If this gold mourning ring, above and right, looks familiar, it’s because I’ve already written about it here. But since I wrote that first post in 2017, I’ve had the privilege of seeing the ring in person, as well as a second Hamilton mourning ring. I have a new perspective on the ring now, and fresh thoughts on who commissioned and wore it first.
The Hamilton family tradition states that the ring, above, belonged to Hamilton’s widow, Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (the heroine of my historical novel I, Eliza Hamilton) and was worn by her or one of her two daughters. While it is owned today by a Hamilton descendant, it has recently been on loan and on view at the Museum of the American Revolution as part of their Year of Hamilton programming, and in The Schuyler Sisters and Their Circle exhibition at the Albany Institute of History & Art.
Mourning rings were an important part of the elaborate 18thc rituals of grief. In addition to ordering mourning clothing following a death, rings were commissioned that often included strands of the deceased’s hair, and were engraved with his or her name, age at death, and the dates of birth and death. Elite families would not only commission such rings for themselves, but also for close friends, including pallbearers. The rings would serve both as a personal remembrance, and as a way of publicly honoring the deceased.
But after Alexander Hamilton’s duel with Aaron Burr and his unexpected death in July, 1804, his widow Eliza was in no financial position to order expensive gold mourning jewelry. He had left her and their children deeply in debt, and only the intervention of his friends saved the Hamiltons’ home from being seized by his creditors.
Based on a surviving letter, she appears to have ordered only the single ring, left; it’s also the only one known to exist. (I’ve written about this ring before, too, here; it’s currently on display in the Life Cut Short exhibition at the New-York Historical Society.) This was made for Nathaniel Pendleton, Hamilton’s friend and his second in the duel. The order was placed a year after Hamilton’s death. While well within the acceptable period for mourning jewelry, it’s also possible that Eliza wasn’t able to afford Pendleton’s ring at an earlier date, or other rings for more of his friends. Even so, it’s not a particularly expensive ring. The gold appears to be a low-carat quality, perhaps even pinchbeck, and the two thin tubes forming the band is a cost-cutting design that makes the most of a minimum of gold.
By comparison, the ring at the top of this post was an expensive piece of jewelry. The rose gold band is thick, heavy, and rich, and the execution is elegant and substantial. Seeing it in person, I marveled that Eliza, watching every penny, would have chosen to spend her money on such a ring, or have even been able to do so.
But there’s someone else who could have afforded such a ring, and I believe he is the one who commissioned it. General Philip Schuyler, Eliza’s father, was devastated by Hamilton’s death. Hamilton had been his favorite son-in-law, the only one who had served in the army during the Revolution as the general had himself, and their relationship had always been a warm and filial one. (Eliza was also arguably his favorite and most devoted daughter.) In the summer of 1804, Schuyler’s health was already failing, and the shock of Hamilton’s death likely hastened his own several months later in November.
Throughout his life, Schuyler had been conscious of acting - and spending - as he believed a gentleman of wealth and position should. The Pastures, his home and estate overlooking the Hudson River, had been the largest and most elegant house in upstate New York when Schuyler had built it, and his lavish hospitality was renowned.
Commissioning a mourning ring like this would have been completely in keeping with his character and his taste, and what he would have viewed as a fitting tribute to his celebrated son-in-law. The engraving inside - which includes Hamilton’s age incorrectly - is an error that, late in life, he might well have made. The style and size of the ring is also in keeping with men’s mourning jewelry of the era.
In my opinion, General Schuyler ordered this ring for himself, which would explain its size and masculine character. He would not have had long to wear it. When he died that autumn, the ring would naturally have been given to Eliza. A small woman herself, she would not have been able to wear the ring on her finger, but likely had the gold loop added so that she might wear it securely as a pendant. Thus for her the ring would have become an especially meaningful double-mourning piece, honoring both her father and her husband. The front of the ring shows wear where it would have been bumped and jostled over time as a pendant, but the interior engraving remained crisp and sharp from having been worn so briefly on the general’s finger.
There hasn’t been a proper “paper trail” discovered - a jeweler’s receipt would be best - to link the ring unequivocally to General Schuyler, and for now this possibility must be considered conjecture, not fact. But it all seems so plausible that I hope one day that illusive receipt will appear in some archive or collection.
I also wonder if this ring inspired the design of the second one she ordered later for Pendleton. Perhaps Eliza even showed the first ring to the jeweler who made the second. Side by side, there is a definite resemblance in the square face and black-bordered frame - but the difference in the quality is poignantly evident, too. Eliza would spend the rest of her long life forced to make choices like that based on the dramatic change in her circumstances.
Above: Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton's Mourning Ring, maker unknown, c1804, Collection of Douglas Hamilton. Photos courtesy of Clifton & Anderson.
Below: Mourning ring containing lock of Alexander Hamilton’s hair presented to Nathaniel Pendleton by Elizabeth Hamilton, 1805, New-York Historical Society. Photograph ©2019 Susan Holloway Scott.
Read more about Alexander and Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton in my historical novel I, Eliza Hamilton; order here. My latest historical novel, The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr, is now available everywhere. Order here.