From behind the white lace of her sleeve and the fan of her cards, my sister asked, “How did you let the insouciant Colonel Burr become an anitfederalist?”
“Burr is worse than an antifederalist,” Alexander groused, slyly sliding his card onto the table while the baron puffed at his pipe. “He’s turned out to be an opportunist. Burr only decided to oppose the Constitution in order to curry favor with Governor Clinton, from whom he has now accepted a post.”
Hoping to stave off what I knew would be a lengthy diatribe, I patted my husband’s hand and grinned at him. “We won, Alexander. Clinton tried to stop you, but you got the Constitution passed and became a hero to the city. You even crushed Clinton’s candidacy for the vice presidency. Isn’t that enough?”
Alexander turned on me like a lawyer at court, as if my sister were the judge. “It will be enough when Clinton holds no influence anywhere or with anyone, including Burr.”
“Oh, my dear brother,” Angelica interrupted, with a laugh. “You mustn’t chide Betsy for elevated instincts. Unlike Machiavelli she’s far too saintly to adhere to the principle that once one makes an enemy of a man, one must not leave him alive to get revenge. At least not politically alive. Betsy is too kindhearted for that, whereas I have no such scruples. If Clinton got in your way, I approve of any and all measures to be rid of him, even if it means shunning Colonel Burr. It’s a matter of loyalty after all. Semper Fidelis.”
*
“CHURCH,” PEGGY GROUND out through clenched teeth, keeping her voice low, so as not to wake her new baby in his cradle. “And to think we called him brother.” She had, praise God, come through her ordeal and given birth to a son. Another Stephen. And the little boy was so healthy that a happy Peggy joined the rest of the family in New York City for the inauguration of our first president, George Washington.
Unfortunately, I’d ruined Peggy’s mood by telling her of Angelica’s troubles.
I’d hesitated to tell Peggy but needed her discretion. “You mustn’t say anything. For Angelica’s sake. I only revealed this because you must help me to divert the family from asking questions that our sister finds too painful to answer.”
Blowing dark curls out of her eyes, Peggy speared me with a side glance. “I’ll try, but you know how Mama can be. She’ll sniff out the trouble in a minute.”
On inauguration day, all of Wall Street was a sea of straw hats, colorful parasols, and children hoisted aloft on shoulders, straining for a glimpse of the president. Banners danced in the early spring breeze, keeping time to the lively music made by minstrels on every corner.
Troops marched in blue coats with red facings and gold embroideries, cocked hats with white feathers, and black spatterdashes buttoned closed from the shoe to the knee. Scottish infantry marched in full Highland costume with bagpipes. And we Hamiltons and Schuylers crowded onto my upstairs balcony to watch the spectacle occurring just across the street at Federal Hall.
The building had been recently renovated with elegant stone archways, white neoclassical marbled columns, and a majestic glass cupola. And as we gazed in admiration, the crowd went silent. The president emerged onto the outside gallery, and now, with several attendants, stood between two pillars in a dark brown coat, waistcoat, and breeches, with white silk stockings and plain silver buckles glinting on his shoes. The secretary of the Senate held an open Bible upon a rich crimson cushion as the oath was administered.
“It’s regrettable that Mr. Church could not be here to share such a celebratory moment,” Mama said, her too-observant gaze upon Angelica.
“Look! Washington is raising his hand,” Peggy exclaimed, stepping between them as she patted her baby’s back.
“He’s so distinguished,” Angelica said softly, giving Peggy an appreciative glance. “Like a statue, or an old pagan god.”
Alexander had persuaded George Washington that he was the only man who could hold the new government together as commander in chief, and certainly his dignified bearing inspired confidence. But I was struck by the strangest notion that Washington looked frightened. And I clutched at the pendant worn round my neck, as if, through the talisman of his hair clipping, I could lend strength to him. We could not, from our place, hear the words of the oath distinctly. But we did see him bow to kiss the Bible, his eyes closed as if in prayer.
And my husband and my father closed their eyes, too, in relief or thanksgiving or both. This moment had been a long time in coming. Both of them had lost friends to the cause. All of us had sacrificed for it. And my lower lip trembled when someone from the crowd below shouted, “Long live George Washington, president of the United States!”