Little Mrs. Hamilton was delighted with the course affairs had taken, and pleaded for resignation from the army.  But to this Hamilton would not hearken.  Anxious as he was for the war to finish, that he might begin upon the foundations of home and fortune, he had no intention of deserting a cause to which he had pledged himself, and in which there still was a chance for him to achieve distinction.  So far, his ambitions were wholly military.  If the profound thought he had given to the present and future needs of the Republic was not wholly impersonal; if he took for granted that he had a part to play when the Revolution finished, it was little more than a dream at present.  His very temperament was martial, the energy and impetuosity of his nature were in their element on the battlefield, and he would rather have been a great general than the elder Pitt.  But although there is no reason to doubt that he would have become a great general, had circumstance favoured his pet ambition, yet Washington was a better judge of the usefulness of his several abilities than he was himself.  Not only had that reader of men made up his mind that a brain like his favourite’s should not be wasted on the battlefield,—­left there, perhaps, while dolts escaped, for Hamilton had no appreciation of fear or danger,—­but he saw in him the future statesman, fertile, creative, executive, commanding; and he could have no better training than at a desk in his office.  Phenomenally precocious, even mature, as Hamilton’s brain had been when they met that morning on the Heights of Harlem, these four years had given it a structural growth which it would not have acquired in camp life, and to which few men of forty were entitled.  Of this fact Hamilton was appreciative, and he was too philosophical to harbour regrets; but that period was over now, and he wanted to fight.

On April 27th he wrote to Washington, asking for employment during the approaching campaign, suggesting the command of a light corps, and modestly but decidedly stating his claims.

Washington was greatly embarrassed.  Every arbitrary appointment caused a ferment in the army, where jealousies were hotter than martial ardours.  Washington was politic above all things, but to refuse Hamilton a request after their quarrel and parting was the last thing he wished to do.  He felt that he had no choice, however, and wrote at once, elaborating his reasons for refusal, ending as follows:—­

My principal concern rises from an apprehension that you will impute my refusal of your request to other motives than those I have expressed, but I beg you to be assured I am only influenced by the reasons I have mentioned.

Hamilton knew him too well to misunderstand him, but he was deeply disappointed.  He retired into the library behind the drawing-room of the Schuyler mansion, and wrote another and a more elaborate letter to Robert Morris.  He began with a reiteration of the impotence