#gouveneur morris

[alexanderhamiltonhasafatass]

Do they wash their ass?

Yes? But the job is mediocre

No soap, no water, just air and a dream

Some people think he doesn't, but it's squeaky clean and freshly shaved

Thinks it's gay so his wife does it for him

No. He walks around with a grilled cheese shit sandwich cause he doesn't wipe. He thinks it's revolutionary not to wipe. It smells like kangaroo backshots

Scrubs it til it's raw and he sticks a finger up there for good measure

Martha demands a clean hole

Yeah, he tries, but there's always a little funk that he tries to hide with cologne

Gotta keep it presentable for the ladies, but he sweats a lot so it's always a horse kick at the end of the day

[islandofarson]

one of the founding fathers was a guy named gouveneur morris and he was the one who wrote the preamble to the us constitution he lost a leg in a wagon accident and burned the skin off of one of his arms doing something else and he died because he stuck a whale bone up his balls

[sonofhistory]

If there be a man in the world I ought to hate, it is Jefferson. With Burr I have always been personally well. But the public good must be paramount.

From Alexander Hamilton to Gouverneur Morris

[gadawg-404]

Many Founding Fathers Were Shockingly Young When The Declaration Of Independence Was Signed In 1776

How old were the Founding Fathers when the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776?

Some were older, like Thomas Jefferson who was 33, John Hancock who was 39, or Benjamin Franklin who was 70. Others were shockingly young — even teenagers. James Monroe, for example, was 18 and Alexander Hamilton was 21.

All Things Liberty compiled a list of the ages of key people during the American Revolution (a period spanning from 1765–1783) when the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Here's everyone who was younger than 30 on July 4, 1776, including a few signers of the nation-changing document:

Andrew Jackson, 9

(Major) Thomas Young, 12

Deborah Sampson, 15

James Armistead, 15

Sybil Ludington, 15

Joseph Plumb Martin, 15

Peter Salem, 16

Peggy Shippen, 16

Marquis de Lafayette, 18

James Monroe, 18

Charles Pinckney, 18

Henry Lee III, 20

Gilbert Stuart, 20

John Trumbull, 20

Aaron Burr, 20

John Marshall, 20

Nathan Hale, 21

Banastre Tarleton, 21

Alexander Hamilton, 21

John Laurens, 21

Benjamin Tallmadge, 22

Robert Townsend, 22

George Rogers Clark, 23

David Humphreys, 23

Gouveneur Morris, 24

Betsy Ross, 24

William Washington, 24

James Madison, 25

Henry Knox, 25

John Andre, 26

Thomas Lynch, Jr., 26

Edward Rutledge, 26

Abraham Woodhull, 26

Isaiah Thomas, 27

George Walton, 27

John Paul Jones, 28

Bernardo de Galvez, 29

Thomas Heyward, Jr., 29

Robert R. Livingston, 29

https://www.businessinsider.com/age-of-founding-fathers-on-july-4-1776-2014-7?amp

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[aswithasunbeam]

Rated: General Audiences

Summary: July 11, 1804. Aaron Burr is pulled from the dueling ground before he can speak to a mortally wounded Alexander Hamilton. But an unexpected late night summons gives him a second chance to make peace with his one time friend.

_

Hamilton rose on his tip toes and arched backwards. Watching him fall reminded Burr distantly of the ballet he’d seen recently. Time seemed slower than normal. The sun glittered off the Hudson and filtered through the trees to create patterns on the rock face before him, giving the whole scene a dream-like quality, assisted by the cloud of smoke creating a haze around his vision.

Judge Pendleton dove forward to try to catch Hamilton but didn’t make it in time. Hamilton hit the ground hard, whimpering in pain. Burr’s eyes trailed down to Hamilton’s torso, to the long, ink stained fingers grasping desperately at Hamilton’s belly, just below his ribs. A red stain appeared on the waistcoat; red dribbled between the fingers; red splattered onto the dirt. So much red.

Pendleton had made it to Hamilton finally. He knelt in the dirt and hooked his arms under Hamilton’s armpits to haul him up. Hamilton’s lips parted in a silent scream as he was adjusted to sit up in Pendleton’s arms. Those familiar eyes opened, rolling over the New York skyline behind Burr before coming to stop on Burr himself. Burr met his gaze and suddenly felt reality assert itself.

He’d done this. He’d shot Hamilton.

Hamilton looked frightened and confused, and Burr felt the sudden, intense urge to comfort him. He took a step forward. Another. Something caught his arm, stopped his progress. Van Ness was tugging at him, muttering something. Burr tried to pull his arm away, but Van Ness tugged harder.

“I have to go to him,” Burr tried to explain.

“We have to go, sir,” Van Ness replied.

Burr looked back at Hamilton, lying in the dirt. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. Hamilton met his gaze again and Burr tried to communicate. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, exactly, just that he needed Hamilton to know. Another tear tracked down Hamilton’s face, but he smiled weakly, tremulously.

He suddenly heard shouting coming up the path.

“Now, sir,” Van Ness whispered harshly in his ear. An umbrella whipped before his face, blocking Hamilton from view as Van Ness tugged with more urgency. He staggered down the path, Van Ness tugging him along.

Had that been real? Had he done that? He thought suddenly of Eliza, who’d been a friend to his darling wife. He thought of Philip, who he’d known since he was a toddler, dead now from a duel just like this one. He thought of Angelica, who’d been a friend to his daughter since the two were crawling in diapers on the carpet. What had he just done?

“I need to go back,” Burr blurted out, stopping before the waiting skiff.

“Get in, sir,” Van Ness pressed, bodily pushing him towards the boat.

“I need to speak to him.” He dug in his heels, refusing to budge. Hamilton was hurt. He needed to help him.

Van Ness seemed to realize that Burr wouldn’t move until he’ d had his way, because he offered, “I’ll go check on him. Just, get in the boat. I’ll be right back.”

Burr stayed on land as Van Ness disappeared back up the path. Burr remembered walking that way not even a hour ago. The sun hadn’t risen yet. He’d been so angry. This had all been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

Van Ness returned quickly, shaking his head at Burr as he came back down the path. “He’s unconscious, sir. I’m not even sure if he was breathing. There’s no speaking to him now. We need to go.”

He was herded onto the boat.

He spent the return journey staring at his hands.

The knock on the door startled Burr badly enough that the book he’d been staring at fell out of his hands. A glance at the clock confirmed it was well after eleven o’clock, much too late for respectable company. Ill-news could be the only possible reason, and a sour feeling rose up from his stomach. He knew the only news someone may be compelled to deliver this late—Alexander Hamilton succumbing to his injuries.

He took his time walking to the door, as if putting off the report could make it any less true. When he opened it, a servant stood before him with a letter held out. “A message from General Hamilton, sir.”

Surely a slip of the tongue, but one that made Burr wince all the same. “You mean regarding General Hamilton.”

“No, sir. A message from him. He penned it himself not half an hour ago. I watched him do it,” the messenger corrected.

Burr’s eyes widened. He reached out and grabbed the letter, tearing the paper slightly in his haste to unfold it.

   Dear Sir,

 Dr. Hosack informed me of your letter inquiring after my health. If you are concerned for me, I would recommend you do as all my other friends have done and come see me for yourself. I will expect you no later than midnight.

                                                             Yr. obt. servt.,

                                                                         AH

The nerve of him. Summoning Burr to his bedside, as if he’d fawn over him like all his other simpering worshippers.

“Do you have an answer, sir?” The messenger asked, still standing in his doorway.

A scathing remark was on his tongue before the image of the morning passed before his mind’s eye. Hamilton’s body jerking as the bullet pierced his side, the agonized moan that accompanied his slow descent to the earth.

“Tell him, I will see him within the hour,” Burr heard himself say instead.

Burr dressed slowly. He wrapped a scarf around his neck despite the humid air outside, still fighting off the last dregs of his ague. He set off into the night, walking briskly towards William Bayard’s house, trying not to think of all the ways this was wrong. Disturbed. He was stealing into a home in the middle of the night to visit with the man he’d shot not eighteen hours earlier.

He was on the second step of the stoop when Gouveneur Morris opened the door and stepped outside. Morris froze on the first step, a moment away from colliding with Burr, and his eyes went wide with fury.

“How dare you. How dare you, sir!” Morris screeched, a vein in his neck popping.

The door opened again, Doctor Hosack poking his head out.

“Mr. Morris, please, have some consideration. You’ll wake the whole household,” Hosack scolded. “Mr. Burr. It seems you are expected by my patient.”

“Expected!” Morris spluttered.

“General Hamilton asked me to attend him,” Burr said simply.

He side-stepped Morris and pushed into the darkened house. Hosack jutted his chin towards the steps. Disappointment and grief were both stamped in the doctor’s expression, but his voice remained steady, professional.

“Mrs. Hamilton is resting in a spare room for now, but you shouldn’t linger long in the sickroom. General Hamilton needs his rest.”  

Burr nodded his understanding. With a deep fortifying breath, he mounted the staircase. His footsteps sounded too loud on the wood as he ascended. What if he woke Eliza? He couldn’t imagine facing her ever again, much less tonight.

The door to the sickroom was propped open, candlelight making the interior look warm and welcoming. Dread pooled in his belly. He hesitated in the doorway, debating whether he could sneak out without being accosted by Hosack or Morris.

“Is that you, Burr?”

His thoughts stopped. His whole body stood frozen. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he couldn’t….

“Burr?”

Hamilton’s voice sounded shaky and weak, like he was suffering from a bad cold. How often Burr had shared an office or a court bench with Hamilton when he was sniffling and coughing. That would never happen again. They’d never face each other in court. Never meet for drinks to discuss politics. Never pause on the street to share tales of their children’s antics. Never…a million nevers.  Grief was welling up inside him.

“Aaron?”

Vulnerability. Fear. Was Hamilton afraid of him? He felt a flash of annoyance before the sinking realization—he was the reason Hamilton was dying. Whatever his reasons or justifications, Hamilton would be right to be afraid of him.

He forced his feet to step into the room. Forced his eyes to look upon the consequences of his actions from this morning. Hamilton was propped up in bed, his face so pale it was practically translucent. Those flashing eyes met Burr’s, and a weak smile pulled at his bloodless lips.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” Hamilton said.

“You sounded quite confident of my obedience in your summons,” Burr retorted before he could bite his tongue.

He expected a righteously angry jab in return. Instead, Hamilton laughed. Then he moaned, a hand resting a top his stomach. “Don’t make me laugh.”

An apology was on his lips, but Hamilton continued, “Did I offend you?”

“You did, rather,” Burr admitted.

“Good. I meant to. I figured, if I already paid the ultimate price, I might as well enjoy myself.” Hamilton had, impossibly, blanched further as he spoke.

“Should I fetch the doctor?” Burr asked, ignoring the comment. He couldn’t fault the logic, at any rate.

“No,” Hamilton said, hardly above a whisper. “No, it will pass.”

A beat of silence followed. Burr stayed hovering in the doorway.

When the pain became manageable again, Hamilton flicked his wrist slightly. “Come here,” he whispered.

Burr obeyed. He knelt by the bed, and when Hamilton’s palm turned up in invitation, he took his hand, squeezing it lightly.

“I’m sorry,” Hamilton said, stealing the phrase from Burr’s lips.

Burr looked at Hamilton, wide eyed and confused. Hamilton’s eyes were damp with tears, and his hand squeezed back weakly.

“I’m sorry if the things I said hurt you. Whatever happened in our political lives, I never wanted to hurt you personally.”

Something like panic began to take hold of Burr’s mind. Such a simple sentiment. A few weeks ago, that little speech had been all he’d wanted to hear. An apology. An admission that Hamilton had crossed the line. Not now, though. There was nothing in the world he wanted to hear less than that speech now.

“You can’t say that!” he exploded, ripping his hand away and standing abruptly. He found himself pacing before the foot of the bed, manic energy gripping him. “You can’t. Not now.”

“I’ve been thinking it for weeks. I…I didn’t want to die with you not knowing.”

A sob ripped from his throat, wholly against his will. “Why?”

A furrow appeared between Hamilton’s brow. “Why what?”  

“Why didn’t you just say that when I wrote you?”

Hamilton considered for a long moment. “Stubbornness, perhaps. Pride. The same reasons you challenged me rather than coming to my office to talk about what you’d read. It all seems rather pointless, now.”

“Alexander,” Burr said, voice tight. “I—”

“It’s all right.”

“You’re dying.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Burr gripped at the bedpost and he met Hamilton’s eye. Hamilton smiled, a gentle quirk to his lips. Burr nodded back, the corner of his own lips curving upwards despite the heaviness in his chest.

Later, people will look at him oddly when he claims Hamilton as his friend. “My good friend, Hamilton, whom I shot.” There’s satisfaction in the shock on their faces, that he can’t deny. But it was also undeniably true.

His friend, Hamilton, whom he shot.

[glorianas]

alliluyevas replied to your photoset: hello???? why are men so evil

WITH GOUVENEUR MORRIS??

if u think that’s bad my other ancestor had an affair with william iv when he was 21 and she was 40

[runawayforthesummer]

David Ogden to William Meredith, 1804

July 13, 1804.

[…]

Upon opening his will there was found enclosed in it a letter to his wife written on the 4th. Instant, in which he tells her he had endeavoured by all possible means to avoid this Duel, but that he found it impossible, unless he acted in a manner which would justly make him forfeit her esteem.  That he should certainly fall, and that she would receive that letter after his death, he begs her forgiveness for being the cause of so much pain to her, & earnestly entreats her to bear herself up under that load of grief with which she will be overwhelmed, placing a firm reliance upon a kind providence, who will never desert her.

The poor woman was almost distracted, begged Uncle Gouveneur Morris might come into her room.  She burst into tears told him he was the best friend her husband had, begged him to join her in prayers for her own death, & then to be a father for her children.  Mr. Morris had been already almost overcome with grief at witnessing the last moments of the man whom of all others he loved most on Earth.  This last scene with the bereaved widow was too much for him to bear, and the big tears that flowed down his cheek bespoke the anguish of his soul.

[…]

On the Evening before the Duel Genl. Hamilton went to bed uncommonly early.  He slept soundly until about three O’Clock in the morning, when he awoke his son who slept with him and asked him to light a candle, his son asked him what was the matter he replied that one of his little sisters was taken ill out of town and his mother had sent for him & that he was going out with Doctor Hosack.  After the candle was lighted he sat down & wrote a beautiful hymn which he had but just finished when his second & the Surgeon called for him, this hymn he put in his Will where it was found.

[…]

source: Four Letters on the Death of Alexander Hamilton by David B. Ogden

[willofwords-blog]

MUSE Updates:  +Patroclus Uncertain about: John Andre, Nathan Hale

- Lumiere - Usnavi De la Vega - Gouveneur Morris

[halsteadproperty]

Bronx Beat 2.0 - Morris Heights 

By The Thompkins Hunter-Green Team, Lic. R.E. Agents in our Westside Office

In a New York Times article dated September 17, 2010, a journalist summed up Morris Heights as a neighborhood “with a troubled past and optimistic future.” Seven years later, that still holds true. Bound by Burnside Avenue to the north, the Cross Bronx to the south, Jerome Avenue and the Harlem River to the east and west, this hilly West Bronx neighborhood’s history features stunning landmark architecture with magnificent townhouses along Morris Avenue; curiously, it also claims, though controversial, to be the true birthplace of hip-hop!

The landmark townhouses have classic elements, though comparatively modest, of Victorian “free classical,” a style largely used for non-residential structures.  Still, the elements are clearly seen:  rounded facades and Moorish like entrances.  Located basically from East Tremont to East 179th street, these homes are mostly two families, three story homes with cellars—as was required by law! All this is in contrast to the predominant architecture, which includes larger tenement buildings, newly built subsidized housing, and newly built multi-family homes, and one the largest concentrations of public housing (NYCHA) in The Bronx.

And there goes that name again: Morris.  However, this Morris is not Gouveneur Morris Jr. or Sr.—but of course, it is the same family of royals who at one time owned most of The Bronx.  Later joined by brother Lewis, Richard Morris sailed from Barbados in the 1600s to purchase what would be known as the Manor of Morrisania.  By the 1900s, most of the land had been sold off.  The historic housing was built and  financed solely by two mortgage companies, one for the land and the other for construction.  In the 1800s, Strict rules in terms of stories and heights were established  in terms of what could not be built in the small area. By 1907, the IRT came to the area and the neighborhood was off and running.  Later Robert Moses, between 1948 and 1972, “rammed” the Cross Bronx Expressway through the neighborhood, destroying it according to many present day historians.  (One author asserts that Robert Moses was “insensitive, tyrannical and corrupted by power.”)

After a plague of arson and gang-related crime ravaged the area in the 1970s, the neighborhood began to be rebuilt.  This plague is explained by many as the reason that Clive Campbell, better known as DJ Kool Herc, the father of Hip-Hop, later moved from 1520 Sedgwick to the South Bronx.  Both the building on Sedgwick and SoBro are considered the birthplace of the genre.  

Today, the neighborhood continues to grow, benefitting from the renewed interest in The Bronx, especially in landmark areas.  This neighborhood also includes Roberto Clemente State Park, formerly known as Harlem River Park, a 25-acre waterfront area that recently underwent a $20 million makeover.  According to the New York State website, it now offers “a multi-purpose recreation building, an Olympic-size pool complex, ball fields, basketball courts, picnic [sic} areas, playgrounds and a waterfront promenade.”

With growing infrastructure and a rich variety of homes, this neighborhood is an attractive alternative.  With a SoBro townhouse having been sold recently for over $900,000, the range of prices for current townhouse listings provides an attractive alternative.  Prices range from handyman specials around $300,000 to multi-family units for up to $600,000.  Though a few are testing the market at higher prices, the prices are lower than other homes further north.   One bedroom apartments can be bought for under $150,000.  Though not close to Manhattan from the south, it is just minutes away via the east to Upper Manhattan.

To view The Thompkins/Hunter-Green Team’s new exclusive in Clason Point, click here.

To Connect with Adrian and Shebrelle, visit their team page.

________________________________

Thoughts and opinions presented in this post are those of Adrian M. Thompkins and Shebrelle Hunter-Green and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Halstead Property, LLC.

[catchperfectamericanpresidents]

He’ll still have Eliza…. eh, shit happens a lot during childbirth, and its not uncommon for babies to develop fatal illnesses at the time….

We’ll have to deal with Meade, McHenry, the other aides ( british raid? Battle gone wrong? ), the Caribbean friends of his, ie Edward Stevens ( another hurricane, perhaps?) Gouveneur Morris can get the whole Blockage incident a few decades beforehand, give Ham a good laugh…

And now he’s alone!  Or am I forgetting someone?

imagine if washington got shot in battle and alex didn't hear about it until he came back to camp and went to look for his father but he wasn't there :)

why would I imagine that :))))

but I see what you're saying, anon... I see what you're saying... and I am considering it :)

[alexanderhamiltonhasafatass]

Help my gf...Choose a new Tumblr user....

[favoritefightingfrenchgoth]

Today's Gouveneur Morris' birthday

happi barthdae governar moris!!111

[sonofhistory]

Link to all your history presentations?

All of my history presentations can be found under the tag #presley your history teacher but here is master-list:

John Jay

Cleopatra

John Clem

Joan of Arc

Halemadge

Edith Wilson

Molly Pitcher

King James I

Hugh Mercer

John Laurens

John Trumbull

Abigail Adams

Samuel Adams

Button Gwinett

James Monroe (I want to make a new one, someone request it please)

King George III

John Dickinson

Haym Salomon

Maria Reynolds

James Madison

Joseph Bellamy

Angelica Church

Lincoln Steffans

Emily Hobhouse

Samuel Seabury

John Paul Jones

Martha Jefferson

The War of 1812

Founding Mothers

Elizabeth Hamilton

Camille Desmoulins

George Washington

Tadeusz Kosciuszko

Mary Wollstonecraft

The First Lady’s Job

The Reynolds Affair

John Andre’s Death

Nathan Hale’s Death (come September I am going to re-do it)

Adrienne de Lafayette

The French Revolution

The Watergate Scandal

Louis Antoine Saint-Just

Patsy Jefferson Randolph

Alexander Hamilton’s Birth

Most Influential First Ladies

Founding Father’s Personalities

Founding Father’s Mental Illnesses

Founding Father’s Views on Slavery

LGBT+ and the American Revolution

American History Movies and TV Shows

What the Founding Fathers Looked Like

Gouveneur Morris and Alexander Hamilton

George Washington’s Crossing the Delaware

Founding Fathers Views on Native Americans

The Relationship of Charles Adams and John Mulligan

The Senate Triumvirate (Daniel Webster, Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun)

Deaths strange coincidences of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Monroe and James Madison

[craigfernandez]

Mr. Gouverneur Morris I, The Constitutionalist

[aswithasunbeam]

Minutes from the New York Manumission Society for the August 17, 1787 meeting: “The committee appointed last Evening to Draw a Memorial to the federal convention reported that they had prepared one which was read and approved, but the society being informed that it was probable the convention would not take up the Business resolved not to send the same.”

This entry is so fascinating!

The Constitutional Convention debated the issue of slavery in early August, and, after a passionate appeal by Gouveneur Morris, it very quickly became apparent that no agreement could be reached if the constitution didn’t allow the institution to continue. Hamilton left the convention in mid-August to come back to New York. He arrived home in time to go to the August 17th manumission society meeting. The only thing that seems to have changed between the August 16 and August 17 meeting was Hamilton’s attendance.

So Hamilton, for whom the secrecy of the convention was sacrosanct, appears to have broken confidentiality to tell the manumission society about what happened regarding slavery the week before he left. His decision to break confidentiality gives an indication of how bothered he was by the compromises over slavery. He knew if the federal constitution wouldn’t tackle the issue, the society would need to focus their attention on the state government.

Source: New York Historical Society

[bunniesandbeheadings]

I received a volunteer letter from the Commissary of Exterior Relations (a poor creature who scarce dared wipe his nose without an order from the Committee of Safety), assuring me that he had transmitted my various representations to the Commissary of the Marine, and expected soon to give me satisfactory answers. It was written ten days before the death of Robespierre, shortly after which Mr. Monroe arrived. He was fortunate in not reaching France at an earlier period, for, if I may judge by what fell within my observation, he would have been a little too well with that party to be viewed in a neutral light by their opponents.

Gouverneur Morris, throwing some shade at James Monroe in a letter to George Washington, dated 30 December 1794