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angelqueen04 · 3 years

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Hamliza Month, Day 27

@megpeggs @historysalt

Languages Summary: Alexander pays a call on Eliza in Morristown.

Alexander trooped along the path toward Dr. Campfield’s house, just as he did nearly every day now. Though there still remained a great deal of snow on the ground, the path he walked was clear and well-trodden and, thankfully, not a complete pit of mud and slush. It was still cold, but the bitterness had begun to fade. It made him hopeful that spring was at last beginning to arrive.

As he approached the neat white house where Dr. and Mrs. Cochran had taken up residence for the winter, and had later been joined by their delightful niece, he glanced toward one of the front windows which looked in on the front parlor. The lace curtains obstructed the view, of course, but Alexander fancied he could catch faint movement behind them. His heart leapt. His dear Betsey was no doubt inside.

He was let into the house by a servant, who took his coat for him and gestured him toward the parlor door. As Alexander approached, he heard the delightful sound of feminine laughter, and then two women falling into conversation that, at first, sounded unusual to Alexander’s ears. It wasn’t until he stood in the doorway and their words became clearer that he understood what was hearing.

Mrs. Cochran and Eliza were speaking Dutch, if he was not mistaken, and with all the fluency of native speakers. Which wasn’t surprising, really, if he thought about it. The Schuylers were among the descendants of the early Dutch settlers in and around Albany and New York, back before the land came into the hands of the British. The old families there held their heritage close.

His appearance must have caught their attention, because Mrs. Cochran, who sat on the sofa facing him, stopped speaking and beamed when she saw him. Eliza was sitting next to her aunt on the sofa, but had her back to the door. She turned to look over her shoulder to see what had made her aunt halt in mid-sentence, and her eyes immediately lit up. “Alexander!” she said, thrilled with his appearance. “We did not expect you until supper!”

He strode further into the room, bowing courteously first to Mrs. Cochran and then turning his full attention to Eliza, who had risen to meet him. She approached him faster than would be considered proper in most circles, but Alexander hardly cared. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss to her knuckles. “My dear Betsey,” he murmured against her skin.

Mrs. Cochran rose too at that moment, giving them a genuine, indulgent smile. “I’ll go see about getting something warm to drink,” she told them before slipping past them and out of the room, though the door was pointedly left open. Technically, it was tea time, Alexander supposed, though he knew as well as anyone that there was no tea to be found for miles. Still, he did not doubt Mrs. Cochran’s resourcefulness. She would bring something for them.

Eliza wound her arm in his and led him to the sofa she and her aunt had just vacated. “How are you, my Alexander?” she asked as they settled themselves.

“Well enough,” he replied. “There appears to be an actual lull in the copious amount of letters that the General must send, and so I was excused early. They will send someone if I am needed, though I don’t expect that will happen.”

She nodded. “We received a letter from my sister, Mrs. Carter. She’ll be joining us here within the next week, along with her two children.” Eliza smiled, her happiness apparent over the impending arrival of a dearly beloved sister.

Alexander expressed his own pleasure at the news, but then turned the conversation back to what he had noticed upon his arrival. “Were you and Mrs. Cochran speaking Dutch when I came in?”

Eliza blinked at the change of subject, but nodded. “Oh, yes. Why?”

He shrugged, brushing his fingers along the back of her hand fondly. “No reason. I was exposed to many different languages in my youth,” he told her, “and I became fluent in several of them. Though,” Alexander admitted, “I am a bit rusty in some of them, such as Dutch.” He smiled somewhat self-deprecatingly at her. “General Washington has a great need for my skills in French more than any other. Even as the Marquis’ English improves, he still has a tendency to fall back into his native tongue when he becomes excited over one topic or another. Which is often.” He laughed, recalling his friend’s natural high spirits.

Eliza also chuckled, and Alexander recalled that she too had met the Marquis de Lafayette in the past, and was thus quite familiar with his natural exuberance.[1] “I first learned Dutch as a child,” she said. “My parents spoke it at home more than anything else, particularly when we were just among the family. I suppose English would be my second language, with French being my third.”

She paused, and her expression seemed to grow slightly pensive. Alexander was about to ask her what troubled her, but then Eliza forged ahead of her own volition. “With French, I can speak and follow it well enough when spoken by others, but my talent for reading and writing it leaves much to be desired. Angelica always performed better than I did in such things.” A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she looked down at their joined hands, avoiding his direct gaze.

She was embarrassed, Alexander realized with some astonishment. His Betsey was actually ashamed that she had difficulty with learning another language. And she had mentioned that her older sister was quite fluent? Perhaps some indication of sibling rivalry or jealousy? Alexander himself only had limited experience with that, due to he and his brother being so often separated, even as boys. They were never truly around one another enough to grow jealous of each other’s talents.

It won’t do, he thought with sudden fervor. He would not have his dear, wonderful Eliza look down upon herself or think herself in any way inferior to anyone or anything. While he was certain that Mrs. Carter was a wonderful woman, he did not care if she was a genius on par with Hypatia of Alexandria. Alexander refused to countenance Eliza blushing over the idea that she was somehow wanting in comparison to her sister, or to anyone.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but then stopped, still thinking furiously. There was an idea forming in his mind, but he did not want Eliza to think he pitied her. His future bride was perhaps the most modest soul he had ever met, but Alexander knew that she still had her pride, and woe betide anyone who managed to offend it.

After several moments, he squeezed her hands. “I have a proposition for you, my love,” he told her.

Eliza looked up at him. “Oh? What would that be?” she asked.

Alexander let go of one her hands to run his hand over the back of his head. “I propose a trade,” he said. “If you will allow me to practice and improve my Dutch with you, I will aid you in improving your reading and writing of French.”

Eliza’s dark eyes widened, surprised by the offer. “Truly? But why?” she inquired. “You said that the General requires your fluency in French more than any other language. What need do you have of Dutch?”

He smiled at her, letting his hand fall back atop the one he had previously let go. Taking it in his, he held both of her hands up between his and replied, “We will not always be at war, my Betsey. The former colonies, especially New York, are a port of call for many, some who seek a better life than the one they left behind, or even just as a stopping point on the way to somewhere else. There are multiple languages that are spoken in these lands besides the King’s – besides English. I mean to have at least some familiarity with as many as I can. You could assist me with that with your fluency in Dutch, and I can return the favor by aiding you in improving your French, as it a language that people should certainly know. I am aware of several books that might help you that you could seek out from your father or purchase if you so wish.”

Eliza gazed at him, her eyes still wide with shocked amazement. Just when Alexander thought he may have been too hasty in his offer, that he might have offended her after all, she broke into a wide smile. “You are such a dear,” she said, shaking her head. “I accept your offer,” she then said, and her grin took on a teasing quality, adding, “But I must warn you, sir, I can be very hard to keep up with in my native tongue. I hope you are up to the challenge.”

Alexander laughed and said, “I shall endeavor not to disappoint my teacher, then.” Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her. He’d intended it only to be a peck, a playful gesture. The moment their lips connected, however, it was as though they were both struck by lightning. The desire that rose up in him was like nothing Alexander had ever felt before. He was not a virgin by any means, but the sudden, desperate yearning for this woman on the sofa with him put his previous conquests – not that there had been that many, anyway – quite in the shade.

And if Eliza’s own enthusiastic participation in their abrupt embrace was any indication, she too was every bit as overwhelmed as he was.

Within the space of moments, they had closed the polite gap that even engaged couples kept out of modesty and were completely ensconced in each other’s arms. Alexander marveled over just how good it felt to have Betsey like this, in his arms, kissing him, loving him. How it made him want more. He nudged even closer, encouraging her to lean further back on the sofa, and he grabbed one of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together…

The sound of someone clearing their throat pointedly reached both their ears, but took a moment for it to sink in. When it did, both he and Eliza reared back in their haste to separate. They both turned toward the door, their guilt apparent in their flushed faces, in their swollen lips, in their heavy breathing.

Mrs. Cochran stood in the doorway, a tea tray held before her. The older woman stared at them both, a single eyebrow raised pointedly. “Really, dears,” she said, her tone laced with disappointment as she swept into the room, placing the tray down on a table by the window.

Alexander opened his mouth, ready to offer his profuse apologies, to her and to Eliza, for allowing his passions to get the better of him, when Mrs. Cochran turned back to them, this time with a wicked sparkle in her eye. Before he could utter a word, she continued, “If you are going to play those types of games, the parlor is not the place for them, where anyone can walk in.” Her gaze shifted to Eliza. “Truly, dear, have you forgotten the stories I told you about your own parents?”[2]

Alexander blinked, confused, and turned toward Eliza, only to find her blushing even more fiercely than before. “No, Aunt,” she murmured, ducking her head and glancing in Alexander’s direction. “I didn’t forget.”

What was that all about? Alexander wondered. He didn’t get a chance to ask, however, as Mrs. Cochran kept close after that, never permitting him and Eliza another moment to be by themselves. She did not scold them further for their behavior, though, nor did she ever seem to inform Dr. Cochran, much to Alexander’s relief.

In the years to come, though, she would tease him and Eliza both about that day, speaking fondly of young love and how it could grow and mature into the stoutest of bonds.

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[1] I don’t know for certain if Eliza and Lafayette met before 1780, but Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie created a very plausible scenario for their first meeting in the early pages of their novel, My Dear Hamilton, so I went with the idea that she had her own acquaintance with him.

[2] An allusion to the fact that Catharine Van Rensselaer was actually some months pregnant with Angelica when she and Philip Schuyler married. No one in this family was foolish, so I can just imagine that Catharine and Philip endured all sorts of familial teasing about that over the years, and the kids would have picked up on it and/or were told stories about it. The whole ‘no sex before marriage’ concept didn’t truly become a huge Thing until a few generations later (thank the Victorians). At this time, I’ve read that at least a third of women were already pregnant when they married, which says that people were not as prim and proper as people think them to be. And culturally among Eliza’s people, it seems that it was the engagement that was the most important thing, not necessarily the marriage ceremony. So if Eliza and Alexander were to have some fun together pre-December 1780, well, so long as the engagement remained intact and Alexander didn’t try to run from it, then no one was going to scold them too much.

This ficlet was partially inspired by a letter Alexander wrote to Eliza, dated July 2-4, 1780, where he reminds her “not to neglect the charges I gave you particularly that of taking care of your self, and that of employing all your leisure in reading.” I’ve read several different accounts – fanfiction, pro fiction, and nonfiction alike – interpreting Eliza’s reaction to this letter as one of hurt feelings, that Alexander was thoughtlessly implying that she was somehow not good or smart enough or something like that. I wanted to do a different take on it, and came up with this. Eliza’s first language was likely Dutch, and was said to have continued her fluency in it into adulthood, but seemed to have trouble with French. Alexander was fluent in French – it was one reason he was so valuable to Washington during the Revolution – and likely knew Dutch very well from his early years in the West Indies. And I wanted him to actually think a little before offering to help Eliza with her French, and not have him hurt her feelings in making the suggestion.

So I expected this to be just a cute little moment where the two discuss languages, but then they pretty much hijacked my brain and insisted on supplying several paragraphs of them making out like two horny twenty-something-year-olds. Because that is what they were at this point in their lives. And in doing so they introduced a third language into the moment – the language of love. ;)

#my fanfiction #hamliza month #hamliza #alexander hamilton #elizabeth schuyler hamilton

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sandersidess · 6 years

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Mexican (American) Virgil

SO YES I AM PROJECTING AND I RELATE MORE TO VIRGIL HERE THROUGH MY CHILDHOOD/TEEN YEARS/EVEN NOW SO LET US BEGIN MY PEEPS (and sorry if i project too much) Inspiration to do this is thanks to @ierindoodles from their Brazilian Patton post and @really-sleep-deprived-nerd from their Argentinian Roman post

Virgil is slightly light skinned compared to his family, and he does get teased about it and has learned not to take it to heart

He has immigrant parents and will fight anyone who disses on immigrants and will be proud of how hard working his parents are

Grew up in a mostly mixed Latino community, but stays away from the kids because some are just rude thanks to their ignorant parents who are toxic also

Will not admit it, but he does love chisme and just pretend to have music playing as his mother and aunt talk

He will get involved if it’s good and exaggerate his expressions and even stir up whatever is happening

IS A TALL BOI

His dad is slightly jealous of his height

Not a big fan of soccer never got the appeal of it but does enjoy some basketball

Loves loves LOVES making tamales with his mother during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday

He enjoys when his family comes together, and that they can talk freely and just be together for a few days

He does hate how toxic his family can get and just needs to stay away

Has two brothers, one older than him by four years and three months and the other younger the same amount of time also

He did close off more during his teen years, and his parents didn’t understand but didn’t do much because they just didn’t know

Was an outcast at that time, and he only started to open up more during his junior year of high school with his mom mostly and then with his father

Came out gay in a Sam’s parking lot at 15 because his parents teased him that he likes boys (and yes this happened to me, but i came out as bisexual)

His parents were shocked and didn’t respond, but the next day they hugged him and he cried and his parents promised to learn and be less ignorant (Virgil during years helped them out with questions but were always accepting)

He is fluent in both english and spanish, but struggles with spanish as his parents put him in a school at the age of 2 1/2 so he can learn english first than spanish

He does messing with his parents on speaking Spanglish as it frustrates his mom at times (his dad is just laughing in the background)

Has some trouble writing it also

Talks super fast in spanish and will not slow down unless you tell him to

Especially when he’s passionate about something and explaining it to his parents

Hates Hates HATES when people say Cinco de Mayo is Mexican Independent Day

“But that’s when Mexico won against the french!” “Okay, but that was Puebla” “Oh, but you still throw a fiesta?” “No, not all Mexicans celebrate it, usually only people of Puebla. Google is free by the way”

He does not know how to dance (well he does know how to move his hips) and was a mess when asked to be a chambelan for his best friend’s quinceñera

But he will dance with his mom when she plays classic old songs she used to listen when he was a child

He does love Banda MS and will listen to their songs along with K-Paz and Vicente Fernandez (and more) (he will pretend to hold a tequila bottle when listening to him)

His dad actually has a picture of him doing so and has it as his home screen

He is a proud First Gen high school student and college student (his older brother dropped out of school)

He cried and cried during his graduation and hugged his parents tightly and promised to make them proud

I am projecting too much oops

He will enjoy watching his mother cook as she pays so much attention to what she adds and will ask questions

Though he never has has never stepped foot in Mexico, his parents from Guerrero (Chilpancingo and Acapulco) tell him how it is and he does hope to go one day once the violence has calmed down

Will always say how proud he is about who he is and will bash anyone who even tries to bad talk about latinos

Back to food, is very, VERY picky about mole and barbacoa de pollo and enchiladas and hevos a la mexicana, because he is very used to his parents food and will cry inside when he hears how his friends (non-poc) judge the food he brings

Loves the like the slang words his parents say and use it on his friends

Also just loves messing with his friends

“Ama! Tengo hambre!” “Haste de comer, huevon!” “Ya no me sirbe nada!” “Mira pendejo-” (cue Virgil laughing and running to his room)

Has been victim of the chancla and will tell his mom to try out for baseball

Loves his family so much and will die and kill for them

#projecting #mexican virgil #mexican american virgil #latino virgil #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ts virgil #fanders #thomas sanders #not a quote #do add on more please #jazz talks #long post #ask to tag

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