#philip van cortlandt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ruminativerabbi · 1 year

Text

George Santos Represents Me in Congress

Like most of my readers, I reside in New York’s Third Congressional District. In some ways, it’s a regular suburban place: a mixture of strip malls and fancy shopping malls and town centers, of wooded subdivisions and public parks and train stations. But in other ways, it is not that unexceptional at all. The residents of our district, for example, collectively have the highest median income in the state. (In the entire nation, only California Congressional District 17, which includes most of Silicon Valley; California Congressional District 18, which includes Palo Alto and Mountain View; and Virginia Congressional District 10, which lies just to the west of Washington, D.C., have higher median incomes.) Nor are we average in terms of our racial mix: our district has a higher percentage of white people than the American average (69.5% as opposed to 57.8% nationally), a dramatically lower percentage of Black people (3.1% as opposed to 13.6% nationally), a lower, but less dramatically so, percentage of Hispanic residents (10.6% as opposed to 18.9% nationally), and a much higher percentage of Asian-Americans than the national average (14.6% as opposed to 5.9% nationally). A mere 0.7% of the population of our district is constituted of people who do not self-define as belonging to any of the above groups.

We have sent many representatives to the House over the years. Egbert Benson, a jurist who had previously represented New York State in the Continental Congress, was elected in 1789 and then re-elected in 1790.

He was replaced by Philip van Cortlandt, who had previously served in the Continental Army, and who was re-elected four times after his initial victory in 1793. Van Cortlandt was replaced by Samuel Mitchill, who resigned to become a United States Senator and who in turn was replaced by George Clinton, Jr., an unfortunate fellow who died as a young man of thirty-eight after serving in the House for just four years.

Most of our representatives have been long since forgotten by all. Or almost all. Perhaps some might recall Henry Warner Slocum, Jr., a Union general in the Civil War who fought at Bull Run, Antietam, and many other battles, and who later represented our district in Congress. Or perhaps some might recall that we were once represented in the Congress by James Monroe, nephew of President James Monroe, or by James I. Roosevelt, grandfather of President Theodore Roosevelt. For the most part, though, the names of the people who have represented our district in the House in days gone by would be unfamiliar to most—which is a shame, because among them were men—and they were all men—of great renown. The more recent, on the other hand, would surely be known to all: between them, Robert J. Mrazek, Peter T. King, Steve Israel, and Thomas Suozzi have represented our district for the last forty years! (Mrazek was re-elected four times after his first win in 1982; King was re-elected ten times. Israel and Suozzi were re-elected once and twice respectively.)

And now we have somehow sent George Santos, or whatever his name really is, to Congress. How can we have come to this? It’s a good question!

We actually know more about who George Santos isn’t than about who he is. Contrary to his own press releases and campaign literature, he apparently

· did not attend Horace Mann Preparator School,

· did not attend Baruch College,

· did not attend New York University,

· did not work for Citigroup,

· did not work for Goldman Sachs,

· does not actually own any of the eleven properties he claimed to own,

· was not the grandson of Shoah survivors from Ukraine via Belgium,

· is not Jewish (or even really Jew-ish, whatever that means; maybe Jew-ish-ish-by-self-definition a little, but probably not even that),

· did not found Friends of Pets United, which alleged charity the IRS says is unknown to them,

· did not lose his mother in the 9/11 attacks, although she apparently was present in one of the towers when the planes struck,

· had no employees who were killed in the Pulse Nightclub massacre in Orlando,

· is not married, at least not officially, and

· is not biracial.

So that’s a lot of things not to be. And what does that leave him being? That, at least, is easy to answer, at least with respect to his new day job: he represents us in Congress. God help us all! Even his name isn’t all that clear: he appears legally to be George Anthony Devolder Santos, but has also used the name Anthony Zabrovsky and Anthony Devolder as aliases. Oy. (Special note to Jew-ish-ish readers: oy is a word in widespread use among actual Jewish people to denote extreme dismay.)

Nor is mopping up after his own mess the sole problem Representative Santos is facing. The government of Brazil has re-opened a 2008 investigation regarding a stolen checkbook our Congressman allegedly used to steal clothing from a store in Niterói, a town near Rio de Janeiro. Nassau County D.A. Anne Donnely has announced an investigation to determine if Congressman Santos has committed any actual crimes by lying to the people he hoped those lies would get to vote for him. A few days later, the State Attorney General launched a separate investigation into the matter. And then, finally, it was revealed that a federal investigation into the whole affair had been undertaken by the Brooklyn U.S. Attorney. The Republican Jewish Coalition, which under other circumstances would have welcomed Representative Santos with open arms, has instead barred him from future meetings. Leading Democrats like Hakeem Jeffries have been merciless in their condemnatory rhetoric. A few Republicans have followed suit. Marjorie Taylor Greene, on the other hand, said that she didn’t see why voters shouldn’t at least give the man a chance. I suppose I see her point: it’s not like lying has ever disqualified politicians from plying their trade! But, even so, this seems beyond the pale in terms of its acceptability to normal people…and particularly to the normal people whom he is now employed to represent, including most definitely myself. (Congressman Santos won 54.1% of the vote, as opposed to Democrat Robert Zimmerman who ended up with 45.9%.) Jerry Kassar, the chair of the Conservative Party of New York, summed things up nicely: “His entire life seems to be made up,” he said. “Everything about him is fraudulent.”

Is it a crime to lie to would-be constituents? It turns out to be more complicated a question than I would have thought, although the Supreme Court ruling of 2014 known as Susan B. Anthony list v. Driehaus seems to have determined that campaign lies are protected speech under the First Amendment. (To read more, click here.) In belated response, Bronx Congressman Ritchie Torres (D-NY) has announced a proposed bill specifically to make it a crime for candidates for federal office to lie about the details of their own past history, a bill he has whimsically named after none other than our own George Santos: The Stop Another Non-Truthful Office Seeker Act. You really couldn’t make this stuff up.

But although lying to constituents may be permitted, the U.S. attorney definitely has the right to investigate and prosecute violations of federal campaign laws. And that too seems to be an issue for Santos, who has yet to explain where the $700,000 he lent his own campaign came from exactly.

And where does that leave any of us? In a not good place! The chances of Santos being able to crawl safely out from any of this seem slim. But what seems certain is that this guy’s personal woes are going to take up a lot of the time he should be spending representing us in Congress. At this point, the most dignified path forward would be to make a full public confession, to agree to seek professional help from a trained mental-health professional, to give up his seat, and to call personally for a new election to find a replacement worthy of representing our district. Will that happen? Given the razor-thin Republican majority in the House, I doubt it. And, yes, some of the blame certainly must fall on the rest of everybody: the news media who swallowed his story whole without investigating, his opponent who failed to see through the smoke at the actual man facing him, the public who swallowed his story hook, line, and sinker as though none of us could imagine a politician fibbing to get him or herself elected. So this debacle touches all of us. But as I write these words, the only two real questions of the day yet remain unanswered: what is there to do about all this and who is going to do it?

#George Santos

0 notes

tigermike · 2 years

Text

On This Day in History > June 27, 1775:

The Continental Congress dispatched Major General Philip John Schuyler to Ticonderoga and Crown Point. He was sent to examine the troops and their ability to navigate Lake Champlain and Lake George.

"Philip John Schuyler served as a major general in the Continental Army during the American Revolution and was a member of the First United States Senate. Schuyler played a key role in the American victory at the Battle of Saratoga, as well as in earlier campaigns including the Invasion of Canada, and the Battles of Lake Champlain and Fort Ticonderoga. Coming from a family deeply rooted in the Dutch-influenced culture of New York, Schuyler was a member of the civic and social elite representing New York in the Continental Congress and the United States Senate.

Schuyler was born in Albany, New York, on November 10, 1733, to Johannes Schuyler and Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler. The Schuylers were one of the most prominent families in New York, coming from a line of wealthy Dutch-American landowners, known as patroons. Much like Washington, Schuyler’s father died during his youth when he was only eight years old. In 1755, Schuyler married Catharine van Rensselaer, who was a member of New York’s landed aristocracy. Schuyler was considered a popular proprietor in his time and made a large profit from successful land speculation.

Philip Schuyler fathered fifteen children, eight of whom survived to adulthood. He is also well-known for being the father-in-law of Alexander Hamilton, with whom he shared a close relationship, even hosting Hamilton’s wedding with daughter Elizabeth Schuyler at the Schuyler Mansion in Albany. Just as George Washington was known for having a father-son relationship with Hamilton, Schuyler is also known for adopting Hamilton into his elite family.

Schuyler’s military career began in the French and Indian War where he eventually attained the rank of major. On June 25, 1775, shortly after the outbreak of the American War for Independence, General Washington gave Schuyler command over the New York Department of the Continental Army.1. Schuyler oversaw the planning of the Invasion of Canada, but upon becoming ill, had to turn command over to General Richard Montgomery. Schuyler struggled in securing more troops and supplies for the campaign from the Continental Congress. Few Canadians supported the cause for independence, and the campaign resulted in a disastrous defeat and Montgomery’s death on the battlefield.

After hearing word of Montgomery’s loss, Schuyler and his troops retreated with the British under Sir Guy Carleton in pursuit. Schuyler’s retreat led to the subsequent loss of Fort Ticonderoga to the British. For this, Schuyler faced a court martial inquiry for incompetence and lost part of his command, but he was later acquitted.

Schuyler’s aristocratic background and elitist personality made him unpopular with troops from New England. When Major General Horatio Gates arrived to assist the Northern Department, Gates assumed he also would take command over Schuyler’s troops. This feud caused Schuyler to complain to the Continental Congress. When Congress supported Schuyler, he and Gates were forced to work closely together in planning the Battle of Saratoga, the battle that became one of the key turning points of the war. Schuyler played a large role in rallying troops from northern New York to assist the Americans’ ultimate victory. During his service, Schuyler also negotiated with members of the Six Nations Iroquois, or Haudenosaunee, in an effort to dissuade them from supporting the British

Schuyler’s wife, Catherine, was noted for burning the family’s crops near the battlefield in anticipation of the British Army’s arrival. After the British surrender, Schuyler hosted General John Burgoyne as a prisoner of war at the Schuyler Mansion in Albany. Burgoyne spoke highly of Schuyler’s hospitality, commending how he showed no resentment towards Burgoyne despite his troops’ destruction of farms and land on their way to Saratoga. After long feuds with the Continental Congress surrounding his court martial, Schuyler resigned from his post as major general in 1779.

Schuyler maintained a close relationship with the Washingtons after his resignation. In 1781, Schuyler’s youngest daughter, Catharine, was baptized with George and Martha Washington as her godparents. Schuyler hosted Washington at least twice in June 1782 at his home in Albany while the general kept his headquarters in Newburgh. During one of these visits, Albany officials presented Washington with the “freedom of the city,” honoring his service during the war. Schuyler remained in Washington’s social circle as well, on occasion being invited as a guest to parties or nights at the theatre.2 Washington continued to think highly of Schuyler’s service and considered him qualified for diplomatic appointments, although Schuyler remained in domestic politics for the remainder of his career.3

Politically, Schuyler also played an active role in the nation’s early government. For generations, the Schuyler family was active in New York politics, with several members serving as Mayor of Albany, among other positions over the years. Schuyler was elected a member of the New York Assembly in 1768, serving until his election to the Continental Congress in 1775. Schuyler served as New York State’s first Surveyor General from 1781 to 1784.

Much like Washington’s bold vision for the future of the nation’s transportation and education systems, Schuyler left a similar legacy on New York State. Throughout the 1790s, Schuyler took a personal interest in creating a statewide canal system, contributing to plans for what would become the Champlain and Erie canals. Additionally, when New York State established its Board of Regents in 1784, Schuyler served on the board for the rest of his life. During his tenure, Schuyler co-founded Union College in 1794 and took charge in determining its location in Schenectady, New York.

Schuyler was a Federalist and supported the ratification of the U.S. Constitution. In 1789, he was elected New York’s first Senator, serving until 1791, when he was defeated in his reelection bid by New York’s then Attorney General, Aaron Burr. In 1797, Schuyler reclaimed his seat in the Senate, only to resign in 1798 due to poor health. Schuyler died on November 18, 1804."

_______________________________________________________________________

Surrender of General Burgoyne, by John Trumbull, c. 1821. Courtesy of the Architect of the Capitol. Schuyler can be seen on the right side of the portrait, dressed in brown.

1 note · View note

nordleuchten · 2 years

Text

La Fayette's Doppelgänger

I found this most amusing little anecdote the other day in History of the City of New York: Its Origin, Rise, and Progress-Vol. 3 by Mrs. Martha Johanna Lamb and Mrs. Burton Harrison. This particular passage is about Revolutionary War veteran General Philip van Cortlandt.

His [Cortlandt’s] personal resemblance to Lafayette, with whom he was on terms of intimacy, and whom he accompanied through the United States on his memorable tour in 1824, was remarked by all who knew him, and on on occasion was turned to decided advantage. At a large reception Lafayette, wearied with handshaking, suddenly disappeared, leaving Van Cortlandt as his substitute to receive the greeting of the multitude, who, not discovering the change, went away satisfied with having, as supposed, grasped the hand of the French nobleman and patriot. Van Cortlandt’s portrait, copied from a rare little miniature painted about the close of the Revolution, revels to the curious reader traces of that extraordinary likeness to Lafayette which mislead the enthusiastic crowd.

I was a bit sceptic at first because Auguste Levasseur does not once mention van Cortlandt in his recordings. I also had a look at said miniature and honestly was not impressed by the likeness - but then I found a portrait from van Cortlandt from 1810!

Left, General Philip van Cortlandt, painted around 1810 by Ezra Ames. Right, La Fayette, painted 1830 by Louise-Adéone Drölling.

I do not know about you, but I am convinced now! :-)

26 notes · View notes

historyofchildhood · 5 years

Photo

Memoirs of Philip Van Cortlandt (1749-1831). The Van Cortlandt family was among the wealthy land owning families of the Hudson Valley during the eighteenth century. Pierre Van Cortlandt is the father referenced as having had the schoolhouse built.

#education #schoolhouse #child literacy #schools #van cortlandt #Public Schools #philip van cortlandt #pierre van cortlandt #eighteenth century #1750s #School Curriculum

2 notes · View notes

aic-american · 2 years

Photo

Caudle Cup, Cornelius Vanderburgh, 1683, Art Institute of Chicago: American Art

Traditionally, a cup like this would have held a warm beverage known as caudle, a mixture of eggs, bread, oats, mulled ale or wine, milk, and spices. As indicated by its size, this cup was meant for use by a group, most likely at a special occasion where it could be passed around and its contents shared. It was probably made for the christening of Philip van Cortlandt (1683–1746) in 1683. Restricted gift of the Antiquarian Society and Dr. and Mrs. C. Phillip Miller Size: 8.9 × 22.9 × 15.2 cm (3 1/2 × 9 × 6 in.); 707.9 g Medium: Silver

https://www.artic.edu/artworks/83917/

#artinstituteofchicago #museumarchive #corneliusvanderburgh #americanart

2 notes · View notes

runawayforthesummer · 7 years

Text

This request is from forever ago:

Can we get a happy and cute Ham and Eliza fic? Maybe featuring a baby Philip?

We definitely can! And here it is!

Takes place in January of 1783 when Hamilton was in Philadelphia and Eliza and Philip traveled to meet him.

For more background, see these letters.

---

Their separation was never meant to be so long. Alexander had gone ahead of her in the hopes of securing a home for them. Eliza would bring the baby shortly after.

But then her sisters were sick and returning to Albany and they had not even met Philip yet and he was almost a year. The idea that they might miss one another was too much to bear.

Of course, writing to Alexander and telling him she was delayed was worse.

It had to be done, though. She had to see her sisters after they’d gone traveling for a year. And they cooed over her son exactly as she expected.

That first night back, they put their growing number of children asleep and cuddled into the bed they’d shared until Eliza was twenty.

Instead of whispering wishes for their futures, though, they predicted their children’s.

“He’s going to be a general, your boy,” Angelica had said. “I can tell.”

“He’ll never have much height to him, I’m afraid,” Eliza had sighed.

Peggy had reminded her, “Not all men are built like General Washington.”

Angelica had reminded them height did not indicate future greatness, which was something Eliza was intimately aware of whenever she thought of her husband.

“And thankfully he’s already smart and quick and growing quite nicely into a handsome fellow.”

Eliza sighed at the memory of them giggling as Angelica promised any future daughter to Philip.

“Neither of you married cousins to avoid that, didn’t you?” Peggy had reminded them.

“Oh, shush. That wasn’t the main reason I married John at all!”

“He was a mysterious stranger, Ann.”

“Yes. Mysterious and a stranger and beautiful and kind. Not being a cousin is at least fifth on the list!”

“And Betsey? You chose brother Hamilton for the exact reason, did you not?”

Angelica had poked Eliza’s side. “Always copying me.”

Before Eliza could replay defending herself, Philip awoke in her lap. He’d slept so long and she only hoped he wasn’t hungry. She feared they would not be stopping anytime soon for her to feed him. They’d made the journey alone, in spite of Alexander’s wishes, but she still waited until they stopped and she could take Philip into a real room to feed him instead of in this carriage.

Besides, it was teaching him patience. Her mother already worried Eliza spoiled Philip by always offering herself whenever he made a sound. Of course, if it were one of her sisters, Eliza supposed she would have agreed with her mother.

But she could not help herself when it came to her son. He was hers and he was perfect and his cries tarnished everything. And she was his mother, wasn’t she? One day, he would receive all the discipline he needed to make a proper young man. But not yet. Eliza was convinced it wouldn’t hurt him yet.

So for every cry, there was a cuddle.

“There, there,” she said, pulling him tightly into her body and rocking him.

Thankfully, Alexander was the same. He sometimes was up to fetch Philip during the night before Eliza could. He was so gentle with him, bringing him to her with so much love. The way his eyes changed when he looked at their child, watched as he discovered the world, made her want a million more infants with him. She wanted Alexander surrounded by babies so he’d always have that look in his eyes.

Love. Love and determination that Philip would have what Alexander did not.

Alexander would whisper it sometimes, his arm tucked around her while Philip slept in his cradle.

“Imagine all that he’ll have,” Alexander would say, wonder in his voice.

When he came back from Yorktown, sick and thin and worn down, Eliza had been able to take care of him, for he barely got out of bed. She’d do her needlepoint or even read out loud, which she hated doing (but Alexander insisted he liked it), while they sat together and ate together and barely left their little apartment in her father’s house.

But then there came Philip and suddenly all Alexander had was energy to work and finish his studying and provide.

“We cannot stay here forever, Betsey,” he told her when he took the position as a tax collector. She hated him being gone on little day trips across New York. It was dangerous and she’d already almost lost him in Virginia.

It was better when he was home, studying with Philip at his feet and her by his side. It was astonishing that he could write for hours but she, too, could do her chores for so long.

“You’re very good at your chores, though,” she told him once.

“I match my wife,” he had said back.

Those were the nights when they didn’t watch Philip sleep and didn’t bring him into their bed unprompted.

But then he was called away again:, to write and to legislate and to bring an end to the war.

Peace felt like such a funny thing now. It felt unstable, really. Evacuation sounded nice. It sounded real. Peace felt temporary. But the prospect of it was bringing her to meet her husband and what mattered more than that?

She missed him and Philip did too. Every night she told her son little stories about his father. She promised Alexander she wouldn’t let Philip forget and it was the most wonderful excuse for her too.

Eliza had brothers and she knew one day Philip would have no interest in the contents of his mother’s heart. But now she could tell him all the sweet things his father had ever done and hope they’d seep in so that he might capture a heart so completely one day, like his father had done.

One of the gliders on the carriage pulling them through the snow went over a small snow bank and Philip cried out as they went over it.

Eliza held him closer and wiped his little tears. “We’re going to see Papa,” she reminded him. “We’ll be there soon and you’ll get many hugs and kisses.” Philip clutched at her dress before turning his face against her chest and crying some more. “He misses you, too,” she promised, kissing the top of his head.

Of course he did. He wrote her of it all the time and her letters gave detailed descriptions of everything Philip had done that day, all the new things he saw and learned.

She feared telling him he was wobbling around on his feet, though. Better to let Alexander see it and think it was new for him. He deserved to have the happiness.

For all the children Eliza had watched grow up, it was amazing how much more it meant when it was hers doing the growing.

Philip looked up at her, the tears subsiding and curiosity spreading over his face. As she did with him since the day he was born, she narrated everything. It felt silly to prattle on so much, but when he was awake, he liked to listen and learn and Eliza liked giving him whatever he wanted.

“I’ve already written to Papa that we are in the Jerseys and we should arrive in Parsippany by dinner time. You’ll meet relatives there and we’ll wait for Papa to arrive to take us to Philadelphia.”

She hoped it wouldn’t take Alexander long. His letters were full of aching and her heart wanted nothing more than to be so close to his as to feel it pounding.

“The post should get to Papa by tomorrow evening,” she told Philip. “And if Papa comes on horseback, then we could see him in three days time.”

She and her son smiled at one another.

“Maybe Papa checks the post very often and rides his horse very fast.”

They’d been on the road for five days already, and Philip had been so very good. She could hold him up to see out the window of their carriage and, as long as she narrated, he was deeply fascinated by the world. Every animal was an exciting new adventure, every tree full of fantasy.

Everywhere they stopped, Philip garnered much attention, especially in New York where they were able to stay with much of her family. Eliza felt like she was on a tour to show off her baby. And nearly every night, she dined with family and anyone important who might be in town. In Poughkeepsie, she’d dined with Governor Clinton on Alexander’s behalf. She’d left Philip with an aunt for that outing.

But even when she stayed at an inn and ate in a tavern, Philip charmed those around him and she was proud of how much food he could eat. He wasn’t even messy. Well, he wasn’t very messy like most babies. Only a little, which must be expected of a gentleman so young.

Still.

It was exhausting to anticipate so much, to want so much to be somewhere but have it just out of reach. That morning she’d slept as late as she could and put in so little attention to her appearance. It was tiring to care when it would be just her and Philip. Weary travelers indeed!

Every day brought her closer to him, but every day until they met was one day more they hadn’t been together.

Once she arrived at the Cortlandts, she’d only be waiting for him to get to her. No longer would she be making forward movements towards their reunion. She’d be stagnant, waiting, and with others to take care of Philip so even his entertainment wouldn’t so occupy the remaining days until she was with Alexander again.

She’d have her sewing, of course, and she was making Alexander new undergarments. He needed them and it would keep her busy and she liked making things that would one day soon be his. And she liked that it was hers first to make, like their baby.

“Oh, Philip, I missed your Papa so very much when he was at Yorktown. It was for much longer too. But now there is you, and even if for a shorter period of time, it’s so much harder to be without him.”

Eliza turned Philip so he stood on her thighs. He grinned at her.

“You’re too much for me alone,” she said, kissing his little mouth. Then his cheeks and his nose and his ears. She kissed him all over until he giggled.

It was so much harder now that there was Philip. She wanted Alexander with their family. Always.

Alexander loved her and she loved him, but men and women love in different ways. They loved Philip the same way, though, and she couldn’t imagine being apart from Philip, not until she absolutely must. It made her ache to think what Alexander sacrificed in being a man, in ever having to be away.

Philip plopped back into her lap and rested his head against her bosom. Eliza gently stroked the curls at the back of his neck until she could hear the soft sounds of sleep escape from his tiny mouth.

She looked out the window and knew they were close. Parsippany was not far from Morristown and that landscape she knew quite intimately.

She smiled to herself, barely comprehending it had been nearly three years since she took another carriage that brought her to Alexander. She could remember it all with ease; like how her hands knew stitches, so did her mind know Morristown. There was no relief she’d ever known like when he told her their feelings matched. It was like the world finally made sense to her.

She traced her fingers down Philip’s spine and wondered if he could feel the shivers down hers too. If she vibrated with something, did he too as he nuzzled into her?

Lost in the thought of it, she barely realized they’d come to a stop.

“Madame,” their driver said, opening the door to the carriage and offering her a hand down.

She shifted Philip onto her hip and climbed out of the carriage, the hand of this man so greatly needed once a child grew heavier with sleep.

“Thank you.”

In front of the home stood some of the Van Cortlandts, Her grandmother, Cornelia, had been a Van Cortlandt, but Eliza could barely parse how these members exactly were related to her.

Perhaps Peggy was right and the main attraction to Alexander had been that she’d never have to figure out how closely related they were.

Still, as with all the families of the area, they greeted her and Philip as their own.

“Come! Come! Sit and rest,” Mrs. Cortlandt insisted, leading Eliza into a sitting room. Philip went to the floor where he was given a rattle and a bell was rung to bring tea.

The other women gathered in the room to fuss over Philip and Eliza had only taken a sip of her tea when suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder.

She knew it was him of course, and her heart was racing before she even turned to confirm his face.

“Colonel Hamilton!” Mrs. Cortlandt said. “Please sit and join us. My husband has not, I hope, kept you busy all day.”

Alexander still stood, his hand moving to the back of her neck, fingers delicately curling into the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. He looked worn since he left her in November, etches of worry sketched on his forehead. His eyes danced, though, when he looked at her and looked down at Philip. It was enough to settle her in the moment.

“You’re here,” Eliza said.�� He smiled down at her.

“He arrived last night,” one of the women said.

He moved to sit next to her, the pressure from his hand gone and leaving her wanting.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said and Eliza wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and kiss him. But tea service was brought to him then and the women engaged Alexander in talks of Philadelphia and all their friends there. He reached for Philip and kissed his boy’s cheek before placing him between them.

Eliza could barely listen. She watched him charm the women with his stories, but she couldn’t engage. She momentarily remembered that she brought a new dress to wear for their reunion, that she’d wanted to look her best after so much time had passed. Instead, she looked barely decent for the wife of a man like him.

Behind Philip, Alexander’s pinky found hers and she could nearly relax with his touch. Their ring fingers found one another next, the rest soon after until their hands were clasped behind their son. No one could see; Alexander continued to tell stories of the Congress, stories she knew masked all his frustrations, stories he’d share the truth of with her later. His letters betrayed little but his desperation for her hinted that there was little at ease in Philadelphia. Not that he’d forget her if he were pleased with their activities, just that he hated that much more to be separated when things weren’t going well. He could write cows in from the sun, but he didn’t best express his true heart that way.

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, soothing him and silently promising she’d listen for hours that night when their bodies curved like commas into one another.

“How long shall you be staying?” one of the women asked, drawing Eliza out of her own thoughts.

“If Mrs. Hamilton would not mind, I thought we might leave soon. You see, I left in rather a rush to get here and must be back shortly.” He glanced at Eliza. “And I arranged for us to make it to Morristown tonight.”

She could die for the way he made her feel. “Yes.” For all she’d wanted and felt there while he courted her and then they were engaged, to realize Morristown while married would satisfy some part deep inside of her that could not be satisfied then.

An hour ago she’d been bracing herself to be alone a few days longer. It was always amazing how he managed to change her world so suddenly.

“Well let us feed you first!”

“Of course. I’ll freshen up. We’ll eat. Then we’ll go.” She stood and grabbed Philip. He’d need to eat too, and she followed Mrs. Cortlandt towards a private room.

She’d been there only a few moments when Alexander came in and swept her into his arms.

“Oh,” she said, her hand at the back of his neck, pressing him closer as his arms engulfed her. Her face found the crook of his neck and the smell of him, the feel of his hair against her fingers, his arms holding her in so tightly, was nearly overwhelming. Her tears wet his neck.

She kissed that spot then and pulled away to kiss his cheek and then his mouth. They rocked gently as if in a dance before Alexander grabbed Philip to really embrace him. She watched as they covered one another in kisses.

“Did you take good care of your Mama?” Alexander asked and Philip pressed his head into the same spot Eliza’s had been moments before.

“He was very good.”

“Protected you from bandits?”

“Oh, yes. Shot them dead,” she teased, though she knew Alexander truly had worried about such things with her and Philip on the road.

Alexander kissed Philip’s head. “That’s my boy.”

“Everything was fine,” she assured. “And now everything is perfect.”

“Morristown is really alright, darling? I supposed it’s terribly rude of us to leave straight after a meal.”

“I don’t care.”

“Eliza.”

“Alright, I do care. But I’d rather it be just us and write an apology later than have it be otherwise. Is it wrong for a wife to want that?”

He kissed her, long and deep and like he could do it forever. It would please her very much if he were to try.

“Perhaps we don’t even stay for dinner.”

“It’s getting dark soon.”

“And we want to arrive before dark.”

“I’ll go tell them.”

“Hurry.”

She would.

#fic #hamilton #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #philip hamilton #i couldn't figure out which van cortlandts exactly were there so....no first names! fun!#pure fluff

64 notes · View notes

aswithasunbeam · 4 years

Note

I have a prompt idea: Jealous Ham post-RP, some men are you know giving Eliza that “I can treat you better” energy and Ham’s like: “You can’t expect me to just sit here and not fight for you, not fight for us” Canon era preferably but whatever works best for your style. I hope you find the time to fit this in!

A combination of a couple different prompts (those above and another asking for jealous Ham) that had to do with Ham and Eliza after the Reynolds Pamphlet - thanks to everyone for the great suggestions!

–

Trifles Light as Air

Rated: Teen and Up

“Well, if it isn’t little Betsey Schuyler. It’s been an age since I last set eyes on you.”

Eliza started slightly and looked away from the portrait she’d been studying to find Philip Van Cortlandt approaching her with a wide, open smile. Alexander had been whisked away almost the moment they’d entered, leaving her to bear the weight of the curious guests, eager to gather more tidbits about New York’s most salacious scandal to feed to the maw of the gossip mill. She’d found this out of the way little corner to hide when the stares of the room had felt too oppressive.

“Phil,” she greeted, allowing him to scoop her into a friendly embrace. “I think I was beating you to the top of that big oak on your father’s property last we met, if memory serves.

They’d had a few brief encounters since, of course, the Van Cortlandts and Schuylers entwined as they were, but Phil laughed and readily played along.

“Right after stealing all my marbles.”

“I won them fair and square,” she retorted.

He held her by the shoulders as he released her from the hug, looking at her with a fond expression. “It’s good to see you, Bess.”

“And you,” she said, surprised at the sincerity of the words. “But you know it’s Betsey Hamilton now.”

The reminder of her married name caused something to darken behind Phil’s eyes. “Yes, that’s right. I’d heard.”

She felt blood rising to her cheeks in shame for just what he’d likely heard of late. “Art thou a wife?” a recent article had taunted. “See him, whom thou hast chosen for the partner of this life, lolling in the lap of a harlot!” Her eyes were cast down towards the floor, fighting the familiar wave of humiliation and anger.

“A day of great heartbreak for me, I’ll have you know, when I learned of your nuptials,” Phil continued, a note of forced joviality in his voice. She met his kind grey eyes again. “I was always rather sweet on you.”

She smiled at that. “Really? I didn’t know.”

Wry amusement lit his expression. “I suppose it wouldn’t have risen to your notice. Half of Albany society was sweet on you, after all. What was one among the throng?”

“That’s not true,” she argued.

“It assuredly is.” He held out an elbow to her. “Take a turn with me, Bess. We’ve so much to catch up on.”

She took his arm. “Tell me, how is your dear sister?”

“Oh, Catherine’s well, married and settled. Helping me look after the manor, in fact.”

“Really?”

They settled into easy, familiar conversation as they walked.

She was laughing by the time the call came for dinner, real, true, wonderful laughs that made her cheeks ache from all the smiling. Their trip down memory lane had been far more pleasant than she had imagined, reminders of the girl she’d been sweeping over her like being reintroduced to an old, dear friend. Phil escorted her into the dining room and held out her chair, lowering himself into the seat beside her without the least bit of care for their hosts seating arrangements.

“You’d already pushed poor Peter down in the mud. I didn’t think I stood a chance,” Phil teased as the soup was ladled into his bowl by a servant.

“I didn’t push him,” Eliza said. “He fell.”

“Sure, sure,” Phil replied, tone full of doubt. She shoved playfully at his shoulder as went to raise his spoon. “See, you’re at it again.”

The sound of a sneeze from a way down the table drew her attention away from their private merriment. Alexander was snuffling into a handkerchief and waving off a chorus of “Bless you” from those around him. It was the first she’d noticed he’d rejoined the wider party. Their eyes met, and his jaw clenched before he pointedly looked away.

Unhappy with her, then.

She allowed Phil to reclaim her attention and heard herself laughing with him just a touch louder than before.

They were sipping a sweet dessert wine in a corner of the parlor when Alexander finally approached them.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Phil greeted, courteous if not particularly warm.

“General Van Cortlandt,” Alexander nodded, a peculiar emphasis on the rank. A flash of memory recalled that Phil had been promoted after Yorktown in thanks for his brave service in battle before leaving the army; an honor not similarly granted to her husband. “I suppose I should thank you for so thoroughly entertaining my wife this evening.”

“No need, Colonel. Bess and I go way back. We’ve been trading stories from our youth. She and her sisters terrorized and fascinated in equal measure every young man in New York society.”

“I have no doubt,” Alexander said, and though he smiled, he didn’t look particularly amused. He finally looked at her as he added, “Well, I hate to interrupt your reunion, dearest, but I was hoping to slip away shortly. This head cold of mine is growing a bit bothersome.”

His pallor and bright pink nose attested to his misery readily enough, though she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d be leaving so early had she been silently suffering in a corner by herself.

“I can see her home, Colonel, if you need to retire for the evening,” Phil offered.

She felt Alexander watching her, waiting for her to refuse, to jump to his aid, to coo and comfort him while they waited outside for their carriage together. Months ago, that’s exactly what she would have done if he’d confessed to feeling poorly at a dinner. But then, she thought again of that taunting headline, of Philip’s expression when she’d mentioned her marriage, something sour curling in her stomach.

“That would be lovely, Philip, thank you.”

Alexander’s jaw bunched again, and his eyes flashed. “Eliza.”

“What?”

His lips hardly moved as he hissed, “You’ve made your point.”

She straightened her posture and narrowed her eyes. “My point?”

“Just come,” he said, holding his hand out to her expectantly.

“I expect you can see yourself home and get yourself to bed without my assistance, dearest.” She hurled the endearment like an insult and noted with satisfaction his slight flinch as it landed. “I’d like to stay. I’m enjoying reconnecting with my old friend immensely.”

His gaze swiveled between her and Phil, color rising in his cheeks.

“Fine,” he bit out. He looked for a moment like he was going to stalk off in a fit of anger, but then he paused, as though thinking better of it, and bowed slightly to Phil. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Feel better, Colonel,” Phil replied.

When Alexander caught her eyes one last time, he didn’t look angry, she noticed; rather, he looked stricken, almost betrayed.

She wanted to slap him. Her teeth clenched as she watched him retreat, her breath loud and deliberate through her nostrils as she tried to reign her temper in. The nerve of him, to act as if he were the aggrieved party in any of this.

Lolling in the lap of a harlot.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Come on, Bess,” Phil encouraged, voice soft. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She swallowed, swiping at her eyes quickly, and nodded. “Thank you.”

The chilly fall air helped ease her distressed thoughts, and soon enough they were laughing over old times again. By the time they’d climbed into Phil’s carriage, she had the passing thought that she didn’t wish for the night to end. She relaxed back against the soft cushions of the seat and requested, “Could we drive around for a little while? Before you bring me home?”

He smiled easily and leaned out the open window to call, “The scenic route, John, as you please!”

“Yes, sir,” she heard the driver reply before the horses started off down the cobblestone street.

Phil watched her as they rode, mouth taut in careful consideration. She kept her expression open, waiting for him to speak. At last, he said, “This may be an impertinent question, considering we aren’t closely acquainted in our adult lives.”

“What is it?” she invited.

“Have spoken to someone yet?”

Her brow furrowed.

“An attorney, I mean?”

“An attorney?” she repeated, more confused. What need did she have for an attorney; and really, if she did, it’s not as if she didn’t have Alexander close to hand to manage any legal issues she might encounter.

“Even if he’s willing to go along with you, which I’d hope he is given the state of the evidence against him, you ought to be sure your interests are being looked after.”

“I don’t—”

“And, forgive me, I know this is unpardonably forward, and you’ll need time to settle, of course, but…well, I want you to know that I wouldn’t think any less of you, any differently of you, than any lovely unmarried or widowed lady.”

If she were divorced, she understood, his meaning dawning on her with awful clarity. He would still think her suitable for courting if she were divorced.

“I’ve always thought the world of you, Bess.”

“Phil, I….” She closed her eyes a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Alexander rose up in her mind’s eye: the little half smile played on his lips; the pattern of freckles she traced upon his back each night; the way his hand felt when it closed around hers, fitting over her palm so perfectly. “I love my husband. I have no intention of leaving him.”

“Oh.” He sat back, nonplussed. “I…I thought…especially the way you were together tonight, so cool, I just assumed…. Pray, pardon me.”

“There’s nothing to pardon,” she assured him. “And as for tonight, loving him doesn’t mean I don’t want to throttle him on occasion. More so of late than ever before.”

He chuckled softly.

When the carriage pulled up in front of her house, Phil dismounted first and held his hand out to her. She took it, pausing before him, and leaned in to give him a fond kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I hope we’ll do a better job of staying in touch than incidental dinners and family gatherings.”

“I’d like that, Mrs. Hamilton.”

She smiled as she turned towards home.

She thought she saw the curtains rustle before the window of Alexander’s office and frowned. Surely, he’d gone up to bed when he’d come home? When she let herself in the front door, she saw that, indeed, candlelight still spilled out from under the door to his office.

Sighing, she unwrapped her cloak, hung it up neatly on the stand beside his coat, and steeled herself for another encounter with her infuriating husband. She gave three short knocks upon his office door before pushing inside. “I’m home.”

He was seated at his desk, a hand pressed against his forehead as he wiped at his nose with a handkerchief. “I heard the carriage pull up,” he muttered.

“I thought you were going straight to bed to tend to your cold. What are you still doing up? It’s getting late now.”

“Quite late.” His tone turned icy. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

“I did, in fact. I know you and he don’t see eye to eye politically, but he’s a very old friend of mine.”

“A very good friend, by the look of it.”

“Stop it, Alexander,” she warned.

“It was a suitable punishment, I’ll grant you, watching you fawn all over another man all evening.”

“I was not fawning all over him,” she argued. “And what are you talking about? You think I was punishing you?”

“I suppose you’ll tell me I ought not be angry over being given a taste of my own medicine.”

Her voice turned deadly quiet. “That’s not what I was doing.”

He stared up at her, something spiteful in his expression. “No?”

She glared at him. “I have another years’ worth of late nights before it would even come close.”

He paled significantly. “So, you…you and he, you…”

She let the silence linger for a cruel moment. The devastation in his eyes wasn’t as satisfying as she’d thought it would be. “No. Nothing happened. Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman.”

“He wanted you. He wanted something to happen. I could see it his eyes, the way he looked at you, touched you.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, she supposed, considering his veiled proposal. The accusation rankled no less. “Don’t be ridiculous. We were childhood friends, that’s all.”

“Childhood sweethearts?” he pressed.

“We raced, and climbed trees, and played marbles, like all children.”

“You kissed him when you got out of the carriage.” He announced this with something almost like triumph, as though he’d trapped her in a lie.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “I kissed him on the cheek, Alexander. It’s not as if you caught us in a passionate embrace.”

He was breathing hard, his cheeks a florid pink oddly juxtaposed against his otherwise sickly pallor. “I don’t want you seeing him again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want you alone with him again!”

Her vision flashed red. “You presume to…as if you have the right, ever, to—”

But her fury cut off when she noticed a dribble of bright red blood starting from Alexander’s nostril.

“What?” he asked, visibly confused by her abruptly halted ire.

“Your nose,” she said, motioning to her own nostril. “You’re bleeding.”

He touched his fingers to his nose, smudging blood across his upper lip. A guttural sound issued from his throat as he reached for his handkerchief again, red immediately starting to spread across the bright white fabric as he pressed it to his face. When he started to tilt his head back, she moved towards him.

“No, no, honey, forward a little, or you’ll choke,” she directed. Her hand rested on his neck to encourage him into the right position. With the number of boys in their house, she’d had her share of experience with bloody noses.

Blood continued rushing into the handkerchief and started staining his hand.

“Pinch your nose,” she said. “That’ll slow it. I’ll get you another handkerchief.”

He mumbled something into his handkerchief, voice muffled and congested.

“What was that?”

“Drawer,” he repeated for her, removing a hand from the bloody mess his face had suddenly become to gesture to his desk. “More in the,” he cleared his throat, “the drawer.”

She pulled open the drawer he’d gestured to and pulled out the stack of clean, pressed handkerchiefs he’d squirreled away from himself. Holding one up, she helped him exchange the soaked handkerchief for a clean one, tossing the bloody one into the rubbish bin beside his desk. Then she squatted by his side, her hand tracing slow circles across his upper back.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into the silence.

“Not your fault,” she hushed him. “Just relax. It will stop soon.”

“I didn’t mean,” he started, sniffling as he moved to handkerchief to check the progress of the bleed, “Not for the bloody nose.”

“Oh.” Her hand paused.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I just…seeing you with him, laughing, relaxed. It made me crazy.”

Her mood darkened. “I know the feeling.”

“I know that. I know you do. And I can’t say you wouldn’t be right to leave me. But I can’t just…just watch you slip away from me like that. Let you run off with some other man without a fight.”

“And that little performance was your way of winning me back?”

“It’s possible I’m not thinking very clearly.”

She shook her head even as a little laugh escaped her lips. “I’m not running off with anyone, you goose,” she said.

“No?”

“No. You’re right that Phil was…interested in me.” His head whipped around, eyes the size of saucers. “He thought we were getting divorced, before you get it in your head to go duel him. He’d been sweet on me when we were young, and he made clear that he wouldn’t consider me, tainted, I suppose, if I were divorced. When I told him that I had no intention of leaving you, he really was a perfect gentleman.”

He snorted lightly, then coughed, pressing the handkerchief to his face more tightly.

“Worth it?” she asked, mostly teasing.

“Yes,” he muttered stubbornly.

“I love you, Alexander, for better or worse. There’s never going to be anyone else.”

His expression softened. “Really?”

“Really. It doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt, still furious with you. Or that I don’t want to murder you from time to time. But I love you.” That earned her a little smile that she saw tugging at the corners of his eyes.

“I love you, too, Betsey.”

She rubbed his back again and leaned closer to inspect the handkerchief. “Has it stopped?”

He pulled the handkerchief away. The trail of blood appeared to have ceased. “I think so.”

She leaned over to press a kiss against his temple. “Let’s get you into bed, honey.”

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #tw:blood #jealousy #hamliza #reynolds pamphlet #aftermath

61 notes · View notes

sonofhistory · 6 years

Text

Tallmadge Siblings

I went and dug farther into the lives of Benjamin Tallmadge’s siblings as I needed it for TUCUFM. I had information but I decided to go even deeper in some research. I previous did Nathan Hale’s siblings here!

William Tallmadge (October 17th, 1752 - September 1776)

William Tallmadge the first child born to Benjamin and Susannah Tallmadge.

He was the only Tallmadge son not born in Setauket but instead White Plains, Westchester county, where the family lived at his birth. They lived there until 1753.

He didn’t attend college it is believed.

By 1776 (possibly earlier), William was an officer in the Continental Army.

In September (most likely earlier) William was captured by the British and placed on the prison ship HMU Jersey in the New York harbor.

Amid the neglect by the British soldiers aboard and the disease, dehydration and starvation--William died of one of these atrocities due to the conditions on the British prison ships less than a month before his twenty-fourth birthday.

His body was very recovered and it was most likely thrown over the side of the ship into the waters.

Benjamin Tallmadge (February 25th, 1754 - March 7th, 1835)

Samuel Tallmadge (November 23rd, 1755 - April 1st, 1825)

Samuel Tallmadge wasn’t given the education his father or his two oldest brothers nor did he go to college.

He was prepared for a mercantile career.

May 16th, 1775, he joined his neighbors "of the fo[u] rth Company of Brookhaven" in signing a petition to send a representative to the Provincial Convention to be held in New York City.

He served in the Brookhaven militia in 1775.

June 8th of that year with other "Freeholders and inhabitants within the Bounds of the 4th Militia Company of Brookhaven" he signed an "association" which protested against Britain and pledged themselves.

He was listed among "Refugees of 1776" from Long Island to Connecticut. Samuel was driven out of his home by the British.

May 1776 he enlisted in Suffolk county under Captain Daniel Roe's company in Colonel Henry B. Livingston's regiment of the New York Line.

November 21st, 1776 he volunteered for the duration of the war as a member of the 4th New York Regiment.

Samuel Tallmadge participated in the Battle of Long Island and the Battle of White Plains in 1776.

1777 he was with the detachment of his regiment which participated in the Battle of Saratoga and was at Burgoyne's surrender. He was probably at Valley Forge.

His name does not appear in the list of officers but he acted as a "clerk or orderly sergeant" under Captain Sackett's First Company.

Samuel Tallmadge was appointed ensign November 9th, 1777.

Major Benjamin Tallmadge took up with Governor Clinton to support his brother’s need of a promotion.

July 9th, 1778 he was designated regimental adjutant of the 4th New York Regiment and served until January 1, 1781.

Samuel Tallmadge participated in the Sullivan Campaign in 1779

September 15th, 1780 Samuel was appointed Adjutant to the 4th New York Regiment in place of Lieutenant Peter Ellsworth promoted from July 9th last.

January 1st, 1781, he was transferred to the 2d New York Regiment commanded by Colonel Philip Van Cortlandt.

October 27th, of that year he was changed to second lieutenant,

April 10th, 1782, he was promoted to first lieutenant of the 5th company of the 2d New York Regiment in place of Lieutenant Glenny who died October 27, 1781.

During this time he was intimately associated with Colonel Henry Beekman Livingston.

He participated in the siege of Yorktown and the surrender of Cornwallis.

During the remainder of the war he was with his regiment in New Jersey, on the Hudson and up the Mohawk.

When the New York Society of the Cincinnati was organized in June 1783 Samuel Tallmadge became a member.

Among friends and relatives he was known after the Revolution as "Captain Tallmadge" from his appointment as captain of the Dutchess County Militia in 1786.

As regimental adjutant he was a staff officer whose duty it was to assist the commanding officer in the discharge of details of his military duties. He also kept the Orderly Book up to date and gave out the orders to the brigades and companies.

He was mustered out of the army in June 1783.

He married in Kinderhook, New York Mary Hilton of Albany on July 3rd, 1783, and located to Rhinebeck as a merchant and opened a store. He resided there until about 1789. His business did not prosper.

April 30th, 1785, he made a claim for 1200 acres as lieutenant of the 2d New York Regiment and also for an additional 1200 acres by virtue of rights transferred to him by Cornelius Van Ness and Thomas Marshall ) at an earlier date.

July 9th, 1790 he was granted 600 acres in the towns of Homer and Brutus and in Onondaga county.

With loans from others he bought a farm of several hundred acres in the town of Charleston, Montgomery county.

At Rhinebeck three of his children were born: Mary (1784), Benjamin (after his brother in 1786) and Samuel (after himself in 1787). Four others were born at Charleston: William H (possibly after his eldest brother in 1791). Susannah (possibly after his mother in 1793), John (possibly after his youngest brother in 1796), and Isaac S. (possible after his youngest brother in 1799).

Son Samuel Smith Tallmadge in 1797 went to live in the family of his uncle, John Tallmadge, in Warren, Connecticut where he attended school, clerked in the store and took up the life of a merchant.

Samuel Tallmadge located on a farm two miles northwest of the hamlet of Riders Corners. He cleared the land and erected a log cabin.1800 he built a comfortable house.

After a long illness, he died on April 1st, 1825 at the age of 69. His wife died on April 28th of the same year. Both are buried in the Charleston cemetery.

He was a devoted attendant of the "True Reformed" or "Wyckafite" Church and probably satisfied his simple yearnings for social intercourse within its membership.

In old age he claimed pension from the government.

April 6th, 1818, he appeared before the First Judge of the Court of Common Pleas of Montgomery County to make an affidavit of his services as a Revolutionary soldier.

John Tallmadge (September 19th, 1757 - February 24th, 1823)

Did some work in the Culper Spy Ring: code 249 in the book.

Married on January 8th, 1788 in Warren, Litchfield Connecticut to Phebe Pomeroy (born February 9th 1766 in Northampton, Hampshire, died December 13th, in Warren, Litchfield). Both are buried at Warren Center Cemetery in Litchfield, Connecticut

ornTheir children were Laura Tallmadge (born 1788), Phebe Sheldon Tallmadge (after her mother in 1790), Frances Fowler Tallmadge (born 1792), Charles Benjamin Tallmadge (middle after after his brother Benjamin, born 1792), John Smith Tallmadge (after his father, born 1798) and George Pomeroy Tallmadge (born 1802).

Isaac Tallmadge (February 25th, 1762 - ?)

Nothing is known of him.

#pressles musing #us history #history #american history #benjamin tallmadge #John tallmadge #Samuel tallmadge #isaac tallmadge

156 notes · View notes

met-american-paintings · 3 years

Photo

Philip Van Cortlandt, Ezra Ames, ca. 1810, American Paintings and Sculpture

Gift of Christian A. Zabriskie, 1940 Size: 36 x 28 in. (91.4 x 71.1 cm) Medium: Oil on canvas

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/10075

#metmuseum #ezraames #themet #americanart

0 notes

18thcentury · 6 months

Text

Some graves I saw this week.

General Philip Schuyler

The victims of the Boston massacre

Samuel Adams

Paul Revere

John Hancock

Philip Van Cortlandt

Benjamin Franklin

George Washington

Thomas Jefferson

RIP daddies and Happy Halloween 🎃

#Philip Schuyler #Samuel Adams #John Hancock #Philip Van Cortlandt #Benjamin Franklin #George Washington #Thomas Jefferson #Boston Massacre #crispus attucks #samuel gray #samuel maverick #james caldwell #patrick carr #american revolution #18th century

27 notes · View notes

photographasdocumentspring14blog · 4 years

Link

Like all of you, we have had to adjust time and again to new information on quarantining, working from home, virtual schooling, all the while fighting off the burn-out effects of never-ending zoom calls and social media fatigue. We took a long look at what we could do and we adjusted, shifted, tweaked, reinvented, punted – we hustled – and found a way for the festival to still take place, while staying true to its spirit.

So yes, Photoville will look slightly different this year! With social distancing in mind, we’ve had to temporarily let go of our beloved shipping containers, our beer garden, and in-person sessions. Instead, we’re spreading our wings and spacing out our photo village throughout our beautiful home in Brooklyn Bridge Park and even beyond – into the heart of the city at Times Square, and parks across New York City’s five boroughs – thanks to our friends at NYC Parks, Abrons Arts Center and Times Square Arts.

We’ve worked with an exceptional group of artists and programming partners to curate 63 outdoor exhibitions. Taking many different forms, all exhibitions are designed to be viewed and enjoyed at a safe social distance. Our daytime programming has been expanded and moved online, encompassing our growing education offerings for students and educators, as well as dozens of riveting talks and fun-filled workshops for all ages and abilities.

Another big change, while our village is normally open for two weeks in September, this year all the outdoor exhibitions will be on view for over two months (through November 29), so you’ll have plenty of time to see everything. We hope you will be able to visit every location, share your favorites with your friends, and return for second viewings as well.

After so many months of working behind-the-scenes to bring this all together, we are so excited to share with you amazing lineup of photographers and their brilliant and important work. You’ll find strong and somber stories, reflecting the times we are living in and also light and joy to lift your spirits and put a smile on your face.

To get to the point of unveiling these city-wide public exhibitions and virtual programming, we rely upon our mighty Photoville team who always answers the call, our fantastic Board of Directors, and the incredible support network of partners who trust us to present compelling photography in public spaces. Please see a complete roster of all our partners but we want to shout out Brooklyn Bridge Park, NYC Parks, Two Trees Management, Leica Camera, PhotoWings, the Mayor’s Office of Media and Entertainment and the DUMBO Business Improvement District for continuing to step up and support our community.

We also count on you, our visitors, for your attendance, participation, and good will. If you are able, we ask you to donate to support the success and longevity of this community event.

We feel that the spirit of our annual “village” gathering will remain intact even with 6ft of physical separation between one other. We look forward to the day in the near future when we can all safely gather in person once again, and until then, never hesitate to reach out if we can help in any way to keep you moving forward.

Stay safe, stay active, keep fighting the good fight, and making your compelling images.

Welcome to Photoville 2020 - we will see you online and 6ft away in a public space near you!

Laura, Sam, Dave and our incredible team of superstars

LET US KNOW YOU WILL BE JOINING

Over 60 Exhibitions in

Public Spaces Across NYC

This year’s exhibitions are all outdoors, spread out through all 5 boroughs! Stay safe and enjoy visual storytelling free to all and open to the public starting September 17.

Brooklyn Bridge Park

Brooklyn

St. Nicholas Park

Manhattan

Jackie Robinson Park

Manhattan

Times Square

Manhattan

Lower East Side

Manhattan

Chelsea Park

Manhattan

Soundview Park

The Bronx

Van Cortlandt Park

The Bronx

Astoria Park

Queens

Travers Park

Queens

South Beach

Staten Island

Washington St.

Brooklyn

CHECK OUT ALL OUR EXHIBITIONS HERE

Live Sessions OnlineSeptember 17 - October 4, 2020

All of the exciting and insightful commentary and community that you’ve come to expect from Photoville’s talks and workshops will be available from the appropriately socially-distanced comfort of your own home!

The full programming schedule and registration for events will be announced on Friday, September 4!

September 25 & 26 Freelance

Safety Clinic

Presented in partnership with The ACOS Alliance, the Committee to Protect Journalists, and the Frontline Freelance Register. Are you a freelance photojournalist or documentary photographer in need of some expert, one-to-one advice on safety, risk assessment, digital security, or trauma management? Sign up now for one of our FREE virtual safety clinics. REGISTER HERE.

Sept. 18 - Oct. 2Back to Business - Diversify Photo Professional Development

Geared towards BIPOC photographers, and open to photographers anywhere in the world, Photoville is proud to partner with Diversify Photo to host our first set of professional development workshops, for experienced and emerging editorial photographers who would like to take on commercial assignments and want to learn the business skills to do so. Proudly supported by FujiFilm with additional support by the Philip and Edith Leonian Foundation.

Full line up and registration to be launched September 4, 2020

Sept. 19 - Oct. 4Talks

Taking place over the course of three weekends, our talks will feature some of the most innovative work and pressing issues in photography today, with conversations led by at National Geographic, Leica, The New York Times, Adobe, Aperture, and more. Panel discussions will give added depth to many of these exhibitions, with artists and industry leaders addressing some of the most compelling topics and photo stories of the moment. LEARN MORE

Full line up and registration to be launched September 4, 2020

Sept. 19 - Oct. 4Workshops

Our interactive and on-demand workshops will provide fun, practical, skills-based instruction in some of photography’s most sought-after markets. Workshop highlights include a series of programs hosted by Adobe for photographers looking to expand their skill-sets; Editorial Masterclass Workshop with the Visual Thinking Collective; Tabletop and Prop Stylist Robin Zachary will lead Styling Beyond Instagram; and many more. LEARN MORE

Full line up and registration to be launched September 4, 2020

Sept. 17 - Nov. 29 Family-Friendly Activities

Parents grab some snacks and hang out with little ones while you enjoy some awesome family-friendly programming.

Our on-demand programming will include a pre-recorded Online Cyanotype Demonstration from Penumbra Foundation for photographers and families looking to delve into the cyanotype process; Make-Your-Own Container Exhibition and Make-Your-Own Camera guides will be available from Photoville; and other family-friendly activities like a PhotoBooth from PhotoWings. DISCOVER ON SEPT.17

Photoville Education MonthWeekly through October 2020

Photoville Education Day 2020, which will take place throughout the month of October, as a series of education programs for young people and educators. Students will be able to experience Meet the Artist Exhibition Tours, in which students connect with Photoville artists, Youth Photography Panels, in which students learn from their peers, and an Educators Lab, where teachers connect with Photoville artists and collaborate on lesson plans based on their work. Our 2020 Festival education program is proudly supported by our partner Photowings with additional contributions by the Philip and Edith Leonian Foundation.

Photoville-At-A-Glance

This year’s exhibitions are all outdoors, spread out through all 5 boroughs! Stay safe and enjoy visual storytelling free and open to the public.

PLAN YOUR PHOTO EXCURSION

Partners

We couldn't do it without them! Get to know our amazing Photoville 2020 partners...

Image credit from top to bottom: Empire Fulton Ferry. Brooklyn Bridge Park. Etienne Frossard via Brooklyn Bridge Park website; Fall in St. Nicholas Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - St. Nicholas Park website; Jackie Robinson Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Jackie Robinson Park website; Times Square; Rainbow Shoe Repair Exhibition. Jasmin Chang; Chelsea Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Chelsea Park website; Soundview Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Soundview Park website; Van Courtlandt Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Van Courtlandt Park website; Astoria Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Astoria Park website; Daniel Avila. Travers Park. Image via NYC Gov Parks - Astoria Park website. South Beach Promenade. Laura Roumanos; Washington St. Image via NYC Go website' 2019; Photoville 2019. Freelance Safety Clinics. Lauren Crothers. Photoville 2019. Table styling workshop. Jessica Bal; Photoville 2019. Cyanotypes. Jessica Bal; Photoville 2019. On Feeling Good Talk. Lauren Crothers; Photoville 2019. Flower pounding. Jessica Bal; Photoville EDU Panel 2019. Gareth Smit.

0 notes

46ten · 1 year

Text

AH’s Nepotism and Rensselaer Schuyler

I always love AH’s aim of getting as much of the Schuyler (and Van Cortlandt and Van Rensselaer and Schuyler/Livingston) clan in good employ as possible. He doesn’t omit doing likewise for his Hamilton first cousin, Robert, and John Church, even when AH had “no reason to believe the employment would be acceptable to him.”

To the letters:

I send you a number of applications for Military appointments with br[i]ef notes of my opinion.

Allow me to remind you in writing of my nephew Philip Church1 whom I warmly recommend for a Captaincy in the Infantry. He is the eldest son of his father, has had a good education is a young man of sense of genuine spirit and worth—of considerable expectation in point of fortune. I shall esteem his appointment to this grade a personal favour, while I believe that it will consist with every rule of propriety.

There are two other young Gentlemen whom I must also recommend to your attention. They are Volckert Peter Van Rensselaer and Jeremiah H. Van Rensselaer nephews of Mrs. Schuyler.2 They are of honest and brave blood and of fair character—I recommend one as a first the other as a second Lieutenant. AH to McHenry, 28July1798

And a subsequent one:

The list comprises the names you sent me and some others which have come directly to me. Besides these there are a number of applications with my Remarks upon them which were put up in a packet and either transmitted to you or delivered to Mr. Lewis to be delivered to you when I was last at Philadelphia & you will find in a letter of mine written then some names which I believe do not appear elsewhere; among them two of the names of Rensselear nephews of Mrs. Schuyler.

Give me leave now to mention to you Renssellaer* Schuyler son of the General who married a daughter of General Tenbroeck of Albany & who is desirous of being appointed Captain of a Troop of Horse. This Gentleman has many things in his favour. He is intelligent active and spirited. But I ought not to conceal from you that he has committed imprudences which have been painful to his father; whose heart needs consolation with respect to him and would derive it from his success in his present application. I have the strongest hope that he would make a very good officer. If the Captaincy of a Troop is unattainable, I shall be glad to see him appointed a first Lieutenant in the Corps of Horse. AH to McHenry, 21Aug1798

It’s just so appropriate that AH is again trying to run interference between Philip Schuyler and one of PS’s own kids who have displeased their father. AH also performs this role for Angelica and Philip Jeremiah in 1789 and there are references that he did it for Cornelia after her elopement. Those poor Schuyler kids, with their papa reminding them (and others) of how Hamilton and their sister Eliza are the good examples they should be following!

Rensselaer (1773-1847) fell out with his father over his gambling habits, which left him in a sizable debt that Philip paid off himself. From here:

In the matter of personal debt, Schuyler informs Hamilton (5 November 1797) that he is willing to pay off the gambling debts of his 28-year-old son, Rensselaer, if he promises to abstain from gaming. After that, Schuyler plans to "place him on a very valuable farm which he may have decently, if he will, and if he will not his becoming now insolvent that he will not be able to borrow any money with facility."

Father and son seem to get along again, as there are mentions of the Hamilton and Church kids (and Angelica, Margarita, and young Catharine born 1781) visiting him. See here for copy and transcription of Angelica S. Church’s letter to him re Philip Hamilton.

Rensselaer married Elizabeth Ten Broek in 1793. She was a first cousin of Stephen Van Rensselaer III, Margarita’s husband.**

*It would not be until around 1800 that AH started to consistently spell his mother-in-law’s maiden name correctly - only about 20 years after marrying into the family! I think he finally got a handle on the way the family spelled it.

**The amount of inter-marriage and relations through marriage is something.

A small detail, but one I did not realize Catharine VR Schuyler’s parents were both alive until 1783 - Johan (John) Van Rensselaer and Engeltie (little angel - thus Angelica later on) Livingston. I wonder what kind of relationship ESH, and then AH, had with him. BTW, Engelite’s mother was a Schuyler, another example of that whole Schuyler-Van Rensselaer intermarriage thing.

#Rensselaer Schuyler #Philip Schuyler #Alexander Hamilton

1 note · View note