Chapter Text
To Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton from Frances-Eleanor Laurens [Mepkin Plantation, South Carolina, September 8, 1792]
First, I pray that you will forgive the imposition of my writing to you without a proper introduction; my aunt assures me that owing to the fellowship enjoyed between your excellent Husband and my Father, you will not think it too forward a beginning to correspondence.
Second, please allow me on behalf of my aunts and grandfather to extend our heartiest compliments to you and Col. Hamilton on the recent birth of your son. It is a blessed event for which you must have long hoped and prayed and we were all glad to hear of it.
But I am certain that by now you are most curious as to the reason for my letter. I write to you, one woman to another, because my grandfather wisely prohibits me from sending a letter directly to Secretary Hamilton. Apart from the great duties which must necessarily preoccupy his time, and the happy distractions which you and your family must present to him to divert him from his appointed service to our Nation, against which the addition of my small request would surely both come as an unwelcome nuisance and perhaps even a distressful reminder of an old loss of comradeship, it would be indecorous, presumptuous and I daresay altogether too bold to address my inquiry to your Husband, without first claiming the privilege of acquainting myself with you. In this way, you may judge for yourself the merits of my petition and the innocence of my interest.
I beg your pardon, but I have no way to know the extent to which you were aware of my father's rôle in the War and his appointment to General Washington's staff. I can only assume you know more than I! But in brief, my esteemed Mrs. Hamilton, you must know that he and your husband were both aides to His Excellency at the same time. These were the earliest years of my life, and while I could not be more proud of my father's contributions to our present freedoms, I honestly must say that I had no way to know about them until long after their occurrence, for I was born in England after his return to the colonies. My mother removed us to France, once, in hope of my father joining us there--but as accident and ill luck would have it, she was unable to intercept him. His patriotic zeal was so great that it drove him to return to the front before he had the chance to see me or my mother. For myself, I have only his portraits and the loving reports of his sisters, brother, and father to inform my thoughts.
It is for that reason that I write, Mrs. Hamilton. I have been attempting to collect additional information about my father: his heroism, his accomplishments in the War, his hopes for this young country and the direction of manumission, and most particularly, anything he might have wished for his obedient and loving daughter. From my grandfather I have teased certain details and not a little of my father's correspondence; but some of his comments have led me to pursue those members of his military family who survive and might be able to provide additional information that would allow me to gain a more complete picture of my paternal roots.
Knowing your husband for a prolific and skilled Author, I wondered if he might be willing to part with or have copies made of any letters shared between himself and my father. I asked my grandfather to provide a letter of introduction and to inclose a letter from me, but he refused. Naturally I could not make such a request directly without such an introduction, but I thought, perhaps, the heart of a woman would understand what a man's might not, and that you might be willing to implore him on my behalf. However, I do realize that mine is a trifling matter and not to be preferred over more important Affairs of State. There, again, I rely upon your excellent and present Judgment to determine the right time to broach the subject.
I pray you will commend me and my case to your Husband. Blessings upon you and your family, and felicitations for the safe arrival of the newest little Hamilton.
Your most humble and reverent admirer,
Frances-Eleanor Laurens
~*~
To Miss Frances-Eleanor Laurens from Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton [Albany, September 20, 1792]
My Dear Miss Laurens,
I had the pleasure of receiving your favor of 8th Inst., but have until now lacked the opportunity to share it with my Hamilton. I deeply regret to say that while he was visibly and professedly moved by your request, he was not entirely as helpful as you might wish. He said only that for the majority of their acquaintance, they were in constant company, and that thus the only time they had need to correspond at length was while one or the other of them was from camp. I asked if he had kept your father's letters; he replied that your father was, according to his estimation, rather stingy with pen, ink, and paper, and that on top of this, more than half their post was lost along the road to enemy and calamity alike. Of the remainder, he said only that in his recollection they had nothing of interest for a young lady of fifteen. In short, my poor girl, he was less than forthcoming.
I am sorry I could not provide further assistance, but I do not wish you to think it due in any way to disapproval or displeasure at making your acquaintance. Rather, I implore you by all means to make free to write to me again, and tell me of yourself. I, too, never had the pleasure of meeting your father, though I can report that my husband spoke of him fondly and that the others of their company whose introduction I have pleasantly made also have in the past mentioned the name of John Laurens with equal measure of love and regret that his life was cut so tragically short. I assume you have made similar requests of all their number, but if you should wish an entree to any of them, please consider me a willing ally in your quest. We wives and daughters rarely if ever are allowed to breach the veil of men at war, and even years after the conflict, there comes a time when the menfolk are gathered, the stories are told, and a wise woman knows to linger in the parlor until the moment of reminiscence has passed. Nonetheless, I believe Cols. McHenry, Harrison, and Meade would all be willing to share with you their recollections of your father, and may have more tangible evidence to pass on to you. It is a great pity that the Marquis is in no position at present to entertain your inquiries! I am sure he would far rather have the leisure to write to a charming young lady than be in his current circumstances!
But to return to more pleasant thoughts, I entreat you, do not omit me from your future correspondence. Tell me of your progress and of any other service that can be provided by your very sympathetic and devoted
Eliza Hamilton
~*~
To Mrs Elizabeth Hamilton from Frances-Eleanor Laurens [Mepkin, October 14, 1792]
Dear Mrs. Hamilton,
I am most indebted to you for the favor of your reply on the 20th Ult. and I thank you for your kind invitation to write again. Alas, I have little to tell you about my life, since I am only at the beginning of it. Or nearly at its beginning. My grandfather frets that I am rapidly approaching the age where I ought to marry, but there I have an excuse. I tell him that until I meet one as kind and attentive as he, I shall never be able to transfer my heart. Nonetheless, I am sure I have nothing to say about my daily existence that would interest someone like yourself, who has all of New York and Philadelphia at her feet, and a full and happy life of her own. I will have to content myself with additional questions about your health and the health of the dear little one, as well as all your other children. I hope they do well and bring you nothing but joy.
My Aunts Martha and Mary were very happy to hear that you felt, as we do, that there was merit in my requests. My grandfather was perhaps not so enthusiastic, but allows that so long as my writing is not a trouble to you, I may continue. He asks to commend him to your husband and wish him well in his pursuits.
However, as pleased as we three ladies were by your willingness to persist, I confess I was as much disheartened by the paucity of Col. Hamilton's response. Has he really no letters at all? You are quite correct that I have also taken the liberty of writing to many other of my father's comrades, particularly those whose families are known to me or to my Aunts, and all who have thus far replied have assured me that Col. Hamilton was of all my father's friends the closest and best. If I seem overanxious in my entreaties, it is only that I am surprised he would not therefore sympathize with them. You say he was moved, but could he truly not have what letters he has copied for me? Or if he has not kept the sweet reminders of their esteem, then do you think he might at some time be so kind as to share with me some reminiscences of their time together?
I am ashamed to beg so ungraciously for these scraps of information. I know the Secretary is an extraordinarily busy man, and I have no wish to irritate him or divert him from more pressing concerns. Mine is purely the curiosity and ambition of a daughter who yearns for any and every word that will contribute to the esteem and regard with which she has been taught to view her lauded and lamented parent. Do you think he would consent to write to me directly, if it would not pain him to do so, and tell me stories he recalls?
Forgive me. I ought not to press for answers. You have been most kind to importune Col. Hamilton on my behalf once already. I must not impose further on your goodwill. Instead I will conclude by hoping that you have been neither too bored nor too troubled by my prattling, and assure you that whatever the circumstances I remain
Your humble and obedient servant,
Fanny Laurens
~*~
To Miss Frances-Eleanor Laurens from Mrs. Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton [Philadelphia, November 10, 1792]
Dearest Fanny,
If we are to continue corresponding then I insist you must call me Eliza. Your favor of the 14th Ultimo, I am afraid, went rather a little bit astray, as we had removed to Philadelphia while your missive was en route to Albany. Then, if you will believe it, a storm delayed its delivery further while the roads were too flooded for passing. It finally arrived with the other forwarded post just three days ago. I profess your entreaty caused me no vexation apart from that heartfelt sympathy and abject sorrow that my earlier reply was so disappointing to you. I resolved at once to plead your case to that attorney in whose power it rests to relieve you of your distress.
My dear girl, I wish I could adequately describe to you the anguish your father's death caused my husband. He grieved terribly for the loss of one of America's finest sons, not only because it deprived us of, in his words, a paragon of this country's ideals, but for the more personal, intimate bereavement it signified. If you know anything about Hamilton, you must know he is profuse in his verbacity. Yet on hearing of your father's untimely demise, I must tell you, his words failed him. I know of only a handful of times when he has even ever mentioned it, and then only to others who served with them both. Even now, ten years on, he finds it a painful topic. If I thought I could induce my Hamilton to write to you, believe me, my dear child, I would do so, but I fear it is something he may never consent to do.
It is in no way my wish to erect walls or barricades in your quest for more tales of your father. In a small way, I hope it provides you with a measure of comfort, for you may safely conclude by the way his death affected others that he was well-loved and highly regarded by all who knew him. Not least, my husband, who in his life was used to call him his dearest friend.
I mentioned that we had removed to Philadelphia. This change in circumstance was occasioned in order to bring our eldest, Philip, to school. At the same time, I have brought our daughter, Angelica, and her brothers, Alexander, James, and of course the baby, back to the city so that we could remain together with Hamilton as he resumes his work. Angelica is ordinarily the happiest girl in Christendom but she currently suffers at the absence of her dearest elder brother, from whom she has been used to be inseparable. I have lately promised new frocks in the hope of convincing her that Philip going to school is not, indeed, a sign of the world's ending. She adores her Papa, however, and that we have come to a place of greater proximity to him is in itself some consolation. She was also quite intrigued when I explained that I am writing to the daughter of one of her Papa's war comrades, and begs to be given leave to write you a letter herself, if you are willing to receive it.
My sons Alexander and James have no time for women's correspondence, but they are both curious about South Carolina. I have told them it is warm, even at this time of the year, when our streets are regularly wet with rain and blown by cold wind off the coast. Little John Church, as we have baptized him, does tolerably well apart from a tendency to fuss when left alone in his cradle. I am assured it is commonplace for babes of his age, though I cannot say that any others of our progeny were so unhappy when not in someone's arms. Unluckily for him it is a state in which he is likely to find himself frequently, for his brothers, at six and four, demand constant attention.
I have gratefully passed along your excellent grandfather's greetings to Hamilton and he returns them in kind and with the utmost of respect. I hope that the unhappy news I have for you regarding your research on your father does not cause you to long enjoin from replying again to
Your affectionate and sympathetic friend,
Eliza Hamilton
~*~
To Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton from Miss Frances Laurens [Mepkin, December 21, 1792]
My dear Eliza,
I must tell you I started this letter three times over, convincing myself it was all right to address you so informally as you asked! I thank you for the compliment. It feels ever so grown-up to write to someone like you and address her by name.
As you see, I have not resolved to withdraw my replies, but I hope you will ascribe to my delay in writing nothing more than the truth, which you have no doubt read in the papers before now. Two weeks ago, my esteemed grandfather met his heavenly reward. I pray God he is out of pain and reunited in happy peace with my father and uncle, for whom he cried most piteously at the end. If God is merciful, surely, they are now again whole, and healthy, and dwelling in the sunshine of His beneficence.
When your favor of the 10th Ult. arrived, I am afraid, my aunts and I were already caring for him in the finality of his days, and it was this occupation, and no other, that kept me from writing back immediately. I confess I had begun to wonder whether my own letter had caused offense, but rest assured that, although I cannot say I am content with the answer, I do understand the reticence with which you must have provided it. I shall seek my information elsewhere, and trouble you and your excellent husband no more with impertinent requests.
Your Angelica's request, however, is anything but impertinent! Of course, she must write to me! Please tell her I am eager to hear anything she may have to say. She must be eight now, is that correct? Will you kindly ask her to report to me her spoils at Christmas, and tell me in confidence whether they meet her satisfaction? I should greatly like to read her observations, also, about her brothers. Having none of my own, I have always wondered what it must be like to be a sister among brothers, and a lone one at that. Somehow I suspect that your darling Angelica is equal to the challenge.
For my part, little has changed, on the surface, except that with my grandfather's passing, it seems, the very air ought to feel different. The sky may as well turn a different color, for all that the world makes sense without him in it. We are comforted by knowing that he is at peace, but the emptiness of Mepkin is without parallel. Were it up to me, I would invite all our friends, no matter how far away, to come celebrate the New Year, just to make the house ring with the sound of cheerful voices in conversation or song. Aunt Patsy says we must do nothing of the kind, of course, and may host no parties while in mourning. Of course she's entirely correct, and never would we wish to pay Grandfather anything other than the appropriate respect. Still, Mepkin is a place that was meant for people to share, and it strikes me as sad that our mourning must come at this time of year when others are making their most merry.
My grandfather had two final wishes. First is that we collect his papers and correspondence for posterity, which Aunt Patsy was already working on and now Aunt Polly and I are, too. His second was that I marry. So of course, I must find an appropriate husband. I am not certain how one is to go about this, when we cannot hold parties and my ability to accept invitations will be constrained for some time to come--but since I am equally certain he did not mean immediately, I conclude that I have some time to carry out that last instruction before I am judged remiss. After all, I am not even sixteen!
On the other hand, should the search for a suitable mate bring me to Philadelphia, might I have the pleasure of calling on you in person? I would dearly love to meet you and your family. I promise, I shall make no attempt to harangue Col. Hamilton on subjects he would rather leave to rest!
Whether or not Providence gives us occasion to meet, my dear Mrs. Hamilton--Eliza, I should say--I hope we shall continue to write. Even though our correspondence has been brief, and disrupted at that, I eagerly look forward to hearing from you again. Until then I am
Your friend,
Fanny
Speaking of your family, please will you tell your boys that South Carolina is certainly warm, though we had a frost two nights ago and we have been lighting fires at night since mid-November. I shall inclose a sketch of our gardens and would they perhaps like a more detailed drawing of our foliage? I have a love for drawing and would gladly supply them with a few examples of the bougainvillea and some of our lilies. We also have some arrowheads flowering nearby which, when I am again at liberty to ramble, I plan to seek out and sketch. - F. L.