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Showing posts with label Hamilton family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hamilton family. Show all posts

19 January 2019

Top 10 Romantic Excerpts of Letters Between Hamilton and Laurens


I sincerely doubt that, within my lifetime, there will ever be a definitive answer to the question “did Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens have romantic feelings for one another?” Their letters certainly do seem to suggest so to some people. Even if one takes into account that men were a lot more outwardly affectionate with one another in the 18th century, the way these two spoke to each other was unusually romantically charged even for the time.

This may or may not end up a controversial post. I hope it doesn’t but inevitably when one brings up the possibility that anyone involved in the founding of this country was anything other than ultra hetero, it makes certain people ultra upsetero. But guess what - I don’t give a fuck. I’m almost 30 and frankly I’m done caring what straight people think when I speculate.


Also I’m not alone in this speculation - the theory that John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton May have had feelings for each other that were way more than friendly is not a new theory! I know some people want to pretend that this is something teenage “Hamilton” fans on tumblr made up (and even if it were, fuck off? Let teenagers - literal children - have fun while they try to find representation for themselves?) but this is actually a legitimate scholarly debate that’s been going on for years. There is a long-running gay veteran's club in San Francisco named after Hamilton, the New York City LGBT sites project lists Hamilton Grange in its LGBT historical sites list, so this is clearly a legacy that means a lot to a lot of people, regardless of whatever the general consensus ends up being. Even mainstream Hamilton biographer Ron Chernow had this to say about it, even if he was slightly “no homo” about it:
As the war progressed, Hamilton wrote to Laurens with such unbridled affection that one Hamilton biography, James T. Flexner, has detected homoerotic overtones in their relationship. Because the style of eighteenth-century letters could be quite florid, even between men, one must tread gingerly in approaching this matter, especially since Laurens’s letters to Hamilton were warm but proper. It is worth noting here, however, how frequently people used the word feminine to describe Hamilton – the more surprising given his military bearing and virile exploits... Hamilton had certainly been exposed to homosexuality as a boy, since many "sodomites” were transported to the Caribbean along with thieves, pickpockets, and others deemed undesirable. In all thirteen colonies, sodomy had been a capital offense, so if Hamilton and Laurens did become lovers – and it is impossible to day this with any certainty—they would have taken extraordinary precautions... At the very least, we can say that Hamilton developed something like an adolescent crush on his friend.
[... ]
For Hamilton, the news [of Laurens’s death] was crushing. ‘Poor Laurens, he has fallen a sacrifice to his ardor in a trifling skirmish in South Carolina,’ he wrote sadly to Lafayette, the other member of their war triumvirate. ‘You know how truly I loved him and will judge how much I regret him.’ The death deprived Hamilton of the political peer, the steadfast colleague, that he was to need in his tempestuous battles to consolidate the union. He would enjoy a brief collaboration with James Madison and never lacked the stalwart if often aloof patronage of George Washington. But he was more of a solitary crusader without Laurens, lacking an intimate lifelong ally such as Madison and Jefferson found in each other. On a personal level, the loss was even more harrowing. Despite a large circle of admirers, Hamilton did not form deep friendships easily and never again revealed his interior life to another man as he had to Laurens. He became ever more voluble in his public life but somehow less introspective and revelatory in private. Henceforth, his confessional remarks were reserved for Eliza or Angelica Church. After the death of John Laurens, Hamilton shut off some compartment of his emotions and never reopened it.
Historian Thomas Foster writes this about it:
Virtually all other biographers ignore the love between Laurens and Hamilton. One author, for example, mentions every aspect of Washington’s sexual scandals, however untenable, and thereby highlights his virility, but makes no mention of the controversy around how to read the Laurens correspondence or the fact that some historians for decades have been using it as evidence of same-sex love. Indeed, the book, which highlights “intimacy” in the Founders’ lives, limits itself to that shared between men and women, despite the fact that the author’s conceptualization of intimacy is not solely sexual and include bonds between parent and daughter and platonic, if flirtatious, male-female friendships. The decision to leave aside intimate bonds between fathers and sons and also between men leads perhaps to Laurens’s being cast as a participant in a decidedly heterosexual relationship. 
As to what I believe... well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a definitive answer myself. I do think John Laurens probably was gay. He definitely was depressed and seemed to seek death, and before Hamilton he flirted with Francis Kinloch. Yes, Laurens married a woman, Martha, but it seems to have been out of duty rather than romance. Tumblr user john-laurens makes a far more detailed and convincing argument for John Laurens’ sexual orientation. As for Hamilton, of course as a gay I want to believe that one of my favourite historical figures was bisexual. I don’t want to say that he was or was not for sure, but, as “The X-Files” would say, I Want to Believe



Either way it’s fun to speculate. And hoo boy once you read some of these letters I wouldn’t be surprised if you were speculating too. Besides, just speculating doesn’t hurt anybody. I mean both guys involved are long dead, I doubt they really care what some lesbian with a blog says. It’s not like I would EVER say anything about this at the Grange while giving a tour. (Not unless someone asked me directly, I am a professional.)

Without further ado, I present to you words actually written by John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton (mostly Hamilton as he wrote more) that, to be honest, would not look out of place in a love letter.

13 January 2019

Happy (Belated) Birthday Alexander Hamilton

Two days ago I braved the bitter cold and a government shutdown cancelling half the events to attend the AHA Society's Hamilton Birthday celebration with my friends Nicole (who is a member of the society) and Lindsey (who I've written about before on this blog many a time because I absolutely adore her).


In honour of the man's birthday, our group of me, my friends, AHA Society members, and onlookers curious enough to join, walked a (electronic) candlelight procession up Broadway from the Alexander Hamilton Customs House (named after the man), through Bowling Green park (a park that dates back to the 1730s), to Trinity Church Cemetery to gather around his grave.

We facetimed (ah, the wonders of modern technology) a group in Nevis (the Caribbean island where Hamilton was born) and we all sang "Happy Birthday" to the grave. Then we sang "Silent Night" - because, believe it or not, that carol's debut in the English language was at Trinity Church.

Of course, the irony of me, a heathen Jew, singing a carol about baby Jesus in a church cemetery, was not lost on me. (And honestly it was a little cheesy, but in a sweet way.) Then again, Hamilton had a Jewish education in early childhood even if he himself was not Jewish, so, like... I like to think he'd appreciate the irony?

Afterwards, we headed over to Fraunces Tavern, a restaurant that existed during the Revolution, one where Hamilton ate multiple times (including a week before his death), and also one of my most favourite places in New York City. I can think of no better place to end the day's festivities, with hot cider and pub food and good friends and friendly people I had just met that day and a lot of history-based jokes and puns.

I have been pulling back from my Hamiltonian studies lately because I have actually been focusing more on other historical periods in preparation for what I hope is the next big chapter of my life. But part of me still feels some affection for the man, considering how - even though he died centuries ago - my life really did change a lot due to things he did when alive. I'm not some "marry me Alex!" fangirl, and I'm not saying he did no wrong (to some extent all of the founding fathers, Hamilton included, were petty assholes and hypocrites), but I'm still endeared by the man. Kinda like a beloved uncle who's a little backwards in some of his views but he's so charismatic and endearing that you can't help but love him? Idk, I don't have to explain myself to y'all on my own blog.

And as such, it was meaningful for me to be able to celebrate the man in this way, with other people who feel that same weird affection for him.

(Oh, and as it was cold, yes, someone did make the "Brrr"/"Burr" joke. In case you were wondering.)

So happy birthday, Hammy. See you at next year's celebration.
-Nym

03 February 2018

The Forgotten Hamilton

It's pretty common knowledge that Alexander Hamilton, despite all of his numerous accomplishments, considered his large family one of his most important legacies of all. He considered himself a family man and, fittingly, had an absolute army of children. There were 8 biological children in all, though the oldest and the youngest never got to meet one another:

  1. Philip (born 1782)
  2. Angelica (1784)
  3. Alexander Jr. (1786)
  4. James Alexander (1788)
  5. John Church (1792)
  6. William Stephen (1797)
  7. Eliza (1799)
  8. Philip (1802)
Now, it seems that the further we go down this list of children, the less people know about them. Everyone has heard of the first Philip, of course - he's the one who died in a duel. Angelica got her own entry on this blog, and even Alexander Jr. sometimes gets remembered for the fun piece of trivia that he represented Eliza Jumel as her divorce lawyer when she divorced Aaron Burr.  Some people know the name of child #5, John Church Hamilton (named not after John Laurens, but after Angelica Schuyler Church's husband) as the man who wrote the first biography of Alexander Hamilton, and who commissioned what a friend of mine calls "the weirdly sexy Hamilton statue in Central Park".

But what about child #8, Philip the second? It seems people only remember him as a footnote - even my tours at the Grange only mention him as the baby named after the son who died in a duel. But the guy did lead a life beyond just being a baby. 

This is what he looked like as an adult
So let's learn a little bit about Philip Hamilton number two - or, as his family called him, "Little Phil".

11 July 2017

It's Been 213 Years



It's... difficult for me to come up with the right words for today. How do you mourn a man who died centuries before you were even born? Do you have any right to that sorrow?

213 years ago - 11 July 1804 - Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton dueled in the early morning, in Weehawken, New Jersey - a short walk from where I live now. Hamilton had written a friend ahead of time to state his intention of firing off to the side or into the air. And when it came down to it, Hamilton's shot did go into the trees. And Burr's shot went into Hamilton.

Alexander Hamilton died the next day - 12 July 1804 - after an agonising thirty hours of bleeding out.

Weehawken holds reenactments of the duel each year, but as 11 July fell on a Tuesday this year, I am unable to attend, as I am stuck at work.

But it didn't seem right to do nothing to commemorate it at all. Not when the man is so important to me. Not when, even after 213 years, he's had such a profound effect on my life.

So here's to you, Hamilton. Rest in peace and all that jazz.

-Nym

19 June 2017

My Weekend Back in Time

According to modern science, time travel (as fiction portrays it) is technically impossible. That doesn't stop history buffs like me from secretly wishing and dreaming that it were possible, from planning where I would go and who I would meet.

This last weekend (the 17th and the 19th) I got the chance to do some of the things I always secretly wished and dreamed for. I got to visit the late 18th century and brush elbows with both Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. And I got to go to the late 19th/early 20th century Lower East Side and take in some of the immigrant cultures of the area. And it was really fun!

And I brought my Polaroid!
Okay, okay, I didn't literally go back in time. Hamilton Grange had an event on Saturday called "the Feuding Founding Fathers" and invited reenactors from the American Historical Theatre to come debate the issue of a national banking system as Jefferson and Hamilton. And on Sunday, the Museum at Eldridge Street, one of my particular favourites, held their yearly "Egg Creams, Egg Rolls, and Empanadas" Festival - a celebration of immigrant cultures in that area of the Lower East Side, particularly Jewish, Chinese, and Puerto Rican culture.


06 April 2017

The Sad Tale of Angelica Hamilton



Every so often at the Grange, I get asked "what's your favourite story about something in this house?" I never quite know how to answer. It'd be simpler if they asked what my favourite story about Alexander Hamilton was - I have lots of answers to that one. But about the Grange itself?

Usually, I answer, "I don't know if I would call it my favourite, since it's completely depressing, but I can tell you the most interesting one..."

This is the story that I tell.


01 February 2017

WWAHD?


My roommate took this photo after a flash protest in NYC last Sunday. This photo was taken in front of Alexander Hamilton's grave at Trinity Cemetery.

By now it should come as no secret to anyone how much I admire Alexander Hamilton.

And lately, my life has been moving at a very fast pace full of ups (getting asked out on a date! giant creative project!) and downs (death of a mentor! politics!). And - as many of you may have realised, especially those who have read a lot of this blog - I'm a very anxious person. I do not like unknowns or change, and in dark moments I am tempted to allow my fear and anxiety to paralyse me.

Lately, with all these big changes and opportunities, I have at times been fearful and anxious. And though it started half-jokingly, I began asking myself when opportunities (whether for creative projects or political activism or even just accepting a date from a girl I hardly know) arose, 5 simple words:

"What Would Alexander Hamilton Do?"

Make fun of me if you wish. I agree, it is somewhat ridiculous. It's also helped me to become more courageous in the past week than I ever have been in my life.

I'm sure Alexander Hamilton got scared sometimes. He must have been fucking terrified on the ship over to the 13 colonies, or during the Revolutionary War and the winter at Valley Forge. There very well may have been moments when he considered just giving up. (He did once write John Laurens "I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself.")

You know what else he did? He stood up for what he believed in. He wrote passionately about his beliefs whether they were popular (or legal) or not. He gave a lengthy speech on the steps of King's College to stave off a mob. He stole British artillery cannons and distinguished himself as he fought hard in the Revolution.

When opportunities came flying at his face at a breakneck pace, Hamilton did not back down. Hamilton seized them by the balls and ran with them. Hamilton looked fear in the face and told it "not today, motherfucker".

And that's what I'm aiming to do lately, too. 

I like to think he'd be proud of the protests that have been happening lately, to know the legacy of himself and his revolutionary brethren has not been forgotten. I like to think he'd be honoured that protestors were offering him their signs and thinking of him. And I know that if he were alive today, he'd be on our side. The man, for all his flaws, was not a fan of tyrants.

"When a government betrays the people by amassing too much power and becoming tyrannical, the people have no choice but to exercise their original right of self-defense — to fight the government."
~ Alexander Hamilton

So if it helps you to do so as it's helped me, whether for purposes of political activism or just because you got a romance or career offer you weren't expecting, ask yourself:

"What would Alexander Hamilton do?"

And then do that!

~Nym

13 September 2016

Lunch in New York with Alexander Hamilton


One of the most famous things about New York - and one of the things I've been enjoying the most - is its food scene. You can get some very expensive food here, but you can also get some very cheap food (my lunch today for example was a slice of pizza twice as big as my head, which cost me only $1). You can find any type of cuisine in the world - in my time here so far, I've had Italian, Chinese, Middle Eastern, Japanese, Jamaican, and Ukrainian (at Veselka, a place I wanna go back to asap so I can do a blog entry about it!). And the best part is that no matter where you are in the city, there's usually at least one food cart nearby, so you never go hungry! I was reluctant to eat at one of these at first, since my mother always used to call them 'roach coaches', but god is it convenient, and they're actually usually really good!

Yesterday, for example, I had a job interview only two blocks away from the American Museum of Natural History (which is also gonna be a future blog entry) and afterwards, feeling peckish, I got a potato knish from a food cart and started wandering through Central Park, stopping to eat in the shade of a statue of Alexander Hamilton.

(I wish I could say it was a complete accident that I ended up at this particular statue but I will be honest with you guys - I was totally looking for it.)

It's a beautiful statue, you guys. It's carved entirely of white granite, and portrays Hamilton in his prime. The sculptor, Carl H. Conrads (of Hartford, CT if the little tiny inscription on the corner near where I sat is correct) really sculpted his jawline well. If that's a weird thing to notice, oh well, because I noticed it. The statue was gifted to the park by Hamilton's son, John C. Hamilton (the same guy who crossed out the words on that infamous Hamilton-Laurens letter where Hamilton is talking about his dick) in 1880.

I sat in the shade of that statue of my favourite founding father and ate my knish, people-watching for a bit. A father and son passed me by - the father murmuring to his son "he was a great man," presumably talking about Hamilton - and somewhere nearby, someone was playing live jazz music. And I was struck by how much what I was doing, in that moment, was such a uniquely New York experience. The food cart knish, a food probably originally brought to the city by immigrants... the jazz music, reminiscent of the twenties, one of New York's most shining decades... and Hamilton himself...

He doesn't have any really big monuments like the other founding fathers do. Washington has the Washington Monument and Mount Vernon, his face is on Mount Rushmore, and the entire U.S. capitol is named after him. Jefferson has the Jefferson Monument and Monticello, and he's also on Mount Rushmore. Benjamin Franklin has the Franklin National Memorial in Philadelphia. Even James Madison has the James Madison Memorial Building.

Alexander Hamilton doesn't have anything like that, but in a way, New York City is his monument. The hustle and bustle of the city's commerce is a fitting monument to how he shaped the nation's financial system. The city's rainbow quilt of every possible nationality is a memorial to his roots as an immigrant. His memory is all over this city, which is as fast paced as his incredible mind.

And I get to take part in it.

-Nym-

31 May 2016

The Historical Dinner Party

I am unaware if this is a common conversation among history geeks or if this is just something me and my friends have spent far too much time wondering about, but one of the first entries I planned for this blog (it has taken me nearly 6 months to actually get around to writing it) was that of my ideal Historical Dinner Party. It is my answer to the question that at least the history geeks I know have pondered at length: Which historical figures, from any time or place, would you invite to a dinner party and why?

I decided, as I often do, to take this a few steps further; to pick my guest list based on their interactions with one another as much as their interactions with me; to go so far as to plan out a menu which is both slightly historical and completely vegetarian; even to plan my outfit. (It's a men's suit with a lacy blouse, combat boots, and flapper-red lipstick, if you are wondering.) So come along and join me at this (admittedly sort of ridiculous) dinner party.


12 January 2016

History Has Its Eyes On You

About a week ago, my mother (whom again, I have a... complicated relationship with) took myself and Sarah's family out for dinner. It went surprisingly well - Sarah is far more charismatic than I am, and could charm anyone, even my mother, which is good because if my mother had not liked her she absolutely would have either tried to stop me from moving to New York or insisted upon visiting me in New York every. single. MONTH.

And sometime during that dinner, as the parental units wanted to know Sarah's and my personal plans for the future, someone (I believe her father) asked me just why it was that I loved history so much.

I always have loved history. It's my true passion in life (other than "Gravity Falls" and the paranormal and my friendship with Sarah of course!) but I wasn't quite sure how to answer why. The answer I came up with rings surprisingly true, though:

At the end of all the historical battles and treaties and monuments that we learn about, all the historical figures behind them were people, like you and me. They were human beings with their own hopes, their own dreams, their own stories. My job really ties into this aspect of historical fascination, as I tell the story of Sarah Winchester and her crushed hopes of a happy family she never got to have, the poor dear - and because of this I see her as a human being. A friend. Humans are social animals, and I chose an anthropology major rather than a history major for... well, multiple reasons, but one of them being that I like people. People fascinate me far more than battles and treaties and monuments.

But the problem with people today is I don't understand them. I've always had trouble relating to other people due to my history with various mental illnesses. I've never been able to understand people. But historical figures are dead. They're fixed in time, letting me learn about them without them changing constantly before my eyes. Letting me care about them without worrying about them leaving me forever.

And as a history fan sometimes I can do weird things.

For example, yesterday was Alexander Hamilton's birthday, either his 259th or 261st (there is argument as to which year he was born because he may have lied to make himself seem older so he seemed more distinguished and experienced, or he may have lied at another point to make himself seem younger, and we're not sure which).