“It’s exactly right,” I said, taking up my needle. It’d been years since I’d dedicated much time to my sewing, and doing it now in the service of my daughter’s happiness seemed the best cause. “We shall make it a perfect fit.”
And when that was accomplished, I retrieved for Lysbet an ancient pair of blue paste earbobs to match. Earbobs that made me remember that whatever Angelica had done, or been, she’d also been my touchstone—always finding small ways to support and embolden me as I now wished to support and embolden my daughter.
As for me, my own formal attire was greatly simplified by virtue of widowhood. I owned one black gown proper for such an occasion, scented by the cedar chips with which it had been stored. Thus, donning a bonnet and the pearl-encrusted pendant in which Washington’s hair was enclosed, I braced myself to return to society.
We went by carriage to the Battery from whence my husband first stole British cannons and made his reputation at the start of the revolution. The bridge to the Castle Garden was covered with rich carpets from one end to the other. In the middle of the bridge arose a pyramid sixty-five feet high, lit with colored lamps and surmounted by a brilliant star in the center which blazed the name Lafayette. And then we stepped into the magnificent entryway to find a vast amphitheater inside the circle of the old fort, containing at least a thousand torches and nearly six thousand persons.
An eager crowd jostled Lysbet and I beneath an arch formed of the flags of all nations, surmounted by a colossal statue of Washington. I expected always to encounter the Father of the Nation at any celebration, but I didn’t expect to find a richly decorated marquee ornamented, upon a platform, with a bust of my husband and two pieces of cannon taken at Yorktown.
“It’s Papa!” Lysbet cried with a breath of astonishment, as if she’d never expected or dared to hope to see her father honored outside of our intimate circle of family and friends. And my heart seized to see her hands go to her mouth, as if to contain her surprise and joy.
Had Lafayette arranged for this display? And was it meant for the crowd or for me?
He was not a perfect man. But he was a great one. It is only plain justice that his wife should remember him better. And his country, too.
I was still not convinced by Lafayette’s argument, even as a murmur rushed through the crowd around us. “It’s Mrs. General Hamilton!”
The whispers rose like the murmur of the sea, and Lysbet clutched my hand. “Everyone’s staring.”
They were. And I met their gazes. Each and every one. And what I saw reflected back at me, after so many years out of the public eye, was a pleasant surprise. Admiration. Curiosity.
And without question, respect.
In that moment, a curly-haired officer in uniform and sash bumped into us so hard that Lysbet would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her by the waist. “Oh, dear. I am so very sorry,” he said, looking not a bit sorry. Forgoing all protocol that might’ve required a gentleman should be introduced, he presented himself as one Lieutenant Sidney Holly.
We returned the introduction—forced as we were to it—and the young man’s cheeks reddened. “Hamilton?” With wide eyes, he glanced at the bust, then back at us, seeming so discomforted that I thought he must be a rabid Republican. But then he said, “I daresay I wouldn’t have employment without your father’s innovations, Miss Hamilton. I work as a customs inspector.”
“Is that so?” my daughter said, smiling shyly.
Awkwardness hung between them, and he finally gave a little bow. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, apologizing again. And again.
“That poor man,” Lysbet said once he’d gone. “There’s no cause for him to be so embarrassed for an accident.”
“That was no accident,” I said, explaining what she’d have known if she’d attended as many balls as I had. “Bumping into a young lady is an old trick employed by young men lacking the means of obtaining a proper introduction. He’s embarrassed because, upon hearing your father’s name, he realized he blundered quite above his station.”
“Truly?” Lysbet said, her eyes widening in apparent delight at his impudence. She turned to smile much less shyly in the direction of the man’s retreat.
Just then, Lafayette appeared to the tune of “See the Conquering Hero Comes.” We found our seats, and the cloths that surrounded and enclosed the hall rose like a curtain at the theater to reveal the pure and brilliant moon shining on the harbor, upon which steamboats were plying in every direction.
Several times that magical evening, dances were attempted, but every time Lafayette approached them, the dancers broke off and came to group themselves around him. Young ladies swooned when he kissed their hands upon introduction. And he obliged them all, except for one girl, who presented a gloved hand which he refused. “Your pretty glove is stamped with my face, mademoiselle, and I am not so egotistical that I can kiss myself!”
When the laughter died down, mothers presented their children and, asking his blessing, feeble old men reanimated in talking to him of the numerous battles in which they’d been engaged with him for the sake of liberty. Free black men reminded him of his philanthropic efforts to place them in the rank, which horrid prejudices still denied them. And young men whose hard and blackened hands announced their laborious occupations stopped before him and said, “We also belong to the ten millions who are indebted to you for liberty and happiness!”
Despite all the Republicans had done to ruin the country, I couldn’t help but be a little stirred by the plain evidence of how many of my fellow Americans now thrived.
Before long, Georges made his way through the throngs of well-wishers sharing with him their admiration for his father to seek us out. “We wish to
