ALEXANDER HAMILTON IN NEW JERSEY
William Nelson (1897)

Few Revolutionary War figures are as closely linked with New Jersey as Alexander Hamilton. He attended grammar school in Elizabethtown, where he impressed Livingston and Boudinot. He fought the British in the 1776 retreat across the Jerseys, and at the battles of Trenton and Monmouth. He lived with Washington in the Ford Mansion in Morristown, where he met his future wife. He founded the nation’s first industrial city at Paterson, and he died in a duel with Aaron Burr on the heights of Weehawken.

The celebration of Washington's birthday on this spot, so long and so repeatedly hallowed by his presence, is a happy thought, bringing us, as it does, into closer rapport with the Father of his Country, whose fame rises higher as the years go by, and whose right to fame is justified all the more as we study with greater care the incidents of his life and perceive more clearly the springs of action which ever influenced his conduct. Like all great generals, Washington had an unerring judgment of men; and, among all those he called to his aid during the trying times of the Revolution, and the even more perplexing period of his Presidential service, there was none upon whom he placed a stronger reliance, in whom he had a surer confidence, or for whom he cherished a warmer regard than Alexander Hamilton. The character of the men whom Washington selected for his confidants throws an interesting light upon his own character, which is an additional reason for a study of Hamilton. But in this address I shall merely recite some facts of history tending to show why New Jersey should feel a special interest and pride in Washington's beloved young aide-de-camp, in the soldier and patriot, the most brilliant statesman and financier this country has ever seen.

At School in Elizabethtown

In October 1772, there arrived at Boston, in a vessel from the West Indies, a slight young lad, lacking three mouths of sixteen years; small, slender and sallow, but with a gravity of demeanor and a slumbering fire in his large, dark, deep-set eyes that drew upon him the curious gaze of passers-by. He had been consigned by relatives to America for an education, together with a cargo of West India produce to pay for the same. Had he filled out his own ship's papers, as he had been accustomed to do for his employer at St. Croix, he would have said that he was “bound for fame and fortune.” Three years before this he had written to another boy friend: “My ambition is prevalent, so that I condemn the groveling condition of a clerk, or the like. … I shall conclude by saying, I wish there was a war.”' This letter is one of the most amusing and interesting specimens of precocity on record, and the more striking in that it suggests the singular faculty which Hamilton so often displayed through life of anticipating the future. In the boy it suggests an inherited gift from his Scottish forbears of the “second sight.” In the man it indicated the farseeing statesman, the unerring logician, who from obvious facts could reason out sure conclusions.

As the lad came with letters of introduction from the Rev. Hugh Knox, a stanch Presbyterian, he naturally found his way to Elizabethtown, where he entered the flourishing grammar school of Francis Barber, which was under the patronage of such men as William Livingston and Elias Boudinot, the former the able and determined War Governor of New Jersey from 1776 to 1790, and the latter distinguished in military service, later in Congress, and subsequently famous as the first president of the American Bible Society, and in other philanthropic works. Boudinot was twice and Livingston nearly thrice Hamilton's age at this time, yet the lad so won upon their regard that he held it during life. So early did he manifest those qualities which in after years were to tie men to his fortunes as with bands of iron and hooks of steel.
Pleasant are the glimpses furnished of his sojourn in the quiet, academic town. Poring over his books till midnight, and at early dawn hieing away to the seclusion of the ancient churchyard, there to pursue his studies till the school bell should summon him to his seat among his companions, we may readily imagine the wonder with which most of his fellows beheld the ceaseless ardor, the positive enthusiasm with which the little West Indian devoured his books and mastered every theme presented for his investigation. Yet his bookishness did not still his heart to the tender appeal of bereavement, and so we find him taking the part of nurse, and then of mourner, in the family of Mr. Boudinot when sickness and death entered the household where the young student had found so cordial a welcome. His heart, indeed, was never indifferent to the distresses of others.

Princeton or Columbia?

By his marvelous industry and extraordinary abilities Hamilton found himself in the course of a year prepared to enter college. His associations naturally led him to seek entrance to Princeton. Dr. Witherspoon would have gladly accepted him as a student, assuring him that he was convinced that he would do honor to any seminary in which he should be educated; but Hamilton felt the need of haste in concluding his collegiate course, and, moreover, had such faith in his own abilities that he believed he could outstrip the ordinary student, hence he wished to stipulate that he might advance from class to class as rapidly as he could show himself fitted therefor. The trustees declined to countenance such an unprecedented innovation on their rules, and Hamilton entered King's (now Columbia) College instead.

One cannot help indulging in conjecture as to the great effect that decision had upon the subsequent history of this nation, to say nothing of its effect upon two of the most prominent men of their day. A month or two before Hamilton entered the Elizabethtown academy, Aaron Burr, his senior by eleven months, graduated at Princeton. Had Hamilton entered the same college, it is very possible that their being sons of the same alma mater might have had a deterrent influence upon even Burr's malevolent purpose at a later day to hound his rival to his death. Nay more, it is even probable that Hamilton would have become identified with New Jersey politics, and thus would have missed being so stubborn an obstacle in the path of Burr's ambition.

But Providence willed another course for him and he parted from his New Jersey friends, to meet his teacher, the gallant Lieutenant Colonel Barber, in the army three years later, and to sit in Congress, in 1783, with Boudinot and Witherspoon.

Cannonading at New Brunswick

In 1776 the youthful student abandoned his books and became captain of an artillery company, raised by New York to resist the British aggressions. On the memorable retreat through the Jerseys, in November and December 1776, Hamilton, then under twenty, gallantly conducted his little band of heroes through Hackensack, Acquackanonk, Newark, Elizabethtown and New Brunswick. The bridge across the Raritan was partly destroyed, but the river was fordable, and the British in close pursuit. Hamilton planted his few cannon on the heights of Queen's (now Rutgers) College, and, with a brisk, well-directed firing, checked the enemy's advance, while Washington retreated safely to Princeton.

The next morning, when the little artillery company entered that historic college town, the people, who had already heard of Hamilton’s gallantry and address, were amazed when the boy captain was pointed out as the hero.

Washington’s Military Secretary

The soldierly manner in which Hamilton drilled and manoeuvered his company had attracted the attention of Gen. Nathaniel Greene, at Harlem, in the previous July, and he had brought the young captain to the notice of the commander-in-chief. We may be sure he did not escape the attention of that keen observer of men during the retreat through the Jerseys.

Even in the camp, Hamilton was a student. His pay-book at this time is filled with jottings showing the wide range of his reading and the thoughts that filled his mind. Lord Bacon's apothegm about the respective values of reading, thinking and writing is justified in Hamilton’s case. He had the “full” mind that comes from omnivorous reading; the “ready” mind quickened by thought and conference; and the “exact” mind acquired by constant writing. It was so all through his life. Quick in decision and action, charming in his address, accomplished in scholarship, in these and in other respects he was an ideal man for the position for which Washington selected him, March 1, as one of his aides-de-camp.

Just a year previous, Aaron Burr, bearing brave laurels from the Quebec campaign, and who resembled Hamilton in his slight, boyish build and winning manner, had been appointed on Washington's staff. He stayed six weeks. The close relations of the two men inspired a mutual dislike, which neither ever forgot. They were naturally antipathetic.
How different the case with Washington and Hamilton! This lad, with the bright, cheerful, confident bearing, frank and sincere, but with a shrewdness, a perceptive knowledge of men and a maturity and wisdom of judgment unexampled in one of his years, won the confidence, the warm affection of his chief. For four years he was the private military secretary, the trusted confidant,, the chosen counselor, the friend of the sagacious General. What higher eulogium can be uttered of any man than to say: He was the chosen friend of Washington!

It was here at Morristown that Hamilton entered upon his new sphere of usefulness. The headquarters were in Col. Jacob Arnold's tavern, on the northwest side of the Green, where the building was still standing so late as 1886.

Men marvel at the amazing mass of correspondence kept up by Washington throughout the war, and not less at the consummate ability characterizing it in the mass. A thousand times opportunities offered for blundering and involving the country in hopeless turmoil. It would be hardly too much to say that the General accomplished as much by his pen as by his sword. But the pen was wielded largely by his carefully selected secretaries, who knew just what he wanted to say, and how he wanted it said when it was impossible for him to write every line himself. In this capacity Hamilton was of the greatest assistance to his troubled chief, as he was during the first six years of the federal Government. From the dingy old tavern on the Green there issued a ceaseless stream of letters, reports, circulars, appeals, orders, proclamations and the like, that tended greatly to keep alive the sinking spirits of the struggling patriots throughout the land. They bore the name of Washington; they were suggested, often fully dictated, by him, but the actual framing of them w as into considerable measure entrusted to Hamilton. It is a great compliment to the young secretary that he never presumed upon this trust reposed in him by his superior, and never assumed any credit for the clerical part of the task allotted to him, even though that part was often rather authorial than clerical.

The Battle of Monmouth

Pass over the army movements to Middlebrook, to Philadelphia, the affairs of Brandywine and Germantown, and the dreary winter at Valley Forge, ending in the hasty pursuit of the British in their retreat across New Jersey. Outvoted in the council of war, Washington reluctantly refrained from bringing on an encouragement which offered to him such a tempting opportunity.Young Hamilton was all for action, and so was the veteran Greene. At length Washington asserted himself, threw aside the counsels of his timid advisers, and resolved at all hazards to push onward in vigorous pursuit of the foe. Hamilton was sent ahead to see what Lee was doing. His letters ring out like rifle shots, so clear, decisive and impetuous are they, as he describes the confusion and hesitation of the Americans. When Washington came up and saved the day, Hamilton was his swift, sure messenger to every part of the field. His soul burned with indignation at the very thought of retreat. He sought to infuse the reluctant Lee with some of his own martial fire, and at a critical moment checked a retreating brigade and led them in a gallant charge at the point of the bayonet until his horse was shot under him and he prostrated by the heat and the fall. But this pause gave time for other favorable movements which did much to retrieve Lee's dastardly retreat. Says a contemporary writer: “Hamilton was incessant in his endeavors during the whole day in reconnoitering the enemy, and in rallying and charging he seemed to court death, under our doubtful circumstances, and triumphed over it as the face of war changed in our favor.” Washington regarded his distinguished services on that occasion with the highest approval.

No better account of this battle exists than that by Hamilton, in a private letter to his old friend Boudinot, of Elizabethtown. Terse, nervous and straightforward, not mincing matters in the least, it gives a most vivid picture of the whole affair. With that marvelous insight of his, he says of Lee: “This man is either a driveler in the business of soldiership, or something much worse.” It was nearly ninety years later that “Lee's Plan” was first published to the world, showing how that general had been pointing out to his British captors, during the winter of 1776-77, a scheme whereby, according to his notions they could conquer the Americans.

This masterpiece of descriptive writing makes us regret that Hamilton did not write more. His old preceptor at St. Croix, Parson Knox, when he learned that his former pupil was on Washington's staff, urged him to become the historiographer of Washington and of the American war, correctly foreseeing that the General would be one of the greatest figures in history and would be instrumental in securing American independence. “The pen of Junius is in your hand,” John Laurens assured him. But, aside from his great state papers, Hamilton was only an occasional writer. “I have no passion for scribbling,” he says in this letter to Boudinot; and he regards the effort at describing the battle as imposing upon himself a drudgery.

As a letter writer, Hamilton was brilliant, elegant, forceful and altogether charming, when he chose to be so. As one of the most eminent statesmen of his day, and as the leader of a great partyin State and Nation, he must have had a large correspondence. Yet, as a rule, his letters are brief and uninteresting. I mean, of course, those relating to ordinary affairs. When occasion demanded, as when some great principle was to be explained or defended, or some policy expounded, he wrote with rapidity, clearness and elegance of diction. But when he wished to impress his views upon an individual, be did it by his personal presence, instead of seeking to accomplish the same end by letter-writing. That was characteristic of the man. He was naturally frank, generous, outspoken. He wished to meet men face to face, to elicit their opinions by their telltale features, rather than by spoken words.

“ From the looks, not the lips, is the soul reflected." So his letters are comparatively scarce.

The New Jersey Journal

This dislike of the drudgery of letter-writing is the more singular when we recall the fact that it was owing to a vivid pen picture of a destructive hurricane in the Leeward Islands, written by him in August 1772, when he was but fourteen years of age, and which was published in a newspaper at St. Christopher, that special attention was attracted to the gifted young writer, resulting in his being sent to America to secure an education.

Employed in the office of this St. Christopher newspaper at the time was a young printer, Shepard Kollock, who had drifted thither from Lewes, Del. At the outbreak of the American war he returned to the Continent, served some time in a New York infantry regiment, and in December 1776, was appointed first lieutenant of artillery upon the recommendation of the Quaker printer, Isaac Collins -- singular as that may appear for a Friend -- and, by a strange coincidence, in the same company commanded by Captain Alexander Hamilton, the West Indian youth whose letter he had no doubt helped to “set up” in the far-away island journal, less than four years before. Such queer pranks do the whirligigs of fortune play at times.

When the army went into winter quarters at Middlebrook, late in 1778, Washington was called away to Philadelphia and elsewhere. Hamilton had little to do, and he had recourse to writing for the New York Journal the patriot interest. At this time there was but one paper published in New Jersey -- lsaac Collins's New Jersey Gazette. This paper and the Philadelphia journals circulated mainly through the southern part of the State. The northern section was for the most part supplied with the Tory papers of New York. There is every reason to believe that Hamilton’s active mind conceived the idea that a patriotic newspaper, vigorous in tone, would be an important advantage to the .American cause in Northern New Jersey.

What could be more natural than that he should induce the quondam printer, his own former lieutenant of artillery, to engage in the project? This I conjecture to have been the origin of the New Jersey Journal issued February 10, 1779 by Shepard Kollock, at Chatham, New Jersey, and continued there until the close of the war, and which, after an interval of two or three months, was revived at New Brunswick, and in 1786 transferred to Elizabeth, where it is still published. The origin of the Journal has been generally ascribed to the patronage of General Henry Knox, commander of the artillery. I have little doubt, however, that the project was Hamilton's. It would have been indiscreet for one of Washington's military secretaries to have appeared actively in the matter. and Knox’s name would carry more prestige at that time.

The result justified the enterprise, at least from a political, if not from a pecuniary standpoint. From Kollock's press at Chatham there issued not only the newspaper, but other publications such as sermons, addresses, etc., all calculated to arouse patriotic fervor.

At Morristown Again

On December 1, 1779, Washington set up his headquarters in the Ford House at Morristown, now owned by the Washington Association and the very building in which we gathered todlay. You recollect the picture he draws of his situation eight weeks later: “I have been at my prest.. quarters since the 1st day of Decr.; and have not a kitchen to cook a Dinner in, altho' the Logs have been put together some considerable time by my own Guard <i>(Ed. Note: at the east end of the mansion. He had a similar log house erected at the west end for an office.)</i>. Nor is there a place at this moment where a servant can lodge, with the smallest degree of comfort. Eighteen belonging to my own family, and all Mrs. Ford's, are crowded together in her Kitchen, anti scarce one of them able to speak for the colds they have caught.”

Despite all these inconveniences Mrs. Washington joined the General here. The sturdy old Gen. Philip Schuyler, on his way to take his seat in Congress, brought his family on from Albany, among them his charming daughter Eliza. Other officers sent for their female relatives , so that the dreary routine of camp life was speedily enlivened by the presence of many delightful women. For their delectation an “assembly” was planned. Times were hard, money scarce. However, place aux dames! A subscription was taken up, headed by Washington, and joined in by thirty-five officers, each pledged for $400, so that the very respectable total of $14,400 was subscribed.. But, alas, reduced from paper to a specie basis, this sum shrank to less than $400. However, the young people “chased the glowing Hours with flying feet” as nimbly as if the walls of the dancing rooms had been hung with violets and orchids; and “eyes looked love to eyes that spake again.” At least, such was the experience of the young military secretary as he danced with Gen. Schuyler's daughter in yonder dwelling. And the young couple felt it anew as

They looked up to the sly whose floating glow
Spread like a rosy ocean vast and bright.

Or when they strolled along about these grounds or along the lonely roads, past alert sentinels at night, while to them

Heaven's ebon vaults
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolled,
Seemed like a canopy which love had spread
To curtain her sleeping world.

When Miss Schuyler returned home late that spring she was the betrothed of Hamilton.

It is pleasant to think that so happy a result was brought about on the premises of our Washington Association. “All the world loves a lover” and methinks the memory of this delightful courtship here will always lend an additional charm to this interesting spot.

I think it must have been before Miss Schuyler's advent upon this scene -- surely his mind must have been otherwise occupied after -- that Hamilton, then just twenty-three years of age, sent to Robert Morris the patriotic, self-sacrificing Minister of Finance that well known letter, in which he formulates with the lucidity always conspicuous in his state papers, the financial troubles of the country, and suggests a remedy for them – a judicious system of revenue taxation, and a Bank of the United States. Thus early, and here in New Jersey, at Morristown, did he firmly grapple with those grave fiscal problems which it was his destiny to solve for the country a decade later.

Writing in the following September from the Liberty Pole (now Englewood), in Bergen County, New Jersey, to his friend James Duane, he reviews the weakness of the Confederation, and outlines a system of government which was embodied in the Constitution of the United States seven years thereafter.

I am sure this audience will pardon me if I venture to intimate that these bold schemes of government and finance, so ably sketched by Hamilton while in New Jersey, no doubt were prompted by the stimulating New Jersey atmosphere, and by the wide variety of experiments which had been attempted in this State in matters of taxation, paper money, land banks, government and the like!

About this time there are signs of haste in Hamilton's writings -- a certain impatience, an effervescence. It was probably this latter manner which so charmed the accomplished Chevalier de Chastellux, when he visited Washington's headquarters at Preakness, in November, 1780, and dined with the General and his military family, Hamilton acting as toastmaster on the occasion. This unrest was only appeased by his taking a leave of absence to hasten from Preakness to Albany, there to wed his sweet young bride, on December 14, 1780.

Your President has intimated that I might exercise the customary privilege of after-dinner speakers and depart from my theme as much as I pleased, and I would gladly follow for a time the career of the “Little Lion” as he stormed the British redoubt at Yorktown, or the more formidable Blackstone citadel at Albany, where he was admitted to the bar after four months of study, about the same time that Aaron Burr also passed; and I would like to tell of his work in the New York Legislature, and in the Continental Congress with Boudinot and Witherspoon, and of his inestimable service in writing most of the <i>Federalist</i>, and thereby not only securing the accession of New York to the new Government, but furnishing for all time an incomparable exposition of the principles of the Federal Constitution. But the temptation must be put aside, and I will hasten on to remind you of another important incident in the career of Hamilton, wherein he touched New Jersey's interests -- this time, I regret to say, unfavorably.

Location of the “Federal City”

The Continental Congress was a somewhat migratory body, usually sitting at Philadelphia, but occasionally at Trenton, Princeton and elsewhere. At the close of the Revolution, the subject of a permanent seat of government was mooted. Immediately there began a contention between North and South. New York was looked upon with disfavor because of its great and varied interests, which, it was feared, would be disturbing influences upon the deliberations of Congress. Philadelphia was quiet enough, of course, but it was the principal city of a great State, which might be led to assume undue consequence in the Confederation if it also possessed the Federal City. Accordingly, a compromise was agreed upon, and on October 7, 1783, it was resolved to locate the capital at the falls of the Delaware, and it was generally understood that this meant Trenton. By still another compromise, to meet the wishes of the Southern members, it was subsequently agreed to establish a second capital on the Potomac, at or near Georgetown, and to alternate the sittings of Congress annually at each capital. New Jersey was agreeable to this arrangement, but not so the Southern compromisers. They, after the "fashion of their kind, wanted a further modification, whereby the capital should be permanently located on the Potomac, and not elsewhere.

The question was still unsettled when the new federal Government was inaugurated, in 1789. Hamilton was Secretary of the Treasury; Jefferson was Secretary of State. Hamilton was extremely anxious to carry through Congress one of his pet projects -- that for the assumption of the State debts by the general government -- but he lacked a few votes. Jefferson was equally desirous of securing the Federal City for the South, but could not muster a majority in favor thereof.

Hamilton suggested that, if Jefferson could secure support for the assumption of the State debts, he (Hamilton) would see what he could do about getting some of his Northern friends to favor the location of the capital on the Potomac. A change of two or three votes on each side was effected, the State debts were assumed by the Nation, and the seat of government was located where the beautiful city of Washington, ever growing more charming, now rears its stately domes upon Potomac's banks.

Hamilton and Paterson

Even before he attained his majority, Hamilton had descanted upon the importance of home manufactures, if America were ever to be really free and independent. Why would it not he better and cheaper, he asked, to spin and weave the cotton near the fields where it grew, instead of sending it to Great Britain, and buying the manufactured product? This idea was urged in various forms from time to time. When he became Secretary of the Treasury, one of that incomparable series of reports which he made, formulating the proper policy of the government, was on the subject of manufactures, wherein he outlined a comprehensive scheme for encouraging home industries, largely upon the plea of military necessity, in order that, in case of war, the country might be able to supply its armies without depending on foreign importations.

His arguments in favor of American manufactures, and the policy of encouraging them, have never been surpassed in cogency by any later writer.

In this report, submitted to Congress December 5, 1791, he says: “It may be announced that a society is forming, with a capital which is expected to be extended to at least half a million of dollars, on behalf of which measures are already in train for prosecuting, on a large scale, the making and printing of cotton goods.” This refers to the “Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures,” which had been incorporated by the New Jersey Legislature, November 22, 1791.
Hamilton had been engaged nearly two years upon this report. In the meantime he had persuaded a considerable number of capitalists and public spirited men among his acquaintances of the advantages of engaging in manufactures, and had induced them to subscribe about $150,000 toward the project. He shrewdly gave out that the proposed manufacturing city might be located in either New York, New Jersey or Pennsylvania, and men from all three States, besides capitalists in Amsterdam, were interested in the enterprise. There is reason to believe that in his own mind he had from the first decided that the new town should be located at the falls of the Passaic, on account of the great water power there available, and the proximity to New York. On July 4, 1792, a meeting of the directors of the Society was held at the falls, at the suggestion of Hamilton, who was present, and it was formally voted to locate the town of Paterson at that place. The newspapers of the day are full of the most glowing accounts of the great project. An elaborate prospectus, drawn up with all the broad comprehensiveness and attention to detail, so characteristic of Hamilton's official reports, shows that it was expected that the new town, with the enormous capital ($150,000 subscribed!), would be able to manufacture nearly everything needed by the entire country, and that Paterson was destined to be the manufacturing metropolis of the United States.

Although Hamilton never owned a share of stock in the Society, his interest in it was shown at every step in its early history. He drew the charter; he formulated its business methods; he brought foreigners here to inaugurate the various departments of manufacture; he dictated the selection of officers; and even, on occasion, used the influence of the Treasury of the United States, to secure the discount of a note for five thousand dollars for the Society.

It was through that Society that Paterson was founded, and the basis laid for its marvelous prosperity; and, although it has not become the manufacturing metropolis of the whole country, it has attained wide fame as the producer of locomotives, silks and other manufactured products, unexcelled in their way; not to mention a Governor of New Jersey, John W. Griggs, of Paterson, and a Vice-President of the United States, Garret A. Hobart, of Paterson, who are and are expected to be unexcelled in their way.

It is quite in harmony with the eternal fitness of things that the latest and highest product of Paterson, the Vice-President of the United States, is at the same time the Governor of the Society for Establishing Useful Manufactures, which was the origin of Paterson.

The Duel at Weehawken

The great rivalry between the two leaders in New York and National politics -- Hamilton and Burr-- determined Burr that his own success depended on getting Hamilton out of the way. Hence the persistence with which he pressed upon his enemy the necessity of meeting him in mortal combat. The correspondence between the two men evinces a pitiful anxiety on Hamilton's part to evade a hostile meeting. He had everything at stake -- a family endeared to him by the tenderest ties, hosts of warm friends, a future smiling with promise of success; moreover, he had an aversion toward dueling. His oldest son had fallen at the demand of the so-called “code of honor.”" On the other hand, he either lacked the moral courage to denounce and disregard a practice which had the sanction of society, or he feared lest the stigma of cowardice might irreparably impair his own future usefulness. Be that as it may, the two men met on that fatal July 11, 1804, in the shady precincts of Weehawken, on the Jersey shore of the Hudson and there fell Hamilton, at the fire of New Jersey's recreant son, Aaron Burr.

Less than a dozen miles away the quiet hum of Elizabethtown, in whose classic shades he had first found a home in America, was all undisturbed by the tragedy then in progress. Newark, the birthplace of Burr, was still unshocked by the dreadful news. But within twenty-four hours the great city of New York was all aghast, and throughout the land there went up a resistless protest at the foul deed which had bereft the nation of one of her mightiest citizens, one of her stanchest supporters in her hours of need.

Oh, bitter satire upon the “code of honor”! By all its rules Burr was vindicated, and Hamilton condemned. But the overwhelming wave of public sentiment swept aside this sophistry, and lifted Hamilton's memory everywhere on high, as the purest of patriots, the greatest and most upright of statesmen, the most beloved of men. And Burr became an outcast, a Cain, shunned-- save by a few of his closest friends -- even by the great party for whose sake he had imbrued his hands in blood.

It was a sad coincidence that New Jersey, which was the scene of Hamilton’s happy school days, should have furnished alike the man and the field for his untimely taking off.

This is not the time, nor this the place, for a eulogy upon Alexander Hamilton -- the poor unknown West Indian boy, who by force of extraordinary native genius, and actuated by the loftiest devotion to his adopted country, raised himself to a position of the highest influence, and has left his impress upon our very form of government, and the management of its most important departments. For myself, I shall consider it an honor, as the attempt has been a privilege, if I shall have directed anew some attention to this greatest of American statesmen, and especially if I shall have shown the interest that attaches to the theme, "Alexander Hamilton in New Jersey.”