You’ve seen him a thousand times. He’s the guy on the ten-dollar bill, looking a bit smug, a bit sharp, and definitely more well-coiffed than most of us on a Tuesday morning. But if you’re looking for a literal picture of Alexander Hamilton, you’re going to be waiting a long time.
Cameras didn't exist yet.
Hamilton died in 1804. Louis Daguerre didn't get his process working until the 1830s. So, every "picture" we have is actually a construction—a painting, a sketch, or a sculpture created by someone who was either staring right at him or trying to remember what his nose looked like after he was gone. It’s kinda wild how much we rely on these artistic interpretations to define a man who basically built the American financial system from scratch. We think we know his face, but what we really know is how 18th-century artists wanted us to perceive power.
The $10 Bill and the Trumbull Standard
The most famous image, the one you probably have in your wallet right now, is based on a 1805 portrait by John Trumbull. This is the gold standard. Trumbull was basically the official "photographer" of the Founding Fathers, and he had a knack for making everyone look just a little bit more heroic than they probably were in real life.
If you look closely at that specific picture of Alexander Hamilton, you’ll notice he isn't looking at you. He’s looking off into the distance. It’s a classic "visionary" pose. Trumbull painted this specific version after Hamilton’s death, using a marble bust created by Giuseppe Ceracchi as a reference. So, the image we use for our currency is actually a painting of a statue of a dead man. Talk about layers. It’s not just a likeness; it’s a monument.
Honestly, the Trumbull portraits—and he did several—capture a certain kind of "Hamilton-ness." They show the fine silk cravat, the high forehead, and that slightly pointed nose. Contemporaries described him as "brisk" and "mercurial," and you can almost see that in the tilt of the head. He looks like he’s about to interrupt you with a 50-page essay on federalism.
That One Weird Portrait Most People Ignore
While Trumbull made him look like a statesman, other artists caught a different vibe. Take the portrait by James Sharples. It’s a profile view. In this version, Hamilton looks significantly more tired. The jawline is still sharp—the man clearly had good bone structure—but the eyes feel heavier.
Sharples used a physiognotrace, which was a gadget that tracked the profile of a sitter to ensure accuracy. Because of that, many historians think the Sharples pastel might be the most "accurate" anatomical picture of Alexander Hamilton we have. It doesn't have the romantic fluff of the Trumbull oil paintings. It’s just a guy. A guy who worked too hard, slept too little, and probably had a permanent headache from arguing with Thomas Jefferson.
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It’s interesting how we choose which version of history to keep. We chose the heroic Trumbull version for the ten-spot because it fits the narrative of a founding genius. We don't want a "tired" Hamilton on our money. We want the guy who looks like he could out-think a supercomputer.
Why the Colors Matter (Or Don't)
People often argue about his hair color. In many paintings, it looks powdered white, which was the style for formal sittings. But in reality? He was likely a reddish-blonde or a light brown.
There’s a smaller miniature painting by Archibald Robertson that shows a much more youthful, almost "boyish" Alexander. Here, his hair is more natural. When you see this version, he doesn't look like a historical titan. He looks like a twenty-something immigrant trying to make a name for himself in a city that was basically a construction site. This is the Hamilton that Lin-Manuel Miranda tapped into—the "young, scrappy, and hungry" version.
The Ceracchi Bust: The 3D "Photograph"
If you really want to know what the man looked like in three dimensions, you have to look at Giuseppe Ceracchi’s work. Ceracchi was an Italian sculptor who came to America and convinced everyone important to sit for him. Hamilton sat for him in 1791.
This bust is arguably the most important picture of Alexander Hamilton because it captures the structure of his face without the bias of paint colors or brushstrokes.
- The forehead is unusually prominent.
- The lips are thin and seem set in a permanent "I told you so" expression.
- The eyes are deeply set.
When Hamilton’s widow, Eliza, lived into her 90s, she kept this bust in her home. She reportedly cherished it above almost all other likenesses. If it was good enough for the woman who actually knew the smell of his cologne and the sound of his laugh, it’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to the truth.
What the "Pictures" Get Wrong
Art is deceptive. In the late 1700s, portraits were the original Instagram filters. You paid the artist to make you look dignified, wealthy, and intelligent.
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For instance, Hamilton was famously short. He was probably about 5'7". In most full-length portraits, artists use clever perspective tricks—placing him next to a small desk or using low-angle views—to make him appear more imposing. You’d never guess from a standard picture of Alexander Hamilton that he was often described as "slight" or "small of stature."
There’s also the matter of his temperament. Portraits are static. Hamilton was not. He was known for constant movement, "animated" speaking, and eyes that "beamed with intelligence." A still painting can't capture that. It turns a high-energy, controversial, often irritating genius into a flat, calm figure.
Modern Recreations and AI
Lately, people have used AI and forensic technology to "reanimate" these portraits. You might have seen videos where the Trumbull painting blinks or smiles. While cool, it's mostly guesswork. These tools rely on the biases of the original paintings. If the painting is a glorified version of him, the AI "human" version will just be a glorified digital person.
We are obsessed with seeing his "real" face because he feels so modern. His writings—The Federalist Papers—read like they could have been written by a high-intensity lawyer today. We want a photo because we want to bridge that 200-year gap.
How to Spot a Fake
There are plenty of "Hamilton" portraits floating around the internet that aren't him. Sometimes people misidentify portraits of his son, Alexander Hamilton Jr., or even random 18th-century guys in powdered wigs.
If you're looking for an authentic image, stick to the big three:
- John Trumbull: The "Standard" (Heroic, visionary, used on the $10).
- Charles Willson Peale: The "Soldier" (Shows him in his military uniform, looking younger).
- James Sharples: The "Realist" (The profile view that likely captures his actual bone structure).
Anything else is usually a copy of a copy.
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Actionable Steps for History Nerds
If you’ve read this far, you’re clearly more than just a casual fan. You don't just want to look at a picture; you want to connect with the history.
Go see the "real" ones in person.
The New York Historical Society and the Metropolitan Museum of Art hold some of the most significant originals. Seeing the texture of the oil paint in a Trumbull original is a completely different experience than looking at a JPEG on your phone. You can see the individual brushstrokes on the lace of his shirt. It makes him feel human.
Compare the bust to the painting.
Next time you see the $10 bill, look up a photo of the Ceracchi bust. Notice how the artist "smoothed out" the features. It’s a great exercise in understanding how historical memory is constructed.
Read the descriptions of his contemporaries.
Don't just rely on your eyes. Read what people like Abigail Adams or James Madison wrote about his appearance. They often mention his "sparkling" eyes or his "restless" energy—things no picture of Alexander Hamilton can truly show.
Check the "Hamilton" Grange.
If you’re in New York, visit his actual home, The Grange. They have reproductions of the family's preferred likenesses. Standing in the room where those images were meant to hang gives you a sense of the scale of his life.
Hamilton was a man of words—millions of them. He probably would have found it ironic that we spend so much time obsessing over his face when he left behind a mountain of text explaining exactly who he was and what he thought. But that’s the power of an image. It’s a shortcut to a person’s soul, even if that shortcut was painted by someone with a hidden agenda.
At the end of the day, whether he’s on a canvas or a ten-dollar bill, Hamilton remains the most recognizable "face" of American capitalism. Just remember that the man was much more complicated, much shorter, and probably much more tired than the portraits suggest.