#fanny antil

[chloerie]

Eliza: Fanny. What did you do.

Fanny: Oh shoot I’m dead

(For context Fanny was the Hamilton’s foster daughter)

[lizahamilton]

My Children and Their Birth Dates

Phillip - 22 January, 1782

Angelica - 25 September, 1784

Alexander Jr. - 16 May, 1786

James Alexander - 14 April, 1788

John Church - 22 August, 1792

William Stephen - 4 August, 1797

Eliza - 20 November, 1799

Phillip "Little Phil" - 1 June, 1802

We also raised Frances "Fanny" Antill, an orphan who lived with us for ten years starting in 1787 (she was two years old). Alexander and I had 9 children, including the ten years Fanny was with us.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

Did the Hamilton family keep in touch with Fanny after she left?

Unfortunately, with how hard it is to get access to the Hamilton family correspondence, let alone transcribe a lot of it; the answer is not so entirely certain. Nothing I have ever found suggests so, but I also have not transcribed every - or even half - of the letters the family wrote. Not to mention, it is a fair possibility any correspondence with Frances or mentioning her could have easily been destroyed for privacy or just lost to time.

I find it hard to believe Elizabeth or any of the children would have completely cut ties with someone they had lived with for ten years and described as family, though. [x] The only thing that could possibly suggest so, is the fact that James knew a bit about Frances' life after she left, but he very well could have just heard it circling through the news (Bold text is mine);

She was educated and treated in all respects as his own daughter, and married Mr. Tappan, an eminent philanthropist of New York.

Hamilton, James Alexander. Reminiscences of James A. Hamilton: Or, Men and Events, at Home and Abroad, During Three Quarters of a Century. United States, C. Scribner & Company, 1869.

I have heard the misconception that James was one of the only kids to still cherish Frances because his own daughter would later be named Frances ‘Hamilton’ Bowdoin (1813-1887), but that is realistically not the case as James' wife, Mary ‘Morris’ Hamilton, had a mother named Frances ‘Ludlam’ Morris (1766-1852), and it was likely her namesake instead of Antill's.

I believe there was a historian who seriously suggested that Frances officially departed from the family to live with her sister, Mary Antill, due to the Reynolds controversy catching publicity because it was during the year of 1797. And while that might actually provide reason as to why it isn't known if Frances kept contact with the family or not, perhaps severing ties due to the public shame—I still wouldn't full-heartedly believe that with what lack of evidence remains.

[46ten]

Why might it be that Hamilton doesn't mention Fanny in his letter of 21 Aug 1794 to Eliza?

I don't know, although I don't think we have several sources confirming when Fanny left the Hamilton household that may not be referencing each other - I believe it's James A. Hamilton's Reminiscences cited in stating that after 10 years (when she was 12) she resided with her sister's family, and The Life of Arthur Tappan confirming the same.

Fanny was the youngest of (at least?) 6 siblings, and belonged to a large family with a number of acquaintances, so perhaps she was, at times, in the care of others. Her own connection to Albany (below) can lead one to conjecture that Fanny may have stayed with others when the Hamilton kids were moving back and forth between Philadelphia or NYC and Albany.

Mary (Manette (Maria)) Antill (b 1771), the sister who both sources confirm took Fanny in at some later point, married Rev War vet Col Gerrit G Lansing (b 1760) in 1786 in Albany*, so it's possible that she was in her sister's care earlier than those sources state, or at least stayed with her for periods. Gerrit Lansing also served under AH at Yorktown. The Lansings were a well-known family in Albany - Gerrit's brother, John Ten Eyck Lansing Jr, was Albany's mayor in 1786, one of the two other NY delegates, a noted anti-Federalist, and so on. How the Hamiltons' care for Fanny fit within her sister's connection to the Lansing family is something we don't know.

A letter from Philip Schuyler to EH mentioning the children in 1792 or 3 also only lists the "dear boys" and "Angelica," as I recall. Whether that's because Fanny wasn't actually with them and spent time with her sister Mary in Albany, or it was a convention to not include her, I'm not certain.

I think the only thing that becomes a bit clearer with this new information is that it becomes stronger to support the claim that Fanny's father specifically wanted her in the care of the Hamiltons, and that her mother too (given they chose EH as godmother of their youngest children) would have supported that.

One could also wonder why, if the 1797 date is correct, did she thereafter permanently reside with her sister? Does this have to do with the stability of her Lansing sister, who is now 26 (instead of 16 and newly married) or of that household? Isn't there a historian who seriously opined that it was because of Callendar's publication of the Reynolds allegations? But I don't think we have any sources for that timing.

*One source claims that Lansing, MI is named after Mary and Gerritt's son, Richard Ray Lansing, born in 1789 - read about that fun connection here, though others state it's named after John Lansing, Jr.

[publius-library]

okay just a question: did the hamiltons took in any child during their lifetime? 'cause i've heard they've adopted a little girl for a while and even had lafayette's kid in for a short time too but I don't know much about any of these things actually

Yes, they did. The little girl you’re thinking of is Fanny Antil, the daughter of another veteran who was adopted by Alexander. They took in Lafayette’s son, Georges Washington de Lafayette, after the Marquis was imprisoned, his daughters and wife later joining him. Georges also went to stay with his godfather, George Washington.

If you have any more questions, feel free to ask. It may take me a bit to get around to more specific questions, but I will answer them as soon as possible.

[alexander-hamilton-2022]

// isn't there already a Franny Antill here? @fannyantill

Occ: Yes, I think something shows up different versions, the Fanny Antill that you tag is the one with Hambo and Himbo :DD! But it's good that the others know which people are already here

[aswithasunbeam]

An Elusive Peace, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Rated: T

Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton’s ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.

“But Mama, there really is a monster”...

April 1788

Warm bathwater sloshed gently against the sides of the tub as Eliza stretched out her toes and laid her head back against a folded towel, luxuriating in the quiet, stolen moment after a long, stressful day. Just a few minutes without someone tugging and pulling at her, or whining, or crying, that’s all she needed. With their new baby asleep at last and her other children all tucked into their beds, she was making the most of the coveted alone time.

“Eww, what is that?” Angelica’s voice carried in from the girls’ bedroom, tinged with a combination of fascination and disgust. Little feet scurried across the hall—no doubt Pip swooping to his sister’s aid. Eliza opened her eyes, but waited, hoping the children would settle again without her having to get up.

“Whoa,” Pip said, notable excitement in his voice. “I think it’s a monster.”

They weren’t going to settle, she decided, heaving a sigh. She’d already scrubbed herself clean, at least. A relaxing soak was too much to hope for with five rambunctious children in the house. Toweling off quickly, she slipped on her dressing gown and stepped out into the hall.

“Careful Pip,” Angelica warned.

“I don’t like it,” Fanny fretted. “I want Mama.”

“Don’t worry, Fanny,” Pip answered. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Angelica was hanging upside down to peer under the bed, her pigtails brushing the wooden floor, when Eliza stopped in the doorway. Pip had laid on his tummy to look under the bed. Fanny, by contrast, seemed to have absolutely no interest in seeing what was under the bed. She had her knees curled into her chest as she watched her two older siblings fearfully, and as soon as she spotted Eliza, she cried, “Mama!”

“What are you two doing?” Eliza demanded, quick to scoop little Fanny into her arms. Her back twinged at the little girl’s weight, her body already sore from lifting the children all day long and still tender from giving birth two weeks prior. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“There’s a monster, Mama,” Angelica explained, as though that were a perfectly reasonable explanation. Fanny whimpered and clutched even tighter onto Eliza.

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Eliza replied. She brushed her hand down Fanny’s back soothingly. “I want you both back in your beds where you belong.”

“I am in my bed,” Angelica replied obstinately.

Eliza closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for patience to deal with the contrary three year old. When she had a handle on her temper, she clarified, “Properly in your bed. You don’t sleep upside down like a bat, now, do you?”

Angelica swung up with a sweet little giggle. “No, Mama,” she agreed.

Pip had edged further under the bed in the meantime, and Eliza nudged his arm with her toes. “You, too, Pip.”

“But Mama, there really is a monster,” Pip insisted, even as he slid back to look up at her.

“Philip,” she said sternly.

His eyes turned big and imploring. “There is, Mama, I swear.”

Easing Fanny back onto her bed, Eliza knelt down beside Pip to look for herself. She saw an abandoned stocking, and one of Alex’s blocks, for some reason, but no monster. “I don’t see anything.”

“Right there.” Pip pointed to the shadowy far corner.

Squinting, Eliza examined the far corner, and slowly made out something large and furry curled up on itself. Beady little eyes peered back at her as her eyes adjusted. “Eugh,” she grunted, pushing away quickly.

“See. I told you,” Angelica said smugly. “A monster.”

“It’s not a monster,” Eliza said, tugging Pip away from the bed. “It think it’s a rat.”

A very big, disgusting rat. Living in the city meant dealing with the creatures invading their home in a way that simply didn’t happen out in the country, but understanding that reality didn’t make her feel any better when she saw one. Snakes she could deal with, even mice she didn’t mind, but rats—no. She shivered.

She lifted Angelica off the bed, then collected Fanny and herded the children out into the hall towards the boys’ room. “Come on, into bed,” she urged, placing Fanny beside Alex while Angelica happily climbed up into Pip’s bed. “I’m going to get Papa to deal with the rat.”

“Can I help?” Pip asked, still standing beside his bed looking hopeful.

“No,” Eliza refused. Pip whined unhappily. Wanting to head off a full tantrum by her eldest, she instructed, “You stay here and look after your sisters.”

Being given the role of protector seemed to pacify him, and he scrambled up into the bed beside Angelica. Seeing them all settled, Eliza shut the door and made her way downstairs. Candlelight emanated from under the closed office door as she approached her husband’s office.

She pushed open the door without knocking. “I need you to come upstairs.”

He jumped in his chair and looked up at her, visibly startled. His surprise likely stemmed from more than just her abrupt appearance, she considered. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder all day. “Eliza, what—?”

“Upstairs,” she repeated shortly, pointing towards the stairway.

He blinked. “I’m in the middle of a brief—”

“Now,” she insisted. “Angelica found a rat under her bed.”

“Ah,” he sighed, pushing back from his desk. “All right. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” she said, with grudging sincerity.

He gave her a tentative smile as he slipped past her. She trailed him up the stairs and folded her arms in the doorway to the girls’ room while her husband hunted for something with which to trap the creature. “The chamber pot is empty,” she suggested. “That at least has a top.”

Hamilton nodded agreeably, and grabbed the pot as he slid down onto his belly to peer under the bed. “Where was it?”

“Far corner. It’s big.”

“Egh. That is big.”

She watched him adjust further under the bed and hugged her arms closer against her chest. Frowning, she queried, “Have you heard anything from Mr. Madison?”

He stilled and craned his head back to look at her, looking as trapped and confused as the rat. “Not yet,” he answered carefully. “Why?”

She shrugged one shoulder; she wasn’t sure why she’d asked herself.

Jemmy had become a familiar figure in their home over the past half year, coming over for dinner almost daily, and staying late into the night while he and Hamilton drafted their essay series defending the new constitution. He’d loosened up somewhat over the years, she granted, and more than once she’d heard the two men laughing behind the closed office door. They’d even made a habit of bringing grapes along when they went on walks, so that they might feed the neighbor’s monkey. Even so, Eliza couldn’t honestly claim to miss the reserved Virginian now that he’d returned to his home state.

It was more that she’d grown accustomed to Hamilton talking of him, she supposed. Jemmy and their project seemed to fill his mind of late, leaving little space for anything else. Having hardly spoken to her husband all day, Jemmy had seemed the most natural line of inquiry.

There was something depressing about that, she thought.

Hamilton looked at her moment longer, then sighed and rolled over to see to the rat. As he pushed the chamber pot closer to where the rat had been, she heard a terrified squeak and scurrying paws. “Damn,” her husband swore, readjusting. His voice carried out from under the bed, slightly muffled as he complained, “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d let me kill the damn creatures.”

“I don’t want them dead. I just don’t want them in my house,” she said, the same answer she gave every time they had this fight.

“Why do you have to be so compassionate?” he asked rhetorically, as the chamber pot slammed down again, eliciting more squeaks and scurrying.

“I have a soft spot for strays.”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “I suppose I can’t complain about that. It’s likely the reason we’re married.”

She laughed softly despite her displeasure with him, and granted, “You had a little more to recommend you than a rat.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Only a little, mind you.”

He laughed. “Understood.”

The chamber pot slammed down again, and again he mumbled, “Damn. It’s a scrappy little thing.”

“See, even a rat can have redeeming qualities,” she teased.

“Would we call that redeeming?” he wondered aloud, before letting out a triumphal “Ah ha!”

“Did you get it?”

“I did,” he declared, pulling out the chamber pot and easy the top underneath it to keep the creature trapped. “Safe and sound, as requested.”

“Let it out near the trees by the river, so it can find some shelter. All this rain we’ve been having is probably what drove it inside in the first place.”

“I’ll give it to Robert,” he said, holding the top in place. “He can drive it out a ways so it won’t find its way back to our daughters’ bedroom.”

She wasn’t sure their new servant and driver would appreciate the task. “I already told him he could retire for the night.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” he replied airily.

“Then why can’t you do it?”

His eyes flashed at her tone. “I told you I was in the middle of writing a brief. You know how pressed I’ve been for time. If I don’t complete my work, we won’t have money to pay our servants, or our rent, for that matter.”

Annoyance washed over her. She was the one juggling their bills while Hamilton cut back on his legal work so he could go back to the Continental Congress. “And whose fault is it that you’ve so little time?” she snapped.

He must have sensed he’d fallen into a trap. His jaw set. “Don’t start this again.”

“You can’t take the time to rid the house of vermin, but somehow you find hours in the day to see to constituents, and stand for new elections besides.”

“I knew that’s what this was about,” he huffed.

“Of course it is.” He always acted like the cause of her anger was some great mystery. As if they didn’t have the exact same fight over and over again. “You didn’t even bother to tell me you were standing for the election to the ratifying convention. I had to read about your victory it in the newspaper.”

“Of course I stood for the election. What do you think the point of writing all those essays was? Pleasure? This new constitution has been the focus of my efforts for the better part of a year. I wasn’t going to stop now.”

“You could have told me.”

“I would have.”

“When? When you were packing for Poughkeepsie?”

“Today, if you hadn’t seen the paper first. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew there was something to report,” he replied. “You know now. What difference does it make?”

“None,” she spat. “You’re right, it makes none whatsoever. Why would I expect you to include me in making major life decisions, when I can just read about them in the newspaper like everyone else?”

“Eliza—”

“Just get rid of the rat.” She threw her hands up and stormed off towards her bedroom, snapping the door shut behind her.

She tested the water in the bathtub with her hand. Stone cold. Of course.

Jamie let out a wail from the nursery.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

**

“Betsey? Are you awake?”

She rolled over towards the voice with a soft groan. Once she’d seen to the baby and settled the children back into their proper beds, she’d fallen into bed, utterly exhausted. “I am now.”

“Sorry,” Hamilton whispered. She felt his weight settle on the mattress. “I didn’t want us to go to sleep angry with each other.”

She grunted. He was a little late, than. Peeling her eyes open, she found him watching her with a guilty expression in the flickering candlelight.

She stayed quiet, waiting.

“I am sorry, truly. I should have told you when I put my name forth for the convention.”

“And Congress,” she prompted.

“And Congress,” he repeated.

“And the Constitutional Convention. And Annapolis.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re sorry when you keep doing it.”

“I know. I know.” He looked down at his lap. “I know you’d rather I remain a private citizen. Focus on my career. Spend time with you and the children. I want that, too. I do. But I feel like I need to see this through. I bled, and killed, and starved to see this country free, and I refuse to see it all fall apart now.”

She pushed herself up into a seated position. “What on earth makes you think I wouldn’t support you returning to public life, Alexander?”

“You worry about me. My health. And the money—I don’t make nearly as much when I take these positions as I do when I stay with my practice.”

She shook her head at him, softening a little. “You have whole conversations in your head with me, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That explanation—you were spinning out a whole conversation between us without me having to say a word.”

He frowned, expression turning thoughtful. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Sweetheart, I do worry about you, and our family. But if you truly feel you need to take these positions, you must know I’d never stop you. I just want to feel like I’m part of your life.”

He looked stricken. “Dear God, Betsey, of course you are. You’re the most important part of my life.”

“Well, when I have to read about your candidacy for positions in the newspaper, it doesn’t feel like it.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. His hand inched towards hers on the mattress. “You know how much I rely on you: on your wisdom, and good sense. I think that’s why I don’t tell you when I agree to these things. Some part of me understands how foolhardy and irresponsible it is for a poor man with a family and clients who rely on him to take these positions. The look in your eyes when I tell you only confirms it for me.”

“I don’t think you’re foolhardy, or irresponsible. We always manage when you’re away from your practice. I really am so proud of you for all the work you’ve done for the country.”

He smiled weakly, and she reached out to take his hand.

“You talk to me all the time about speeches, and essays, and cases, but when it comes to the big things, the important things, I feel like you shut me out. That scares me.”

“I don’t mean to shut you out,” he said.

“Those conversations you have in your head with me? Do you think you could have them out loud from now on?” she requested, squeezing his hand. “My actual answers may surprise you.”

His smile stretched a little wider as he nodded with a slight chuckle. “I will. I promise.”

“All right.�� As much as she hoped he would change, half of her was sure they’d be having another version the very same fight again in the future. That was marriage, she supposed.

Sighing, she crooked the forefinger of her free hand to invite him in for a kiss. He leaned in eagerly, capturing her lips with his, their fingers still entwined. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I appreciate you, Eliza. So much. Taking care of the babies, and me, keeping everything running peaceably. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, voice a little tight. It was hardly the first time he’d voiced appreciation for all she did every day, but she’d needed to hear it tonight. Her emotions still felt on edge, the way they always did right after a baby came.  

He shook his head to dismiss her thanks and kissed her again. “How about a back rub?” he offered, his free hand already sliding across her hip to her lower back.

“Mm, that sounds lovely,” she sighed, melting towards him as his fingers danced across her abused muscles, sore from constantly lifting children all day long. She rolled onto her stomach as he began to massage in earnest, his hands big and warm and tender, kneading gently in just the right places.

“Have you noticed this fight always seems to end in a back rub?” he remarked with amusement, shifting over her to rub beneath her shoulder blade.

With a pleased moan, she assured him, “That’s not a bad thing.”

He leaned down close, so that the breath from his soft laugh displaced the loose hair around her neck. It tickled, but in the best sort of way. His lips ghosted over her ear to land gently on her neck. “I suppose not,” he agreed.

This was far better than a hot bath, she decided, as she twisted around to tug him closer for a proper kiss.

[moonmeg]

Meet the Hamilkids redraw!

I-I tried.

I apologize for typos if I did any. I didn't intend to.

[nerdasaurus1200]

Back when I was in the Hamilton fandom, I noticed that Alexander never wrote a farewell letter to his before the duel. I decided to remedy that.

[New York, July 4, 1804]

This letter shall shall be read by all of my children. Should the Lord decide my time is up in the coming battle in which I am about to face, I have written my own special goodbyes to you, my greatest accomplishments.

Angelica, my sweet little angel. When you were born, a small part of me died inside; I loved you so much. Make sure to keep up your piano skills with your mother and dance lessons from Nana Martha, dear. And remember, never lose a debate to Jefferson. Although I firmly believe there is no man or woman alive or dead on this Earth that is worthy of you, I hope you find someone who makes you as happy as your mother have made me. And you needn't worry, for my spirit shall comfort you in every storm you will soon face.

Alexander Junior, my namesake. Of all my possible regrets, my biggest one will be missing your graduation. I have no doubt in my mind that you will make the family, the law, and the country very proud. Last night, your sister tattled on you and informed me you are also considering going into the military as well. Perhaps I have told you too many stories and you want to be exactly like your Pops. Nonetheless, I couldn't be prouder of you, my boy.

Frances, the last thing I expected when your birth father Edward came to my doorstep that rainy Tuesday evening was decreeing that your mama, father and I take you in and raise you as our own. However, I do not regret one moment of it. I don't expect you to forgive us from hiding the truth from you for so long, but we feared you'd think the death of your parents was your fault. You may never be my daughter by birth, but you'll always be my little free one. I beg that you stay with the family, for neither of us could bear the heartbreak of losing another of our children.

James, as always, you are following in your brother's footsteps. It seems if I involve my name in my sons', they are destined to follow the path I made. My only request of you in your law career is that you work with your brother whenever you can. You boys will make an excellent team.

John, from the moment you took your first steps in my office and tried to pull out one of the thicker books from the bottom shelf, I'd known books would be your closest companion. I want you to help your mother tell my story when I'm gone. But first, I want you to finish that thesis of Shakespeare that you've been working on. I can't wait to hear it. Never stop reading or writing, son.

William, the only person alive who's temper rivals mine. Deep down, I suspect you will loathe me for leaving you at such a young age, and despise Burr for taking me away from you. I beg you, don't let your hate corrupt you. Use it to keep the family together. And for goodness sake, please don't set anything on fire after you read this just to calm yourself down.

Eliza, my little Lizzy. I never thought your mother and I would be blessed with another daughter, especially one as sweet as you. You probably won't understand why I'm gone, or even why I'm writing this until you are older. I hope that your health in restored quickly, for I cannot bear to lose another of my family to sickness. Make sure you keep everyone around you smiling, for they will need some joy in the years to come.

Little Philip, if I do die by Burr's hand, please forgive me. Though you will have every right to hate me for the rest of your life and probably will, know this. I love you, son. I love you so much. Hate me all you want for not being there for you as my father was for me, but never forget how much I love you.

Now that you've finished, you may all wonder why I'm telling you this. But there is no need to be afraid. Have faith, and pray that I return home. Stay together, and stay strong. If not for the sake of your mother, then for mine. It would tear me apart knowing my death meant the death of your bond. I know you think I'm going to be taken away from you forever, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. Visit my grave, linger in my office; it doesn't matter. I will always be with every single one of you, no matter where you are. Make sure to always fight like your running out of time just as I did, and never throw away your shot. I love you all very much and hope to see you again in a better world. I will tell your brothers you said hello.

Your proud father,

A H

[iwillmakethem]

dadadoodadoo

[yr-obedt-cicero]

I heard that the Hamiltons adopted 3 kids but the only one that I know of is Fanny Antill. Is this true? If so, who were the 2 other kids? Thank you and have a good day.

I believe I said they cared for three, but I can understand the mix-up — so, I apologize, I should have specified. The Hamilton's did only actually adopt Fanny Antill, but they temporarily took in two others, which were; John Bradstreet Schuyler's son, Philip B. Schuyler, and Marquis de La Fayette's son, Georges Washington de La Fayette.

John Bradstreet died on the 19th of August, 1795. And the Hamilton's took in his son for an unspecified period of time shortly after;

“John Bradstreet, the eldest son, to whom the estate of Saratoga was given, had married Elizabeth Van Rensselaer, the sister of the Patroon Stephen, the husband of Margaret Schuyler. His married life was brief. He died a few years after, leaving a boy, Philip, to be the representative of the name. This boy was sent to the Hamiltons', and with young Cortland Schuyler and the Hamilton boys went to Bishop Moore's school for boys on Staten Island, returning to New York Friday even- ings to spend Sundays with the Hamiltons.”

(source — Catherine Schuyler, by Mary Gay Humphreys)

In 1795, James Monroe convinced the Lafayette's to send their son to the United States so he would would steer clear of the dangerous conflict brewing in France. Georges was originally supposed to reside with Washington, but due to the tension in America over the actions of French privateers against American cargo ships heading to Britain; Washington was trying to remain neutral, and taking in Lafayette's son would have been seen as controversial. So, instead Hamilton took care of Georges until the conflict would die down enough for Washington to safely take him in;

“The young Fayette also appears to me very advantageously, modest, of very good manners, and expressing himself with intelligence and propriety.

Shall I trespass on your indulgence in hazarding a sentiment upon the subject of this young Gentleman? If I do let it be ascribed to the double interest I take in a son of the Marquis and in whatever interests the good fame and satisfaction of him to whom I write.”

(source — Alexander Hamilton to George Washington, [October 16, 1795])

[sleepy-stories]

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton story (in the best i can but many of this is on wiki)

This story isn't based on the musical itself. Since the musical is inaccurate to the bone with some stuff to make it into a drama or soap opera.

Eliza Schuyler or what people call her Betsey or Elizabeth Schuyler. Elizabeth was born on August 9th, 1757, to a powerful and rich family in New york. Eliza was the second child to 15 children which would downgrade to 8 children. She had 4 sisters and 3 brothers that lived up to adulthood.

The Schuyler family is a dutch family from the Netherlands during the 1600s.

Eliza in her youth met famous people, Benjamin Franklin and more. She was also described as being a tomboy.

Now older, (this part is still unsure about her first meeting with her future husband) there are many parts to like, his visit to her home with Washington, her being a nurse with her aunt in the colonies base, during their free time where she played the piano and he chills next to her, or the famous one at the ball) Eliza stayed with her aunt during the war as a nurse to the soldiers. Schuyler would end up meeting Hamilton during the winter. (you know I remember this funny story about their relationship that involved Washington and Washington had to stop them from falling in love with each other. And in today's standard words he was being a dad and telling Philip to control his daughter.)

During that time, she became close with Martha Washington who Eliza idealized her as a true woman.

After returning home from her meeting with Alexander, Hamilton had forgotten his password to the army headquarters. (which made me laugh a lot about) their relationship grew, even apart from each other. They wrote letters and planned what could be a secret wedding. But they ask for Philip's blessing to be engaged and married. Which was successful. Eliza learned that John Andre was captured. Eliza and even Alex were head over heels over John Andre.

John Andre was hanged for his crimes.

Eliza and Alex were married by December 14, 1780. The newlywed couple went to Eliza’s childhood home as a honeymoon at Pastures for a short time. But returned in early January of 1781. Eliza resumed her friendship with Martha until their husbands had a falling out. And Hamilton had to move into her father’s home, to a new house that’s across the river from Windsor headquarters. Eliza planned the ideas of a newly built home while helping Hamilton with his political writings. Some of the papers were written in her handwriting. They moved again to Albany with her parents.

Not so long ago, Eliza discovered she was pregnant with her first child and by next January, it would be a son named Philip. Alexander wrote letters to Eliza to make her calm about his safety.

While the war was coming close to home, the Schuyler didn’t have any losses with a quick-thinking Peggy saving their youngest sister from death or kidnap. While their father was away.

After Yorktown, Alex returned to her safely. Even if the war wasn’t fully over until 1783. Her eldest sister, angelica, and her husband john church moved to Britain which was claimed for business reasons. By Sept 25, 1784, Eliza gave birth to their second child, a daughter named Angelica.

By 1787, Eliza sat for a portrait that was painted by a prisoner. By 1786, she gave birth to their third child, a son named Alexander (jr). 2 years later, by 1788, she gave birth to their fourth son named James Alexander.

In 1787, Hamiltons took in a daughter by a soldier friend of Hamilton, who had already lost his wife and couldn’t take care of their daughter, Fanny, or Frances Antill, the youngest child of one sister. (who she will live with after 10 years with the hamiltons)

Through the years, Hamiltons were active socially to everyone, tending to balls and parties. Eliza even danced with George Washington. Both Eliza and Alex hosted a dinner party with Thomas Jefferson. When Hamilton became the treasury secretary, Eliza, Sarah Jay, Lucy Knox became leaders of the official society.

Eliza became an aid for Alexander and all of his Political work and even his idea for the Bank of United States and even he read out the Washington Farewell Address to her. She continued raising the children, until the time when John Church Hamilton was born in 1792.

2 years later, Eliza suffered a miscarriage that almost taken her life. Their youngest child became ill and Eliza became worried over her missing husband. This was the point of Alex resigning from public office. He resumed his law practice to be close to his family.

But then by 1797, things went downhill through the couple’s marriage where an affair was brought to light to everyone’s eye. Alexander has written a pamphlet that talks about his affair with a fair woman named Maria Reynolds. And the tale of his blackmail with her and her husband.

This causes Eliza to not believe at first but later did when Alexander confirmed it. At the time, Eliza was pregnant with their sixth child. (with many people not knowing if Eliza reacted or said anything besides not believing it at first, is still a mystery) Eliza left Alex back home and went to live with her father for a bit. She only returned because of a sickness that their eldest son had, which was incurable to him.

Eliza only forgave Alex when dying or thought they were gonna die of yellow fever. Not the death of Philip hamilton. They reconnected and fixed their marriage. The couple had two more kids, a daughter named Eliza in 1799 and a son who wouldn’t meet his eldest brother and namesake, Philip II in 1801. Philip Hamilton ended up dying in a duel at the hands of George Eacker. The couple changed by Philip’s death but they finished the first and only built home called the Hamilton Grange, named after Alexander’s father’s homeland in Scotland. Eliza and Alex became close again and wrote letters to each other when one was away, like when Eliza attended her mother’s funeral in 1803.

The couple lived there for 2 years until Alexander Hamilton died in a duel at the hands of Aaron Burr.

Within the years after and before Alex's death, her mother, her sister Peggy and her son Philip died before Alexander in 1803 and 1801. After, her father died months after and her siblings followed. Eliza had to pay her husband's debt and even sell the house to live with family or her children.

In 1798, Eliza accepted the invitation of a friend of the Society for the Relief of Poor Widows with Small Children. But now after 2 years after her husband’s death, she joins in and resumes with them. She met other women, including Joanna Bethune, the founder of Orphan Asylum Society. Eliza, herself counted as second vice president.

Throughout the rest of her life, she defended her Husband from critics, support his claim as authorship to the Washington Farewell Address, and requested an apology from James Monroe which refused multiple times until he gave in, when they met in person, talking about alexander shortly before his death (monroe). Eliza collects all the letters and papers of her husbands and helps her son, John Church hamilton.

Schuyler had a small package around her neck that had a sonnet that Alexander wrote to her, himself.

By her 90s, she made an effort to congress to buy and publish her husband’s work. Which they accepted by august. Still during her 90s, she did charity work, and helped out with dolley madison, and louisa adams who are both widows to james madison and john q. Adams.

Even so, she grew and helped out with everything she could. Eliza had suffered with short term memory loss which only allowed her to remember her husband by 1846.

By 1854 of November 9, Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton had left the world by the age of 97, in Washington D.C and moved to New York to be buried by her husband.

Eliza outlived all of her family except the Youngest that survived to British attack. By 50 years.

Happy Birthday Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, and Happy 264th Birthday.

[an-american-experiment]

The orphanage. I help to raise hundreds of children. I get to see them growing up. The orphanage. In their eyes I see you, Alexander. I see you every - Time.

Lin-Manuel Miranda

Over time the amount of children they could take care of - starting with twenty that first year - increased. This was through careful fundraising and donations on the part of individuals, but also the legislature of the State of New York. 

There really is no doubt that Eliza’s experience with Alexander Hamilton’s influenced her decision to work with the orphanage and help found it. She would have known his background and how he was left without parents, just as she took care of Fanny Antill and her brother’s children. She was probably also interested in this cause out of the desire to make sure that if something happened to her that her and Hamilton’s children would be taken care of too. She had many experiences with children being left without parents. 

Sources: the following sources were used - the collected letters/writings of Alexander Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton the Revolution, Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton, The Intimate Life of Alexander Hamilton by Allan McLane Hamilton, Hamilton by Richard Syllia, and Charles Cerami’s book called Young Patriots. In addition, War of Two by John Sedgwick and Washington and Hamilton by Tony Williams were used throughout. Tilar J. Mazzeo’s Eliza Hamilton was also used. 

Follow us at @an-american-experiment where we are historically analyzing the lyrics of Hamilton with a new post every day!

[aion-rsa]

Why Eliza is the Real Hero of Hamilton

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We can all woop King George III style now that Hamilton is now available for the world to watch on Disney+. The long awaited recording of the global sensation is 2 hours and 40 minutes of pure magic – a beautiful retelling of the life of Founding Father Alexander Hamilton. We presume the show is all about Alexander, as he is in nearly every scene. Although he played such an important role in the Revolution and in forming the nation’s government, the show’s namesake – Hamilton – also plays homage to his wife, Eliza Hamilton. 

It may take the story unfolding for us to realise that Eliza was, in fact, the real hero of Hamilton. Not only did she play a huge role in the show, but in American history. 

Eliza, then a Schuyler, is introduced with her sisters Angelica and Peggy in an early number before she takes centre stage during ‘Helpless’. Not only does she sing about how she isn’t one to ‘grab the spotlight’, but she has no concerns with the fact her fiance is penniless, and that she would be settling for far less than the high society she was born into. Her father Philip Schuyler was a Revolutionary War General, and her mother Catherine Van Rensselaer Schuyler was born into one of the richest and most influential families in New York. Whereas her Alexander was born out of wedlock to an already married woman, Rachel Faucette, and a Scotsman that abandoned the family some years later. Through the lyrical genius of Lin Manuel-Miranda, Philipa Soo explores the true selflessness of Eliza during the song. 

The next time we really see Eliza is during ‘That Would Be Enough’ where she sings to her husband upon his return from war. Pregnant, emotional and not having heard from or seen her husband in months, she still remains the rock when he breaks down. She reiterates how the only thing important to her is that he remain alive and meet their son, and talks about how amazed she is by his accomplishments thus far. During this time, the real Eliza Hamilton was also assisting her husband in his political writings – much of the information laid out in the letters that would go on to be hugely influential in American Revolutionary history, were in her writing. 

Then our hearts start to break. We begin to see the impact Alexander’s tenacious, legacy driven lifestyle is having on his family life. Remaining ever calm, Eliza pleads with her husband during ‘Take a Break’ rather than going full crazy mode on him (like we would…) for missing important milestones in his children’s lives. All she wants is some love and affection from her husband, not even half the devotion he gives to his country, but still remains happy when he refuses her proposal. 

In 1787, pregnant with their fourth child, Eliza took in Fanny Antill, the two year old daughter of Hamilton’s closest friend Colonel Edward Antill, who had recently lost her mother. She mothered 8 Hamilton children, as well as suffering a miscarriage in the wake of her youngest child falling ill. Eliza managed to do this while maintaining her household throughout multiple moves to accommodate her husband’s career (yes, really – she did maintain her own household despite living in a very sexist and classist society), being at the forefront of American society, constantly attending dinners and having little to no private life. Sounds like the dream, right? Having your every move sprawled across the national press, and being constantly watched and judged, is the modern nightmare. 

Read more

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What we don’t see in the show, is that Eliza aided Alexander hugely throughout his career. She acted as a mediator between Alexander and his publisher for The Federalist Papers, and is reported to have helped him perfect Washington’s Farewell Address in 1796. It’s perhaps surprising – this was the 18th century, and she was a woman – but it’s true. 

Here comes the real hard-hitter. In 1797, Alexander Hamilton admitted to his one year affair with the much younger Maria Reynolds that had taken place 8 years prior. In case you missed it in the show, he doesn’t just admit his infidelity to his wife, he instead published the Reynolds Pamphlet, a 95 page document detailing how he brought Mrs Reynolds into his marital bed behind his loving wife’s back. The Hamilton-Reynolds affair was one of the first sex scandals in American political history, and was just another example of how hard it was to be a powerless wife in the limelight at this time. Most of us would up and leave the sorry man that did that to us, but instead, despite being pregnant with their sixth child, Eliza composed herself and relocated to her parents house in Albany to give birth and escape the drama. 

It’s impossible not to feel your eyes flood with tears when Eliza sings ‘Burn’. Devastated when she learns about her husband’s affair through the public Reynolds Pamphlet, Eliza, like all of us would in that situation, questions whether the words he had said to her throughout their relationship had meant anything at all. She worries that her children will feel the effects of the affair, and sings with passion about her anger, shock and humiliation. For the first time, we see Eliza consciously grip control of the situation and ‘erase herself from the narrative’ in one of the show’s most powerful scenes. 

Her life continued to be marred by tragedy. Just 4 years later, her eldest son Philip Hamilton was killed at 19 in a duel after his father had encouraged him to delope (fire into the air) and throw away his first shot, counsel that would lead to his untimely death. Again, we see Eliza continue to sob her way through the next number as she prays for her son to survive during the reprise of ‘Stay Alive’. 

‘Forgiveness, can you imagine?’ Embarrassed and betrayed by her husband’s affair, and now heartbroken by the death of her son, which was influenced by the advice of his own father, broken and beaten, Eliza chooses to forgive and stand by her husband. Of course, this shouldn’t be overly celebrated, because Alexander was a total idiot in making those decisions, but choosing to stand by her husband’s side shows the compassion and love deep rooted within her. Just a few more years later, her brother and sister Peggy died unexpectedly, followed by her mother and then her husband in 1804. Although she had enormous privileges throughout her life, it was one also filled with sorrow and unrest. 

The final scene is perhaps the most important in letting us into something that may have been quite hard to identify throughout the rest of the show. Although the majority of the story is about Alexander, we learn that the storyteller, in this case Eliza, is just as important as the person that the story is about. Let’s not forget that Rob Chernow cited Eliza as being one of the most important sources when writing the biography Alexander Hamilton, which the show is based upon. This is Eliza’s story, too. Without her, we wouldn’t know as much about Alexander, or his role in the Revolution and American politics, as we do today. 

A new element of the story is introduced in the final few moments when Lin Manuel-Miranda steps outside of his character as Alexander, and into his real self. Lin then introduces Eliza to the audience, where she can see what her work has done. She gasps and grabs hold of her heart in astonishment as she sees how she has helped immortalise the story of her late husband, and of a huge chunk of American Revolutionary history. 

We don’t see much from Eliza after the death of Alexander, but we do learn about some of the things she accomplished following his death. She helped raise funds to memorialise George Washington with a statue in D.C., she spoke out against slavery, and defended her husband against his critics and dedicated the rest of her life to telling his story. But there are stories we don’t see. Eliza was so devoted to preserving his legacy that she reorganised all of his paperwork and letters along with their son John and fought relentlessly to get his biography published. With the help of his mother, John C. Hamilton would go on to publish his father’s first biography. She was known for wearing a small package around her neck that contained a sonnet which Alexander wrote for her during their early courtship. Even during her nineties, she prompted Congress to allow her to buy and publish Alexander’s works, adding them to the Library of Congress to help future historians know him. 

But what is she proudest of? She founded the Orphan Asylum Society, dedicating over 42 years of her life to caring for and educating over 700 children. Eliza is noted as being one of the first female philanthropists, and is regarded as one of the most generous Americans that reformed the nation. 

At the very end when singing with the ensemble, she asks for the first time “will they tell my story?” rather than “will they tell your story?”, showing that she remained modest and selfless to the very end. Everything was all about the greater good or her family.

She really is the ‘Best of Wives and Women’. 

The post Why Eliza is the Real Hero of Hamilton appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[singledadhamilton]

Return of Frances Antill

Hamilton's Kids: *Looking at the photo album*

Philip: So much memories

Angelica: The good and the bad times. Hey...look it's me and Fanny when we were eating cookies on Christmas

Philip: Dad scolded both of you since AJ and James made them for Santa Claus

*Everyone began laughing happily as they go through the photos*

Angelica: I miss...Fanny

Philip: I do too...but life isn't always fair and sometimes reality suck but it happens

*Angelica nodded as she and Philip continue looking at the photo album. Hearing their Dad returning home from work*

Alexander: Kids, I'm home!!! And I have something special to show you

Hamilton's kids: *Looking at each others with confusion but also excitement. Rushing toward the front door and froze*

Philip: ...Dad is this? ....

Alexander: *smile dearly* Yes, Mijo, Fanny is back home

Fanny: *In tears before rushing toward Angelica and Eliza*

*The entire Hamilton's family did a huge group hugs. Filled with light laughter and tears of joy*

(Sorry for a late Thanksgiving post!!! Got busy)

[aswithasunbeam]

An Elusive Peace, Chapter 12

  Read on AO3

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: For Hamilton and Eliza, peace was supposed to mark the end to their separation and the beginning of domestic bliss. But Hamilton's ambition and the challenges facing the new nation quickly interfere. Happily ever after may not be as easy to attain as they once hoped.

Stress and insecurity weigh heavily on Hamilton...

February 1791

“If we were to gift France such a benefit, especially one not called for in the treaty, as we both agree, where would we get the funds to offset the expected income?” Hamilton argued to John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, using his fork to emphasis his point. “Retiring the public debt requires income, and exempting one of our largest trading partners from the tonnage tax would put a sizable hole in the nation’s pocket.”1

Jefferson frowned and raised his wine glass to his lips. Where Hamilton expected a rebuttal, only a long silence followed. Hamilton swallowed down the inclination to say more, conscious not to give too much away.

“As trustees of the sinking fund, I do believe we must heed Mr. Hamilton’s advice on this account, Thomas,” Adams responded finally. “Congress has tasked us with reducing the public debt, and an exemption for France would run counter to that duty.”

Jefferson gave a noncommittal nod, which seemed to signal less his acquiescence to their arguments, and more a desire to move on to a new topic. They’d assembled at Mr. Jefferson’s new Philadelphia lodgings to discuss the sinking fund, specifically, however, and the three men had little else about which to converse. Given what a wily opponent Jefferson had proven himself to be over the past year, Hamilton had little desire to share current news or plans.

The sound of cutlery scraping against fine china seemed unusually loud in the awkward silence that followed. Adams turned his attention to his plate, slicing the cut of beef before him with great concentration. Jefferson’s gaze focused straight ahead on the window, unfazed by the tense moment where Hamilton would have been scrambling for a topic of conversation were he the host of this gathering.  

Eliza never would have let such a tense silence endure.

Hamilton wished she were with him.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, Mr. Hamilton,” Adams remarked. “For the passage of your banking bill. President Washington signed it today, did he not?”

Jefferson’s jaw tensed noticeably. When Adams raised a glass to him, Jefferson pointedly set his down upon the table. Hamilton fought a vindictive smile as he replied, “He did. Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

Not without a hard won fight, however. Jefferson and Jemmy had collaborated against him, filling the President’s mind with doubts over the constitutionality of the National Bank. His mind still felt fuzzy from the sleepless nights he’d spent crafting his defense. Eliza, bless her, had stayed at his side that last night, when he’d despaired of ever finishing. She’d copied the pages he’d scribbled and scratched over, her boundless optimism a beacon in the churning sea of his thoughts. What would he do without her, his darling angel?2

“I did my utmost to keep harmony in the Senate during that debate,” Adams continued. “I trust you know best, Mr. Hamilton, though I confess I do sympathize with the position of our more Southern colleagues. The bank will surely benefit the North far more than the South. Not to mention the money men who shall make out best are, in my estimation, little better than swindlers and thieves.”

Now Hamilton’s jaw tensed.

“What America surely needs is less banks and more farmers,” Jefferson agreed. “Financial speculation will never yield the virtuous citizenry a republic requires to function. Cities and industry provide just so much to the support of pure government as sores do to the strength of the human body.3 Our farms are the bastion of a free society.”

One of Jefferson’s servants paused beside him to refill his wine glass as he spoke. Hamilton’s gaze drifted up to the enslaved man, whose face was fixed into a blank expression of placid obedience. Had he choked down a derisive laugh at that statement? Hamilton wondered.  

The South was as much a bastion of free society as Saint Croix, he badly wanted to retort. The plantation systems that flourished in societies arranged around cash crops were the very antithesis of a republic, which was meant to be organized around merit. How well he remembered the violence and cruelty that abounded on the plantations, and the rigid hierarchy that ruined his father and would have condemned him to the groveling state of a clerk for the rest of his days. Was that truly Jefferson’s ideal? Or was he simply blind to the failings of a system that had gifted him so much privilege?    

“I’ve not found that to be so,” Hamilton settled on as the most diplomatic reply. “I think, rather, that a diverse economy is the best way to open the door to all, that each may have the opportunity  to rise above the disadvantages of his birth and command the tribute due to his merit.”4 That’s what he was working towards, the vision he conjured when his eyes blurred in the wee hours of the morning as he reviewed endless contracts, tables, and charts.

Jefferson frowned again. Another noncommittal nod followed, signaling the end of the topic. How maddening it was, to debate with a man who refused to argue his position.

Another tense silence filled the room.

Hunting for a new point of conversation, anything less controversial to carry them through to the end of this interminable meal, Hamilton’s eyes landed on the portraits of three men Jefferson had hanging in his dining room. Bacon, Newton, and Locke, he identified. Surely science and philosophy would be safer ground than their competing political visions?

“Pray tell me, Mr. Jefferson, why you have the portraits of those particular three gentleman displayed?” he inquired, pasting on a smile.

Jefferson cleared his throat and launched into what could only be described as a lecture, and a dry one at that.

Hamilton pushed a green bean through the sauce on his plate idly. The food was delicious—Jefferson’s meals always were, his dinners like pomegranate seeds meant to trap the unwary into perpetually returning to his lair—but he found he had little appetite. All the late hours and opulent dinners had been taking a toll on his waistline, such that he’d had to have his breeches let out last month. Angelica’s latest letter had been proof that his expanding girth had not gone unnoticed.

He’d known something was off when Eliza refused to share Angelica’s latest letter with him. Regardless of to whom the letter was addressed, the first to lay hand on it always read it aloud for the benefit of the other. This time, however, Eliza had stuffed it into her sewing kit and put him off whenever he inquired about it.

“It’s silly, girlish nonsense,” Eliza had argued, patting him on the cheek fondly. “Nothing that would interest you.”

On the contrary, having it hidden away from him interested him greatly in the contents. He’d sneaked it out from under a pair of Pip’s socks when she’d had her back turned and cast his eyes over his dear friend's words. “…[O]ur dear Hamilton writes too much and takes no exercise and grows too fat. I hate both the words and the thing and you will take care of his health and good looks. Why, I shall find him on my return a dull, heavy fellow.”5

“Please don’t give it a moment’s thought. You look wonderful, sweetheart. Very handsome,” Eliza had tried to console him.

He’d taken pains to restrict his diet ever since, nonetheless.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Hamilton?”

He blinked and refocused on Jefferson, who had fixed him with his intense, studying gaze. Apparently the great Professor had come to the end of his lesson. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jefferson,” he apologized, shifting in his seat. “I’m afraid I was miles away.”

“Do you agree that Bacon, Newton, and Locke are the three greatest men who ever lived?” Jefferson repeated for him.

A bold claim. He didn’t disagree, really. But he wanted to, if for no other reason than to throw Jefferson off guard.

A long ago, late night flashed through his memory, a campfire crackling while he, Lafayette, Laurens, and Mac had huddled round. “Why does Alexander get to be great?” Jack had asked to no one in particular.  

“I’m not great; I’m just better than you,” Hamilton had jested. Jack had elbowed him in the ribs.

“I mean it. Why do we call him Alexander the Great? Who determines which men will have fame that lasts through the centuries? His deeds weren’t necessarily noble; he didn’t fight for freedom or justice. Just conquest.”

Jack had worried about that frequently. Fame. Glory. A name that would be remembered throughout history; remembered for the right reasons.

“The same reason Caesar is remembered. They were conquerors. Heroes in their own time,” Lafayette had observed with a careless shrug.

“You think we’ll be the conquering heroes of our time?” Jack had asked, looking at him.

“You two? Of course. Our very own Caesar and Alexander,” Mac had interjected.6

A smile tugged at Hamilton’s lips as the memory washed over him. He longed for the simple camaraderie of the war, when the enemy was clear and the goal unquestioned. Oh, what better answer could he give?

Arranging his features into a serious expression, he replied, “The greatest man who ever lived was Julius Caesar.”7

The utter shock on Jefferson’s face forced Hamilton to cover his mouth with his napkin, feigning a cough to cover the his laughter. He’d pay for making such a comment, of that he had no doubt. Oh, but the expression on the unflappable Virginian’s face made it so very worth it.

**

A moan of relief fell from his lips as he closed the door to the house on Third Street that he and Eliza had picked out last August. He thought he’d never be able to leave that dining room. Any time spent with Jefferson always seemed to leave him with a merciless headache and the desire to sleep for days on end.

“Dinner went well, then?” Eliza queried, watching him from the entryway to the parlor with a teasing smile.

“I can’t stand him,” Hamilton groaned as he shrugged out of his winter coat. “He barely speaks. It’s impossible to win an argument when all he does is listen to my side, then change the subject. What’s the point of even meeting with him?”

“Well, as long as we don’t need to move cities again, I’d consider it a win.”

His face fell. He knew she was angry about having to leave New York, their home and their friends, as part of his concession to pass assumption of the debt, but he hadn’t expected her to raise that now. The comment had clearly come off more barbed than she’d intended, because her expression softened, and she swept over to kiss him softly.

“Do you want some tea?” she offered. Her hands massaged his shoulders gently. “Sarah brought up a fresh pot.”

“I have more work to do. Now that the lighthouse at Cape Henry is authorized—”

“Come sit for a few minutes,” she insisted. Her lips touched his again, soft and light as a butterfly’s wing. “Pip finished his theme a few minutes ago. He’s eager to show you.”

He gave in and followed her into the parlor. Pip was writing at his little desk, his face scrunched up with concentration as he wrote in his composition book. Alex and Jamie appeared to be fighting for control of the rocking horse, while Fanny and Angelica sat on the sofa, little fingers occupied with sewing circles. When he’d settled on the sofa beside the girls, Pip bounded over, thrusting the theme book into his hands.

“I finished, Papa,” Pip announced proudly.

Eliza poured a cup of tea for him as he opened the book to the latest page. Pip’s writing was crooked and just a touch too large, but he could tell his son had put thought into the answer to the question he’d set him this morning. He smiled encouragingly when he glanced up, and saw Pip’s chest puff out with pride.

“Do you want a tart, honey?” Eliza offered. “They’re cherry. Your favorite.”

“No, thank you,” he refused. She kept making him little treats like that, trying to tempt him to indulge himself. She felt unreasonably guilty for Angelica’s letter, he knew, but giving him desserts was hardly going to undo the truth of her sister’s words.  When she frowned in disappointment, he pleaded, “As much as I love your tarts, my angel, I’m quite stuffed from Mr. Jefferson’s dinner.”

“I want a tart, Mama,” Alex piped in, abandoning his wrestling match with his little brother in hopes of a treat. Eliza smiled indulgently, and placed one of the treats on a plate for him.

When Alex was settled, she brought over the teacup for him and sat on his other side, her hand rubbing up along his arm and resting on his shoulder, her fingers tangling unconsciously in his hair. The tension in his shoulders loosened at the affectionate gesture. He loved when she played with his hair.

Time in the loving embrace of his family seemed to fly by with a speed incongruous with the pace it had taken while he’d been at Jefferson’s lodgings. After Eliza finished plying him with tea, he knelt down on the floor to play with the boys. Fanny and Angelica were both quick to abandon their sewing when they saw a chance for a piggy back ride, and soon he was rolling around with his little ones, thoughts of Jefferson and his political intrigue far away.

Eliza had a great knack for knowing when he was about to excuse himself to return to work. The very moment  the thought of the contracts on his desk crossed his mind, she immediately rose. “All right, children, time to go upstairs and start readying for bed. Papa and I are going to take our evening constitutional.”

He sighed. “Betsey, I really must—”

“It’s important for your health that you exercise.”  

He touched a hand to his stomach self-consciously, the statement conjuring Angelica’s words all over again. As Eliza ushered the children towards the stairs, she paused beside him and whispered, “It’s my only time alone with you.” She smiled, and looked perfectly sincere; still, he couldn’t help wondering if that was the only reason she wanted him to take the evening walk.

As they set out into the brisk winter air towards Walnut Street, Eliza tucked her arm around his. “I feel like we never see each other anymore,” she remarked. “It’s even worse than usual, since we moved to Philadelphia.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I’ve only just begun to set the nation on a more solid financial footing. There’s so much left to do. And between Madison and Jefferson, I can hardly keep up with all the plots to undo the work I’ve already done.”

Eliza squeezed his arm comfortingly. “You’ll manage.”

“I hope so.” If he failed, economic collapse and the ruin of the nation were sure to follow. After a beat, he added, “You sleeping in a separate room is hardly helping.”

“I’m not sleeping in a separate room,” she said. “I’ve just been comforting Fanny. I try to give you time to fall asleep before I come back, so I won’t disturb you. You need your rest.”  

“You’re never there when I go to sleep.” His voice carried more bitterness than he’d intended. He wasn’t angry with her, not at all, but he did miss her desperately.

He could actually hear her lips thinning in response, he’d swear to it. “Fanny’s nightmares keep getting worse. What would you have me do? Leave her weeping in her bed so you won’t be lonely?”

Guilt swept over him. Their poor little girl had been suffering acutely from nightmares ever since they’d broken word to her of her father’s death. He doubted she even remembered Edward Antil; although they’d been honest with her from her earliest days about her parentage, she’d never wavered from referring to them as Mama and Papa. As gentle and reassuring as they’d tried to be, though, the concept of a parent dying appeared to have had a profound effect on her.

“Of course not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She sighed, and added, “I’m just really tired.”

“Me, too.” They shared a weak smile in the orange glow of the streetlamps. “I love you, Betsey.”

“I love you, too,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They continued strolling along the street in companionable quiet for a time.

“I saw Mrs. Washington today,” Eliza commented suddenly. Her voice had the particular quality it always acquired when she meant something to sound casual and airy, but it in fact had more significance. “She’s encouraging Angelica and Fanny to sign up for dance lessons with Nelly.”

“That sounds nice,” he replied, tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s rather…expensive.”

Ah. Money. The ever sensitive topic.

“You know our finances better than I do at this point, my dearest,” he said honestly. She’d taken over care of the finances before they’d left New York. He’d hardly even look at their account books recently. “If you think we can afford it.…”

“Pip and the girls all need new clothes,” she added. Her voice began to sound strained. “The rent is higher here in Philadelphia, as is the grocer bill. And you keep talking about sending Pip to boarding school this year. He’ll need clothes, and books, and money for room and board, not to mention the cost of the school itself.”

He frowned.

“I’m…worried, Alexander.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he tried to reassure her.

“I’m doing my best, but I can only juggle so much when the income just isn’t there. The way you spend money….”

Defensiveness flared up within him. “Didn’t you have the dress you’re wearing made at the tailors this month?”

“Yes, but—”

“It’s not just me spending money, is it?”

“Don’t cross examine me, Alexander,” she snapped. After a deep breath, she continued more calmly, “I’m not trying to attack you, honey. I’m just telling you that we need more money. I could talk to my father?”

“No.” His refusal was immediate. “No. I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll consult on legal cases,” he suggested. Even the thought of it made him want to curl up and weep—he hardly had time to sleep as it was—but if his family required more money, he’d need to do what was necessary to provide it for them. “Reviewing appeal documents, perhaps. Nothing that could cause a conflict of interest with my current position.”

“Honey,” she sounded concerned. “You don’t have the time to take on legal work on top of your Treasury post.”

“If we need money, I’ll make more money. That’s my job.”

“That’s your job for the entire country.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. “You know Papa would be happy to help if you’d let him.”  

“I promised to provide for you and our family when I married you, and I intend to see that through.”

She shook her head at him. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it. We can economize. We’ll manage. We always manage.”

“I’ll look into taking on a few cases.” He dropped a kiss onto her head to settled the discussion. He hated that the only time they managed to eke out with each other, they spent arguing about money. He’d do anything, work as much as he needed to, so long as he had her by his side. “Would you try to come to bed tonight?”  

“I’ll do my best,” she promised.

Later, much later, when he’d finally finished reviewing the most pressing documents in his briefcase, he managed to drag himself to bed and was delighted to see Eliza waiting up for him. He slipped into a nightshirt and crawled into bed beside her. “Hello, my darling angel.”

Her brow was furrowed. “Why did you change in the dressing room?”

“Isn’t that what it’s for?”

“You’re still sensitive about what Angelica said.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“It’s not what she said. It’s that it’s true. Look at me, I’m growing round as a pumpkin.”

She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I like it. You’re less bony; much more cuddly.”

“What every man wants to hear,” he commented. She nuzzled her nose against his neck and squeezed him tight, though, and he couldn’t help chuckling. He rolled over, partially on top of her, intent on kissing her properly.

“Careful. You might crush me,” she teased, expelling an exaggerated breath around a laugh.

“Too soon. Not funny,” he insisted, crushing their lips together. He was smiling, though, properly smiling.

“Mama!” Fanny’s scream carried all the way across the house.

He groaned.

Her eyes held an apology as she pushed him away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “She needs you. Go.”

She pulled on her dressing gown and hurried from the room, while he rolled over in bed and stared up the canopy. Without Eliza beside him, his mind raced with all that needed doing. The comfort and relaxation he'd felt moments before seemed to disappear with her. He drummed his hands on his chest absently, then sat up.

Well, he may as well get some work done.

1. See Hamilton to Jefferson, 11 January 1791 2. Eliza Hamilton interview with Benton J. Lossing, 1848. 3. Elkins and McKitrick, The Age of Federalism, p. 195 4. Paraphrase from Federalist No. 36. 5. Angelica Church to Eliza Hamilton, April 1792—I adjusted this letter up a year to play up Hamilton's insecurities more. 6. Robbins, “James McHenry, Forgotten Federalist,” p. 67: Embracing Laurens after the battle of Yorktown, McHenry supposedly queried, “Here is Caesar, but where is Alexander,” to which Laurens replied, “He is safe.”  The fact that Laurens was teasingly referred to as here Caesar adds an interesting layer to the comments that follow. 7. The famous dinner party with Hamilton, Jefferson, and Madison has been covered so much recently, I thought I’d write about this one instead. Joanne Freeman tells this story in the most entertaining way in her American Revolution course (available on youtube and itunes, if you’re interested). Hamilton's comments about Caesar over a meal they shared were repeated by Jefferson for literally decades, but given that Hamilton never expressed any real admiration for Caesar anywhere else in his papers, it seems highly likely that Hamilton was messing with Jefferson (assuming, of course, Jefferson didn’t just make the whole interaction up).