Where Eliza & Alexander Hamilton Lived in Philadelphia

Both Eliza and Alexander Hamilton considered themselves New Yorkers, and they both spent more time in their lives there than anywhere else. But they also lived for a number of years in Philadelphia: Alexander took various lodgings when business and government took him to the city, and Eliza and the children joined him in at least one rented house (records are inconclusive) from 1790-1795, when Philadelphia was the country's capital and Alexander was serving as the Secretary of Treasury. 

They definitely did live in a house at 79 South Third Street, a lot which now faces onto modern day Walnut Street between Third and Second Streets. The house has long ago vanished, and there is no surviving drawing or other record of its appearance. It was most likely brick and several stories high, as were nearly all of the other houses in the neighborhood. The Hamiltons would have required a good-sized house. The family was a growing one, with four of their own children as well as their adopted daughter Fanny Antill, to be joined by another son in 1792. The household would also likely have included servants. More unhappily, Alexander conducted at least part of his ill-fated affair with Maria Reynolds in this house, while Eliza was away with the children at her parents' house in Albany.

The house's location must have been convenient for Alexander. It was around the corner from the Offices of the Treasury on Third and Chestnut, and also, on the same street, the site of the new First Bank of the United States. (On the east side of Third Street today, across from the bank, stands the new Museum of the American Revolution.) Three blocks to the west, at Sixth Street and Chestnut, was Congress Hall, the home of the United States Congress until 1800. Shops, stables, taverns, and markets were also conveniently nearby. 

The Hamiltons's house was on the edge of one of 18thc. Philadelphia's most affluent neighborhoods. On Third Street south of Walnut, shown in the c1800 engraving above, were the mansions of merchant, banker, and legislator William Bingham and his wife Anne; first president of the First Bank Thomas Willing; and real estate magnate and last mayor of colonial Philadelphia, Samuel Powel and his wife Elizabeth. At one time, George and Martha Washington also had a house on Third Street.

Given Alexander's position in the government, it's likely that he and Eliza were frequent guests in the homes of these wealthy and powerful people. Reciprocating their hospitality, however, must have been a challenge for Eliza, given their own much more limited means. Unlike the majority of the other members of the new government, the Hamiltons had no income from a private estate, legacy, or investments, and attempted to live on Alexander's surprisingly humble salary - far less than what he had been earning as a lawyer in New York.

Today a large commercial building sits on the site of the Hamilton house, with an imposing historic plaque facing Walnut Street to commemorate the location. As is too often the way, however, the plaque mentions only Alexander as having lived there, without so much as a hint of Eliza, or their children. I couldn't make a lasting addendum to the plaque, but at least for the photo, below, I made sure Eliza was included.

Above: Birch's View on Third Street, from Spruce Street, Philadelphia, c1800.

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

A Twenty-Something Revolution: How Young Was the Founding Generation on July 4, 1776?

I saw this miniature portrait of Lt. Colonel John Laurens yesterday at the Portrait Gallery in the Second Bank, part of the Independence National Historic Park in Philadelphia. It would have been easy enough to miss. Like so many 18thc miniatures painted in watercolors on ivory, this one needs to be protected from light to keep from fading, and unless a visitor pushes aside the dark cloth shrouding its glass case (which you're invited to do; I didn't break any rules!), it will be overlooked. It's also tiny, the most miniature of miniatures. Including its frame of enamelwork and cut garnets, it measures only 1-3/4" high. 

But that's not a face meant to be forgotten. John Laurens was born in Charleston, SC in 1754, into a family of remarkable for its power and privilege, and wealth created on the backs of enslaved men and women. Tall and handsome, Laurens was educated abroad, destined for a career in law. The Revolution changed that, and against his father's wishes, he joined the staff of Commander-in-Chief Gen. George Washington as an aide-de-camp in 1777. He was 23. He became close friends with both the Marquis de Lafayette and Alexander Hamilton, who considered Laurens his dearest friend in the military.

Known for his daring and impetuous courage in battle, Laurens was equally daring in his beliefs. Despite being the son of a slaveowner and seller, Laurens believed that all Americans, regardless of race, could and should be equal in the new republic, and he campaigned for the enlistment of enslaved men in the Continental Army as a way for them to earn their freedom - an unpopular idea that was never put into action. 

Laurens made his mark on both the battlefield and as a statesman, serving as a special minister to France with Benjamin Franklin to help secure French aid for America. He fought in the last major battle of the war at Yorktown and survived, only to be killed in a meaningless skirmish in 1782, weeks before the British troops finally left America for good. He was only 27, his immense promise cut short.

This miniature was a copy of an earlier portrait by the same artist, and was painted after Laurens' death as a memento for one of his former comrades, Maj. William Jackson. The  Latin motto around the miniature's frame reads "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” ("It is a sweet and honorable thing to die for one's country.") A noble sentiment, indeed. But Laurens' good friend Alexander Hamilton was devastated, and in one of those historical "what if's", it's impossible not to wonder what both men would have achieved together if Laurens had lived.

All of which made me think, too, of how young so many of the major figures of the American Revolution were when the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776. My two main characters in I, Eliza Hamiton were among the youngest: Alexander Hamilton was around 21 (his birthdate is uncertain), while his future wife Elizabeth Schuyler was 18. John Laurens was 21, and Aaron Burr 20. The Marquis de Lafayette was 18, Betsy Ross 24, Henry Lee III 20, James Monroe 18, James Madison 25. For fans of TURN, John Andre was 26, Benjamin Tallmadge 22, Robert Townsend 22, Abraham Woodhull 26, and Peggy Shippen a mere 16. Slightly older but still not exactly greybeards were Abigail Adams 31, Thomas Jefferson 33, John Hancock 39, Thomas Paine 39, and John Adams, 40. Even George Washington, the future Commander-in-Chief, was only 44, and his nemesis King George III was 38.

They were young men and young women, brimming with enthusiasm, dedication, and fierce devotion to their ideals and dreams. Consider the ages of our current government (one of the oldest in American history, with the average age for members of the House of Representatives 58, and for Senators, 63 - and I, for one, wouldn't mind seeing a bit of that revolutionary youth and spirit once again.

Above: Miniature Portrait of John Laurens by Charles Willson Peale, c1784, Independence NHP.

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

Was This the Wedding Cake for Eliza Schuyler & Alexander Hamilton?

Updated July 2, 2017

In December, 1780 Alexander Hamilton was granted a short leave from his duties as senior aide-de-camp to Commander-in-Chief Gen. George Washington, and along with his good friend James McHenry, Alexander swiftly traveled to Albany for his wedding to Elizabeth Schuyler. Schuyler family tradition says that the recipe, above, for a very large wedding cake was the one baked for their wedding. This typewritten version dates from 1941.

Alas, while there may be a kernel or two of truth to the recipe, it's probably much more "family tradition" than truth. Yes, 18thc cakes for weddings and other celebrations weren't the lofty white cakes we prefer today, but dense, rich cakes with large quantities of dried fruit and liquor that are more cousins to modern holiday fruitcakes.

And yes, the sheer quantity of ingredients in 18thc recipes can be daunting. The first known cookbook written by an American is American Cookery by Amelia Simmons, published in 1796. Mrs. Simmons' recipe for a "Plumb Cake" included (among other things) a pound each of currants, citron, orange peel candied, and almonds, six pounds of flour, a half-pint of wine, and twenty-one eggs. From the same cookbook, the ingredients for a "Rich Cake" also included two pounds of butter, fifteen eggs, two and a half-pounds of raisins, a pint of wine, and a gill of brandy. Rich, indeed, - and the expense of such a quantity of ingredients would have made this a cake reserved for special occasions.

While the number of guests was likely small at the Schuyler-Hamilton wedding in 1780, a large wedding cake would still have been required. According to local Dutch New York tradition at the time, portions of the cake would have have been shared with neighbors and relatives who hadn't attended the actual wedding.

But the gargantuan amounts listed in the "Schuyler Wedding Cake" recipe are more likely 19th or 20thc exaggerations, lavishness increased with each telling over the years.  With the country's Centennial celebration in 1876, there was a renewed interest in the American colonial past - albeit a highly romanticized and often un-researched past that had a hefty share of quaintness at its core.

The introductory paragraph is in the style of "ye olde tyme" reverence of this Colonial Revival. The descriptions of the Schuylers as "purveyors of gracious colonial hospitality", the reverence for "this very cake", and the 20thc descendant called "the mistress of the ancestral home" are all hints that this recipe might not be all that it claims. I won't go so far as to say that it's a hoax, but it probably is wishful thinking. Most likely there was at one time a family story about the size of the wedding cake, and as Alexander's fame increased over the centuries, both the story and the cake grew with it.

One final note about the cake: just as an 18thc wedding cake would have been much different from a 21stc one, I like to think, too, that there would have been no modern free-for-all cake-smashing between Eliza and Alexander. Instead I picture them decorously feeding a bite or two to one another, especially sweet little morsels filled with rum-soaked sweet raisins....

Many thanks to Julie O'Connor for bringing the recipe to my attention, and to the wonderful 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.

What Eliza Saw: An 18thc View of the Hudson River from the Schuyler Family's Home

Elizabeth Schuyler (later Hamilton) was born on August 9, 1757 in Albany NY. While she was a young girl, her father, General Philip Schuyler, began to build a magnificent family house just outside the city. General Schuyler was influenced by the Georgian country seats of wealthy and titled gentlemen in England, and he spared no expense to make his new house the showplace of the region. The house was called "The Pastures" on account of its then-rural location, near the public grounds for the city's grazing animals. The growing Schuyler family moved in around 1765.

Gen. Schuyler had chosen his new home's site well. Standing high on a hill overlooking the Hudson River and nearly 3/4 of a mile outside the stockaded city walls, The Pastures was the first Albany building seen by visitors traveling north from New York City, and that first glimpse of the imposing brick mansion left a lasting impression on many of them. Most of the year, the river was also the quickest way between Albany and New York (about 150 miles) took roughly a week, depending on winds and weather. The general also operated the ferry that that crossed from one side of the Hudson to the other, and departed from the Schuyler-owned dock not far from the house.

The view from within the house was equally impressive. The watercolor, above, has been attributed to British military officer and topographical artist Lieutenant Thomas Davies, who visited the area in 1766. The painting shows the Hudson River flanked by green hills and fields, and lit by some spectacular sunbeams. It's believed that the two men shown to the left with a dog are Gen. Schuyler (in brown) and his good friend Abraham Ten Broeck in blue.

The Pastures remained a special place to Eliza throughout her life, and she returned frequently. She came to visit her parents, siblings, and extended family in the Albany area, and she also brought her children here in the summer to escape the unhealthy city air of New York City and Philadelphia. But I think she also came because she loved the peace of the country. The Pastures provided a respite from her city-life, and also from the hectic pace of being Alexander Hamilton's wife. Certainly gazing out at scene such as this must have been restful indeed. 

Alas, this bucolic scene did not survive for long. Shortly after the general's death in 1804, the house and the surrounding property were sold by the surviving family. The city was already pushing beyond its 18thc limits, and developers soon carved up the green pastures for streets, houses, and other buildings. While the old house still stands today, the view is long gone, and from the house's windows it's now impossible to see even the river itself, let alone green fields. 

Today known as the Schuyler Mansion, the house celebrated its one hundredth anniversary as a New York State Historic Site in 2017. It's open to the public for tours, and well worth a visit. See here for more information. 

Above: "A View of Green Bush on the Hudsons River near Albany in the Province of New York in North America" by Lt. Thomas Davies, c1766. Detroit Institute of Art.

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.

Keeping Warm in an Open Sleigh, Part II: Don't Forget a Foot Warmer

Raised in northern New York where the winters were cold and harsh, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton wouldn't have dreamed of setting out on a journey in a sleigh - or even an ordinary unheated carriage during the winter months - without a foot warmer like this one tucked beneath her skirts.

There were many variations in use in 18thc America, but most foot warmers (sometimes called  foot stoves) were similar to this one, which has a history of being used in New York. Inside the pierced wooden box is a metal liner. Hot coals were shoveled from the hearth and placed inside the box, and the door latched shut. Heat from the coals would radiate through the punch-work piercings to give warmth like a small, portable fireplace. The metal liner kept the coals safe. The wooden exterior didn't conduct the heat, and kept the user from being burned. This foot warmer measures approximately 7" x 9" x 8".

Carrying the foot warmer by the handle on the top, a woman could then place it on the floor of her carriage or sleigh, and drape her quilted petticoats around the box to keep the heat in and around their feet. As the coals cooled, they would be replaced during stops along the way at inns for meals or to water or change horses. But foot warmers weren't just for long trips. There are contemporary references to them being used in drafty churches during long services, and in chilly houses, too - anywhere far from a fireplace where a bit of extra warmth would be welcome. 

Above: Foot Warmer, late 18th century, United States (New York), Smithsonian National Museum of American History.

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.

Keeping Warm in an Open Sleigh c1785: A Cardinal Cloak & a Fur Muff

While many 18thc American women seldom traveled far from their own homes, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton made frequent journeys between New York, Philadelphia, and Albany to visit her family and to follow her husband Alexander Hamilton. Depending on the season and the weather, Eliza traveled by carriage or by stage, on board a packet sailing up and down the Hudson River, and, in the winter, by sleigh. 

There's a record of Eliza having made one such trip to join Alexander in Philadelphia in January. The journey would have been daunting enough, but accompanying her at Alexander's insistence was the couple's eldest son Philip, who was still a toddler at the time. Anyone who has ever had to entertain a small child on a long trip will sympathize - though none of us has ever had to do so under 18thc conditions.

A journey by sleigh did have its advantages. The ruts and dust that made early American roads so difficult were smoothed over by snow, and a good team of horses could make swift progress. But there were the risks of overturning into a snowbank, or running into another snowstorm that could limit visibility, or, in more remote areas, of being followed by wolves made bold by hunger.

Riding in an open sleigh would also have made for a cold trip, and the faster the horses, the more biting the sharp, winter air must have been. Then, as now, keeping warm depended on layers. For a woman like Eliza, this could include multiple quilted petticoats (like wearing a comforter) and a flannel waistcoat beneath a wool gown, wool stockings, scarves, and mittens, and a red wool cloak and fur muff like the ones shown here. Cloaks were so often made from this brilliant red wool that they were known as "cardinals" on account of the color; the wool was tightly woven and brushed, making it relatively wind-proof and resistant to random snowflakes. The large hood could be drawn over the linen caps that all women wore, as well as the increasingly more extravagant hairstyles. 

A fur muff was a stylish accessory, and a warm one for keeping hands and lap warm. Coming from an affluent family from northern New York, Eliza would likely have had not only a muff, but  a fur carriage robe tucked around her as well. She would also have had one more indispensable travel aid that I'll share in my next post....

Above: Wool cloak, last third of the 18thc, American or European. Metropolitan Museum of Art.

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.

Did Eliza & Alexander Hamilton Dance in the Powel House Ballroom in Philadelphia?

Although both Eliza and Alexander Hamilton considered themselves New Yorkers, they spent much of their married life living outside their favorite colony/state and in the city of Philadelphia. Alexander's responsibilities to the new country's government - first as a member of the Congress of Confederation, and then as the first Secretary of the Treasury - took him to the country's second capitol, Philadelphia; the city had replaced New York City as the temporary capitol until Washington, DC was built and made livable. 

Eliza and their ever-growing family of children soon joined Alexander in Philadelphia, living in a succession of rented lodgings and houses. In 1790, Philadelphia had a population of around 28,000, making it second only to New York as the largest American city. Yet to one of us stepping back in time, the 18thc. city would feel remarkably small and compact. Like most colonial cities dependent on international trade, Philadelphia had grown up around the docks and warehouses on the Delaware River, and gradually spread west toward the Schuylkill River. 

The Hamiltons always lived within walking distance of the State House (now known as Independence Hall, where Alexander attended both the Second Continental Congress and the Constitutional Convention), the President's residence, the offices of the Department of the Treasury (which Alexander established, and oversaw as secretary), and later, the First Bank of the United States (which was founded as part of Alexander's federal banking system). For Eliza, markets, shops, church, and the homes of friends and acquaintances were also conveniently nearby. 

Among those acquaintances were Samuel and Elizabeth Powel. The Powels were among the city's most affluent (Samuel had inherited nearly a hundred properties in Philadelphia) and influential citizens. Samuel had served as Philadelphia's mayor both before and after the Revolution, and later he was a member of the Pennsylvania State Senate. The Powels were good friends with George and Martha Washington, who were for a time their next-door neighbors. The Powels lived in one of the most opulent townhouses in the city, and were known for their hospitality and the lavishness of their entertainments. Among their guests were the Washingtons, Dr. Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and the Marquis de Lafayette. 

While there's no surviving proof (like letters or invitations) that Eliza and Alexander were included in this illustrious group, it's easy to believe that they were most welcome at the Powel house. The group of friends and supporters around President Washington was a close-knit one, and both the Powels and the Hamiltons were staunch members of the Federalist party. In addition, Elizabeth Powel's  brother, merchant Thomas Willing, was the first president of the First National Bank of the United States - the bank that Alexander had helped to found.

Today the Powel House is maintained by the Philadelphia Society for the Preservation of Landmarks, and is open to the public for tours. (It's only a short walk from the new Museum of the American Revolution.) The most glorious room of the house is the second-floor ballroom, with swirls of rococo plasterwork, multiple looking-glasses, and a crystal chandelier.

Standing in the middle of this lovely space myself, I had no trouble imagining Eliza and Alexander attending one of Mrs. Powel's famous balls. In the early 1790s, Alexander would have been at the height of his political power and achievement. With both of them dressed in bright silk - the Hamiltons were known as a stylish young couple - and dancing beneath that glittering chandelier, Eliza would be a little flushed, proud to be on the arm of the handsomest gentleman in the company, while Alexander would be smiling down at her, equally proud to have her as his wife.

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.

Perfect for a 1780 Wedding: a Robe à la Polonaise

No one today knows what Eliza Schuyler wore for her wedding to Alexander Hamilton in December, 1780. Eliza didn't leave a description of it, nor did any of the guests who attended the ceremony. The dress has long since vanished, doubtless remade and reused as Eliza's "best" dress, as was common practice at the time. Given the Schuyler family's social standing, she most likely had two dresses: one for the ceremony at her parents' house during the day, and another for the celebrations in the evening that lasted far into the night. 

As a fiction writer, this is where I get to be inventive. To properly imagine Eliza's wedding dress, I turned for help to my friend Janea Whitacre, mantua-maker and mistress of the trade at Colonial Williamsburg. Janea is a scholar of 18thc colonial fashion as well as being supremely skilled at recreating the newest styles from 1780 London, and I'm sure that all the Schuyler ladies would have loved to have had her time-travel back to Albany to stitch a new gown or two. 

Even in the middle of the war, Eliza's wedding clothes would probably have been both fashionable and costly. Because Eliza's older sister Angelica had eloped without her parents' consent, Eliza's wedding must have taken on extra significance. The multitude of guests came from the Schuylers' extended family as well as New York's social elite, eager to wish the young couple well. By comparison, the groom had no family in attendance, and only one friend: James McHenry, secretary to General Washington. No wonder Alexander was eager to be swept up into the welcoming embrace of Eliza's sprawling family.

Janea and I consulted a 1780 copy of The Lady's Magazine - the Georgian version of Vogue - for what was appropriate for a winter wedding that year. I'm not going to share the description here; even fictional brides deserve to have their wedding "reveal." But I will say that one of Eliza's two dresses was a robe à la Polonaise, much like this one. The overskirt is drawn up inside with cords and loops to create the characteristic "pouf" to the skirts, for stylish volume and the better to display the expensive textile - here a hand-painted silk imported from China. 

One part of Eliza's wedding ensemble does still exist. The wide neckline of a dress such as this one would have been partially covered by a fine linen kerchief, wrapped around the shoulders and tucked or pinned in place. An elaborate cutwork and exquisitely embroidered neckerchief is in the collection of the Rare Books & Manuscript Library at Columbia University in New York City, and Hamilton family tradition maintains that Eliza - a skilled needleworker - made the neckerchief herself to wear at her wedding. I've seen it in person, and it's definitely wedding-worthy. See it in my blog post here.

Above: Robe à la Polonaise, c1780, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

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.

The Musical Eliza Schuyler, 1777

Like many young women from prosperous colonial families, Eliza Schuyler had musical training, and played the fortepiano (a predecessor of the modern piano). But while today's music lessons are all about personal expression, in the 18thc they were an important part of a lady's ornamental "accomplishments." While in the long run, being able to sing or play an instrument might not prove as necessary as keeping housekeeping accounts or overseeing a staff of servants, but it was a way for a young woman to draw the admiring attention of eligible bachelors.

General Philip Schuyler, Eliza's father, was known for his hospitality. The family's large brick mansion - known then as The Pastures - drew guests to Albany, NY from all the other colonies as well as from Europe. Visitors praised the general's generosity, the splendor of his house, the richness of the meals - and the beauty and talents of his daughters. After supper, Eliza and her sisters provided the elegant entertainment, playing and singing and delighting their parents' guests.

For young Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton, music was something he had always enjoyed and valued, but had never been part of his own impoverished upbringing. He made his first visit to the Schuyler home in the early winter of 1777, and while there's some debate as to whether he met Eliza then or later in Morristown, NJ, I'm siding with this as the time of their first meeting. 

Alexander was on a mission ordered by General Washington, and he'd ridden long and fast to reach upstate New York in the shortest time possible. He had already been tested by a long, discouraging autumn as the Continental Army had lost hard battles and barely evaded the British, and by the time he reached Albany, he was exhausted, and he was unwell. What comfort he must have found in Eliza's music, her face lit by candlelight as her hands moved gracefully over the keys: peace and solace and beauty, and perhaps the first stirrings of love as well.

This fortepiano now stands in family parlor of the Schuyler Mansion in Albany; you can see a copy of Eliza's portrait by Ralph Earl hanging on the wall in the background. While it's not the same instrument that Eliza played in 1777, it is a Schuyler family piece from the same era, and likely similar to the one she played.

Can't you imagine her returning to the chair, her silk skirts making a gentle rustle as she sits?  She smiles over her shoulder as she settles the music before her and touches the keys lightly, testing them. Standing to one side, Alexander waits, his gaze never leaving her slender figure, and as she finally begins to play, the notes echo sweetly in the room. And finally he, too, smiles....

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.

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.