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The rain poured relentlessly throughout the entire afternoon on that fateful June day. Inside the Philadelphia congress room, the atmosphere was charged with tension, mirroring the rumbling thunder outside. Even as the congressional session drew to a close for the day, the rain continued to fall steadily. Exiting the building, the men paused briefly to gauge the intensity of the rain before venturing out.
James Madison had finished a coughing fit near the doors when Thomas Jefferson stood next to him. “You alright, Jemmy?”
Madison put a hand up to signal that he was fine.
Thomas gazed out at the rain-soaked streets. "Are you absolutely certain you want to brave this downpour and walk home?"
James nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Walking in the rain is nothing new to me, Thomas," he retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of irritation towards his friend's over-protectiveness. “Besides, I need to think on the matter of Hamilton’s Assumption Bill.”
Thomas snorted derisively, “You’re really going to consider it? What about the South?”
Madison shook his head. "I won't cast my vote on it, that's for sure. However, Hamilton did manage to present some compelling arguments. Perhaps I can turn the other delegates of the North to it." He popped open his umbrella, taking a few steps down the stairs before turning back with a wave, “Have a good day, Thomas.”
Thomas opted to wait for the rain to stop before making his own way home, in case he accidentally encountered any puddles along the way. Even if that meant that he bumped into Hamilton if the Treasury Secretary deigned to go home at a decent time. He glanced down the street to see Jemmy, who had paused to place a hand on a lantern post to cough into his handkerchief.
Thomas glanced towards the stairwell and caught sight of Hamilton making his way down the steps. Hamilton seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the rain outside, completely oblivious to Thomas's presence.
Thomas was taken aback when he noticed Hamilton flinching at the sudden boom of thunder that echoed through the air. Both of them had heard it, and it seemed to have caught Hamilton off guard.
They heard a chilling scream from a short distance that Thomas could feel in his bones, the fear heightening within him. He looked out to see James thrown several feet backwards from the post he had been leaning against and now lay prone on the pavement.
“Oh, god, Jemmy!” Thomas shouted, abandoning his corner of the building, no longer caring about anything but James. He knelt next to his friend. “Jemmy!” Thomas shouted, eyes wide with shock. He slapped his fellow Virginian lightly on the cheek in hopes of waking him.
“What happened?” the voice of Hamilton cried, kneeling on the other side of the stricken Virginian. He looked from Madison to the lantern post. “I think he got hit by lightning.’ He placed to fingers to the man’s neck, then under his nose. “Shit, he’s not breathing!”
“What?!” Thomas exclaimed and looked up wild-eyed at the Treasury Secretary, his eyes racing back to Jemmy.
“Help me get him back inside the building.” Alexander commanded. Thomas was still looking horrified down at his friend.
“Hamilton lost his temper. "Jefferson, pull yourself together! For God's sake, help me!” They heard a clap of thunder that cracked in the sky and winced, Hamilton more so than him. "Do you want to be struck by lightning as well?!"
Thomas suddenly snapped out of his daze, his eyes focusing on Madison. Without hesitation, he firmly grasped his shoulders, while Hamilton swiftly took hold of his legs. Together, they hurriedly made their way back into Federal Hall, gently placing him on a nearby bench.
Hamilton quickly peeled away James’ coat and waistcoat, interlocking his fingers and pressing on Madison’s chest in short intervals.
“What are you doing?’ Jefferson shouted while watching the Treasury Secretary push on Madison’s chest.
“Reviving his heart is crucial. Once his heart starts beating, the other organs will naturally follow suit." Alexander said breathlessly as he continued to pump Madison’s chest. “I’ve read about it in medical books when I briefly studied medicine. And I’ve seen it done on the islands.”
Jefferson stood in silence, his hand hanging by his side, his fists clenched tightly as he helplessly observed Hamilton's desperate attempts to revive his friend.
Hamilton shouted over his shoulder, “Jefferson, get over here and keep checking for a pulse!”
Thomas rushed over to his friend's side, avoiding eye contact with Jemmy's ashen complexion as he gently pressed two fingers against his pulse point. In that moment, he fervently whispered a silent prayer, hoping to sense the reassuring rhythm of a heartbeat. He shut his eyes tightly, taking his friend’s limp hand, mentally urging Come on, Jemmy!
It was reminiscent of when he had experienced the loss of Martha, her complexion drained and her vitality fading. The last moments they shared were etched in his memory. He had locked himself away after her passing, fully embracing grief like a blanket pulled over himself to shield him from the light.
He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, as he felt warmth in Jemmy’s trembling hand. He heard a gasp and felt a pulse at his friend’s neck. Jefferson watched with untold relief and eyes wide at his friend’s chest rising and falling again.
Hamilton's breaths were ragged as he desperately attempted to push his disheveled hair away from his face and watched his former friend breathe. “Thank God.” Alexander whispered. He turned to Jefferson, “We need to get him to a hospital. I got his heart going, but he still needs medical attention.”
“I think he’d prefer to be taken home. Dolley can care for him, and we can summon a doctor from there.” Thomas replied, looking down at his friend.
Alexander seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll go hail a cab. See if we can’t get the driver to help us carry him.” He rushed out onto the pavement without an umbrella, calling for a cab with a wave of his hand. After speaking with the driver for a moment, both men returned to the entryway to carry Jemmy to the awaiting carriage, putting him on the opposite bench while Hamilton and Jefferson sat on the other side. As the coach began to move, the two men stared ahead, not speaking for a while.
“Hamilton, I...I didn’t thank you for saving his life. That was quick thinking on your part.” Thomas finally said. “If you hadn’t been there…. I don’t think he would have made it.”
The Treasury Secretary shrugged. “It was just luck I had seen the procedure before.” He stared out of the window and said with a quieter tone. “I've witnessed countless lives lost in the past, and I’ll do everything I can to save others.”
Thomas nodded dumbly, not really sure what to say to that.
It was not far from Federal Hall that they stopped in front of a red-brick two story townhouse, and Thomas sprang out. He turned to Hamilton, “I’d better go tell Mrs. Madison about the situation to prepare her.”
Thomas did so, and Alexander could see the plump, middle aged woman who answered the door when he knocked. The woman’s face became pale, and she placed her hands to her lips in shock. Thomas signaled for them to bring James inside the house. Both Alexander and the driver worked to bring the ailing Virginian up the stairs. Dolley directed them to a guest room on the first floor while she hustled out the door to get a doctor who lived two doors down.
Hamilton and Jefferson waited at James’ bedside in silence. Thomas picked up Jemmy’s hand to squeeze it as a signal to the man that he was there but gasped. “My God!”
Alexander sprang out of his seat as he hurriedly made his way towards Madison. “What is it?”
Thomas pushed up James’ shirt sleeve to reveal fern like patterns on the skin where the lightning must have traveled up the arm.
“Hamilton,” Jefferson’s voice shook, “What if James is permanently damaged? What if the lightning strike affected his brain?”
“You’re still his friend, Thomas.” Hamilton replied quietly. “"Just make sure you're there for him."
Not long after, a tall, stately looking man with a receding hairline holding a doctor’s bag entered. “Mr. Jefferson?” He glanced over to Alexander.
“I’m Mr. Hamilton.” Hamilton added quickly, shaking hands briefly.
“Mrs. Madison tells me that James has been struck by lightning?” He said, removing bottles of medicine and a spring lancet from his black bag.
“He-” Jefferson began hoarsely before clearing his throat and trying again. “He was. Mr. Hamilton did chest compressions to restart his heart.”
The older man’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve heard of that technique before. Someday I must see it in action. Now gentleman, I need to examine my patient, so I’d appreciate it if you would both wait outside. You as well, Mrs. Madison.”
They cleared the sickroom, waiting instead in the sitting room. Mrs. Madison paced, then in want of something to do, went to make them tea.
An even greater silence ensued before he spoke up again. “You said you studied medicine briefly?”
Hamilton raised his shoulders. “I did. I had every intention to become a doctor but…. I struggled with chemistry.” *
Jefferson’s eyebrows rose at that. “I assumed you never struggled with anything, Hamilton.”
Hamilton smiled sadly. “You assumed incorrectly. But I'm glad I decided to pursue law instead. It's been the right path for me." He sneezed, which prompted a ‘bless you’ from Jefferson and Mrs. Madison.
An hour later, the doctor emerged once again, his face filled with concern as he cast a quick glance at the trio anxiously waiting for any news on Jemmy’s condition. “I’m afraid Mr. Madison is in a coma.”
The shock was evident on the faces of all three of them. Mrs. Madison quickly reached for a handkerchief, using it to conceal her sorrow. “Will...will he….?” Mrs. Madison began but couldn’t seem to allow herself to fully ask the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“I will tell you, it may be some time before he wakes, if at all. I do not know if there was damage to his brain, we will not know until he awakens. But I have bled him and hopefully his humors will balance out enough to mitigate the damage.” The doctor continued.
At that moment, Alexander sneezed into his elbow, which prompted another ‘bless you’ from the other three occupants in the room. “Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson, you’ve been in those wet clothes for over an hour. You need to go home and change before you both catch a chill. I will return tomorrow to check in on him.”
With a solemn understanding, both men exchanged meaningful looks. Their message was clear; they understood and respected each other's pain.
“I...I should return home.” Hamilton said quietly, not meeting Jefferson’s eyes, “I’m sure Eliza is waiting for me. If you’ll excuse me?” He nodded to them before departing from the Madison’s residence. Jefferson soon did the same, sinking into the carriage to spirit him back to his own house.
Thomas wearily ascended the stairs to his townhouse, his steps faltering as he reached his destination. With a sense of familiarity, he entered his library, shutting the door behind him to embrace the solace it offered. Overwhelmed by the deafening silence, he surrendered to despair, burying his face in his hands and weeping uncontrollably.