, which reminded him of his Caribbean impoverishment and working in St. Croix for little pay and even less recognition. Despite possessing a great ability to do so, he still refused to fawn upon Washington (or anyone else) like so many Continental officers, who shamelessly curried favor for promotion and to boost their egos.

Clearly, a showdown between the two men had been brewing for an extended period. As mentioned, Hamilton was a dynamic man of action and a proven battlefield leader. Therefore, Hamilton’s frustration had continued to grow over the years, gradually building up and becoming intolerable for him by early 1781. This situation had taken a toll on Hamilton’s good nature, sense of dedication to Washington, and perhaps even his physical health. Smoldering with an increasing amount of resentment that he carefully concealed by his trademark smile and elegant manners—that so impressed the French elite—so as not to interfere with the smooth-working process of headquarters, Hamilton felt that he was being unfairly and rather cynically kept down simply to serve Washington in a subservient role. He believed that he was being deliberately restricted from reaching his full potential to solely benefit Washington, who refused to even promote Hamilton after years of exemplary service. The frustrated young man was not alone in his harsh conclusions about Washington’s selfish motivations that might have even betrayed a degree of jealousy. His friends, including Lafayette, Greene, Sullivan, and Laurens, agreed with Hamilton’s worst suspicions that he was being deliberately thwarted and held back from achieving his true potential. Consequently, these respected leaders had sought to obtain a transfer for Hamilton to another elevated position that almost everyone, but Washington, felt that he had earned and certainly deserved.

Especially troubling to Hamilton to increase his frustration, Washington was not an easy boss to interact with, especially over an extended period in cramped quarters. He had a tendency to take out his anger on staff members without a hint of gentlemanly grace. After only six weeks, Major Aaron Burr had departed Washington’s “family” never to return, because of the difficulty in working for the ever-demanding Virginian, who bossed staff officers around not unlike slaves at Mount Vernon. Hamilton encountered the same difficulties, including a lack of “good temper” in Hamilton’s words. Nevertheless, year after year, the young man persevered in a most challenging environment at headquarters, while serving under Washington’s giant shadow. He quietly performed with enthusiasm and great skill whatever duty was assigned to him without complaint, biting his tongue and doing his duty to the best of his ability.

Hamilton’s life always had been a long struggle to rise above his lowly, humiliating Caribbean past to gain proper recognition that was rightfully due to him. In the self-made man tradition, he had overcome every obstacle that had been unfairly placed in his path by an inequitable, class-based society. And now the most revered man (another wealthy and privileged aristocrat) in America stood squarely in his way, thwarting his ambition and advancement, despite all of his hard work and sacrifice. Ironically, the revolution’s and army’s very foundation was based on the concept of a meritocracy in which individuals of all ranks could excel and rise up because of what they accomplished rather than what was arbitrarily and unfairly dictated by their wealth and social background as in Europe.

Incredibly, Hamilton now retained the same relatively low rank of lieutenant colonel as when he first joined Washington’s “family” in early 1777. Of course, this was a special sore point, because he was barred from more prestigious and better positions that required higher rank. If anyone in the Continental Army deserved a colonel’s rank or higher, it was Washington’s hardworking chief of staff. A thankful Napoleon wisely bestowed well-deserved recognition by promoting his brilliant chief of staff, the incomparable Louis Alexandre Berthier, to the highest military rank, marshal, in May 1804. As essentially the professional head of the French Army, Berthier provided an unparalleled amount of invaluable service to Napoleon, as his chief of staff and for the Grande Armée during its most legendary campaigns.

Proving endlessly frustrating, if not infuriating, to the young man who might have wondered if being from the West Indies had partly resulted in this unfortunate situation for him, Washington had always employed the same excuse of Hamilton’s low rank as a reason for not allowing him to depart the “family” and to command a combat unit in the field. Hamilton ruefully now looked back upon “Harry” Lee’s decision not to join Washington’s staff in March 1778, when offered by himself on Washington’s behalf, because this independent-minded Virginia cavalryman desired to remain with his men in the field.

Like his growing resentment, if not exasperation, Hamilton’s grievances were not only long-existing, but also had been recently magnified by the incredible success in his personal life. Ironically, both of these remarkable men were correct in their mutually inflexible positions: Washington needed to retain Hamilton as his invaluable chief of staff, and he was wise enough not to risk losing such a gifted young officer, while Hamilton only wanted his talents to soar higher and to reach their true potential, especially after nearly four years of faithful service to the commander in chief.76 Every inch of a fighter and knowing that he could make a valuable contribution on the field, Hamilton still longed to once again hear “the charming sound of bullets,” in his own words, on the battlefield.77

A lifelong obsession that was partly a byproduct of his lowly upbringing and dysfunctional past, Hamilton’s ambition still consumed and motivated him. As written in his earliest surviving letter written on November 11, 1769, Hamilton had expressed his innermost and most dominant sentiments to his good friend Edward “Ned” Stevens, who had been educated at King’s College like Hamilton: “my Ambition is [so] prevalent that I contemn the grov’ling and condition of a Clerk or the like, to which my Fortune &c. condemns me and would willingly risk my life tho’ not my Character to exalt my Station…. I wish there was a War.”78

Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton’s deepest feelings had not changed from that November less than a decade ago, which in substance contradicted the very spirit of Washington’s March 1, 1777, general orders that announced his appointment as aide-de-camp at headquarters “to the Commander in Chief” of the Continental Army.79 Here, at Washington’s New Windsor headquarters at the Dutch-style home of William Ellison and from where the general could monitor enemy developments in the strategic Hudson River corridor just above strategic West Point, Hamilton was still fairly fuming over Washington’s strict inflexibility that casually dismissed his urgent pleas to prevent Major André’s hanging.80

Now in the steady process of deteriorating, this long-term relationship between the older commander-in-chief, in his late forties and still a provincial product of the value systems of an insular Virginia planter class world, and his young, erudite chief of staff, was a most complex one in personal terms. Hamilton, who was raised without a father, never bonded in a father-son way to his boss. Hamilton’s independent-mindedness and lofty ambitions eliminated that possibility, and by way of his own choice. Therefore, year after year, he had respectfully kept his distance in emotional terms. Having been raised without a father who was killed in battling for France on European soil, Lafayette became Washington’s surrogate son instead of Hamilton to satisfy the Virginian’s psychological and emotional needs in this regard, because Martha had been unable to give him a son.

The psychological cost of guaranteeing a continued smooth functioning of official duties at headquarters was simply becoming too high of a personal price for Hamilton to pay, because the relationship had evolved into an increasingly unhealthy, if not dysfunctional, one for the young man. Tension long had been mounting in what had now become very much of an “edgy” relationship, with Hamilton gradually becoming ever more exasperated.

Despite his youth, a stoic Hamilton had always controlled his emotions and thwarted desires for the overall fulfillment of larger national objectives beyond his own personal concerns and ambitions for years. However, he was unable to fully master the combined effect of his warrior ethos and idealistic ambitions, which he viewed as “my weakness,” that caused him to always aspire higher. Most of all by this time, Hamilton had grown tired of serving as Washington’s right-hand man without promotion, gratitude, or recognition, while occasionally experiencing the wrath of his “irritable temper.” He had become especially weary of the same old frustrating routine game—that insulted his intelligence--of “constantly imploring Washington for more battle duty [and] Washington usually responded by telling him he was too valuable a confidant and strategist to expose to the enemy’s muskets. It was rejection by praise, and Hamilton hated it [but] he kept asking [and] Washington kept turning him down. And so it went, back and forth” over an extended period of time.81

Another reason also existed to partly explain the all-but-inevitable clash between two strong-willed and forceful personalities at the New Windsor headquarters, which has been long overlooked by generations of historians: Hamilton’s abolitionist views. Washington well knew of Hamilton’s efforts to enlist slave-soldiers into the Continental Army for service in the South and refused to endorse the bold Hamilton-Laurens plan that might have prevented disaster in the Southern theater. Their strongly opposing views about slavery also complicated their relationship. Unlike Washington, Hamilton shared the same abolitionist views as the enlightened French military leaders serving on American soil. Despite being one of the largest slave owners in Virginia and to be fair, Washington had moderated his hardcore views about slavery since the war’s beginning, partly due to Hamilton’s more progressive and liberal influence. As sent to Congress in early 1779, Hamilton’s written views about racial equality shocked, if not appalled, most Southerners, and almost certainly including Washington, who either heard about or read the document.82

Clearly, some of the most deeply ingrained elements of Hamilton’s personality and core belief system were eventually bound to clash with Washington’s aristocratic and provincial attitudes that were typical of the Virginia ruling class. Now called “His Excellency” by one and all, Washington lived by a long-established traditional code about how to treat subordinates, including the members of his staff, regardless of how accomplished, including his own chief of staff. Symbolically, and certainly not lost to Hamilton who hated slavery with a passion, Washington referred to Mount Vernon’s slaves by the same name as his staff officers: “family.”83 For such reasons, for “three years I have felt no friendship for him and have professed none,” later wrote Hamilton to General Schuyler, who served as a true father figure (his father-in-law) to him rather than Washington.84

As could be expected and especially in crisis situations, Washington’s occasional eruption of temper made the overall environment at headquarters tense and nerve-racking for the over-worked Hamilton and other staff officers. A young Washington had been especially prone to emotional outbursts, and these had most often now occurred during stressful periods as commander-in-chief over the years. Here, at the New Windsor headquarters, Hamilton was about to see another sudden outburst of Washington’s temper—that very few people ever saw—directed at his favorite staff officer.85

In this sense and far more than has been generally recognized, Washington’s “family” was somewhat of a dysfunctional in personal—rather than professional—terms at headquarters. Now Hamilton finally knew what a true family was like with the Schuylers, understanding the warmth of positive family dynamics and mutual respect. Although Hamilton was not fully aware of this fact when he first joined the “family” on March 1, 1777, Washington’s outward “coldness” and callous dealings with officers under him often came at the expense of the sensitivities and self-esteem of others, including his chief of staff. Reflecting his experience as the hard-driving micro-manger of hundreds of workers (enslaved black and free whites) at Mount Vernon, Washington found it difficult to bond with others, especially in his elevated role as “His Excellency,” including staff members, who addressed him by this lofty title.86 In consequence and by any measure, it “was a touchy business [because] working closely with Washington [which] was no fun.”87

By this time, Hamilton had also lost some respect for Washington not only as an officer and a gentleman (especially because of Major André’s hanging and, of course, the displays of temper) but also as a military commander, especially in regard to strategy and tactics. Colonel Timothy Pickering, Washington’s adjutant, was also critical of Washington’s poor tactical performance that paved the way to the 1777 reversals at Brandywine and Germantown. As expressed in his letters to friends and wife, Hamilton unleashed “a stream of mature comments on just how the war should be fought,” including that Washington should “behave as boldly as he himself would.”88 While Hamilton supported Washington in every possible way at headquarters, he nevertheless could not deny the increasing amount of evidence and clear undeniable examples, which caused greater “doubts about the quality of his mind” as the army’s commander.89

This upcoming clash of personalities at the New Windsor headquarters, where the heavy workload was especially irksome because the “family” now consisted of only Hamilton and Tilghman, who had not fully recovered from an illness, resulted from other factors as well. At this time, Washington felt a sense of frustration not like Hamilton. The equally overworked Virginian was also in some physical pain from teeth problems and swollen gums. Under tremendous strain in awaiting news about the French fleet in the West Indies that he hoped would be ordered to America’s waters, Washington was increasingly embittered by the weight of excessive burdens, criticism (fair and unfair) directed at him, and America’s faltering resistance effort that seemed to have no solution. The Continental Army seemed nearly in its death throes, and Washington would almost certainly be hung if this war was lost. For a host of reasons, Washington was at his wit’s end during this period, while under the stress of a heavy load of pressing wartime demands and responsibilities. Therefore, at his New Windsor headquarters by mid-February 1781, Washington was himself simmering like a powder keg. Only a small spark was now needed to cause an eruption.90

Likewise, under the considerable weight of his own burdens as chief of staff responsibilities and only one of two officers on duty in a much-reduced staff during this busy period, Hamilton was also on edge like Washington. In a letter to James McHenry, Hamilton lamented, “At present there is besides myself only Tilghman, who is just recovering from a fit of illness, the consequence of too close application to business.”91

In addition, Hamilton was naturally unhappy about his personal exile from Albany and extended family that he loved. Then, fueling additional frustration and resentment, Washington refused to allow Hamilton even a few days of leave to visit Albany. He sorely missed the loving warmth of the Schuyler family, during the long hours of thankless work in the “gilded cage” of Washington’s headquarters, which was located in an uncomfortably small house in this gloomy, one-horse town along the Hudson.

Even Washington complained about “the very confined quarters” at New Windsor headquarters, where Hamilton’s workload often kept him up to the midnight hour. He and Washington had worked till that late hour on the night of February 15. And next morning’s duties called very early. By this time, Hamilton felt that working for Washington was a classic Faustian bargain. As mentioned, Hamilton had never wavered in this ambition to aspire higher than a desk position on a general’s staff, and now this burning desire seemingly haunted his every thought. When the war had been young, the twenty-one-year-old Hamilton had refused the coveted positions on the staffs of two generals, Greene and Lord Stirling, for the very reasons that now plagued him.92 In Hamilton’s own words that explained a sentiment that never left him: “I always disliked the office of an Aide de Camp [and therefore] I refused to serve in the capacity with two Major General’s at an early period of the war.”93

In this regard, Hamilton’s deepest inclinations had not been altered in any way. What was most remarkable was the fact that Hamilton had served on Washington’s staff not only for so long, but also so capably in a situation that he detested. Perhaps his dysfunctional past had been a factor that partly explained why Hamilton endured such an extended period as Washington’s right-hand man, while ignoring the negative factors that had steadily grown in number. But since joining Washington’s staff on March 1, 1777, at Morristown, he had matured, gaining confidence and growing into his own as never before. Clearly, his increasing distaste for headquarters duty became more poignant because Hamilton’s personal life was now in complete harmonious order and set in place for future happiness, after his easy entry into one of America’s leading families that thought of him as their own.94

As mentioned, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton was now more aware of the differences between Washington and General Schuyler, his beloved father-in-law with whom he had forged the closest bond. Therefore, despite the Virginian’s proper gentleman code, Washington had always been far too autocratic for Hamilton’s ultra-egalitarianism and sense of fair play. Clearly, this was an increasingly negative and unhealthy relationship that Hamilton needed to escape for his own good and future welfare. Revealing one aspect of working under Washington’s huge shadow, Surgeon Thacher, a New Englander now familiar with the Virginian’s elite behavior and intimidating ways, candidly admitted in his journal how Washington “is feared even when silent….”95

Hamilton explained why he had long so faithfully served Washington so long at the expense of his own desires and ambitions: “His popularity has often been essential to the safety of America…. These considerations [rather than personal] have influenced my past conduct respecting him” and in supporting Washington for nearly four years.96 He admitted that he had early discovered that some of the best things said about Washington were “unfounded.” In his own words and much to his surprise, Hamilton had early discovered that Washington “was neither remarkable for delicacy nor good temper.”97

By mid-February 1781 the perceived slights (both real and imagined) and instances of bad temper demonstrated by Washington became almost impossible to endure any longer for Hamilton. After all that he had accomplished for the commander-in-chief, Hamilton felt increasingly uneasy by the harsh realization that Washington was unappreciative and ungrateful for deliberately keeping him on his staff for so long without a promotion or any promise of a well-deserved advancement. Perhaps something that he never wanted to admit, Hamilton now accepted the hard truth that Washington had “disappointed him at every turn”: the very antithesis of what Hamilton had faithfully accomplished for his demanding and temperamental boss.98

As mentioned, Washington and Hamilton were exhausted from overwork and late hours at headquarters. Hamilton had been laboring late the previous night in translating Washington’s thoughts into French for important dispatches that were about to be sent to their French leaders at Newport, Rhode Island. Therefore, both Washington and his hard-working chief of staff had been up late (perhaps even past midnight) the previous night, Thursday, February 15. Then, without sufficient sleep, the two men were up early on his early Friday morning that promised seemingly endless hours of dreary work without a break. In some ways and despite all that he had achieved, Hamilton must have felt that he was still a teenager laboring for Nicholas Cruger back at Christiansted, St. Croix.

Washington accidently met Hamilton on the wooden staircase at headquarters, where the commander’s room was located on the second floor of the Dutch farmhouse on the Hudson, when the young man was going downstairs. Hamilton had just finished writing at length, and perhaps experienced a weary pen hand. In a curt manner, Washington “told me he wanted to speak to me [and] I answered I would wait upon him immediately,” but first had to deliver his official “pressing” order of army business (a missive directed to the army’s commissary department) to Tilghman who was working in a downstairs room. Upon attempting to return to Washington at the stop of the stairs as requested after delivering these urgent papers in a businesslike manner to the native Marylander, Hamilton then encountered the Marquis de Lafayette in the hallway.

Here, the two close friends exchanged the traditional pleasantries and courtesies, including the kissing of cheeks, in the accepted upper class French manner of greeting and affection, which was generally longer than according to American custom. Then, “we conversed together about a minute on a matter of business,” wrote Hamilton. Lafayette and Hamilton were united by not only by a deep respect and friendship, but also corresponding military ambitions. Hamilton had hoped to lead light infantry troops under General Lafayette in the proposed attack on New York City. After his brief chat, Hamilton then shortly departed from Lafayette’s presence “in a manner [that seemed too] abrupt” to both men in order to return to Washington. Feeling that Washington had long selfishly thwarted Hamilton’s long-overdue advancement and released from his staff, Lafayette had long sympathized with Hamilton’s quandary. Therefore, the sympathetic French general had attempted in vain to have the young man assigned elsewhere, but to no avail.

In the true Virginia planter tradition, almost as if he had beckoned a lowly white domestic, recent Irish immigrant, or a slave at Mount Vernon for an urgent task at hand, Washington expected that Hamilton should promptly report to him without hesitation and not two minutes later in Hamilton’s time estimation. Consequently, the awaiting Washington, now impatiently pacing back and forth at the head of the stairs, was upset. Perhaps he was reminded of his own lack of sophistication and education in hearing the animated conversation between Lafayette (Washington’s true surrogate son not Hamilton) and Hamilton, which was spoken in a melodic and elegant French that he was unable to understand. Washington incorrectly thought that ten minutes had passed before Hamilton finally reported to him. Washington was already fuming because of Hamilton’s relatively short delay in having accidently encountered Lafayette downstairs and exchanged greetings in the customary French manner and then briefly spoke on business matters.99

In his lengthy letter of explanation to General Schuyler to explain the incident, Hamilton then related, “Instead of finding the General as usual in his room [on the second floor], I met him at the head of the stairs, where accosting me in a very angry tone, ‘Col. Hamilton (said he), you have kept me waiting at the head of the stairs these ten minutes. I must tell you Sir you treat me with disrespect.’ I replied without petulancy, but with decision ‘I am not conscious of it Sir, but since you have thought it necessary to tell me so we part’ [and] ‘Very well Sir (said he) if it be your choice,’ or something to this effect and we separated.”100

As in the past, Washington had spoken angrily to his young chief of staff like a “drill sergeant” to a lowly private on the parade ground. Washington was shocked by Hamilton’s curt response that revealed a changed man. Hamilton had been first surprised by Washington’s animated comment, but he had given his boss a far greater surprise by standing up to him so boldly, which had not been seen in the past. Indeed, since taking command of the army, no one in uniform (or at Mount Vernon for that matter, except perhaps Martha on occasion) had ever dared to talk to Washington in such an openly defiant manner.

But clearly Hamilton, only age twenty-six, had grown by leaps and bounds during the war years: a fact that even Washington had been forced to now realize. As Hamilton continued to inform his father-in-law: “I sincerely believe my absence which gave so much umbrage did not last two minutes. In less than an hour, Tilghman came to me [in Hamilton’s downstairs room] in the Generals name assuring me of his great confidence in my abilities, integrity usefulness &c and of his desire in a candid conversation to heal a difference which could not have happened but in a moment of passion.”101

Displaying strength of character and knowing that he had insulted the young man without thinking about the repercussions of his sharp words as in the past, Washington hoped to reconcile and salvage this most vital of relationships by simply overlooking the matter entirely as if it never happened, because he needed Hamilton so badly. Feeling a sense of regret for his emotional outburst, Washington was not holding any resentment or grudge at what could be viewed as disrespectful behavior toward “His Excellency,” the revered commander-in-chief of America’s armies, by an officer that was young enough to be his son. But Hamilton, feeling unappreciated and unrecognized after all that he had accomplished for Washington and America year after year (ironically, some of the same kind of reasons that had caused Arnold to recently turn traitor), would have none of it. This was Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton’s own personal Rubicon and there was now no going back, because “I have not been in the wrong.” Displaying moral courage and strength of will, he turned his back on Washington’s almost immediate proposal to reconcile differences.

Hamilton did not have to think twice in regard to his final decision, because this was the turning point for him and a long-awaited one. In his own words: “I requested Mr. Tilghman to tell him, 1. that I had taken my resolution in a manner not to be revoked” and that Washington’s proposed meeting of reconciliation, which Hamilton refused, was entirely unnecessary at this point.102 Hamilton was correct in his determination not to be swayed from his final decision to depart Washington’s staff. Washington later admitted that he was “the Agressor [sic],” and, therefore, had “quickly repented the Insult.”103

Although the iron-willed Hamilton refused to budge, he offered a solution to this delicate situation that was unprecedented in the history of Washington’s staff: “that though determined to leave the family the same principles which had kept me so long in it would continue to direct my conduct towards him when out of it [and] that however I did not wish to distress him or the public business, by quitting him before he could derive other assistance [especially in regard to the French language to continue Washington’s correspondence with America’s ally] by the return of some of the Gentleman who were absent” from his “family” and “that in the mean time it depended on him to let our behaviour to each other be the same as if nothing had happened.”104

Now fully realizing exactly how serious this seemingly once-insignificant matter was to his young chief of staff, Washington relented. He accepted Hamilton’s conditions that brought a temporary resolution to the impasse, easing the heightened tension that had reached a boiling point. Hamilton wrote how Washington “consented to decline the conversation and thanked me for my offer of continuing my aid, in the manner I had mentioned. Thus we stand” at this time.105

Clearly, Washington had learned once again that Hamilton was driven by a fierce determination and will that was hidden behind the exquisitely mannered and highly polished facade that had never once previously cracked until this regrettable incident at New Windsor. What was now obvious was that once Hamilton made up his mind, “no one could stop him,” not even General Washington and his well-known strength of will.106

But in truth, Hamilton’s intransigence about reconciling with Washington was so strong that something much deeper was actually in play. Almost certainly, after all of his faithful service as chief of staff for nearly four years, Hamilton had actually played a clever hand in a masterful and complex chess game. He was hoping that Washington, whose anger had immediately subsided as Hamilton knew would be the case, might feel sufficiently guilty over his ill-tempered treatment of his most important staff member that the Virginian might finally relent and give him what he desired at the first opportune time: active field command.107

Hamilton explained in the same letter to General Schuyler of the true source of the unfortunate dispute (which revealed two hot tempers and strong wills), because it was also about the significant differences in these complex personalities between the two dynamic military men: “I always disliked the office of an Aide de Camp as having in it a kind of personal dependence [but] Infected … with the enthusiasm of the times, an idea of the Generals character which experience soon taught me to be unfounded overcame my scruples and induced me to accept his invitation to enter into his family. I believe you know the place I held in The Generals confidence and councils of which will make it the most extraordinary to you to learn that for the three years past I have felt no friendship for him and have professed none. The truth is our own dispositions are the opposites of each other & the pride of my temper would not suffer me to profess what I did not feel. Indeed when advances of this kind have been made to me on his part they were received in a manner that showed at least I had no inclination to court them, and that I wished to stand rather upon a footing of military confidence than of private attachment.”108

Clearly, this feisty “‘Little Lion’ stood in no awe of other lions, and his admiration for their prowess was always tempered by the conviction that he was the equal of the best [and he certainly was not] content merely to share in another’s reflected glory.”109 Therefore, Hamilton “would not be found among those who burned incense at the shrine of the so-called great man.”110 Providing some personal relief, Hamilton could now dismiss any lingering thoughts–as he was so often charged by his enemies—of being “too much Washington’s lackey.”111 Once he learned of the incident at the New Windsor headquarters, Lafayette attempted to mend the rift and damage. He wrote to Washington: “From the very first moment, I exerted every means in my power to prevent a separation which I knew was not agreeable to Your Excellency.”112

In a letter to his good friend James “Mac” McHenry, Hamilton explained his firm stance that could not be altered by friend, family, or his wife, writing more candidly (they were still good friends) than to General Schuyler for a good many valid reasons: “I pledge my honor to you that he [Washington] will find me inflexible. He shall for once at least repent his ill-humor. Without a shadow of reason and on the slightest ground, he charged me in the most affrontive manner with treating him with disrespect.”113 Having decided to no longer feel the sting of Washington’s temper and to labor without recognition in the commander-in-chief’s shadow, Hamilton had been treated with disrespect that had been the final straw for him.

Despite this unfortunate incident at New Windsor and most importantly, Hamilton never lost his faith in Washington and what he meant to America’s fragile life in the midst of struggle. The deep bonds forged between the two men in battles and adversities were too deep and strong to be broken by this relatively minor incident. Therefore, Hamilton continued to be Washington’s diehard supporter, who could never “think of quitting the army during the war.” He had early realized that for the young republic and its army to prevail in this life-and-death struggle, Washington needed to continue his projection as a popular hero and a powerful republican symbol. Therefore, to the very end of his life, Hamilton never wavered in his firm support for Washington, who likewise never relinquished his faith and sense of loyalty to the native West Indian. Revealing his heartfelt sentiments and a loyalty that never died, Hamilton wrote to his father-in-law in his February 18, 1781, letter, only two days after this altercation: “The General is a very honest man. His competitors have slender abilities and less integrity…. I think it is necessary he should be supported” for the overall good of the army and America.114

Interestingly, Hamilton had described himself as an “honest man” in a September 12, 1780, letter, and the two men—one a Virginian and the other a West Indian—from such dissimilar backgrounds shared strong characters and an undying love for America as fierce nationalists: a permanent bond between Washington and Hamilton that held firm for the rest of their lives.115 To the former physician who learned more of the young man’s most innermost thoughts other than John Laurens, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton emphasized to “Mac” McHenry how he was not to mention anything about the incident except to closest friends to avoid rumors and scandal that might damage Washington’s reputation, which would not be good for America’s fortunes: “I shall continue to support a popularity [of Washington] that has been essential [and] is still useful” to America.116

Gracious under the circumstances, Hamilton’s promise to continue to provide dedicated support and assistance to Washington was quite unlike Adjutant General Joseph Reed, a cunning New Jersey lawyer who had sided with the General Lee camp. As Washington’s most revered staff officer in 1776, Reed had betrayed the trusting Virginian, who had considered him a dear friend to the very end. Although he tried, Reed was never able to reestablish his friendship with Washington like Hamilton. In striking contrast to Reed and just as he held no grudges or ill feelings toward the father who had abandoned him and the family, Hamilton maintained his loyalty to Washington from beginning to end and long after their New Windsor spat, when the two continued to work closely together to drive Washington’s presidency in order to guarantee greater national harmony and a long life for the republic. In the end, therefore, Hamilton remained forever true to his core beliefs and commitments, never betraying himself, Washington, or America.117

During the war years and as he informed Betsey (Elizabeth Schuler Hamilton), Hamilton sought to convince his father, James Hamilton, Sr., to relocate from the Caribbean to America to reunite what was left of his little family. He had also invited him to attend his wedding in Albany, but it was not possible for James to make the long journey from the Caribbean, especially in wartime. Unlike his son, James was a British citizen. In much the same way, Hamilton held no grudge toward the “Father of his Country.”118

As promised, Hamilton continued to faithfully serve Washington week after week, after the clash of personalities on that ill-fated Friday at New Windsor, February 16, 1781. As before, he maintained a formal, business-like relationship with Washington, performing up to his usual high standards of excellence and sense of commitment as if nothing had ever happened between the two. For the all-important business of America and army operations and as both men fully realized, it was essential for Hamilton to continue to serve in multiple roles, especially in regard to communicating with the French allies: a key point that he had emphasized by General Schuyler, who knew that Hamilton’s absence would damage the vital French alliance, because of his close contacts and friendships with French army, the diplomatic corps, and naval leaders.

Shortly before the tempers of the two men of different generations erupted when least expected, Hamilton devoted himself to political matters on both sides of the Atlantic. As Washington’s chief liaison officer and emissary to the French, he corresponded with the secretary of the French legation in Philadelphia, Francois de Barbe-Marbois, in regard to sensitive military-political matters of importance. Ratified by the states in 1781, the Articles of Confederation—the new national government formed half a decade after the Declaration of Independence’s signing but which was far too states’-rights oriented for effectiveness, especially in regard to the war effort—was officially ratified in the hope of remedying a host of national ills. But Hamilton, like Washington who of course was a fellow diehard nationalist, understood how thoroughly that the Articles of Confederation had guaranteed a notoriously weak national government and army. Hamilton communicated to his French friend in the honest and intimate terms that made him so trusted among the allies: “The first step to reformation as well in an administration as in an individual is to be sensible of our faults. This begins to be our case [because] we are so accustomed to doing right by halves, and spoiling a good intention in the execution, that I always wait to see the end of our public arrangements before I venture to expect good or ill from them [but he was concerned that this new government might will prove] unequal to the exigencies of the war or to the preservation of the union hereafter.”119

Around six weeks after the heated incident at the New Windsor headquarters and waiting patiently for Washington to replace him with a new member of the “family,” Hamilton made another attempt to force Washington’s hand to obtain a field command. Hamilton departed the New Windsor encampment with wife Betsey. He then moved into a rented house at DePeyster’s Point, which was located across the Hudson from the army’s encampment around New Windsor on the west bank. Hamilton’s service as the leading member of the “family” was over, which was the fulfillment of the young man’s hopes of moving on to bigger and better things.120

During the spring of 1781, with now more time on his hands away from headquarters for the first time since March 1, 1777, Hamilton wrote half a dozen “Continentalist” (Washington was also a “Continentalist”) essays for the New-York Packet, in New York City. Overflowing with the usual innovative ideas and novel concepts of merit about correcting the “WANT OF POWER IN CONGRESS,” Hamilton continued to do what he did best: offer sound solutions to the many complex national problems that continued to plague America, especially its weak economy, and government that was unable to adequately support its weak republican armies in the field. As he had long emphasized, a stronger government was the only solution to curing America’s seemingly endless ills, including the “prejudices of the particular states,” as an equally astute Washington also believed was the remedy.121

But, to his great delight, Hamilton’s brilliant writings ended when he officially received command of a light infantry battalion of Lafayette’s light division at the end of July 1781. But the achievement of this longtime ambition had not been easy even up until at the last minute. To force Washington’s hand out of a sense of absolute desperation, he had no choice but to send his officer’s commission to the commander-in-chief to formally resign, if he was not given an active command. Hamilton had waged still another hard-fought battle of maneuver behind the scenes and won. But within only a few months, Hamilton faced his greatest battle challenge in consequence, and as he had long hoped and prayed.

Glory Won at Yorktown

The day that Alexander Hamilton had long awaited and dreamed about for so long finally became a reality on October 14, 1781. At long last, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton was now at the head of his own crack infantry command of Lafayette’s light division at the most crucial phase of the most important battle of the war. The allied forces of Washington and Rochambeau had marched south and all the way from their combined encampment in New York to entrap an entire British-Hessian-Loyalist army at Yorktown after the French fleet had gained naval superiority. Here, near the southern end of the Virginia Peninsula, Hamilton carefully planned the daring assault on strategic Redoubt Number Ten. Along with nearby Redoubt Number Nine, this key defensive position anchored the left flank of General Charles Cornwallis’ defensive line, which surrounded the little Virginia tobacco port of Yorktown.

Sealing his fate, Cornwallis had made the great mistake of trusting the assurances of his superior, General Henry Clinton, which caused him to wait for the promised reinforcements from New York City that never came. Therefore, Yorktown had been besieged by the united French-American Army and pounded by a massive array of artillery (more than one hundred fifty field pieces), including French siege guns. But to close the vise on Cornwallis during this classic European siege, Redoubt Number Ten and the adjacent Redoubt Number Nine must first be captured by infantry assault to seal the garrison’s and Yorktown’s fate. These two redoubts had to be overwhelmed for the completion of the second parallel of defenses ever closer to Cornwallis’ main defensive line to force Cornwallis’ surrender.

With saber in hand, and shouting encouragement while bullets whizzed by him, not long after the sun had set in the low-lying Virginia Tidewater, Hamilton led the bayonet charge on the strategic redoubt. He had decided to attack instead of waiting for sappers to clear away obstacles that protected the approach to Redoubt Number Ten. Hamilton correctly calculated that wasting any time for the sappers to complete their work would not only cost attackers’ lives but also jeopardize the overall chances for success in this attack over deadly open ground.

Consequently, because of his tactical astuteness, Hamilton and his men overran this strategic point in only six minutes, after hand-to-hand combat in which the native West Indian had a number of close calls. Meanwhile, his old friend John Laurens led another infantry battalion, under Hamilton’s overall direction, that simultaneously attacked into the rear of Redoubt Number Ten to seal the doom of the strategic position. Along withNumber Nine that was located around five hundred yards from Redoubt Number Ten that was captured by the French, Hamilton’s capture of strategic Redoubt Number Ten played a large role in forcing Lord Cornwallis’ to surrender his entire army.

At long last, Hamilton had won the battlefield glory that he had long sought after having become Washington’s chief of staff, achieving an amazing success in the most important battle of the American Revolution: The crucial victory in the Virginia Tidewater that convinced London that this war could not be won. Today ironically, nothing remains of Hamilton’s original Redoubt Number Ten, after having been eroded by more than two centuries of coastal rains and the relentless pounding of the York River’s waves.

Because of the longtime focus on Hamilton’s well-known contributions to America and in strengthening its government and economy after the war to lay the central foundation for the rise of a superpower by the twentieth century, the young man’s most important role during the war has been the most overlooked and unappreciated for generations: Alexander Hamilton’s longtime vital role as Washington’s chief of staff that cemented a remarkable symbiotic relationship and partnership that developed at headquarters, which was one of the forgotten keys that separated victor from loser during the American Revolution. Young Alexander Hamilton’s Revolution was finally now over. He had been lucky to survive America’s struggle for liberty, after so many close calls on numerous battlefields.