I warmed at his praise and the way it earned me the deference of our fellows. And as the sun glinted off the river that day, dazzling my eyes with its brilliance, I realized how the country had grown past the wilderness of my youth under the rule of the British crown. Everywhere I looked, new towns and modern wharves grew up, all peopled by two generations who’d come of age thinking of themselves as Americans.
And despite my anger and disappointments, my heart swelled with pride. Pride and love of country.
Could I truly still feel such a thing?
In seeking his oblivion, my husband had wrapped himself in his patriotism, thereby diminishing mine. Then, Jefferson, Burr, Madison, and Monroe had buried my family, captured my government, and claimed its flag. But it didn’t belong to any of them more than it belonged to me. And I should never have allowed them to steal it away.
For they might be fathers of this unruly and flawed nation, but, surely, then, I’d been one of its mothers.
As if sensing some change in me, Lafayette leaned in and pointed to the aft railing. “Shall I stand in Hamilton’s place and take up my ancient sword in defense of your daughter’s virtue?”
I turned and frowned to see Lysbet in the crowd, flirting with Lieutenant Holly from the night before. “That impudent young man nearly toppled her into a tray of champagne at the ball just to secure an introduction.”
Lafayette chuckled. “And yet, she is taken with him. It seems your daughter is very much like you.”
“A fool for a man in uniform? Yes, I suppose so.”
“I was going to say, a woman with a forgiving heart . . .” I stared at the presumption of his implication, and he actually laughed. “Forgive my friend, Hamilton,” Lafayette said, as if he’d sensed the softening in me toward the man without whom I suppose I could never have become what I was. “You see how, everywhere I go, people press gifts into my hands. Weapons, jewelry, Indian artifacts, things of great value to them. So why not give me this gift of forgiving Hamilton?”
I peered around us, but no one paid any mind to our intimate exchange. “You take advantage, General.”
He shrugged, incorrigible. “I cannot help myself, madame. After spending so many years in a prison, my mind becomes sharp to the things that truly matter in this world.”
And Hamilton mattered.
We didn’t have time to say more when another round of cannons fired as the steamboat docked for a day of ceremonies at West Point, where I would be Lafayette’s honored guest.
Below, crowds shouted, Long live liberty! Long live Lafayette! Honor to Lafayette! Honor to him who fought and shed his blood for the peace and happiness we enjoy!
With a wave, Lafayette shouted back, “Honor to Hamilton, too!” I put a hand upon his arm to stop him, but he only patted it. “He should be honored. As should you. Travel with me, madame. I like seeing this country with you, and I am to go west.”
West. Even at my age, I was still unexpectedly tantalized by the idea. As tantalized as the first time Lafayette asked me to go off with him into the wilds. And he must have sensed it, because he pressed his advantage. “I will pass through the Oneida homeland. Together we can call upon some of our old comrades. We shall visit Grasshopper and Two Kettles Together.”
I was taken by surprise that he did not know—that no one had told him—that he would not find many Oneida left in the world. Grasshopper had passed away long ago. Two Kettles Together, only recently. And the Oneida nation had dwindled. Despite all they’d done for the nation during the revolution, and federal treaties recognizing their service, the state government had all but defrauded the People of the Standing Stone of their lands. So I explained, as gently as I could, “Very few Oneida still reside amongst us. Like the rest of the Iroquois, they’ve been forced to migrate.”
Lafayette’s usually sunny expression fell into such grave disappointment that I felt ashamed. Perhaps he was remembering how our time with the Oneidas changed the course of the war. Perhaps he was remembering his own role in helping to negotiate the Treaty of Fort Stanwix that secured the Oneida their lands. Whatever the thoughts in his mind, I knew he was one of the few persons present who cared about the fate of our allied Indians. And even those who’d been our enemies. “Then it is good we go west,” Lafayette finally said. “Perhaps we will see the Oneida there. We may travel as far as the wilds of Illinois.”
“Two Kettles Together’s son is in the Illinois territory,” I said, musing on the idea. “And so is my son William.”