if you’re feeling a little erased this LGBT history month, please remember:
• alan cumming • alexander the great • alice walker • amber heard • amy winehouse • anaïs nin • andy dick • angelina jolie • ani difranco • anna paquin • anne heche • billie holiday • billy joe armstrong • carrie brownstein • cary grant • cynthia nixon • david bowie • debbie harry • dusty springfield • evan rachel wood • fergie • frank ocean • freddie mercury • frida kahlo • gillian anderson • greta garbo • gore vidal • hercules (heracles) • herman melville • iggy pop • james dean • janis joplin • joan crawford • john nash • julius caesar • ke$ha • kristen stewart • lady gaga • lindsay lohan • lord byron • lou reed • malcolm forbes • malcolm x • margaret cho • marilyn monroe • marlon brando • megan fox • michael stipe • miley cyrus • montgomery clift • nathaniel hawthorne • óscar de la renta • oscar wilde • pete townsend • sandra bernhard • sapphire • sarah paulson • sia • sir alec guinness • vanessa carlton • walt whitman • and me. and you. and probably someone you love, too.
I will be the first to admit that my knowledge of American history is spotty at best – only the bare minimum is covered in Dutch schools – so if you had asked me one year ago who Alexander Hamilton was, I probably would have said something along the lines of: “That name does ring a bell… One of the founding fathers, I think? Maybe. I don’t know.” One little Broadway cast recording later, I found myself diving headfirst into Thomas Paine and picking up the 800-page biography that started it all. The combined popularity of Chernow’s book and the juggernaut of a musical it inspired has brought Alexander Hamilton right back into popular consciousness in a major way, and I have been watching this development with great interest. What happens when a controversial historical figure gets dusted off and put back into the general public’s spotlight two hundred years after his death?
Truth be told, I was waiting in a drive thru with a 10 dollar bill and a 1 dollar bill and then proceeded to act out Right Hand Man with them and it was the best day of my life.
Hamilton AU where everything is the same except there is a heart wrenching ballad for Peggy before Say No To This where she is tired of her sisters not including her and decides to mess with them both by seducing Alexander under the name of Mariah Reynolds.
And, Hamilton was basically the same. Monroe carried a letter from Ham to Laurens in 79 when he went to help the army in the south. Hamilton wrote “I shall be glad he may find some employment, that will enable him to get knocked in the head in an honorable way.” x
It’s actually unknown James Monroe’s initial feelings towards Alexander Hamilton after meeting him because we have no letters or writing diaries of him from the time period and his bunk mate and good friend John Marshall didn’t write anything of Monroe’s feelings about Hamilton in any of his documents either. There definitely wasn’t any hate between them during the war (you’ll have to wait a little later for that), brewing disdain but defiantly not hate considering also that Monroe willingly carried Hamilton’s letters to Laurens with him on his trip to the South. On this trip to the south that Monroe was taking because the Virginia Assembly ordered the formation of four new infantry regiments, James Monroe, was riding home to enlist, and was carrying several letters of recommendation–one of which came from Alexander Hamilton himself [x].
The full excerpt of the letter between Hamilton and Laurens on May 22nd 1779 reads:
“Monroe is just setting out from Head Quarters and proposes to go in quest of adventures to the Southward. He seems to be as much of a night errant as your worship; but as he is an honest fellow, I shall be glad he may find some employment, that will enable him to get knocked in the head in an honorable way. He will relish your black scheme if any thing handsome can be done for him in that line. You know him to be a man of honor a sensible man and a soldier. This makes it unnecessary to me to say any thing to interest your friendship for him. You love your country too and he has zeal and capacity to serve it.” [x]
Hamilton was a little warry of Monroe, calling his venture into the south “adventures” but he said his positives, and above we see “He seems to be as much of a night errant as your worship…” but of course he still faulted him, “but as he is an honest fellow, I shall be glad he may find some employment, that will enable him to get knocked in the head in an honorable way.” and thinks Monroe will relish Lauren’s “black scheme” only if would do him good. Hamilton then states that Lauren’s knows “him to be a man of honor a sensible man and a soldier.” and that it was unnecessary for him“to say any thing to interest your friendship for him.”because Laurens already recognized their traits in Monroe. He closes it off in more positive” You love your country too and he has zeal and capacity to serve it.”
Alexander Hamilton and James Monroe were not going to be the best of friends not ever or in the future but neither did they hate one another.
I just want to point out that Monroe had a habit of initially being on good terms with people and then somehow managing to royally screw it up. Dude caught beef with almost every “friend” he ever made.
Who’s read this?? I have only begun this book and having finished chapter one, the genealogist in me is loving it! The historian in me loves it. And the reader in me loves it. So what’s my opinion so far..? Loving it! I have to wait until October to see the show at the Pantages Theatre in Los Angeles, CA, but I’m there in the story now. And it’s just making me more excited to see the show. So if you have some extra time, I’d suggest checking out this book from your local library or purchase from your local bookstore. And a little Thank you to Ron Chernow for writing this book.
- Historically and in the play, Philip died at the age of 19. He lived through 19 songs in the play (Dear Theodosia through Stay Alive [Reprise])
- In his duel with George Eacker, Philip is shot on the count of seven, which is coincidentally the number he changed the melody on during his piano lessons
- “Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me” - perhaps this is a reference to his piano lessons when he was younger. Eliza taught him to count. Philip believes he miscounted, he believes that it was his fault he was shot on what he thought was the count of seven.
- Hamilton died at the age of 47. Including the Laurens Interlude, there are 47 songs in the musical.
- The ensemble member who plays Philip Schuyler, who gives Hamilton his blessing to marry Eliza, also plays James Reynolds, who blackmails Hamilton for sleeping with his wife, Maria.
- The “I know my sister like I know my own mind” line is sung twice by Angelica, once in Satisfied and once in The Reynolds Pamphlet, both with very seperate connotations.
- Hamilton is the first to introduce more intricate, polysyllabic raps (My Shot) as opposed to the simple beats used by Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette, showing his intellectual ability and innovation.
- “Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead” is directly followed by Laurens introducing himself.
- Jefferson sings in a jazzy tune because he has been away for so long and therefore missed the transition from jazz to hip hop. However, he quickly adapts as shown in Cabinet Battle #1.
- Lafayette’s increasing grasp on the English language is shown when comparing his verses in Aaron Burr, Sir and Guns and Ships.
- Angelica is the first to sing “look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now”, which Eliza continues to use throughout her life.
- Angelica raps at Hamilton’s speed because she is his intellectual equal. Eliza beatboxes because she supports him.
- “When my prayers to God were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverence”/ “I take the children to church on Sunday, I sign of the cross at the door, and I pray. That never used to happen before”. Philip’s death drove Hamilton to religion, giving him something to rely on other than his words for the first time.
- Eliza doesn’t rap because she is quite literally given the most time, she lives to be 97.
- Not only did Eliza establish the orphanage, she also helped to establish the first school in Washington Heights. Lin could have included the words “in Washington Heights” as a reference to his other musical, but decided against it.
A short story based off of “Stay Alive (Reprise)” from Hamilton, with the lyrics as the only dialogue.
I hope you guys like it and I apologize for any mistakes! I am also taking requests. ~ M
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Where is my son?” Tears threatened to spill as Alexander burst through the door, startling the doctor inside. He had heard the news and collapsed out of shock, but nonetheless ran towards Angelica’s home as if he was running out of time. “Mr. Hamilton, come in,” Dr. Hosack said, attempting to keep his voice level. He had bandaged Phillip and given him medicine but his attempts to save the nineteen-year-old were futile, he knew this well. “They brought him in a half an hour ago, he lost a lot of blood on—” “Is he alive?” Alexander’s voice grew more panicked, stepping towards the other man with frenzied brown eyes. “Yes,” He replied hesitantly, feeling guilty as he saw a flicker of hope in Alexander’s eyes. His child was, in fact, alive, but he wouldn’t be for long. “But you have to understand, the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm.” A graze he could fix. A graze would heal eventually. But the young man’s organs were severely damaged, and all Dr. Hosack could do now was ensure that his family was well-informed of the situation and offer condolences. “Can I see him please?” Alexander’s voice broke at the last word, grabbing onto the doctor’s forearms in a desperate attempt to steady his own shaking body. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be. His poor boy. “I’m doing everything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived—” The man attempted to stop Alexander from entering, knowing very well that the sight of their dying child is something that parents never overcome. But to no avail, the shorter man pushed past him hurriedly, running into the other room where his handsome young son lay on a table, dying. “Philip!” The tears fell freely now, clouding Alexander’s vision as he took his son’s body in his hands, brushing aside his curly brown hair. “Pa…” Philip’s once lively voice was now weak, barely a whisper above Alexander’s screeching thoughts. He looked up at his father and frowned slightly, feeling as though he had disappointed him in losing the duel. All he wanted was to make his father proud. “I did exactly as you said, Pa. I held my head up high.” “I know, I know, shh.” Alexander stroked his son’s face lovingly, burning the image of it into his mind, lest he dare forget. “High..” Philip said weakly, wanting to show Alexander that he followed his advice, he did what he was told. “Shh.. I know, you did everything just right.” Alexander’s heart weighed in his chest. It was all his fault. It was his words that encouraged Philip’s participation in the duel. It was his advice that his son shoot towards the sky, the mark of a man of honor. It was one of his guns that George Eacker used — it was one of his guns that shot his Philip. “Even before we got to ten,” Philip began, furrowing his brows as he looked his father in the eye. “I was aiming for the sky.” “I know, I know.” He cried, at a loss for words. He never thought the day would come, but as he looked down at his son, much too young to die, he found it hard to formulate words as nothing he said could make this better. “I was aiming for the sky.” The nineteen-year-old winced, his freckled face contorting into a harsh grimace as a new wave of pain shot through his body. Alexander grew frantic, steadying his grip on his son. “I know, save your strength and stay alive.” “No!” Eliza’s pained screams echoed throughout the room as she rushed to Philip’s side and helped to hold him, tears streaming down her gentle face. “Eliza..” Alexander breathed, another weight being added to his already heavy heart. Their relationship had become strained as of late due to the Reynolds Pamphlet, detailing his affair with a young woman named Maria Reynolds that resulted in blackmail from her husband James. He had published it as an act of political sacrifice, as a way to refute rumors of embezzlement, but in saving himself he had ruined his family. Not only had he betrayed his wife, breaking his promise made several years prior that Eliza would never feel helpess, he had embarassed her by telling the world. “Is he breathing, is he going to survive this?” She cried, frantically checking over her son and gasping as she saw his bloodstained shirt. “Who did this, Alexander,” Eliza’s melodic voice grew into a distressed shout as her head snapped towards her husband, “Did you know?” “Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me.” Philip reached up and grabbed his mother’s arm, crying as he realized what he was putting his mother through. She had always instructed him to look around at how lucky he was to be alive, that as long as he and his father came home at the end of the day, that was enough for her. Now it was nearing dusk, and he knew that he would not be coming home. For this he blamed himself, cursing in his mind as he thought back to the duel a day prior. He was shot at the count of seven, and yet the thought lingered in his mind that maybe he had miscounted. He was certainly nervous, and miscounting would be a logical explanation as to why he never saw the bullet coming. He found his mind drifting back to his earliest memory, of him seated in his mother’s lap as she counted to him in French. A year or so later he began to repeat her words, with her shrieking with excitement as he did so. She had taught him how to count, and he had forgotten. “My son —” Eliza sobbed, grabbing his hand that lay across his chest. “We played piano.” He smiled a bit as he remembered his ninth birthday. “I taught you piano.” She affirmed, nodding solemnly as the memory filled her thoughts. Philip had come up to her that day, determined to write his father a poem to impress him. She insisted that, because a poem flowed much like music, she would teach him the scales on a piano and enable him to be inspired. But he had grown nervous when the time came to show Alexander, so she had created a beat using her mouth to remind him of her lesson, and he had performed the poem beautifully. “You would put your hands on mine.” He glanced down at his hand in Eliza’s. “You changed the melody every time.” She sniffled. “I would always change the line.” He chuckled weakly, attempting to lighten the otherwise dark mood. “Shh, I know, I know..” Eliza’s voice sounded hollow. Her son was dying, her baby. This isn’t fair. Mothers always die before sons, not the other way around. Her beautiful baby boy had barely even gotten to live. “I would always change the line.” He whispered, his hazel eyes beginning to grow glassy. “Shh, I know, I know,” She repeated, wanted her son to be as soothed as possible in his final moments. She began to count, “Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf.” “Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf.” Philip repeated feebly, reaching up and rubbing circles on his mother’s cheek with his thumb. “Good,” she sobbed, plastering a pained smile onto her face as her tears fell onto Philip’s face. “Un deus trois quatre cinq six sept —” “Un deux trois..” Philip’s hand went limp as his voice faded and the darkness overcame him. “Huit neuf,” Eliza had continued her counting but struggled to do so as she sobbed. “Sept huit neuf. Sept huit.” An overwhelmed shriek escaped her lips as she hunched over her son’s unmoving figure, an unbearable pain in her chest. Her baby was gone. She felt Alexander’s hand on hers, but she ripped it away angrily and enveloped Philip’s limp hand in her own as she pressed kisses to it. Nothing he could do would make it better, nothing anyone could do would make any of this better. Her Philip was dead.
