1. "Well this doesn’t look like it’ll be sensational at all," she sighs to herself.


  2. "When in the fall Burr’s visitors left him, he gave Theodosia to understand that until they came together again he must have a faithful account of his grandson’s every mood and action. He would never tire of hearing about Gamp; nor would he ever be able to restrain himself from reciting the boy’s marvelous words and deeds to anyone polite enough to listen. Abigail Adams, encountering him here and there, complained to her sister, Mary Cranch, that on the subject of the addition to his family the otherwise engaging Vice President was a living bore. “You would think to hear him,” she wrote Mrs. Cranch, “that no man in the world had ever been a grandfather before.”"

    Milton Lomask, Aaron Burr: The Years from Princeton to Vice President, 1756-1805 (via aaronburrssexdungeon)

    (Source: themorningchronicle, via walterhhwhite)


  3. foundingfatherfest:

    How Stands the Glass Around (or General Wolfe’s Song)

    Another version of this song. It’s the one Hamilton supposedly sang at the Independence Day dinner with the Society of Cincinnati not long before the duel.

    Feel free to imagine that while listening for many tears.

    sorry to bring down the party but

    tonight this song was sung and we all know what that means

  4. Happy Burr-thday!

  5. humbleegomania:

    this week

    this fucking week

    reblogging july 11th angst for my 1804th post

    you are welcome

  6. (Source: walterhhwhite)


  7. saw this facebook status: “I just ate all of the grapes out of a communal fruit salad and I don’t feel bad about it at all.”

    must be aaron burr

  8. STOP IT



  9. Aaron Burr What Are You Talking About


    I decided to compile a post of my favorite wtf moments.

    Read More

    (Source: walterhhwhite)


  10. that video Molly posted is absolutely ridiculous

    but at least we got this out of it:


  11. "

    But even Aaron Burr could not live forever. In 1833, being then seventy-seven, he suffered a slight shock of paralysis, from which he recovered sufficiently to resume his business. A few months later, however, he had another shock, and lay ill and helpless at his office, which was also his home.

    In this predicament he was visited by an old friend, a Scotchwoman, whose father, an officer in the British army, had been intimate with Burr. This lady, having lost her property, was then keeping a boarding-house in what was once the residence of Governor John Jay ; and thither she caused Burr to be brought. Here, with his books, pictures, and relics about him, and kindly cared for, Burr spent the next two years.

    In the summer of 1836 the Jay house was to be torn down, and Burr’s friends removed him upon a litter to Port Richmond in Staten Island. As the summer advanced, his strength declined, though his mind remained as clear as ever. He was visited frequently by a clergyman, who read to him and prayed for him.

    On the last day of Burr’s life this clergyman questioned the old colonel as to what belief he had in a future state and in the forgiveness of his own sins. Mr. Burr answered, he relates, with deep and evident emotion, ’ On that subject, I am coy.’ This characteristic sentence
    was the last that he uttered.

    He died at two o’clock in the afternoon of September 14, 1836, being then eighty years and seven months old.

    — Aaron Burr, Henry Childs Merwin (via aaronburrssexdungeon)

    (Source: walterhhwhite)

  12. aaronburrssexdungeon:

    Aaron Burr [2.6.1756]-[9.14.1836]

    Behave, my sorrow! let’s have no more scenes.

    Evening’s what you wanted - Evening’s here:

    a gradual darkness overtakes the town,

    bringing peace to some, to others pain.

    Now, while humanity racks up remorse

    in low distractions under Pleasure’s lash,

    groveling for a ruthless master - come

    away, my sorrow, leave them! Give me your hand…

    See how the dear departed dowdy years

    crowd the balconies of heaven, leaning down,

    while smiling out of the sea appears Regret;

    the Sun will die in its sleep beneath a bridge,

    and trailing westward like a winding-sheet - 

    listen, my dear - how softly Night arrives.

    (Source: walterhhwhite)


  13. oh, you know, just a book written by Theodore Roosevelt


  14. milvertons:


    Now I feel more like self-exiled-in-Europe Burr than ever.


    PUbliuS i love you



    (Source: walterhhwhite)

  15. burrspistol:


    Renée is officially the illustrator of my historically themed line of children’s books

    can I please request some adorable little pudgy baby Alexanders please please please

    (via walterhhwhite)