Letter by Alexander Hamilton on the hurricane of August 1772

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Letter on the hurricane of August 1772
by Alexander Hamilton
This was written by Hamilton to his father in the American colonies. He showed it to a local reverend, who got it published in a local newspaper. The vivid descriptions so moved people that they started a fund to move Hamilton to New York to get a proper education, thus this letter greatly shaped early American history. Note that the letter is cobbled together from several sources online, and the layout and order of paragraphs needs to be verified.


Saint Croix, September 6, 1772

Honoured Sir,

I take up my pen just to give you an imperfect account of the most dreadful hurricane that memory or any records whatever can trace, which happened here on the 31st ultimo at night.

It began about dusk, at North, and raged very violently till ten o’clock. Then ensued a sudden and unexpected interval, which lasted about an hour. Meanwhile the wind was shifting round to the South West point, from whence it returned with redoubled fury and continued so till near three o’clock in the morning. Good God! what horror and destruction —it’s impossible for me to describe — or you to form any idea of it. It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind — fiery meteors flying about in the air — the prodigious glare of almost perpetual lightning — the crash of the falling houses — and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were sufficient to strike astonishment into Angels.

A great part of the buildings throughout the Island are levelled to the ground — almost all the rest very much shattered — several persons killed and numbers utterly ruined — whole families running about the streets unknowing where to find a place of shelter — the sick exposed to the keeness of water and air — without a bed to lie upon — or a dry covering to their bodies — our harbour is entirely bare. In a word, misery in all its most hideous shapes spread over the whole face of the country. — A strong smell of gunpowder added somewhat to the terrors of the night; and it was observed that the rain was surprisingly salt. Indeed, the water is so brackish and full of sulphur that there is hardly any drinking it.

As to my reflections and feelings on this frightful and melancholy ocassion ...

Where now, oh! vile worm, is all thy boasted fortitude and resolution? What is become of thine arrogance and self-sufficiency? Why dost thou tremble and stand aghast? How humble, how helpless, how contemptible you now appear. And for why? The jarring of elements -- the discord of clouds? Oh! impotent presumptuous fool! Death comes rushing on in triumph, veiled in a mantle of tenfold darkness ... On his right hand sits destruction, hurling the winds and belching forth flames: calamity on his left threatening famine, disease and distress of all kinds. And oh! thou wretch, look still a little further. See the gulf of eternal misery open. There mayest thou shortly plunge -- the just reward of thy vileness. Alas! whither canst thou fly? Where hide thyself?