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

Monday, January 30, 2017

George Washington




http://amzn.to/1YQziX0  A Master Passion   ISBN: 1771456744
The story of Alexander Hamilton & of his wife, Elizabeth Schuyler



I happened into the world on George Washington’s birthday. For many years I took some pride from sharing the day with the great man. After all, back in the ‘50’s it was still celebrated on the day on which it fell, which meant that I always had my birthday off from school. Pretty sweet—even if February in upstate NY meant we were buried in snow. 



Washington and Blue Skin

It was fun to have a party on a school holiday. Friends came to sledding parties and for snow-fort-buildings, but, by the time I was eight or nine, costume parties were my favorite.   To have a costume party in the dead of winter was a little outre—remember, this is the ‘50’s in farm country—but everyone got into the spirit, even if it just meant digging out last autumn’s Halloween costume again.
Father of Our Country. Think about what it means. It’s pretty heavy stuff to lay on anybody who used to put his pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us. Still, when you take a look at his track record here’s what you find:

Washington was Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army upon whose victory the thirteen colonies depended to secure their separate and equal station among the powers of the earth. In the summer of 1787, he presided over America's Constitutional Convention. His presence lent decisive significance to the document drafted there, which continues in force in the twenty-first century as the oldest written constitution in the world. From 1789-1796, he held the highest office in the land as the first president of the United States of America under this constitution.”  
 * The Claremont Institute via PBS website



More than that, Washington was “the man who would not be King.” Unlike every other Revolution since, our military hero didn’t become a dictator imperfectly hidden beneath a variety of pious designations as did so many others:  Augustus Caesar, Hitler, Napoleon, Kim Il-sung, Stalin, Oliver Cromwell and Mao Zedong. After our American Revolutionary War was over, he quietly went home, to tend to his plantation. Later, when his two terms as president were completed, he went home once again. 






George Washington was truly the “Cincinnatus” his contemporaries named him. Like that legendary Roman farmer, he left plowing his fields to assume leadership of his country in a time of war; afterward, he went home again. Like the title of historian James Flexner’s biography, George Washington was The Indispensable Man, a popular figure who did not use his overwhelming personal popularity to grab the reins of the new nation and declare himself Emperor, or whatever.

Moreover, Washington did not use his office to enrich himself. As one who'd sat through a sweltering summer in Philadelphia while the Constitution itself had been hammered out, he not only knew what it said, no doubt line by line, but he respected it, too, and intended that it should continue into the future, to serve the cause of liberty and justice for all mankind.

I'll close with two powerful, pertinent quotes by America's great founding father: 

"Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism."

"If the freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent we may be led like sheep to the slaughter." 

~~Juliet Waldron


http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi    Historical Novels by JW at Amazon

Saturday, August 6, 2016

HAMILTON PLANS

While baby #3, Alexander Junior, stirs in his sleep beside his mom, Daddy is awake and making big plans...



http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi    Books by Juliet Waldron
http://amzn.to/1YQziX0  A Master Passion  

...Betsy awoke. The newest baby, Alexander, grumbled in bed beside her, but her husband was gone. She knew he was not far, though, for she could hear him nearby. Lifting her head, she saw his outline against the moonlit window.


He was thinking aloud. Or, more properly, trying out a speech. Like the Iroquois, he often composed orations in this way, creating without benefit of pen and paper.


“Congress stands in a very embarrassing situation,” Alexander spoke into the darkness. “On the one hand they are blamed for not doing what they have no means of doing; on the other, their attempts are branded as encroachments and lust for power. It is the duty of all those who have the welfare of the community at heart to direct the attention of the people to the true source of the public disorders—the want of efficient government—and to impress upon them that the States must have a stronger bond of Union, one capable of drawing forth the resources of the country. This will be a more worthwhile occupation than complaining about a weakness which is built into the current constitution...”


He turned towards her, having divined that she was listening.


“I shall go to the Annapolis Convention after all. Something could happen, something that could finally pull this country together. We can’t leave untried any possibility.”


He returned to their bed, and took a seat beside her.


 “My Betsy.” He stroked her hair, “I shall soon be leaving you again.”


She slipped her hand through the open nightshirt to touch his chest. It was hard not to be cross. He seemed happy when he was home with her and the little ones, but he was also gone a great deal; he arranged his life that way.

She had a premonition that like his tenure in the Continental Congress, he’d return to her from this latest Convention in a state of rage, boiling over, like a neglected kettle...

The spectacle of thirteen states, creating trade barriers, warring over boundaries, with differing currencies and laws, all while the Continental army remained unpaid and with a huge war debt coming due, was not one which inspired confidence in either foreign lenders or in America’s more thoughtful citizens.

Hamilton and his father-in-law agreed that without a central government which paid its debts and soldiers, they were sure to come to grief. Some land-grabbing European power could easily appear on the scene to fragment and then gobble up the weak, separate states...


Autograph cover in his best secretarial hand




~~Juliet Waldron, A Master Passion




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Saturday, July 30, 2016

SHE WAS A LEO...





You’d never know, at first glance, that Mrs. Hamilton was a Leo. When you first learn of a shy girl, “the best tempered girl in the world,” -- an 18th Century way to praise one who is not a great beauty – you can’t imagine any sort of classic Leo female. Such women radiate energy, flaunt their good looks and always have something clever to say.

Still, according to General Washington’s ADC, Tench Tilghman, who met Betsy Schuyler during a war time visit to Albany, she was “…A Brunette with the most good-natured dark lovely eyes that I ever saw, which threw a beam of good temper and Benevolence over her entire Countenance…” Later, during that same visit, three ladies and three gentlemen took a picnic “of Sherbet and Biscuit" to the Falls at Cohoes, north of Albany.

The Falls at Cohoes, low flow
They went for a climb up the rocks in order to get a better view—or at least, Betsy and Tench Tilghman did—and she astonished the Marylander by climbing unaided right alongside him, for “she disdained all assistance and made herself merry at the distress of the other Ladyes.”  This gives us a far more Leonine, picture of Miss Betsy—of a healthy, able-bodied creature, who was used to and thoroughly enjoyed physical activity—even if it wasn’t  considered “ladylike.”   

And she could fascinate in a Leonine way, too, when it suited her. Here follows a sweet story told by one of the elder children of the Ford Mansion, the stately home where Washington’s military family was housed for the winter. In order that teen-age Timothy might go see his friends in the Village of Morristown, he was given the nightly countersign so that he could pass the sentries posted around the house after dark. One night, as he approached the sentinel, he heard the call for the countersign, but the young officer who’d been trudging ahead of him through the snow couldn’t seem to remember it. The sentry, following orders, presented his bayonet.

The absent-minded officer was Alexander Hamilton, who had been leaving headquarters almost every night to spend time with Miss Betsy, now staying with her Aunt and Uncle Cochran at a farmhouse nearby. Timothy and the sentry both knew Lieutenant Hamilton, of course, but the sentry didn’t dare disobey orders. In the end, Hamilton took Timothy aside and asked for the password, which he then presented to the still dubious guard. This is the only story concerning absent-mindedness I’ve ever read about the sharp-as-a-tack Hamilton, and I give the Leo in Miss Betsy all the credit.



Later on in the marriage, after her husband's sordid affair with Maria Reynolds, nosy biographers as well as novelists like me, would love to know how Eliza reacted.  (As they grew older, Hamilton's pet name for his Elizabeth changed to one more dignified.) However, with the strong desire for privacy evidenced by many 18th Century wives of famous men, Mrs. Hamilton, like Konstanze Mozart and Martha Washington, two other notable contemporary examples, doubtless burned any and all written evidence of recrimination. To quote the astrologer, Linda Goodman, on the bravery of Leo* "...there's no one who can bear more in stoic dignity, or adjust more courageously to depressing conditions with sheer faith and optimism...". 

This perfectly describes Elizabeth. She lived for more than fifty years after her "dear Hamilton" had died and never ceased to love him and defend his memory. She worked to preserve his vast, scattered written legacy, and fought to maintain his reputation in the face of his longer lived, formidable (Adams, Jefferson) but relentlessly jealous enemies.

Although she had to scrape to raise her children, Elizabeth made her mark in the world, being one of the co-founders of the first orphanage in NYC, a project dear to her heart because through this she honored her husband, who'd also been a fatherless child.



The train of disasters, financial and emotional, which beset this lady never kept her spirits down. Quoting Linda Goodman once more on Leo: "It's hard to sway them from a set path...They accumulate only so they can distribute to others...when a real emergency falls on Leo's strong shoulders..." they will "never shirk ... duty...they will help "the defenseless" and "protect the frightened."   



@ New York Historical Society

For information and inspiration for this blog, I am indebted to:

*Women of Colonial and Revolutionary Times by Mary Gay Humphreys 
*Life of Major General Schuyler by Bayard Tuckerman
*Sun Signs by Linda Goodman


~~Juliet Waldron ~ All my historical novels :  http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi






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Saturday, July 9, 2016

JULY 11, 1804



At 5 a.m. on this day, two gentlemen left New York from separate docks. One departed from the vicinity of Greenwich Village, the other from a dock somewhat further north. By all accounts, July 11th was a beautiful day, one of those summer rarities with blue skies and low humidity. A disinterested observer would not give these travelers upriver a second glance. Each boat—besides the oarsmen—carried three gentlemen, one of whom was an attorney well known in the city. A fine leather case accompanied the gentlemen who’d embarked from Greenwich.  

Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton were the two attorneys.  The leather case contained a brace of elegant smoothbore pistols that belonged to Hamilton’s brother-in-law, John Church. Each pistol weighed several pounds—a lot to hold steady in an extended hand—and delivered a bullet weighing almost an ounce—a .54 caliber ball. Only two years past one of these handsome weapons—lacquered walnut handles ornamented with fittings of brass and gold--had killed Hamilton’s beloved 21 year-old son Philip.



Despite that, and many promises made to his wife, on this day Hamilton and those fatal pistols were again heading toward the dueling ground. Set among Weehawken’s Palisades, the notorious ledge stood just 20 feet above the Hudson. To the dismay of the property’s owner, men from New York customarily used the place for their affairs of honor, for New Jersey did not prosecute duelists with the same energy as did the Empire State. Screened by trees and brush, it was secluded. Captain Deas, the owner, dwelt at the top of the precipice where he must have had a spectacular view across the river. He was generally unaware of the illicit activities taking place below him until he heard gun fire, an ominous sound bouncing along the cliff face.

Burr and his second, Van Ness, were first to arrive. They busied themselves tidying the underbrush and debris. Shortly thereafter, Hamilton and Pendleton climbed to the spot. Courtesies were exchanged and lots were drawn by the seconds as to which man would supervise the duel. Pendleton assumed the duty. When he spoke the word “Present” the gentlemen would fire at one another.

Replicas of the pistols

Rashomon-like, what happened will never be completely clear. Van Ness and Burr swore that “Hamilton fired first,” but even if he did so, his bullet went off into the trees—not the careful aim you’d expect from a war veteran who still hunted small game on his property—or a man who’d come to Weehawken all set to exterminate a hated rival. For his part, Pendleton swore that the duelists fired at almost the same time and that Hamilton had done exactly as he’d declared on the journey across from New York and had thrown away his shot. It’s also possible that after Hamilton was wounded, a reflex action caused him to pull the trigger. All we’ll ever really know is that Burr's aim was excellent; his shot penetrated Hamilton's liver, shattered his vertebrae and lodged in his spine.  

On the following day, July 12, about 2 p.m. the life of this remarkable Founding Father, Alexander Hamilton, came to an end in the home of William Bayard of Greenwich Village.   Hamilton was surrounded on his death bed by grieving friends and family, chief among these his loyal wife, Eliza.




Hamilton's grave at Trinity Church in the heart of the financial world he created.




~~Juliet Waldron ~ All my historical novels :  http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi



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Saturday, July 2, 2016

Happy Independence Day




In honor of Independence Day--and because I'm slacking off to hang out with a visitor--I'm going to post a quote. Like other formidable intellects who have taken an interest in the workings of society, Alexander Hamilton can be quoted in service of a whole host of POV's.  Digging around in such a trove online, I happened upon this one. It seemed timely, a bit "wake up and smell the coffee" mashed up with a good dose of "get over yourself" + "you've got your work cut out for you."



"Have we not already seen enough of the fallacy and extravagance of those idle theories which have amused us with promises of an exemption from the imperfections, weaknesses and evils incident to society in every shape? Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden age, and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our political conduct that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and perfect virtue?"  

Alexander Hamilton~ The Federalist Papers





~~ Juliet Waldron

Two romantic historicals set during the Revolution in the Hudson Valley
and one old-fashioned historical novel below:











http://amzn.to/1sUSjOH Angel’s Flight








~~Juliet Waldron ~ All my historicals :  http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi






Saturday, June 25, 2016

The Last Hamiltonian Cat


Major General Schuyler and Elizabeth enjoy a treat from their indulgent human 

Orange Elizabeth —you used to be so petite! When we adopted you, you weighed four lbs. You were plunked down on the counter of a friend’s pet store with half a bag of Walmart Cat food and the parting remark, “Take her. My daughter can’t keep her any longer because cats smother babies.” After imparting this bit of folk wisdom, the 3 bonnet ladies—the youngest, pregnant and weeping--walked out and left Elizabeth behind.
Major General Schuyler relaxing


Stunned, my friend tucked her into a bunny cage for the day and then took her home and hid her from her husband, who’d sworn there would to be “no more darn cats in this house!” Before you think him an ogre, you need to understand that she already had sheep, assorted dogs, cats, teenagers, a business to run, and a big gray Macau.
                                                                                                 The Renowned Hamilton
The next day she called me and begged me to take the young cat. I had four puddies at that time, but Lizzie was smart enough to sleep under the covers with my grumpy husband for a few days, which was exactly the move guaranteed to open the door to a permanent new home.


She was always a lap cat, a lady who liked to share a couch with us in the evening while her Mommy—not so svelte herself—snacked and watched TV. In her youth, Liz hunted bunnies, birds and chipmunks with deadly skill,  committing rodenticide along with the best of 'em, but with a bottomless food bowl and a lap ever available, she soon retired from these classic feline pastimes.  Sitting on the porch on long lazy summer evenings, the resident house wren could scold to her heart’s content, but Lizzie, stretched out on the cement like a purring mini-tiger, would no longer so much as twitch the tip of an ear.



Years passed. Her hips bothered her. She lost the ability to climb onto the couch or into my bed. It was difficult for her to clean. If I helped, the thanks received was sometimes hissing and a lightning fast rake – the only dynamite move she had left. Some years back, when my son visited, he declared her “a Tribble, not a cat.”   At that time she was round as a ball, legs barely visible. When we were gifted with a second orange female, Lizzie, in disgust, temporarily banished herself from the downstairs. The two “orange girls”  have continued an on-going feud for the last five years, complete with hissy fits when they unexpectedly encountered one another.

Spring and Elizabeth

Lizzie's old age was best for sleeping with me, but even that wasn't an unmixed blessing.  She took to waking me with blurt-blurt-blurt and the delicate, ever-increasing pressure of a claw against my ear. Like Simon’s Cat ©, she then pointed to her mouth, asking for me to go down the kitchen and bring back a treat. When Kitty Bob, who, like males of all species, enjoys pushing the buttons of females, scrambled noisily onto the a/c in the bedroom window, Liz would attack the the blinds, spitting and screaming. Our long-grown-and-gone sons never engaged in this much sibling rivalry!

Goldfish in from the pond, Liz, Bastet
Then, she began to lose weight. I know the end signs, but after 16 going on 17 years, it was impossible for me to admit what was happening. She stopped grooming, so every evening I helped out. I offered canned cat food as I believed she had a tooth going bad. When her face puffed on one side, she and I went to the Vet.
It was not a tooth, however. It was cancer, so I listened to the advice of Dr. Mimnagh, our excellent Vet for the past 33 years, and made the decision every pet owner eventually must. Afterward, they wrapped her little body and I took her home through a sudden, blinding, traffic-jamming downpour--my tears and Nature as one.
This morning, my husband and I put her into the ground, wrapped in a bit of Halloween print fabric—orange with black cats—and accompanied by a sprig Rosemary (for remembrance) and a sprig of catnip for sweet dreams.   Sorely missed she is, my sweet soft little ding-bat companion!

RIP DEAR ELIZABETH.
You can tell by the monitor how long ago this was




~Juliet Waldron


All my historicals, written with kitty help: 
http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi



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