Dear, Hamilton

Something Smells Fishy

After Angelica's mental breakdown in her room, I didn't trust her to be able to watch the rest of her siblings alone. Instead, I got my daughter's namesake, my sister, to watch our children for me while Hamilton and I were away.

"They'll be fine," Hamilton assures me as we ride towards the outskirts of town, our horses trotting side by side.

"They" as in the rest of our children.

"It's our daughter I'm worried about," I confide in him, glancing back at the receding house.

Hamilton nods and says, "Well, allow this little exertion to placate your mind and worries for a bit."

I laugh in answer at his attempt to make me feel better. When I notice we're headed outside New York City, I ask, "It's outside New York City? I thought it was just on the outskirts."

Hamilton laughs a little and replies, "It's an hour outside the city."

And just like that, we're riding outside the city. We spend the hour talking freely to each other, and I realize it's been a long time since I've been truly alone with Hamilton. I feel as if these days we're always surrounded by our children or some visitor.

Back then, it was easy to be alone with him.

And to be outside of the city is a welcome relief, too. I miss being outside in nature. I've become accustomed to buildings and carriage clogged streets that I've forgotten the peacefulness and serenity of being alone in the outdoors. Being out here in the rugged countryside reminds me of The Pastures.

I realize Hamilton's talking, and I quickly tune in. "- it doesn't matter anymore," he's saying. "I suppose I should've seen before that this world is not a world meant for me. I've been too hopeful and naive my whole life to not see it before, but now I do."

"Wait, what do you mean?" I quickly ask, alarm flitting through me at his words. He almost sounds suicidal. "What has the world done to show you that it is evil?"

His eyes slide to mine, and I see the hopelessness in his gaze. "Our son was wrongfully murdered. And if that isn't justification enough, then the fact that the Federalist party is crumbling and the people yearn for someone like Jefferson and Burr, both of whom have no morals of their own, to be President is fact enough."

And I realize with a pang of sadness that perhaps Hamilton no longer has his eyes on this world- on life. He's yearning for another one, the one in which our dear Phillip currently resides. 

Why has he always been so wishful for death?

I'm not reason enough for him to stay here-- to stay alive. A flash of hurt goes through me at this realization. But then I realize; The only way to bring Hamilton back to the light is to give him something to do, a purpose. Since Philip had died, Hamilton has been purposeless, and perhaps that is why he is feeling so hopeless and despondent.

So I say fiercely, "Then do something about it."

Hamilton looks at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement at my tone. "Like what? The people want who they want. I suppose Thomas Hobbes was right when he said people are inherently evil."

I notice that he's thinking back on that one conversation we had so long ago in which I was asking him who he liked more; Hobbes or Locke, and he stated that he believed in everything they believed in, except the fact that people are inherently evil.

I look at Hamilton and take in his downturned gaze and slumped shoulders. Whatever happened to the proud, slightly arrogant, dashing Lieutenant Colonel I met so long ago?

"Do what you do best," I tell him with a firm dip of my chin. If I had a pen in my hand, I would be shoving it towards him. "Use your pen and exercise the right to freedom of the press to express your opinions and perhaps sway the people into doing what is right."