“Tell us more of Mr. Church, Angelica,” I said. “Is it true that he intends to stand for Parliament?”
“Oh, my, yes,” she replied, but without much of a show of enthusiasm. “That is why he purchased the property at Wendover, so he could pretend a connection to the borough. To serve his nation in Parliament has always been his greatest desire, you know.”
“If he’d remained in this country,” Alexander said, “he could have served in our Congress, and we’d all have been grateful for his wisdom, too.”
For a moment I was sure I glimpsed sadness in her eyes, but she rallied again to sound gay. I recalled our conversation years before at The Pastures, of how we’d both wed not only our husbands, but our husbands’ aspirations and fortunes as well.
“Parliament is his greatest desire,” she repeated, as if striving to convince herself. “Such company we keep in London and at Down Place because of it, too. Consider this, Eliza, if you will: your dearest sister, a humble daughter of liberty, has entertained His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales in her drawing room.”
“Prince or not, I’m sure he’s become one more conquest for you,” said Alexander. “I’m sure your powers are every bit as potent in London as they are in New York.”
“You are too generous, Hamilton, too generous by half,” she said, smiling winsomely. “But what of your own ambitions? Papa wrote me that your efforts to unseat the vile Clinton failed to proceed as you’d hoped.”
Instantly Alexander’s expression clouded, and I dreaded what he’d say. As involved as he was in the new federal government, he’d been unable to keep himself away from the election for the governor of New York, and his deep dislike of Governor Clinton had instead induced him to promote another candidate, Judge Robert Yates. Alexander had recruited his city friends to join the fray, including fellow lawyer Aaron Burr, who, though an Anti-Federalist, was a good friend to Judge Yates. Alexander had also indulged in his now-customary attacks on Clinton’s record and motives through letters in the newspaper, a tactic which I pleaded with him not to choose.
I was sadly right, too, for the replies from the Clintonian factions came swiftly as more scurrilous personal attacks on my husband’s character, honor, and parentage. Alexander’s love of truth and his tendency to speak his thoughts on impulse made it easy for his foes to predict how best to wound him. There was even an accusation that he’d broken his vows to me, a slander that shocked and—I shall admit it—hurt me, too, even though I knew it to be false.
“Yates lost,” he said bluntly. “Clinton won. I suspect betrayals in certain quarters.”
“Please, Alexander,” I cautioned, knowing too well what was about to follow, but he plunged ahead.
“You recall Colonel Burr, Angelica, do you not?”
My sister’s brows rose with interest. “A handsome fellow, with black hair and brows. I recall him being at The Pastures to make use of Papa’s books.”
“After the election, Clinton offered Burr the position of state’s attorney general.” He paused, the kind of lingering, dramatic pause he’d perfected in the courtroom, but seldom used at home. “Burr accepted.”
“Did you wish the position for yourself, then?” Angelica asked curiously.
“Not at all,” he said with ripe indignation. “Nor would I ever deign to accept so much as a dry crumb offered by Clinton. But the fact remains, however, that Burr did, and turned his back on his friend Yates, and ignored his promise to me to combat Clinton. He demonstrated no loyalty to his friend, no conviction in his own proclaimed beliefs.”
As was so often the case with my husband, that brief summation only hinted at his true feelings. For all his many virtues, and as a man who lived so much in the public eye, Alexander could on oc-cassion be too quick to see slights or insults. In this case, he’d been stung by what he perceived as Colonel Burr’s betrayal to the Federalist cause, and from the moment he’d learned the other attorney had accepted the position as state attorney general, what had been a congenial rivalry between Alexander and the colonel degenerated into an active suspicion and dislike that served neither gentlemen well.
“Perhaps Colonel Burr did not behave as a gentleman of honor should,” Angelica admitted, running her fingers absently along the lace edging on her cuff. “But if you truly wished to have defeated Governor Clinton, Hamilton, you should have run for the office yourself.”
I gasped with dismay. For some months now, Alexander had been serving as a trusted advisor to the incoming President Washington with the expectation that he would receive an appointment in the new government, and in the meantime he’d been continuing his law practice as well. The very last thing he needed to be considering was running for governor. The governorship of New York after George Clinton finally left it would be one of the most difficult and thankless offices imaginable. I would sooner want my beloved husband to thrust his uncovered hand into a writhing nest of vipers than to become governor, but Angelica had always encouraged Alexander’s ambitions, often with more enthusiasm than practical sense.
Fortunately, he only smiled. “You overestimate my popularity, ma chère.”
“I do not,” she replied staunchly, leaning toward him in her eagerness. “When the Constitution was confirmed last summer, Eliza wrote to me that the people were dancing in the streets to the tune of your name, and that there were even some who wished to change the name of the city to Hamiltoniana.”
His smile widened, and I admired once again how adept my sister was at flattering gentlemen without them realizing it.
“That was here in the city,” he said. “Unfortunately, there is the rest of the state to consider as well. Citizens to the north do not find me to be nearly as palatable.”
Angelica nodded sagely, as if this were the wisest of conclusions, rather than simply common sense to anyone familiar with New York.
“Then you must forget them, and their petty concerns,” she said. “You are meant for grander things. What a pity you are not to be the vice president in Mr. Adams’s place. What marvelous things you and the president could accomplish together!”
I expected him to demur again, as he had in regard to the governorship. To my surprise, he didn’t, I suppose because he liked Angelica too well to rebuff her. But he did glance briefly at me, as if to reassure me first that he’d no plans to usurp Mr. Adams.
“We could,” he said, smiling. “For now I will be content to serve wherever His Excellency believes I’ll be of the greatest use.”
But my sister wouldn’t accept this as an answer.
“Do not put me off with empty platitudes, mon cher frère,” she persisted. “What true statesmen doesn’t wish to climb to the loftiest heights of his country’s Olympus?”