He jerked his head back from my hand. “Who told you of that?”
“I read it in the newspapers,” I said, cradling the bag of lemons against my hip as if it were a clumsy, weighty baby. “Word also came back to Papa that on the same night you demanded satisfaction from two other men. Thank God in Heaven that your seconds talked you from such a rash course.”
“There was no real danger,” he said. “Livingstone and Nicholson each knew they were in the wrong, and offered their apologies. Shall we go inside? I’ve candy for the children.”
“In a moment,” I said, placing my hand on his sleeve to hold him back to me. “I wish to speak with you first, Alexander. You’re not some wild young buck, and you cannot keep behaving as if you are. You’re forty years old, with a law practice, a wife, and six children dependent upon you, and you cannot keep putting your life so foolishly in jeopardy like this.”
He sighed, and sat heavily on the stone steps of the house, resting his arms on his bent knees. I sat beside him, the bag of lemons beside me. I tucked my skirts around my ankles to keep them from catching the breeze, and waited for his answer. I was willing to wait all day if I had to.
“It made sense at the time,” he said at last. “A great deal of sense. If the crowds had come to hear the Democratic-Republicans’ lies regarding the Jay Treaty, then they also deserved to hear the correct views. I gave them that opportunity.”
“But clearly, they didn’t want to listen to it,” I said, raising my gaze to dwell upon his battered forehead. “It’s one thing to present your views through the newspapers. It’s another entirely to put yourself in the path of dangerous men who’d like nothing better than to wound or even murder you.”
He grunted, no real answer, and so I continued.
“Your sons are old enough to watch what you do, Alexander,” I said softly, placing my hand on top of his. “Do you wish them to learn from you in this? Do you wish them to resort to fisticuffs in a dark street with anyone who holds a different opinion, or demand satisfaction for every slight and grievance?”
“No,” he admitted. “But when I see how these infernal Democratic-Republicans have no regard for Jay’s Treaty, but worship the Jacobins as if they were gods, ready to tear down everything that’s been so carefully built for their benefit—I can’t stand by and do nothing, Betsey.”
“I’m not asking you to be idle,” I said. “I’m only asking that you demonstrate some of your considerable wisdom before you act. You’ve risked your life often enough for this country, and if you don’t take care, sooner or later your luck will abandon you. And I love you too much to see that.”
“You are right, dearest, you are right,” he said ruefully. “For your sake, I must be more rational, more thoughtful. As soon as the treaty is passed, I promise I’ll step back from politics entirely. You have my word.”
He raised my hand and kissed it by way of a pledge, and I smiled in return. But I’d heard this promise too many times by now. It was not that he willfully broke his word to me, but more that his very nature found such promises impossible to keep.
Yet because my love for him continued to burn brightly—and in fact I felt as if I grew even more devoted to him with each passing year—I did not quarrel with this latest promise, or question it aloud. Instead I simply agreed, and prayed that perhaps this time he might find the strength to keep it.
Soon after this, I joined Alexander in New York. Our new home was at 26 Broadway, and like most of the houses in the neighborhood, it was three stories tall and fashioned of brick, with an enclosed yard and small garden in the rear, and of a size for our large family. The house was not only pleasantly situated within the city, but also conveniently close to Alexander’s office. I considered this house as more our home, and less a setting for entertainments, than the second house in Philadelphia had been. To be sure, we continued to offer a hospitable table to our friends, but now that Alexander was no longer secretary, gone, too, were the lavish entertainments for mere political acquaintances and dignitaries. I did not miss them. I preferred a less formal supper or dinner, one that relied more for its success upon the food and conversation than wine, spectacle, and an extravagant display of silver. It was also a wise transition, given the new economies I’d put into place for the household (which, fortunately, Alexander hadn’t yet recognized for what they were).
Most importantly, in the new house we were once again united as a family. While Alexander enjoyed our time in Albany, he always seemed to draw his energy and fiercest intensity from the city around him, and I hoped our presence would prove a sobering influence.
It did, to the extent that Alexander didn’t engage in any further brawling in the streets, or issue challenges for duels. He did, however, throw himself into the presidential election for a leader to replace President Washington. Like every good New York Federalist, his primary goal was to confound Thomas Jefferson and keep him from the presidency. But he’d never particularly cared for John Adams, either, the current vice president, who was the Federalists’ leading candidate. To him, Mr. Adams was high-strung and often irrational, and perhaps most damning to Alexander, he had no military experience, somehow avoiding the army during the Revolution, which meant he was without any of the qualities that had made President Washington so unrivaled as a leader.
Instead Alexander attempted to promote a more moderate gentleman from South Carolina named Thomas Pinckney for president, hoping that Mr. Adams would again be elected to the lesser position. Despite his best efforts, Mr. Adams was elected president, and the odious Mr. Jefferson vice president. When Mr. Adams learned that Alexander had lobbied against him, the disaffection between them grew into open scorn and contempt.
This election had irrevocably changed the government. Instead of the friendship, respect, and regard that Alexander had always enjoyed with President Washington, he now was confronted by two men who actively despised him. If ever there were a time for him to turn his back completely on politics, this was it.
But Alexander had two final services to perform for President Washington before he left office, and both depended on me as well.