The portrait at the top shows an older Eliza, and was painted by Daniel Huntington, possibly around the time Eliza retired from the Asylum in her early nineties. They’re affectionate images to remember a woman who was loved. The dates are uncertain, but Eliza is probably in her fifties or sixties, and her small smile - so similar to her smile in the 1787 portrait - hints at the kindness and good humor for which she was known. The two earlier portraits descended through the Hamilton family, and were likely commissioned by one of her sons or other family members. Dressed in black, she had a gravity that instantly earned her respect. Her somber, simple dress would have continued to hold that same symbolism as she fought tirelessly to preserve her husband’s reputation, both in New York City and later in Washington, DC. She was in fact a full-time professional woman in a time when few women of her background worked outside their home, but I’m sure it served her - and her cause - to continue to wear the “uniform” of mourning. Her dark dress would have been serviceable both for long hours and as a constant reminder to any potential donors of who she was: the widow of Alexander Hamilton. Not only was Eliza overseeing the everyday care of the orphans, but she was also managing the Asylum’s finances and making appeals for support of the Society. Soon after Alexander’s death, Eliza became the directress of the Orphan Asylum Society of the City of New York, which she had helped to found with her friends Isabella Graham and Joanna Bethune. From contemporary descriptions and the three portraits shown here, she also apparently continued to wear a variation of the mourning dress in fashion around the time of her husband’s death, with a pleated white ruffle around the neck and a frilled white cap to relieve the black of her dress - which, by the 1830s, must have seemed old-fashioned indeed.īut my guess is that the mourning dress had another purpose beyond simply honoring Alexander’s memory. She never remarried, or was ever linked to another man, which was unusual for widows and widowers at the time. When Alexander died from his wounds following his duel with Aaron Burr in 1804, Eliza was plunged into a widowhood that would last until her death a half-century later. These portraits of Eliza Hamilton, however, are different. The very few portraits of older women usually show them as a matriarch, part of an extended family grouping. If she was painted again later in her marriage, the portrait often included a child or two. Most often painted around the time of a woman’s marriage, they were intended to record the sitter’s beauty, grace, and fertility, with equal emphasis on her rich clothing and jewels. Portraits of women were usually much less complicated. Male portraits were intended to present a permanent record of accomplishment. Men were painted in honor of their wealth, power, and success, in business, politics, or war. Few professional portraitists were working in the new country, and their pictures were expensive. Only a tiny percentage of 18th century Americans sat for their portrait. The fact that there are so few portraits of Eliza while dozens exist of her husband isn’t surprising, and not just because he was one one of the most powerful and influential men in the early republic, either. I’ve shared them both here in earlier posts: the first by Ralph Earl, painted in 1787, here, and the second, a profile portrait in pastels by James Sharples from around 1796, here. There are only two known portraits of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (1757–1854) from the time of her marriage to Alexander Hamilton (1755/1757-1804).
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