A c1790 India Chintz Gown that Eliza Hamilton Could Have Worn

There aren't any surviving dresses or gowns that we definitely know were worn by Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, nor, like some women, did she leave descriptions of favorite clothes or record what she wore where. Still, it's possible to guess what might have been in her wardrobe. She was born into a family that wasn't afraid of displaying their wealth in their home, so it's a good guess that Eliza and the other Schuyler daughters were dressed fashionably, and expensively. Alexander Hamilton was considered something of a male peacock who favored brightly colored silks that he had tailored to show off his military bearing, and it's likely that he encouraged Eliza as his wife to dress fashionably, too.

Forget the myth of colonial homespun. Even in the middle of the Revolution, affluent New York ladies dressed every bit as stylishly as their counterparts in London. The newest fashions were only a trans-Atlantic voyage away; a new style could appear one day at Court, and be available in New York shops less than a month later. Even Eliza's older sister Angelica noted in a letter to Eliza that the women of New York were following - and wearing - the latest extravagant trends more closely than the ladies in London.

This two-piece ensemble was worn in Albany (the Schuyler family's hometown) around 1790, and the fabric is a chintz cotton - a costly luxury fabric in the 18thc - painted and dyed in India for the export market in Europe and America. The ruffled peplum at the back waist of the jacket added a stylish accent that must have fluttered charmingly when the wearer walked. To achieve the fashionable volume in the skirts - less extreme than earlier in the 18thc, but still in evidence - the petticoat would have been worn over a false rump. The cotton jacket is lined with less expensive linen, making the ensemble both cool and comfortable in warmer weather.

And yes, there's even a connection between this dress and Eliza. The ensemble belonged to Anne Van Cortlandt Van Rennselaer (1766-1855), a cousin of Eliza's through her mother, who was also a Van Rennselaer. Anne and Eliza were close in age, and once Anne married Philip Van Rensselaer in 1787 and moved to Albany from Croton, NY, Anne and Philip belonged to the same Dutch church as Eliza's family. They almost certainly met socially. Both women's husbands were involved in politics, too: Anne's husband Philip was the mayor of Albany, while Eliza's husband Alexander served in the New York state legislature, attended the Constitutional Convention, and was the first Secretary of the Treasury in the new federal government.

As for this chintz ensemble - I wouldn't be at all surprised if Eliza had one much like it in her wardrobe, too. Alexander would have approved.

Above: Women’s dress, American, made of imported cotton, c1790. Collection of Colonial Williamsburg.

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.

Alexander Hamilton Standing Tall at Columbia University

While I was in New York last week for BookExpo, I also found time for a little extra research and inspiration. I took the subway uptown to Columbia University for an appointment in the Rare Books & Manuscript Library (more to come about my visit soon), and I also spotted this handsome statue of Alexander Hamilton, standing appropriately in front of Hamilton Hall. Over two hundred years have passed since he was a student there, yet he remains one of the university's most famous alumni.

There are scores of public statues of Hamilton across the country, but this is the only one I've seen that shows him as a young college student instead of a revered statesman. Thanks to the contributions of a group of gentlemen on his native island of Nevis, the impoverished but promising Hamilton was able to sail to New York to pursue his eduction in 1773. He was about sixteen when he enrolled at King's College (Columbia's name before the Revolution), and although he left the college without graduating in 1776 to join the Continental Army and the cause of liberty, his years as a student helped hone his intellectual curiosity and his relentless work ethic. Columbia remained special to Hamilton, with several of his sons attending the college as well. In honor of his role and achievements helping create the new federal government, Columbia did grant him an honorary degree to make up for the one he'd never completed.

Dedicated in 1908, this bronze statue of Hamilton was created by the sculptor William Ordway Partridge, and was a gift of the Association of Alumni of Columbia College. With his hair tousled and his gaze purposeful, Hamilton looks as if he's eager to take on everything the world might toss his way - which, in fact, he was. Obviously his wife Eliza never saw this statue, but I feel sure she would have approved of it. This is the young Alexander, brimming with energy and ambition, that she'd meet in late 1777 when he was serving as an aide-de-camp of General Washington.  

What would Eliza have to say about the statue of Thomas Jefferson that stands nearby? Better not to guess....

Photograph ©2017 by Susan Holloway Scott

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere.

Can't Wait to Get Your Hands on an Advance Copy of I, ELIZA HAMILTON?

Are you going to BookExpo (May 31-June 2) or BookCon (June 3 &4) next week in NYC?

Kensington Publishing will be giving attendees a chance to pick up an advance copy of I, ELIZA HAMILTON! Only a limited number of copies will be available, so find out what times each day you can grab your copy.

Better yet: I'll be signing copies of I, ELIZA HAMILTON at BookExpo Thursday, June 1, 1:30-2:00, at Author Autographing Table #15. Stop by, pick up a copy, and say hello!

Photograph ©2017 by Susan Holloway Scott

I, Eliza Hamilton by Susan Holloway Scott will be published September 26, 2017, by Kensington Books. Pre-order now.

Picturing the Courtship of Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in 1935

The romance between Eliza Schuyler, the second daughter of a socially prominent Albany family, and Lt. Colonel Alexander Hamilton, penniless but with plenty of promise, has long been a favorite for historical storytellers. It's also the inspiration of this sweetly charming painting, generously shared with me by the Albany Group Archives on flickr (check out their account here, and their Facebook page here.)

The title of this painting is "The Courtship of Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler", and it was painted in 1935 by David Cunningham Lithgow (1868-1958). A native of Glasgow, Scotland, Lithgow emigrated to America as a young man and set up his studio in Albany, becoming one of the city's leading artists. His work included paintings, sculptures, book illustrations, and historical murals such as this one.

According to the caption provided by Albany Group Archives, Lithgow painted the mural in 1935 for the Milne School (now Milne Hall, part of the downtown campus of University at Albany.) He also painted other historical murals for the New York State Museum, which acknowledges on its website that although Lithgow's paintings were "based on some historical research and sensitivity....they all require strong leaps of faith for adequate historical credibility."

That's certainly the case with this painting. Perceptions of 18thc America have changed considerably since 1935, and modern research offers a less "prettified" view of both the Schuyler Mansion shown in the background, and the courtship itself. For example, the painting includes the hexagonal entryway and the railing along the roof that were 19thc additions to the house, and shows lavishly floral landscaping that was much more in the style of 1930 than 1780.

There was also no "courting" done between Alexander and Eliza during the summer months in Albany. They agreed to marry during the army's winter encampment in Morristown, NJ, in the late winter of 1780. After that, Alexander's military duties separated him from Eliza until shortly before their wedding in Albany in wintery December.

But that's not all. The Schuyler family enslaved around thirty individuals of African descent, with many employed as house servants, yet it's doubtful any of them were dressed like the stereotypical servant with a salver in the background. In fact, the clothing on all the figures is the stuff of Colonial Revival fantasies combined with Hollywood glamour, including Eliza's skeptical yet jaunty pose, one hand on her hip and the other on her chin like some wise-cracking starlet.

Detail, details, and yet the painting still made me smile. How could it not? But listen up, Alexander: you're going to have to offer more than a random finger-point to convince Eliza of your endless devotion....

"The Courtship of Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton" by David Cunningham Lithgow, 1935. Image courtesy of the Milne Class of 1961, from AlbanyGroup Archive on flickr.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.

Two Gentlemen and a Lost Dog, 1777

Commercial advertising seldom includes the Founding Fathers, but a recent advertisement from Pedigree dog food features a little-known historical incident involving two gentlemen, a lost dog, and the Revolutionary War. The advertisement is part of Pedigree's series with the tag line that "dogs bring out the best in us," and this advertisement proves exactly that.

I won't ruin the spot with spoilers, but what's shown really did happen. The draft of the note, above, now in the Library of Congress, was written to accompany the dog. The message is from the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, General George Washington, writing to the commander of the British Army, General William Howe. Washington was himself a great dog lover (there's an entire page on the Mount Vernon website devoted to his dogs), and did in fact return his enemy's lost pet, one gentleman to another. As was his practice, Washington dictated the note to a aide-de-camp. In this case, the aide was a young lieutenant colonel named Alexander Hamilton, who, despite his unquestionable devotion to the American cause, was still sufficiently dazzled by Howe's title that he first addressed him as "Sir William" instead of "General."

Of course, the advertisement doesn't *quite* get things historically correct. The Battle of Germantown took place on October 4, 1777; there was a heavy fog for most of the battle, and not a trace of snow. Washington was only forty-five at the time, not the craggy icon shown here. As for Colonel Hamilton - the real Hamilton in 1777 was barely out of his teens, a slender, fair-skinned, red-haired college drop-out.

Still, it's all a bit more plausible than this version of General Washington (I think it's the same actor, too) routing the British in a muscle car.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton. My latest historical novel, The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr, is now available everywhere. Order here.

Now Available to Download: A Free Readers' Guide to "I, Eliza Hamilton"

Yes, I know, it's only May, and "I, Eliza Hamilton" won't be released until September 26, 2017. But I also know that many book clubs and reading groups take a break over the summer, and some of you may already be choosing your fall reading selections. I hope Eliza will be one of them. 

To help with your planning (and to get you in the spirit), my publisher, Kensington Books, and I have put together a Readers' Guide for "I, Eliza Hamilton." You'll find a list of the leading characters (plus their portraits), historical places mentioned in the book that you can visit today, questions for discussion, and even clothes that Eliza herself might have worn.

It's free to download here. Enjoy!

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.

Happy Mothers Day, Eliza!

In Alexander Hamilton's farewell letter to his wife Eliza, he famously praised her as "the best of wives and the best of women," but she was also a pretty spectacular mother. She raised eight children (six sons, two daughters) under often-difficult circumstances. Despite this houseful, Eliza also welcomed other children in need, whether two-year-old Fanny Antill, the motherless daughter of one of Alexander’s old friends who lived with the Hamiltons until adulthood, or the son of another old friend, Georges Washington de La Fayette, who as a teenager briefly found asylum with the Hamiltons in America while his parents were imprisoned by the French Revolution.

When Alexander died, the oldest surviving Hamilton son was still a teenager, and the youngest child still an infant. Eliza’s grief was staggering. Yet although her husband had left her deeply in debt, she managed to see all her sons but her youngest attend college – a significant accomplishment for any mother in early 19thc America.

While none of the sons achieved their father’s rare stellar fame, all grew to be men that clearly carried Alexander’s heritage. Four of the surviving sons became lawyers, and were active in state and federal politics and government.  The fifth was a soldier who attended West Point and fought in the Black Hawk Wars on the western frontier.  

Tragically, Eliza’s older daughter Angelica’s mental health deteriorated to the point that she could no longer be kept at home, and eventually lived under the care of a private doctor. The younger daughter, named Eliza for her mother, married Sidney Augustus Holly, and the elder Eliza lived with them in the later years of her life. 

But Eliza also became a kind of surrogate mother to hundreds of orphaned children. She never forgot her husband’s grim childhood, and devoted herself to helping other helpless children. She was one of the women who founded the New York Orphan Asylum Society in 1806, and she sat on their board for many years. Beginning in 1821, when her own children were grown, she served as the asylum’s first directress, and for twenty-seven years she oversaw every aspect of the children’s care as well as assuming many of the financial and administrative aspects of running the asylum. Over a century later, the asylum has evolved into Graham Windham, an organization that continues to embrace Eliza’s ideals by offering support to children and families who need it most.

If Eliza was proud of everything that Alexander had done in his life, then he would have been equally proud of what she achieved on behalf of children - and if any mom deserves to be celebrated today, it's Eliza Hamilton. Happy Mother's Day, Eliza! 

"Portrait of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (Mrs. Alexander Hamilton)" by Ralph Earl, c1787, Museum of the City of New York.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton. Order now. My latest historical novel, The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr, is available everywhere.

Alexander Hamilton's Powdered Hair, c1796

I've written here about how Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (the heroine of my new historical novel, I, ELIZA HAMILTON) followed the latest fashion for hedgehog-inspired hair, a style made popular by Marie Antoinette. Curled and frizzled, pomatumed and powdered, the hairstyle would have been the work of a skilled hairdresser, and probably taken considerable time to achieve, too.

For her husband Alexander Hamilton, that same powder and pomatum was a near-daily ritual. Today we look at portraits of the Founding Fathers and think the American Revolution was the work of a bunch of old men. This wasn't the case: many of the members of the Continental Congress were in their thirties, or even their twenties, and the soldiers fighting in the army were even younger. Even George Washington was only in his early forties when he became the Commander-in-Chief. However, many of the portraits of the Founders that we see today were painted when these men were much older and more venerable. In addition, many of them powdered their hair, which makes them appear prematurely grey to modern eyes.

While many 18thc gentlemen wore wigs - signs of status as well as fashion - American military men often took their cue from Washington, who always wore his own hair instead of a wig. Washington's hair was naturally reddish-brown, but always hidden under a thick coat of pomatum and white powder, exactly as used by the ladies (more about powder and pomatum here.) But while the ladies were hoping for plenty of big-hair-volume, Washington expected his pomatum regimen to hold his hair neatly in place and out of the way, sleeked back from his forehead, clubbed, and bound in a queue at the nape of the neck with a black silk bow. He expected his officers to do the same, a show of military uniformity and neatness, and many of the men continued to wear a variation of the style long after the war was over and their military days done, or at least as long as they still had the hair for it.

Among these officers was Colonel Alexander Hamilton. Washington's most trusted aide-de-camp during the war and a bonafide hero in battle, Hamilton always enjoyed the display of a well-cut uniform, and was proud of retaining his military bearing throughout his life. By the 1790s, many American men had already abandoned wigs and the now-old-fashioned pomatum and powder except for the most formal occasions. Younger men were cutting their hair short, too. But Hamilton preferred to retain the smart military look of well-dressed hair from his days as a young man in the Continental Army, much the way some modern former soldiers continue to wear very short or shaved military-style haircuts even after returning to civilian life.

Hamilton's hair was serious business, with payments to his barber listed in his cash books. His third son, James Alexander (who was born in 1788, making this recollection likely from the late 1790s, when Hamilton was working as an attorney in New York City), recalled his father's ritual with the barber:

"I recollect being in my father's office in New York when he was under the hands of his hair-dress[er] (which was his daily course). His back hair was long. It was plaited, clubbed up, and tied with a black ribbon. His front hair was pomatumed, powdered and combed up and back from his forehead."

The pastel drawing, above, was a portrait that the Hamilton family regarded as one of the best likenesses, showing his handsome profile and half-smile. It's also a splendid view of that well-dressed hair tied with the black ribbon. It appears to cut shorter and fuller in front, with the back long (I'm resisting mullet references.) I especially like how there's a dusting of hair powder on the collar of his black coat - once the sign of a well-groomed gentleman.

Fun fact: George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, and Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette were all described by contemporaries as having various shades of red hair. Who knew, under all that powder?

Above: Alexander Hamilton by James Sharples, pastel on paper, c1796, New York Historical Society.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.

My Favorite Street Signs in Albany

Originally known as The Pastures, the Schuyler Mansion - home to many 18thc members of the Schuyler family including Eliza Schuyler Hamilton - was built in the 1760s by Eliza's father, General Philip Schuyler (1733-1804). The general was determined to make his house the biggest and most fashionable in Albany, and he traveled to London himself to buy everything for his stylish new home from the latest in costly wallpaper to a fancy papier-mâche ceiling. He succeeded grandly, too: set high on the hill to the south of the city, the large brick Georgian-style house on an 80-acre estate was the first building travelers saw as they arrived from New York, and it impressed everyone who saw it, including such illustrious guests as Benjamin Franklin, the Marquis de Lafayette, and Martha Washington.

But after the General died in 1804, none of his surviving eight children had interest in occupying the house, which was now not only a bit old-fashioned, but also facing encroachment from the growing city. The house itself was sold in one parcel, and the surrounding estate was marked into streets and building lots, with the proceeds divided among the Schuyler children. With a touch of gallantry, a quality seldom ascribed to real estate developers,  some of the streets were named after members of the Schuyler family. 

About three blocks from the Mansion (which still stands as a landmark open to the public) are these two street, where Eliza and Alexander Hamilton will forever intersect. It makes the romantic in me sigh happily.

Photograph ©2017 by Susan Holloway Scott

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.

From Paris to New York City: Hedgehog Hair, c1785

It's a still-too-popular myth that early Americans were unfashionably plain and self-sufficient, wearing simply braided hair and clothes of homespun fabric. In this unrealistic vision of 18thc life, women not only tended the sheep, but spun the wool, wove the thread into fabric, and then cut and sewed all the clothes for their family.

Well, no. Very little fabric was produced at home, and nearly all of it was imported. People who lived along the coast were eager to follow the fashions of Paris and London, and the latest styles were imported along with fine woolens, silks, cottons, and linen. Even settlers and Native Americans living on the frontier traded for woolen cloth made in England. European visitors were surprised by how fashionable Americans were, and how the ladies in Philadelphia, Charleston, and New York followed the same trends as their sisters abroad.

These two portraits show how swiftly and thoroughly fashion came across the Atlantic. The portrait, left, of Marie-Antoinette, Queen of France, was painted by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun in 1785. The queen wears her hair in the latest style, a la hérisson, or the hedgehog, devised by her hairdresser Léonard-Alexis Autié. Monsieur Léonard (as he was known at court) cut the front of the queen's hair shorter, brushed it with a scented "hard" pomade made from beeswax, curled it on narrow rollers or with heated tongs, and frizzed it for extravagant volume. Unlike today, frizz was an 18thc lady's best friend, and the more, the better. Loose falling side curls towards the back soften the effect. Finally the entire hair is dusted with a starchy powder to whiten it. (See here, here, and here for more about 18thc hair powder and pomade.)

The queen not only favored this hairstyle, but found it was a good "support" for the oversized turbans, plumes, and poufs she liked to wear during this period. While white-powdered hair was beginning to fall from fashion - it disappeared for good with the French Revolution - the queen continued to powder her fair hair to an even whiter pallor, the better to show off her complexion in contrast.

Variations on the hedgehog style were popular throughout the 1780s. Many of the ladies in portraits by Thomas Gainsborough sport hedgehog-inspired hair, and the hairdressers of the recent movie The Duchess gave Kiera Knightley wigs with stupendous hedgehogs.

In 1787, the style was being worn in New York City, too. The second portrait, right, by American artist Ralph Earl, is of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, wife of then-member of the Continental Congress Alexander Hamilton; she's also the heroine of my upcoming book I, ELIZA HAMILTON. The Hamiltons were a fashionable young couple in Federalist New York City and in Philadelphia, attending the theatre, balls, and dinners with equally fashionable friends, and would have been very aware of European styles in hair and dress.

In her portrait, Eliza has clearly followed the royal trend-setter. Some historians (male, and dismissive of fashion history) describe her as wearing a wig, but that's her own hair, frizzed and powdered into an elegant hedgehog. It's a surprisingly close copy of the queen's hair, down to the horizontal falling curls at the back, although Eliza chose a simpler headdress of fine linen or silk gauze instead of Marie-Antoinette's plumed turban.

That snowy white hair must have taken a considerable amount of powder to achieve, too, for beneath it Eliza's natural hair color was described as a very dark brown, almost black - you can see it showing through the powder. So much powder made a statement of affluence as well. Hair powder was considered a luxury good, and while flour could be substituted as a low-cost alternative in a pinch, the best powder was imported, a finely ground mixture of starch, bone, and orris root for scent. It's likely that Eliza wore her hair this heavily powdered only for special occasions, and by the time she sat for another portrait in the 1790s, she'd given it up, and is shown wearing her own dark hair. There is, however, a record of Eliza receiving a gift of hair powder in 1780 from Martha Washington - a thoughtful present from another 18thc lady who enjoyed a good powdering. 

Above left: Marie Antoinette with a Rose by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, 1783, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Lower right: Portrait of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (Mrs. Alexander Hamilton by Ralph Earl, c1787, Museum of the City of New York.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.

A Little House that Survived a Major Battle, 1777

One of the best parts about writing I, Eliza Hamiltonis that I've been able to visit so many of the places that were familiar to my characters. Alexander and Eliza Hamilton lived most of their lives in New York and Pennsylvania, with some months spent also in New Jersey during the war. As a young man, Alexander served as an officer in the Continental Army, and was the senior aide-de-camp of Commander-in-Chief General George Washington. For obvious reasons, Eliza wasn't there on the front lines with Alexander, and since this is her book, not his, I've only now been playing catch-up and visiting "his" battlefields.

This past weekend, I braved the cold to traipse across the Brandywine Battlefield, located in Chadds Ford, PA. The Battle of Brandywine was fought on September 11, 1777. It was the largest battle of the Revolution, involving the most troops (over 30,000 men between the two armies), and the longest battle as well, with fighting that ranged over 11 hours in ninety-degree heat. It was not a good day for the Continental Army. Not only were they soundly defeated with significant casualties, but their retreat also permitted the British Army to capture Philadelphia (then the country's capital) virtually unopposed. And yes, twenty-year-old Alexander Hamilton was one of those soldiers in the retreat.

There is, of course, few signs of the battle left today. Housing developments and highways close in around what remains of the battlefield, a fraction of the long-gone open space of 1777. The word "battlefield" itself has always struck me as something of a misnomer, sounding as it does like some carefully designated and set-aside place for war. The Battle of Brandywine took place across farms and around homes, river fords, and meeting houses, and as wars always do, changed forever the lives of those caught in the middle of it.

The house of farmer Gideon Gilpin (shown here) still stands, and it is open to visitors as part of the Brandywine Battlefield historic site. Gilpin was a prosperous wheat and dairy farmer whose family had been among the first English settlers of the region. He lived with his wife and six young children in the two-story, four-room stone house shown here (the ell with the porch is a later addition.) Like most of his neighbors, he was a Friend, or Quaker. Quakers believed that war and conflict went against God's wishes, and refused to choose sides or fight during the Revolution.

It was a difficult and unpopular stand to take, especially when the war spilled over onto Gilpin's land. Standing inside the little stone house, I tried to imagine what that September day must have been like for the Gilpin family, who remained inside their house while the battle raged nearby. With shutters closed, the thick stone walls protected them to a certain extent, but considering how seasoned soldiers spoke afterwards of the terrible fighting and steady gunfire from the artillery on both sides, it must have been a horrifying ordeal.

Imagine trying to comfort your small children when you're terrified yourself. Imagine hearing the sounds of war, without knowing exactly what was happening. Imagine wondering if the next round of cannon fire will be near enough to shatter the wall of your home.

The Gilpins and their house survived, but the aftermath of the battle may have been even more difficult for Gideon. His crops - so close to harvest - fields, and trees were destroyed. Worse yet, the British had taken not only the bacon, hay, and wheat he had in storage, but all his livestock: milch cows, sheep, swine, and his yoke of oxen, the 18thc farmer's equivalent to a tractor and a truck. His farm was in ruins, and he was left with no way to feed or support his family. It was enough for Gideon Gilpin. Soon after, he chose to side with the Continental cause - and was read out (or expelled) from his Quaker community for doing so.

I think there could be another book here....

One more quick Nerdy History fact: that enormous sycamore tree in the background of the bottom photo is certified by the National Arborist Association and the International Society of Arboriculture to have been standing at least since 1787, the year the American Constitution was signed. Most likely it, too, is another survivor of the battle.

The Brandywine Battlefield historic site includes not only the Gilpin House, but the Benjamin Ring House, which served as Washington's headquarters. They've just reopened for the season; their website is here. Special thanks to Andrew M. Outten, director of education and museum services, for his first-rate tour of the Gilpin House.

All photos ©2017 by Susan Holloway Scott.

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton. Order here. My newest historical novel, The Secret Wife of Aaron Burr, is now available everywhere, in stores and online. Order here.

A History Mystery Solved: Rediscovering a Forgotten Portrait of Angelica Schuyler Church

Anyone familiar with the musical Hamilton already knows the name Angelica Schulyer Church (1756-1814). In fact, in most Hamil-fan circles, she's called just Angelica, the Schuyler sister who's famously never satisfied.

Anyone alive in late 18thc London and Paris would have recognized her name, too, for she was certainly the best-known American woman in the fast set of English society. Born into a wealthy Dutch-American family in Albany, NY, she eloped with John Church, a slightly shady Englishman who made his fortune selling arms during the American Revolution. After the war, John took Angelica and their children back to England, where he became a landed gentleman and a member of parliament. Angelica combined  her wit, beauty, and vivacious character with her husband's money to make her drawing room one of THE places to see and be seen in Georgian London.

Angelica was admired by gentlemen as diverse as Benjamin Franklin, the Prince of Wales, the Marquis de Lafayette, Whig party leader Charles James Fox and playwright Richard Brinsely Sheridan. She was a patron of artists Benjamin West, John Trumbull, and Maria Cosway. She may (or may not) have had an affair with Thomas Jefferson, and she may (or may not) have had one with her brother-in-law Alexander Hamilton, too.

To me, she's the older sister of Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, the heroine of my historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, published by Kensington Books in September, 2017. I've been wallowing deep in my research of the Schuyler and Hamilton families for a good long time now. Characters become very real to me (especially the ones who were real people - I know, weird writer problems) to the point that I half-expect to run into them at the local grocery.

So imagine my surprise when the lovely face, upper left, turned up in my Instagram feed this morning. Posted by the account of the Philip Mould Gallery in London, this portrait is by the well-known Georgian miniature painter Samuel Shelley (1750-1808). Shelley was famous for painting society beauties of the day, and this one - identified only as a portrait of a lady - is a gorgeous example of his work.

I was also convinced it was a forgotten portrait of Angelica Schuyler Church.

There are only two other portraits of Angelica known today. One is a portrait of her with her son and servant by the American artist John Trumbull, detail, upper right, and the other a print after a painting by English artist Richard Cosway, lower left. To my eye, the Trumbull and Shelley portraits show the same woman. It's an uncommon face for an 18thc beauty: a long nose (which also turns up in portraits of her father), a small mouth, the dark, slightly close-set eyes. The Shelley miniature also seems to capture both the flirtatious charm and intelligence that Angelica's contemporaries all mention.

From the clothes and hair style, I'd guess that this portrait was painted in the 1780s, the time when Angelica was living in London. The art world in London at the time was a small one; another portraitist, Maria Cosway, was one of Angelica's closest friends, and it's easy to imagine Maria introducing Samuel Shelley to Angelica as a possible patron.

I wrote to Emma Rutherford, the consultant specializing in miniatures for Philip Mould with my thoughts. Here's Ms. Rutherford's reply: "Portrait miniatures do not often survive with the same provenance as oil portraits – their size meant that they could not be physically attached to labels and papers - and they were often not properly listed in inventories etc. I have also checked the RA listings and Shelley does not note exhibiting a portrait of Angelica. There are no other papers or sitters lists which survive relating to his output. With the lack of documentary evidence and provenance we would be unable to say that this is definitively a portrait of Angelica. On the other hand, the facial similarity (including eye colour) is so strong that I would like to amend our cataloguing to say that this is ‘possibly’ a portrait of her."

They went further than that. Today the Shelley portrait is listed on the Philip Mould web site gallery as being of Angelica Schuyler Church, with no “possibly” attached to it. And if you read to the end of their gallery notes, you’ll see that I’m credited, too. Now, if I can only find another portrait of Eliza….

Above left: Portrait of a Lady by Samuel Shelley, image via Philip Mould Gallery.
Left: Portrait of Mrs. John Barker Church (Angelica Schuyler), Son Philip, and Servant by John Trumbull, c1785, private collection

Read more about Eliza Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton in my latest historical novel, I, Eliza Hamilton, now available everywhere. Order now.