A Master Passion~~A snippet from the cutting room

I wrote and rewrote A Master Passion for a period of fifteen years, ending with a novel well over a 1000 pages long. Some scenes, especially those in the beginning which dealt with the far less well-known Elizabeth Schuyler, were cut. This scene, telling us more about the future Mrs. Hamilton, was among the ones that (sadly, I think) fell by the wayside.

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           Colonel Tench Tilghman had come north to Albany, an emissary from the Continental Congress, to attend a parley with the Indians.  General Schuyler and the Americans wished to obtain assurances of neutrality before the war with Britain broke out. 

            Today, though, as if there was no great war on the horizon, Tilghman and a group of young Albany gentry had taken a picnic to the falls at Cohoes, which he had been told was "one of the notable sights of the region."  The Colonel, accompanied Betsy in a steep climb to get a close up look at the top of the falls.

             The path Miss Schuyler elected was surprisingly bad. There were rocks to scramble over and briar patches to negotiate, but she appeared to enjoy this sort of rough ramble. At first Tilghman wondered if this was one of these feminine games which would end with her leaning helplessly upon his arm, but he was more than surprised when this dainty-looking miss kept pace with him. The way to the top was almost vertical, frequently necessitating an undignified down-on-all-fours attack. 

            At the breathless summit, they paused, panting and admiring the view. Tilghman experienced an unexpected rush of pleasure. The young woman's easy manner made him almost feel comfortable, even though they were now completely alone together.

            Pray God I do not have to reveal my wretched broken heart to another lady in search of a husband...

            The way she'd brought him to this splendid sight, agile and uncomplaining as a boy, demonstrated that she'd made the climb many times.

            "Come, Colonel Tilghman!" Betsy called over the noise of falling water.  "The best view is from here."

            Stockings flashing, revealing shapely calves, she scaled the last rock.  Tilghman, following her, had the insouciant thought that the best view might possibly be from exactly where he was. 

           When he reached the height, he found himself an arm's length from enormous quantities of green water hurtling over a narrow lip.  Falling, it became a spectacular white veil.  The ground beneath his feet shook alarmingly.

            Beside him on that rocky shelf, Betsy dropped to her knees, then stretched out on her stomach to get as close as possible to the roaring water. 

          "Do come, Colonel."

          Thunder sounded on every side.  The quick climb, vertigo, the sight of a lady young stretched at full length on the ground, left him almost giddy.

           The wind shifted and spray blew into their faces.   Betsy turned and smiled, a dazzling white flash against her nut-brown skin...

~~Juliet Waldron

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SHE WAS A LEO...

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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 18^th 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.

The Falls at Cohoes, low flow

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 the marriage, after her husband's sordid affair with Maria Reynolds, nosy biographers as well as 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."   

@ New York Historical Society

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

And, please, if you've got a moment, check out these talented

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http://triciamg.blogspot.com/ (Tricia McGill)

http://mizging.blogspot.com/ (Ginger Simpson)

http://connievines.blogspot.com.au/ Connie Vines

Washington Advises~~From A MASTER PASSION

For George Washington's Birthday, thought I'd offer a snippet from A MASTER PASSION, one which takes place in Morristown, where, for two winters, the Revolutionary Army encamped.

A MASTER PASSION-read more

“Your Excellency.” Hamilton saluted and stepped close to the commander’s desk.

“Ah, Colonel Hamilton.” Confronted by that weary, wintry face, Hamilton feared the worst.

 

 If anything has gone wrong with the rum consignment, I am about to catch hell.

“I have here a letter full of conundrums from Mr. van Pelt.”

The letter was passed. Hamilton speedily scanned it, thanking his lucky stars as he did so. As irksome as this new problem was, it was apothecary supplies, not the all-important rum consignment.

Standing tall, Hamilton summarized in a few brief sentences the recent transactions he’d had with van Pelt so Washington could fully understand where the matter stood. Washington nodded his gray head, listening.

While he talked, Hamilton’s mind darted to a possible solution. This allowed him to conclude with a suggestion. He was relieved when the commander nodded.

“Try it, Colonel. Still, it’s damned hard to do business with our Congress promising—but never quite delivering—the money.”

 

Hamilton nodded emphatically. Lack of funds was the distilled essence of the Continental Army’s troubles.

“Write me a letter to this refractory gentleman. Intimate we’ll have what we need one way or another. Twist his tail a little. We’ll send it off under my signature, first thing in the morning.”

Hamilton seated himself at a nearby writing desk and found paper. Washington appeared grimmer than usual. It had been a long day, and the added strain of socializing with the patriot gentry had made it even longer.

 

If you were an ordinary man, George Washington, you would yawn and stretch, lean back in your chair and close your eyes.

Instead, the General picked up another piece of correspondence and proceeded to study it, grave as a monument. Hamilton tapped his quill on the edge of the inkwell and searched for the words to prod Mr. van Pelt.

Embers of blue and rose glowed upon the hearth, illuminating blackened logs. A winter wind, like a starving dog, snuffled around the corners of the house.

After half an hour, Hamilton had crafted a letter. While he stood at attention, anxious and weary, Washington read it over, nodded, and then signed with a flourish.

“Excellent, Colonel Hamilton. As much and as little as needs to be said. That last sentence, which could be construed as a threat, will probably elicit some action.”

A cold, slight smile of approval curved the General’s lips as he dried the ink with a sprinkle of sand

As Hamilton inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, Washington spoke again.

“One last matter, Colonel.”

Now what? Every muscle in his body begged to go upstairs, to fall into his narrow camp bed, and plummet into unconsciousness.

With precision, Washington folded the letter. He fired wax and let it drip onto the crease, setting his seal precisely. As this went on, there was silence, nothing but wind and crinkling coals. Hamilton was motionless. Washington was a ponderous thinker, and long pauses were common. What the General finally articulated, however, was neither about the commissary or the war.

“You could do far worse, you know, Colonel Hamilton.”

“Sir?”

Washington lifted his head and regarded him levelly. “Than a little winter campaigning, my boy, directed toward capturing the heart of a certain charming newcomer to our assembly.”

With alarm, Hamilton recognized amusement in those cold blue eyes. The “my boy” signaled that the usually distant Washington intended their conversation to be personal...

 

 

~~Juliet Waldron

All my Historical Novels

 

A MASTER PASSION is available @

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A Master Passion, the story of Alexander & his Betsy

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Master Passion / KOBO

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(Connie Vines)

 

 

"...the groveling condition of a Clerk..."

The work-a-day trials of a teen-age clerk

from A MASTER PASSION:

 

 

“You goddamned puffed-up little nobody!” The planter had Alex by the shirt.

Ordinarily, he would have defended himself, but this was an important customer, so, instead, he only twisted and ducked. The ham fist struck his back, almost knocking the breath out of him as he wrenched free.

“I’ll teach you to talk back!”

It had not been because of anything, really, but simply because the fellow was in a foul mood. He’d entered the store in a rage and passed it along in the casual fashion a man might kick a cur in the street. Mr. Cruger watched from the back, but made no move to interfere.

The customer is always right. Especially this son-of-a bitch! And Cruger’s absolute indifference to right or wrong, is the best the filthy snake can do….

At quitting time, Alexander was off down the beach. He hated his life and everyone in it.

“God help me, or even the Devil.” He spoke aloud, feeling supremely daring. “When the next war comes, I shall jump ship and run straight to it.”

There was a special place to which Alexander went whenever he wanted to be alone. It was a rough trek through a forbidding grove of twisted manchineel and then up a brush-covered headland. After a slow ledge-to-ledge descent down the cliff face, he’d reach an outcrop a mere twenty feet above high tide, but hidden from anyone above.

 

Today, all he wanted was to stretch out, to listen to the boom of the waves. He anticipated a rare moment of fantasy, one that involved sailing away, maybe to some distant war, or maybe to America to see his friend Ned Stevens...

~~ Juliet V. Waldron
http://www.julietwaldron.com
Historical novels with grit and passion

 

A MASTER PASSION

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Up the Hudson

 

 

 

"Above the joining of Fishkill and Hudson, the Catskills appeared. Betsy’s spirits lifted at the sight. Bearing the sloop on its back, the Hudson poured green water against the bow. Farms, orchards, forests, all were lush and green, high summer all around. Along the shores, people bathed and boated. In the early morning, deer drank. Betsy saw it all as she walked back and forth, carrying Johnny, querulous and delicate, in her arms.

It was cooler now. Betsy felt better at once in spite of the strain of traveling with a sick child. The nursemaid had all she could do to keep track of Jamie, who raced up and down the deck, in constant danger of falling overboard. The wind blew from the north, so they tacked back and forth, slowly making their way upriver.

 

 

Cool at last and fresh, cold mornings! The cabin was close, but once on deck, it was another world. The shimmering, stinking streets of Philadelphia were only a dreary memory.

 

 

 

At the first sight of the red brick house up the bank, of green lawn and orchards spilling toward the water, Betsy felt her heart leap, in spite of the ache of missing Alexander.

 

 

 

As they tied up at the quay, she saw dark towers crowding ominously in the west. Maybe there would be a storm this evening, a big one...."

~~Juliet Waldron
    Excerpt from:

A MASTER PASSION

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Images: Schuyler Mansion Historic Site, Albany, NY, View from the upstairs Great Room, by Kathy Fischer-Brown


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http://connievines.blogspot.com.au/ Connie Vines

A Revolutionary War Wedding

September is almost as popular as June for weddings nowadays.
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:

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https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/a-master-passion-the-story-of-alexander-and-elizabeth-hamilton

And for more Sunday Snippets, hop along to these talented Books We Love Writers:

http://triciamg.blogspot.com/

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http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/ (Jamie Hill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com/ (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com.au/ Connie Vines