Juliet Waldron's Blog - Posts Tagged "revolutionary-war"
A War Time Wedding at the Schuyler's
September is almost as popular as June for weddings these days.
Here's the story of a wedding that took place just before Christmas in a country deep in it's first civil war.
*****************************************
"....The wedding took place in the yellow parlor in front of a crackling hearth. The Dutch Reformed minister performed the ceremony and everyone who was anyone for miles around attended. The room was packed with patriot gentry, all turned out in their finest wigs and lace. The young men present were almost universally in blue and buff.
Hamilton had gone to the expense of outfitting himself anew before the trip north and today he looked resplendent in a crisp new uniform. The epaulets of Lieutenant Colonel gleamed on his shoulders; his chest was crossed by the green sash worn by the aides de camp of a commanding general. His hair had been powdered, but not quite enough to extinguish a gingery glitter. Everyone agreed; he looked overwhelmingly handsome.
“If Mama hadn’t had all these months to prepare, I’m afraid my little sister would look like a hen pheasant beside that beautiful fellow.” Angelica whispered waspishly to the only woman present she considered her peer, tall blonde Arietta van Corlear. Diamond earrings flashed against creamy necks as the belles approvingly surveyed the lithe figure of the groom.
Still, few others present would have agreed. For the ceremony, Betsy had been transformed into a perfect, fashion plate angel. She had submitted to wearing a wig (sent through enemy lines from Philadelphia), which provided her with a tumble of snowy curls. Beneath this, her olive skin, black eyes, and long dark lashes made a magnificent contrast. Mama had insisted upon applying a delicate lamb’s wool brush of rouge to her high cheekbones, which hollowed the Dutch fullness. Her dress was a cream-colored sacque trimmed with lace and white satin bows.
When she entered the room upon the arm of her father, a number of Hudson valley cousins suffered unanticipated pangs of regret. Was this radiant bride really their own sweet, plain “Little Saint Bess”?
“They make a lovely couple.” Peggy sighed and slipped an arm around the waist of her younger cousin, Eliza van Rensselaer. Peggy had earlier confided to Miss van R. that she herself was secretly “a little in love with that rascal Alexander.”
The hordes of tow-headed children were cautioned, and the fire in Mrs. Schuyler’s eyes was sufficient to convince the most rambunctious that she meant business.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, a plain gold band, an heirloom from long ago Amsterdam, was slipped onto the bride’s delicate finger. The old-fashioned lace veil that had belonged to Grandmother Angelica Livingston Van Rensselaer was turned back, and Colonel Hamilton, in his blue and buff uniform, gave his lovely blacked-eyed Betsy a worshipful kiss.
Mrs. Schuyler leaned on her husband’s arm. She, too, was radiant. Within, the baby she carried stirred restlessly, awakened by the triumphant emotion which coursed through her mother like the Hudson in full flood. To see a beloved daughter handed properly from father to husband, married in the midst of this sea of relations, was a supreme moment...."
~~ Juliet Waldron
A MASTER PASSION
Find more at:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eiAe...
http://amzn.com/B00V8UT9I0
Here's the story of a wedding that took place just before Christmas in a country deep in it's first civil war.
*****************************************
"....The wedding took place in the yellow parlor in front of a crackling hearth. The Dutch Reformed minister performed the ceremony and everyone who was anyone for miles around attended. The room was packed with patriot gentry, all turned out in their finest wigs and lace. The young men present were almost universally in blue and buff.
Hamilton had gone to the expense of outfitting himself anew before the trip north and today he looked resplendent in a crisp new uniform. The epaulets of Lieutenant Colonel gleamed on his shoulders; his chest was crossed by the green sash worn by the aides de camp of a commanding general. His hair had been powdered, but not quite enough to extinguish a gingery glitter. Everyone agreed; he looked overwhelmingly handsome.
“If Mama hadn’t had all these months to prepare, I’m afraid my little sister would look like a hen pheasant beside that beautiful fellow.” Angelica whispered waspishly to the only woman present she considered her peer, tall blonde Arietta van Corlear. Diamond earrings flashed against creamy necks as the belles approvingly surveyed the lithe figure of the groom.
Still, few others present would have agreed. For the ceremony, Betsy had been transformed into a perfect, fashion plate angel. She had submitted to wearing a wig (sent through enemy lines from Philadelphia), which provided her with a tumble of snowy curls. Beneath this, her olive skin, black eyes, and long dark lashes made a magnificent contrast. Mama had insisted upon applying a delicate lamb’s wool brush of rouge to her high cheekbones, which hollowed the Dutch fullness. Her dress was a cream-colored sacque trimmed with lace and white satin bows.
When she entered the room upon the arm of her father, a number of Hudson valley cousins suffered unanticipated pangs of regret. Was this radiant bride really their own sweet, plain “Little Saint Bess”?
“They make a lovely couple.” Peggy sighed and slipped an arm around the waist of her younger cousin, Eliza van Rensselaer. Peggy had earlier confided to Miss van R. that she herself was secretly “a little in love with that rascal Alexander.”
The hordes of tow-headed children were cautioned, and the fire in Mrs. Schuyler’s eyes was sufficient to convince the most rambunctious that she meant business.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, a plain gold band, an heirloom from long ago Amsterdam, was slipped onto the bride’s delicate finger. The old-fashioned lace veil that had belonged to Grandmother Angelica Livingston Van Rensselaer was turned back, and Colonel Hamilton, in his blue and buff uniform, gave his lovely blacked-eyed Betsy a worshipful kiss.
Mrs. Schuyler leaned on her husband’s arm. She, too, was radiant. Within, the baby she carried stirred restlessly, awakened by the triumphant emotion which coursed through her mother like the Hudson in full flood. To see a beloved daughter handed properly from father to husband, married in the midst of this sea of relations, was a supreme moment...."
~~ Juliet Waldron
A MASTER PASSION
Find more at:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eiAe...
http://amzn.com/B00V8UT9I0
Angelica ponders the Revolution
Angelica Ten Broeck, patriot heiress, writes in her diary a few days after the American defeat at New York, 1776.
I still can't believe what I saw outside of Aunt Letitia's parlor windows last night. The whole City south of her house was on fire. We were afraid, and the servants stood before the door with muskets in hand. So much smoke blew about that even inside the house we were coughing. The whole sky turned red, and throngs of people carrying pitiful bundles of clothes ran and wept, driving their cows and horses down the street.
I hadn't believed it could happen, that General Washington could be driven out of New York and that the British would rule here again, but that's what has come to pass.
My Aunt believes that Americans set fire to the City themselves, that British troops were not responsible for this arson. This morning the fires still burn, and we've heard that more than half of the buildings downtown are in ruins. Auntie and I had hot words on the subject at breakfast, but after what I've seen and heard of this war, I confess I am truly not certain of what the truth is.
It's unimaginable, the things my Uncle Ten Broeck has written of, terrible things being done all up and down our peaceful valley, the looting and burning, the cruel maiming of horses and cattle done by those who must have nothing but evil in their hearts. Everywhere, my Uncle says, men settle old scores with their neighbors, while hiding these dreadful crimes behind politics--as if calling themselves "Loyalist" or "Patriot" can excuse the wicked things they've done.
Oh why did I ever come to New York? It has turned out exactly as Uncle Jacob warned. I've been a great fool, traveling in the middle of a war! All I want now is to go home, to sail up the river back to Kingston, but now I am trapped behind the lines of our enemy. My Aunt Letitia says that I--and my inheritance--are safer here, that because my Uncle Jacob is a patriot and defies the British, he will be hanged and his lands forfeited to the Crown. It is better, she says, that I "not be involved in his folly and ruin."
She keeps saying she wants me to marry "a respectable English gentleman" and "leave forever this barbaric place". She doesn't seem to understand that I am an American, bred in this land and rebel to the bone. Even though General Washington has been defeated, I believe that in the end--somehow, someway--our Cause will triumph and that one day we shall enjoy the blessings of true liberty and peace...
Angel's Flight originally published as Independent Heart is the Revolutionary War sister book to the award-winner, Genesee.
~Juliet Waldron~
See all my historical novels at:
http://www.julietwaldron.com
http://www.julietwaldron.com
I still can't believe what I saw outside of Aunt Letitia's parlor windows last night. The whole City south of her house was on fire. We were afraid, and the servants stood before the door with muskets in hand. So much smoke blew about that even inside the house we were coughing. The whole sky turned red, and throngs of people carrying pitiful bundles of clothes ran and wept, driving their cows and horses down the street.
I hadn't believed it could happen, that General Washington could be driven out of New York and that the British would rule here again, but that's what has come to pass.
My Aunt believes that Americans set fire to the City themselves, that British troops were not responsible for this arson. This morning the fires still burn, and we've heard that more than half of the buildings downtown are in ruins. Auntie and I had hot words on the subject at breakfast, but after what I've seen and heard of this war, I confess I am truly not certain of what the truth is.
It's unimaginable, the things my Uncle Ten Broeck has written of, terrible things being done all up and down our peaceful valley, the looting and burning, the cruel maiming of horses and cattle done by those who must have nothing but evil in their hearts. Everywhere, my Uncle says, men settle old scores with their neighbors, while hiding these dreadful crimes behind politics--as if calling themselves "Loyalist" or "Patriot" can excuse the wicked things they've done.
Oh why did I ever come to New York? It has turned out exactly as Uncle Jacob warned. I've been a great fool, traveling in the middle of a war! All I want now is to go home, to sail up the river back to Kingston, but now I am trapped behind the lines of our enemy. My Aunt Letitia says that I--and my inheritance--are safer here, that because my Uncle Jacob is a patriot and defies the British, he will be hanged and his lands forfeited to the Crown. It is better, she says, that I "not be involved in his folly and ruin."
She keeps saying she wants me to marry "a respectable English gentleman" and "leave forever this barbaric place". She doesn't seem to understand that I am an American, bred in this land and rebel to the bone. Even though General Washington has been defeated, I believe that in the end--somehow, someway--our Cause will triumph and that one day we shall enjoy the blessings of true liberty and peace...
Angel's Flight originally published as Independent Heart is the Revolutionary War sister book to the award-winner, Genesee.
~Juliet Waldron~
See all my historical novels at:
http://www.julietwaldron.com
http://www.julietwaldron.com
About A Master Passion, A Hamilton Love Story
You’d never know, at first glance, that Mrs. Hamilton was a Leo. When you first learn of a shy girl, “the best tempered girl in the world,” -- an 18th Century way to praise one who is not a great beauty – you can’t imagine any sort of classic Leo female. Such women radiate energy, flaunt their good looks and always have something clever to say.
Still, according to General Washington’s ADC, Tench Tilghman, who met Betsy Schuyler during a war time visit to Albany, she was “…A Brunette with the most good-natured dark lovely eyes that I ever saw, which threw a beam of good temper and Benevolence over her entire Countenance…” Later, during that same visit, three ladies and three gentlemen took a picnic “of Sherbet and Biscuit" to the Falls at Cohoes, north of Albany.
They went for a climb up the rocks in order to get a better view—or at least, Betsy and Tench Tilghman did—and she astonished the Marylander by climbing unaided right alongside him, for “she disdained all assistance and made herself merry at the distress of the other Ladyes.” This gives us a far more Leonine, picture of Miss Betsy—of a healthy, able-bodied creature, who was used to and thoroughly enjoyed physical activity—even if it wasn’t considered “ladylike.”
And she could fascinate in a Leonine way, too, when it suited her. Here follows a sweet story told by one of the elder children of the Ford Mansion, the stately home where Washington’s military family was housed for the winter.
In order that teen-age Timothy might go see his friends in the Village of Morristown, he was given the nightly countersign so that he could pass the sentries posted around the house after dark. One night, as he approached the sentinel, he heard the call for the countersign, but the young officer who’d been trudging ahead of him through the snow couldn’t seem to remember it. The sentry, following orders, presented his bayonet.
The absent-minded officer was Alexander Hamilton, who had been leaving headquarters almost every night to spend time with Miss Betsy, now staying with her Aunt and Uncle Cochran at a farmhouse nearby.
Timothy and the sentry both knew Lieutenant Hamilton, of course, but the sentry didn’t dare disobey orders. In the end, Hamilton took Timothy aside and asked for the password, which he then presented to the still dubious guard. This is the only story concerning absent-mindedness I’ve ever read about the sharp-as-a-tack Hamilton, and I give the Leo in Miss Betsy all the credit.
Later on in their marriage, after her husband's sordid affair with Maria Reynolds, nosy biographers and novelists like me, would love to know how Eliza reacted. (As they grew older, Hamilton's pet name for his Elizabeth changed to one more dignified.)
However, with the strong desire for privacy evidenced by many 18th Century wives of famous men, Mrs. Hamilton, like Konstanze Mozart and Martha Washington, two other notable contemporary examples, doubtless burned any and all written evidence of recrimination. To quote the astrologer, Linda Goodman, on the bravery of Leo* "...there's no one who can bear more in stoic dignity, or adjust more courageously to depressing conditions with sheer faith and optimism...".
This perfectly describes Elizabeth. She lived for more than fifty years after her "dear Hamilton" had died and never ceased to love him and defend his memory. She worked to preserve his vast, scattered written legacy, and fought to maintain his reputation in the face of his longer lived, formidable (Adams, Jefferson) but relentlessly jealous enemies.
Although she had to scrape to raise her children, Elizabeth made her mark in the world, being one of the co-founders of the first orphanage in NYC, a project dear to her heart because through this she honored her husband, who'd also been a fatherless child.
The train of disasters, financial and emotional, which beset this lady never kept her spirits down. Quoting Linda Goodman once more on Leo: "It's hard to sway them from a set path...They accumulate only so they can distribute to others...when a real emergency falls on Leo's strong shoulders..." they will "never shirk ... duty...they will help "the defenseless" and "protect the frightened."
Juliet Waldron
For information and inspiration for this blog, I am indebted to:
*Women of Colonial and Revolutionary Times by Mary Gay Humphreys
*Life of Major General Schuyler by Bayard Tuckerman
*Sun Signs by Linda Goodman
~~Juliet Waldron ~ All my historical novels : http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi
Still, according to General Washington’s ADC, Tench Tilghman, who met Betsy Schuyler during a war time visit to Albany, she was “…A Brunette with the most good-natured dark lovely eyes that I ever saw, which threw a beam of good temper and Benevolence over her entire Countenance…” Later, during that same visit, three ladies and three gentlemen took a picnic “of Sherbet and Biscuit" to the Falls at Cohoes, north of Albany.
They went for a climb up the rocks in order to get a better view—or at least, Betsy and Tench Tilghman did—and she astonished the Marylander by climbing unaided right alongside him, for “she disdained all assistance and made herself merry at the distress of the other Ladyes.” This gives us a far more Leonine, picture of Miss Betsy—of a healthy, able-bodied creature, who was used to and thoroughly enjoyed physical activity—even if it wasn’t considered “ladylike.”
And she could fascinate in a Leonine way, too, when it suited her. Here follows a sweet story told by one of the elder children of the Ford Mansion, the stately home where Washington’s military family was housed for the winter.
In order that teen-age Timothy might go see his friends in the Village of Morristown, he was given the nightly countersign so that he could pass the sentries posted around the house after dark. One night, as he approached the sentinel, he heard the call for the countersign, but the young officer who’d been trudging ahead of him through the snow couldn’t seem to remember it. The sentry, following orders, presented his bayonet.
The absent-minded officer was Alexander Hamilton, who had been leaving headquarters almost every night to spend time with Miss Betsy, now staying with her Aunt and Uncle Cochran at a farmhouse nearby.
Timothy and the sentry both knew Lieutenant Hamilton, of course, but the sentry didn’t dare disobey orders. In the end, Hamilton took Timothy aside and asked for the password, which he then presented to the still dubious guard. This is the only story concerning absent-mindedness I’ve ever read about the sharp-as-a-tack Hamilton, and I give the Leo in Miss Betsy all the credit.
Later on in their marriage, after her husband's sordid affair with Maria Reynolds, nosy biographers and novelists like me, would love to know how Eliza reacted. (As they grew older, Hamilton's pet name for his Elizabeth changed to one more dignified.)
However, with the strong desire for privacy evidenced by many 18th Century wives of famous men, Mrs. Hamilton, like Konstanze Mozart and Martha Washington, two other notable contemporary examples, doubtless burned any and all written evidence of recrimination. To quote the astrologer, Linda Goodman, on the bravery of Leo* "...there's no one who can bear more in stoic dignity, or adjust more courageously to depressing conditions with sheer faith and optimism...".
This perfectly describes Elizabeth. She lived for more than fifty years after her "dear Hamilton" had died and never ceased to love him and defend his memory. She worked to preserve his vast, scattered written legacy, and fought to maintain his reputation in the face of his longer lived, formidable (Adams, Jefferson) but relentlessly jealous enemies.
Although she had to scrape to raise her children, Elizabeth made her mark in the world, being one of the co-founders of the first orphanage in NYC, a project dear to her heart because through this she honored her husband, who'd also been a fatherless child.
The train of disasters, financial and emotional, which beset this lady never kept her spirits down. Quoting Linda Goodman once more on Leo: "It's hard to sway them from a set path...They accumulate only so they can distribute to others...when a real emergency falls on Leo's strong shoulders..." they will "never shirk ... duty...they will help "the defenseless" and "protect the frightened."
Juliet Waldron
For information and inspiration for this blog, I am indebted to:
*Women of Colonial and Revolutionary Times by Mary Gay Humphreys
*Life of Major General Schuyler by Bayard Tuckerman
*Sun Signs by Linda Goodman
~~Juliet Waldron ~ All my historical novels : http://amzn.to/1UDoLAi
