In October 1780, Alexander Hamilton had a war to think about. Instead, he wrote to his fiancée, Elizabeth Schuyler, that she filled his waking hours and appeared in his dreams. “You engross my thoughts too entirely,” he told his “dear Betsey.” Then, amid the declarations of love, came a question any couple planning a wedding might recognize: should he wear his military uniform for the ceremony?¹

Eliza and Alexander had grown close that February near Morristown, New Jersey, where he served on George Washington’s staff. She belonged to a wealthy, influential New York family. He had remarkable prospects but little money. In a letter that summer, Alexander asked whether Eliza could truly relish being “a poor mans wife.” He wanted her to consider the uncertain life she was choosing, even as he hoped she would choose it.²

Their separation during the Revolutionary War produced some of Alexander’s most revealing letters. He could be ardent, funny, and insecure all in the space of a single page. In October, he worried that delays in leaving Washington’s headquarters might make Eliza think he was insufficiently eager to see her. The opposite was true, he insisted: “you become dearer to me every moment.”¹

They married at the Schuyler family home in Albany on December 14, 1780. Weeks later, Eliza wrote to her sister Peggy that she was “the happiest of Woman.” Alexander added a playful postscript to the same letter, warning Peggy to choose a husband carefully. Speaking of his own marriage, he concluded, “I think I have been very fortunate.”³

By 1783, the Hamiltons had settled in New York City. Alexander’s career as a lawyer, political writer, and the nation’s first treasury secretary brought long hours and public battles. Eliza ran their household and raised their eight children. When Alexander planned the Grange, their house in upper Manhattan, he described it to her as a “sweet project” in which he wanted her help. She went on to oversee much of its development while he worked in the city.⁴

Their nearly 24-year marriage also endured a painful public scandal. In 1797, Alexander published an account admitting his affair with Maria Reynolds while defending himself against allegations of financial misconduct. We have too little of Eliza’s own correspondence to say exactly how she responded in private. His affectionate letters are invaluable evidence of their relationship, but they cannot tell her side of every difficult moment.⁵

In July 1804, before his fatal duel with Aaron Burr, Alexander prepared a farewell letter to Eliza. His love for her and their children, he wrote, would alone have persuaded him to avoid the encounter if he believed he could do so honorably. He ended, “Adieu best of wives and best of Women.”⁶

Eliza spent the next half-century making sure Alexander’s work would not disappear with him. She gathered his letters and papers, sought recollections from people who had known him, and defended his reputation against critics. Her determination is especially clear in an 1846 petition asking Congress to support publication of his writings. Alexander had left her his papers for that purpose, she wrote, as the “only remaining legacy he had to bestow.” Her son John Church Hamilton published a collection of his works in 1850–51. Eliza’s efforts helped make the documentary record available to later generations.⁷

She built a legacy of her own, too, through work for poor widows and orphaned children. After her death in 1854, she was buried beside Alexander at Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan.⁴ The Trinity Church Churchyard is a powerful site on the Hamilton & Washington in New York: a place to remember both the founder who wrote so passionately and the woman who worked for decades to preserve his story.

Footnotes

1. Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, October 5, 1780, Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History.
2. Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, August 1780, reproduced and discussed by the Library of America. The Library of America’s introduction also discusses Ron Chernow’s Alexander Hamilton (2004).
3. Elizabeth Hamilton’s note and Alexander Hamilton’s postscript to Margarita Schuyler, January 21, 1781, in The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 2, edited by Harold C. Syrett, 539–40; reproduced by the Gilder Lehrman Institute.
4. National Park Service, “Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton” and “Elizabeth Hamilton Schuyler Timeline.”
5. Alexander Hamilton’s draft of the 1797 Reynolds pamphlet, Library of Congress; National Park Service, “Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton.”
6. Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton, July 4, 1804, in The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 26, edited by Harold C. Syrett, 293; reproduced by the Gilder Lehrman Institute.
7. Elizabeth Hamilton, petition to Congress, 1846, National Archives; National Park Service timeline; Library of Congress account of the publication of Hamilton’s papers.

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Most people know John Laurens because of Hamilton: The Musical. He’s the fiery young officer who declares, “We’ll never be truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.”

As it turns out, that wasn’t just good songwriting—it was remarkably close to the historical John Laurens.

Born into one of South Carolina’s wealthiest slaveholding families, Laurens could have spent his life defending the institution that had made his family prosperous. Instead, he became one of the most outspoken opponents of slavery among the Revolutionary generation. While many Patriots spoke about liberty in broad terms, Laurens believed those words had to mean something for everyone.

In 1777, Laurens joined General George Washington’s military family, where he became close friends with Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette. The three young officers shared an infectious optimism about the Revolution and spent countless hours discussing politics, military strategy, and the future of the new nation.

What set Laurens apart was his willingness to confront the Revolution’s greatest contradiction.

Writing to his father, Henry Laurens, in 1779, he observed:

“We Americans, at least in the Southern colonies, cannot contend with a good grace for liberty until we shall have enfranchised our slaves.”¹

It was a remarkable statement for a South Carolinian to make during the Revolution.

Laurens didn’t stop with words. He proposed raising a regiment of enslaved men who would fight for the Patriot cause in exchange for their freedom. He believed the plan would strengthen the Continental Army while striking a blow against slavery itself.

Alexander Hamilton enthusiastically supported the proposal. Writing to Laurens, he challenged the prejudices of the day:

“The contempt we have been taught to entertain for the blacks makes us fancy many things that are founded neither in reason nor experience.”²

Hamilton argued that Black soldiers would prove every bit as capable and courageous as white soldiers if given the chance.

South Carolina’s legislature disagreed. Fearful of arming enslaved men and unwilling to weaken slavery, lawmakers rejected Laurens’ proposal. It was one of the Revolution’s great missed opportunities.

Laurens would not live long enough to see the United States officially gain its independence. In August 1782, with the war all but over, he was killed in a skirmish near the Combahee River. He was only twenty-seven years old.

His death deeply affected Hamilton, who mourned the loss of “a man who has left few equals behind him.”³

Today, Laurens remains one of the Revolution’s most compelling—and often overlooked—figures. He reminds us that even in the 1770s there were Americans who understood that the nation’s promise of liberty could never be complete while slavery endured. The Civil War would eventually answer that question, but John Laurens was asking it nearly eighty years earlier.

Sign up today for the Hamilton & Washington Walking Tour and experience the American Revolution where it happened.

Notes

1. Alexander Hamilton to Nathanael Greene, January 26, 1783, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0204.

2. John Laurens to Henry Laurens, August 14, 1779, in The Papers of John Laurens, vol. 15, ed. Philip M. Hamer et al. (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2003), 301–3.

3. Alexander Hamilton to John Laurens, March 14, 1779, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0245.

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Few friendships of the American Revolution were as intense, idealistic, and emotionally resonant as that between Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens. Forged in wartime and sustained through passionate correspondence, their bond was built on shared values, military ambition, and a belief that the Revolution should live up to its bold promises. Their letters reveal not only political thinking, but an emotional intimacy that still surprises modern readers—and helps explain why their friendship features so prominently in Hamilton the musical.

Hamilton and Laurens met in 1777 while serving as aides-de-camp to George Washington. Both were young, brilliant, and impatient with half-measures. In their letters, they wrote about honor, reputation, and the meaning of liberty, often blending political philosophy with personal affection. Hamilton once wrote candidly to Laurens:

“Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish it were in my power to tell you how much I love you.”¹

While such language was not unheard of among 18th-century gentlemen, the frequency and depth of their correspondence suggest an unusually close bond. Laurens was a confidant—someone Hamilton trusted with his frustrations, ambitions, and moral convictions.

Shared Ideals and Revolutionary Purpose

What truly united Hamilton and Laurens was a shared vision of what the Revolution should achieve. Laurens was among the most outspoken abolitionists of his generation, advocating the enlistment and emancipation of enslaved men in South Carolina. Hamilton strongly supported the idea, writing:

“I wish, my dear Laurens, it might be in my power… to convince Congress to adopt your plan.”²

Their alignment on slavery—radical for the era—reveals how both men believed independence meant more than separation from Britain.

Brothers in Arms

Hamilton and Laurens were also brothers in uniform, bound by danger and ambition. They belonged to Washington’s inner military “family,” alongside figures like the Marquis de Lafayette. They wrote often about glory, risk, and the frustrations of staff duty. Hamilton once worried that Laurens was “too fond of glory,” a concern that reflected his own willingness to court danger.³

Loss and Legacy

Laurens’ death in 1782—killed in a minor skirmish after the war was effectively over—devastated Hamilton. Writing to General Nathanael Greene, Hamilton mourned:

“Poor Laurens! He has fallen in a paltry skirmish… The world will feel the loss of a man who has left few equals behind him.”⁴

The grief was lasting. Laurens’ death came just as the ideals he fought for seemed within reach, leaving Hamilton—and the new nation—to carry on without him.

Hamilton the musical captures the energy of this friendship—its urgency, idealism, and tragedy—even if it compresses the history. In life, Hamilton and Laurens believed the Revolution could remake the world. In death, Laurens became one of the sacrifices that made that vision possible.

On the Hamilton & Washington in New York walking tour, their friendship is explored as a window into a younger, more radical generation within Washington’s army—men who debated liberty late into the night, challenged each other’s assumptions, and imagined an America that did not yet exist. Standing in the very places where Hamilton later shaped the nation, visitors are invited to consider how much of his vision was forged not only in battle, but in friendship.

1. Alexander Hamilton to John Laurens, April 28, 1778, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-01-02-0064.
2. Alexander Hamilton to John Laurens, March 14, 1779, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0245.
3. Alexander Hamilton to John Laurens, June 1779, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0270.
4. (Note: Some June 1779 letters are undated or partially dated; this citation reflects standard archival usage.)
5. Alexander Hamilton to Nathanael Greene, January 26, 1783, Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0204.

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Resolved, That congress will make provision for paying the proprietors of such negroes as shall be inlisted for the service of the United States during the war, a full compensation for the property at a rate not exceeding one thousand dollars for each active able bodied negro man of standard size, not exceeding thirty five years of age, who shall be so inlisted and pass muster.

That no pay or bounty be allowed to the said negroes, but that they be cloathed and subsisted at the expence of the United States.

That every negro who shall well and faithfully serve as a soldier to the end of the present war, and shall then return his arms, be emancipated and receive the sum of fifty dollars.

However, in a letter to George Washington on May 19, 1782, Laurens reported that the plan was rejected by South Carolina. “The single voice of reason,” he wrote, “was drowned by the howlings of a triple-headed monster in which Prejudice Avarice & Pusillanimity were united.”

Responding to that letter on July 10, 1782 George Washington (in the letter photographed above) expressed dismay that South Carolina rejected the proposal. He lamented that “it is not the public but the private Interest which influences the generality of mankind.” Washington wrote:

The last Post brought me your Letter of the 19 May.

I must confess that I am not at all astonished at the failure of your Plans.

That Spirit of Freedom which at the commencement of this contest would have gladly sacrificed every thing to the attainment of its object has long since subsided, and every selfish Passion has taken its place—it is not the public but the private Interest which influences the generality of Mankind nor can the Americans any longer boast an exception—under these circumstances it would rather have been surprizing if you had succeeded nor will you I fear succeed better in Georgia.

Other states, such as Rhode Island enlisted African Americans into service. However, many more African Americans escaped and fought on the side of English.

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Sources:

“Journals of the Continental Congress, March 29, 1779” Encyclopedia Virginia, https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/journals-of-the-continental-congress-march-29-1779.

John Laurens, “To George Washington from John Laurens, 19 May 1782,” National Archives Founders Online, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/99-01-02-08462.

George Washington, “From George Washington to John Laurens, 10 July 1782,” National Archives Founders Online, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/99-01-02-08890.

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