Thus, after a perfect Christmas holiday with my family, I went with Hamilton from nuptial splendor and plenty, to the scarcity of the army.
General Washington’s new headquarters was situated at a small Dutch farmhouse near the village of New Windsor, New York. Conditions for the ordinary soldier were dismal, the vast majority clad only in tattered uniforms, shirts, and breeches, shoes worn through, and not enough food or munitions by half. If they were lucky, they shared a single blanket between every two or three men.
It was Jockey Hollow again, with milder weather. How had nothing else improved?
It was unthinkable, but Congress claimed to have no legal power to tax and raise funds for the army they’d called into the field. Alexander argued that the power was implicit, that having declared independence and war, Congress should consider themselves vested with full power to preserve the country from harm.
He was not the only one to think it.
After the expiration of the three-year enlistments that most had signed, the soldiers were angry—at not being permitted to leave, at not being paid, at everything. Indeed, their discontent had boiled over into another mutiny only just resolved, and the tension around camp was still as thick as the frozen mud covering the ground. There was not a little fear that the troops might join Benedict Arnold, who had donned a red coat and recently captured Richmond, Virginia.
For the British.
It was within this surly atmosphere that Alexander secured for us a cramped and dreary room in a boardinghouse, but I could hardly complain when I saw what our countrymen endured. Instead, I donned practical and patriotic homespun and endeavored to make myself useful to Mrs. Washington at headquarters. There, alongside the great lady, I threw myself into writing letters to raise money, hosting dignitaries who visited camp, and helping the slaves prepare meals for Washington’s little military family—repetitive suppers of bread, butter, and a spicy tripe stew, the scent of which was not altogether appetizing, but better than what the ordinary soldiers ate by far.
It was at one of these dinners that we were reunited with the Marquis de Lafayette. Having just negotiated the end of a mutiny in the Pennsylvania Line, he returned to headquarters and broke the sour mood by hugging—and even kissing—everyone.
I was startled that General Washington, a very formal man who did not like to be touched, allowed the marquis this familiarity. Then Lafayette treated me to the same exuberant greeting. “Mademoiselle Schuyler—or shall I say Madame Hamilton, now?” he asked, kissing both my cheeks.
“Marquis,” I said, smiling.
But before I could decide whether I was meant to return these kisses, Lafayette withdrew and wagged his finger at me. “I’m afraid I have a quarrel with you. I invite you to camp some years ago. You refuse me. Yet, for Hamilton, here you are. I would take offense did I not so much approve of your choice.”
“As do we all,” said Colonel Tilghman with a polite smile.
Seemingly caught off guard by the warm sentiment of his friends, Alexander flushed.
Even as McHenry called, “Speak for yourself, Tench. If you’d seen Ham strutting at his wedding, you’d know he doesn’t need a thing more to swell his head.”
Before I could flush at what might have been Mac’s innuendo—and in front of the Washingtons!—Lafayette unveiled a crate of champagne he’d acquired from somewhere and smuggled into the house. “Since we could not all see the wedding, we celebrate tonight, oui?”
Quietly, from his end of the table, General Washington said, “A capital idea.” And that was all the approval the younger men needed to pop the cork and start pouring.
“May I propose a toast?” Colonel Tilghman asked from where he was seated beside Mrs. Washington. Tench didn’t wait for an answer but rose to his full height and raised his glass. “To our Little Lion,” he said to Alexander, respectfully and with genuine fondness. Then turning to me, he added, “And to the finest tempered girl in the world. A perfect match. May it endure and prosper with our country. With my blessing and unalterable friendship.”
His graciousness moved me, and I hoped Tench might one day find a woman to love him as he deserved. I tipped my glass to him in return, hoping he could feel my good wishes before we drank. And then it was all laughter and merriment.
“Congratulations, my boy,” Washington said to Hamilton with a fatherly tone, and my husband seemed not quite certain how to take it.
Perhaps to ease the moment, Tilghman continued, “We all knew your husband was a gone man for you, Mrs. Hamilton, the night he forgot the watchword.”