Now through the camp the morning gun resounds: Now, noisy Gibbs the nightly watch relieves Up, up my sons! Grave Harrison exclaims, ( a learned clerk and not unknown to fame) and forth displays large packets unexplored. Tilghman, accustom’d to the well known voice, Pulls up his stockings smiling and preludes His daily labor with some mirthful stroke But falls, like, down without inflicting pain. Kidder of gentle soul, and courage true, And dearly lov’d by all for worth most rare, Such as in times of yore fill’d Bayard’s breast, Uprose, to plead for others longer sleep. But not might smooth the ancients care-worn brow He restless would pace the hut & still On Ham, and Henry call; congenial pair Who in rough blankets wrapped snor’d loud defiance To packets huge, to morning gun & Gibbs! Fort oft in gamesome mood these twain combin’d To tease Sctarius through him they pris’d Next to the chief who holds the reins of War.
Source: Diary of the year 1778 by James McHenry, but was written in the winter of 1779
Robert Hanson Harrison calling them “my sons” when demanding that they wake up and get their asses moving. Tench Tilghman, always the hard worker and ready to tackle the task at hand, was already getting himself ready for the day, but tripped and fell (he is unharmed). Richard Kidder Meade sitting up and asking that Harrison let young Hamilton and McHenry sleep for a little bit longer because he is the best. Harrison being undeterred and gets referred to as “The ancient” (There it is again! Calling him Ancient!! It was more than just John Laurens!) as he paced and tried to get Alexander Hamilton and McHenry to get up but Hamilton and McHenry are protesting the large packets of new letters Harrison has brought for them, the wake-up guns, Caleb Gibbs back from Night Guard and being noisy, and just not wanting to get up for work in general by wrapping themselves up tighter in their blankets and snoring louder while pretending to still be asleep in teasing protest. The fact that McHenry writes that he and Hamilton often teamed up to do all sorts of similar mischief in order to tease Harrison together.
This brings me joy. Everything about this is 10/10. Anything that gives us a glimpse of life at headquarters for the aides, in general, is a 10/10.
Summary: Jefferson is not sure how exactly how to ask Alex if he remembers his past life without seeming insane.
“Are you seriously just gonna walk out of here without asking me?”
Thomas froze, a hand on the edge of a bookcase. Outside, the busy, rainy, city day crashed around them and was completely oblivious to the legends tiptoeing around each other. Inside, the quiet of the library forced both Thomas and Alex to keep their voices down. It was the only way to have a conversation without yelling at each other, they’d found.
Slowly, Thomas turned back. He raised a single eyebrow. “Ask… what?”
Alex snorted, shrugged obnoxiously, and leaned back in his chair so that only the two back legs touched the floor. “Nevermind, man. I’d… well, I assumed you actually had a purpose for meeting with me here.”
“Besides the school project.”
Thomas rolled his eyes and walked back up to the table. “Look, kid. I don’t like you. I don’t want to spend any more time with you than is positively necessary.”
Alex stuck his tongue out (such maturity) and thumped his front chair legs down suddenly. “I’m not a kid, and we’re the same age.”
Thomas glared at him. Alexander Hollins.
Formerly, Alexander Hamilton.
Formerly, his sworn political rival.
Formerly, a royal pain in the backside.
No, scratch that. Continually, a royal pain in the backside.
My sister’s boyfriend is around 5’ 7" and he can squat over 300 pounds, so if y'all really think Eric “Bitty” Richard Bittle can’t lift his NHL player boyfriend OR any of his teammates I’d like to inform you that you’re a coward
Pierre Fritel (1853-1942), ‘Les Conquérants’ (The Conquerors), 1892
This is how some see the march of history, “great men” plowing through the dead to bring the world “progress”, changing destinies through the sheer force of their “will.” I say that’s a bunch of noise but I have anarchist leanings so my worldview might be a bit biased when it comes to celebrations of power and of those who claim to hold it.
“In the centre of the van rides Julius Caesar, whom Shakespeare has pronounced “the foremost man of all this world.” On his right are the Egyptian called by the Greeks Sesostris, now known to be Rameses II, Attila, “the Scourge of God,” Hannibal the Carthaginian, and Tamerlane the Tartar. On his left march Napoleon, the last world-conqueror, Alexander of Macedon, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, that “head of gold” in the great image seen in his vision as interpreted by the prophet Daniel, and Charlemagne, who restored the fallen Roman Empire. Straight onward, mounted on horseback or riding in chariots, march these mighty men of the past at the head of armies whose lines of spears stretch back into the dim distance. On either side lie prostrate the naked bodies of those who have yielded their lives that these men might exercise power. The Conquerors, their hosts and their victims all belong to the world of the dead. Yet their power and glory are made fearful realities. Their influence and work are felt to pervade the world, to reach even to us, the living spectators. They are presented as dead, yet living and sending forth a mighty effect upon ages yet to come. The mighty sacrifices by which the glory of the world is achieved are here realized as never before.”
“The Library of Historic Characters and Famous Events of All Nations and All Ages”, Volume 3, ed. by A.R. Spofford, Frank Weitenkampf, and J.P. Lamberton, Philadelphia: William Finley & Co., 1894.
Here’s a beautiful custom enclosure for a 1260 papal bull by Pope Alexander IV made by our talented colleagues at Harvard’s Weissman Preservation Center. The bull was originally folded and housed in an envelope, but it’s since been professionally flattened and is now enclosed in a custom box so that it can be displayed and studied safely. Thank you, conservators!