It is not, however, my intention to enter into any explanations on the ground—apology from principle, I hope, rather than pride, is out of the question.
To those who, with me, abhorring the practice of duelling, may think that I ought on no account to add to the number of bad examples, I answer, that my relative situation, as well in public as private, enforcing all the considerations which men of the world denominate honour, imposed on me (as I thought) a peculiar necessity not to decline the call. The ability to be in future useful, whether in resisting mischief or effecting good, in those crises of our public affairs which seem likely to happen, would probably be inseparable from a conformity with prejudice in this particular.
A.H.
The impression which the death of General Hamilton made on every class of people in the city of New-York is best described by simply remarking, that all party distinction was lost in the general sentiment of respect expressed for the illustrious dead. On Wednesday morning, the 11th of July, 1804, the parties met; on Thursday, the 12th, General Hamilton died; and on Saturday, the 14th, he was interred, with military honours, "the Society of the Cincinnati being charged with the direction of the funeral ceremonies of its president-general." About noon, the different bodies forming the procession took their respective places. The body was conducted from the house of his brother-in-law, John B. Church, Esq., to Trinity Church, where an appropriate oration was delivered by the Hon. Gouverneur Morris.
TO THEODOSIA.
New-York, July 10, 1804.
Having lately written my will, and given my private letters and papers in charge to you, I have no other direction to give you on the subject but to request you to burn all such as, if by accident made public, would injure any person. This is more particularly applicable to the letters of my female correspondents. All my letters, and copies of letters, of which I have retained copies, are in the six blue boxes. If your husband or any one else (no one, however, could do it so well as he) should think it worth while to write a sketch of my life, some materials will be found among these letters.
Tell my dear Natalie that I have not left her any thing, for the very good reason that I had nothing to leave to any one. My estate will just about pay my debts and no more—I mean, if I should die this year. If I live a few years, it is probable things may be better. Give Natalie one of the pictures of me. There are three in this house; that of Stewart, and two by Vanderlyn. Give her any other little tokens she may desire. One of those pictures, also, I pray you to give to Doctor Eustis. To Bartow something—what you please.
I pray you and your husband to convey to Peggy the small lot, not numbered, which is the fourth article mentioned in my list of property. It is worth about two hundred and fifty dollars. Give her also fifty dollars in cash as a reward for her fidelity. Dispose of Nancy as you please. She is honest, robust, and good-tempered. Peter is the most intelligent and best-disposed black I have ever known. (I mean the black boy I bought last fall from Mr. Turnbull.) I advise you, by all means, to keep him as the valet of your son. Persuade Peggy to live with you if you can.
I have desired that my wearing apparel be given to Frederic. Give him also a sword or pair of pistols.