I will not attempt to paraphrase The Federalist here, for I would surely fail. But I recommend the essays (which were compiled almost immediately and published as a book) to anyone who wishes not only to understand the tenets of our government, but also to glimpse my husband’s true and lasting brilliance. They are remarkable documents on their own, but to me, who witnessed their furious creation as he toiled at his desk late in the night and early in the morning, they were nothing short of a miracle. He was, I think, more proud of this written accomplishment than any other, and I was in turn proud of him.
Even Alexander will admit, however, that the essays might not have had the effect on the citizens that he’d hoped. More important in swaying voters were the dramatic arguments he delivered in person to the convention in Poughkeepsie. Yet while Governor Clinton’s influence still held firm, and while New York was one of the last states to finally ratify the Constitution—and by the most slender of margins, too—in the end it finally did so. The Anti-Federalist factions in the north of the state blamed Alexander, and likely cursed him as well.
But in New York City, the stronghold of the Federalists, my husband was a veritable hero. When news of the impending ratification reached the city, the celebration among the people was even more glorious than when the last British ship had sailed from the harbor three years before.
Alas, my husband was still in Poughkeepsie and could not witness it for himself, for surely he would have been endlessly gratified to see such heartfelt appreciation for all his labors. I was shortly to travel north with our children to Albany and The Pastures for the summer, but fortuitously we were still in the city for the celebrations.
A parade was planned down Broadway, and with my five little ones (including Fanny Antill and my own newest son, James Alexander, born in April) in tow, I went to a friend’s house on that street to watch the festivities from her open windows. The day was overcast with a light drizzle early in the day, but nothing could dampen the high spirits of those who marched and the cheering crowds that gathered to watch.
I heard that more than five thousand men participated in the parade, a sizable group for a city of thirty thousand souls. There were brigades representing every kind of tradesman, shopkeeper, artisan, and merchant, all carrying emblems of their employment to show their support for the new Constitution. A military-style band played stirring music, with thumping drums and squealing fifes that thrilled Philip and Angelica, but frightened the younger children. Colorful displays were mounted upon flat wagons and drawn through the streets to represent more trades. Marchers tried to outdo one another in their gaudy costumes, and every horse in the parade was likewise decked with ribbons and cockades. One banner even featured a portrait of my beloved husband, surrounded by a wreath of laurels.
But the most spectacular display came near the end. Drawn by ten dray horses came a miniature frigate nearly thirty feet in length, her masts towering as high as the rooftops, and canvas waves to support her as she sailed down Broadway. Painted in gold across the stern was this brave vessel’s name: the Federal Ship Hamilton. As the ship slowed to a stop before Bayard’s Tavern, not far from where we were watching, it changed pilots to demonstrate the shift from the Articles of Confederation to the new Constitution, while guns fired in noisy celebration.
Explaining how all this was in honor of their father, I bade the children to clap and cheer, not that they required my encouragement; the painted ship was a sight they would all long remember. It was all a splendid, heartening show, so grand that tears stung my eyes to see my husband so venerated.
My only regret was that Alexander was not with us. Not only would he have delighted in the spectacle, but the glorious memory of the parade and the enthusiastic support it represented would have brought him much consolation through the darker days ahead.
CHAPTER 16
New York City, New York
March 1789
“There,” said Alexander, pointing out across the Battery and out toward the open sea. “The largest ship, bearing down upon us. That’s hers.”
Beside him, I stared out onto the horizon, striving to see which particular ship he meant among the many sails that dotted the waters around New York. The midday sun was bright and I squinted a bit, even with my face shielded by the sweeping brim of my hat and a green silk parasol as well, and the breeze from the sea was brisk and salty in my face. Yet I would never complain, but be grateful instead. With every little gust, these same breezes were carrying one of the dearest people in Creation closer to me: my sister Angelica.
“You know there could still be hours before your sister will be able to disembark,” Alexander cautioned. “I don’t even know if the pilot has gone aboard yet to bring them into the harbor. As much as Angelica might desire it, even she cannot come skipping across the water to us.”
“I wish she could,” I declared.
Alexander smiled, doubtless imagining my sister doing exactly that, her petticoats daintily lifted above the waves.
We hadn’t seen my sister in nearly four years, and while I’d missed her beyond words, I think Alexander had missed her nearly as much. Ever since Mr. Church had at last agreed to spare her for a visit with us, her family in America, both Alexander and I had been in a fever of anticipation. Each night I’d added extra prayers for her safe journey, while Alexander had checked daily with the ship’s owner for any news of her progress across the Atlantic.
Now with equal reluctance we decided to retreat to a nearby coffeehouse for refreshment, and to wait until the ship was closer. Neither of us suggested returning home until we had Angelica with us.
My sister was arriving at the perfect time, too, for New York was an exciting place to be in 1789. After putting aside the old Articles of Confederation under which the country had been run since the war (and which to me had seemed to have taken a trudging eternity to accomplish) the business of forming a new kind of government felt as if it were racing along at a breakneck pace, with some fresh occurrence happening most every day.
The newly elected Congress, consisting of both a Senate and a House of Representatives, had met for the first time in March, in Federal Hall. General Washington had been easily elected as the country’s first president, and was even now making his way to New York from his country seat at Mount Vernon to be sworn into office in an elaborate ceremony. There would, of course, be balls. In anticipation of these events, visitors streamed into the city from every part of our country, and from the countries of Europe, too, and I never knew when I’d be introduced to a lady from Georgia in a milliner’s shop, or be seated next to a Prussian nobleman at a supper.