Eliza Schuyler Quotes

But the measure of a man, of a life, of a union of man and wife or even country is not in the falling. It’s in the rising back up again to repair what’s broken, to put right what’s wrong. Your father and I did that. We always did that. He never stopped trying until the day he died. And neither will I.

What a high-minded thing revolution had seemed when it started; but now I wondered if, in trying to bring about liberty, we’d instead opened the gates of endless war, bloodshed, and immorality.

Though the natural weakness of her body hinders her from doing what men can perform, she has a mind as valiant and as active for the good of her country as the best of us. - Plutarch

They'd murdered my husband. They'd taken him from me. But I still had his words, and they were my solace. Hamilton could still speak to me through those pages. His love letters. His Ideas. His essays. Thousands of pages. They could kill him, but they couldn't silence him. Not if his story was told. Not if his work was preserved. And I resolved to collect the pieces of the legacy Alexander left behind.

A marriage is like a union of states, requiring countless dinner table bargains to hold it together. There may be irreconcilable differences brewing below the surface that can come to open rupture. And there is, in a marriage, as in a nation, a certain amount of storytelling we do to make it understood. Even if those stories we tell to make our marriage, or country, work don't paint the whole picture, they're still true. But to leave Alexander Hamilton out of the painting entirely is a lie.

No one wanted to serve anymore. Not when, under our new government, any man, whether a gentleman or a scoundrel, could say whatever he pleased and print whatever libels he wished without consequence. And the ignorant populists, spewing tobacco juice as they ranted, took full advantage. As if the notion that all men were created equal somehow meant that one need not aspire to knowledge and ability—all distinctions of class, breeding, or merit discarded, all notions of civility deserted.

There are families whose greatness lies in their past, and in their legacies, Mrs. Schuyler answered. That is a quality much to be admired, for tradition is what binds us as a society. But there are some families, like some nations, whose greatness is a future development, and that quality, though harder to discern than the prestige of manor houses and coats of arms and titles of rank and office, is no less valuable, if, indeed, not more so.

And at last, the lonely young man who belonged to no one finally belonged to someone, forever, and the practical girl who would not settle for less then a love story for the ages found the life long romance she had yearned for all her life.

Punishing General Schuyler for the defeat is akin to punishing a mule for being a born a mule, when its parents were a horse and an ass: Some things were simply meant to be.

I was someone before I met Alexander Hamilton. Not someone famous or important or with a learned philosophical understanding of all that was at stake in our revolution. Not a warrior or a philosopher or statesman. But I was a patriot. I was no unformed skein of wool for Hamilton to weave together into any tapestry he wished. That's important for me to remember now, when every thread of my life has become tangled with everything he was. Important, I think, in sorting out what can be forgiven, to remember my own experiences - the ones filled with my own yearnings that had nothing to do with him. I was, long before he came into my life, a young woman struggling to understand her place in a changing world. And torn, even then, between loyalty, duty, and honor in the face of betrayal.

Since both Eliza and Angelica were pregnant, sister Peggy crept downstairs to retrieve the endangered child. The leader of the raiding party barred her way with a musket. “Wench, wench! Where is your master?” he demanded. “Gone to alarm the town,” the coolheaded Peggy said. The intruder, fearing that Schuyler would return with troops, fled in alarm.

What Mrs. Schuyler is saying," General Schuyler added, "is that it is the Schuylers who would be honored by a union woth so brilliant and noble a personage as Colonel Hamilton.

Perhaps democracy would always naturally devolve to a state when only a man like Burr—a greedy libertine without any care for what the world might say about him—would stand for election. For what gentleman could ever

the Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site in Albany, Ian Mumpton and Danielle Funiciello, who provided copies of letters and answered a thousand questions, large and small. Though any errors you may find in this manuscript are ours alone. Thanks also go to the Daughters of the American Revolution and their magazine for providing research material of interest for subjects like Sinterklaas and Dutch culture in Eliza’s time. Lars Hedbor for helping to nitpick the historical accuracy of everything from coffee to French uniforms. Alison Morton and Annalori Ferrell for

This is a new country, as you say. Why shouldn’t it have new laws, new customs? And why should not those customs extend to the home itself. To—to love!

Semper Fidelis, Eliza. I am a Schuyler, too. I will always take my family’s part over that of even the most charming friend. If Mr. Jefferson wished to stay in my good graces, then he ought not to have set his partisan lackeys against your husband. Now it’s war.

Be honest: If you had to do it all over again, which of the Schuyler sisters would you propose to, based on tonight’s ensembles?

For there were the Schuyler sisters, the undisputed queens of the party: Angelica, regal and self-possessed, even next to her less-than-graceful partner, a short and portly but jolly-looking older gentleman; and Peggy, laughing vivaciously and looking as though she were dancing with a French count rather than an awkward lad, the young Van Rensselaer heir. But above all there was Eliza, wearing a dress more suited to the schoolroom than the ballroom, who had insulted his name and rank at every turn, and had even stepped on his foot—and who made him want nothing more than for her to step on the other.

Almost as an afterthought Mrs. Schuyler had warned Eliza, “I suppose that foul Colonel Hamilton will be there as well.

Eliza Schuyler?” said Colonel Laurens, with a piercing gaze. “Yes, the one and the same,” she said, and wondered at the look he gave her.

Angelica Schuyler, don’t make me pinch you in a parlor full of people!

It’s me,” he said. “I’m here. You don’t have to marry him. You have to—that is—” He sank somewhat gingerly to one knee. “Elizabeth Schuyler, my darling Eliza, my one and only Betsey, will you marry me?

Give Eliza Schuyler yards of fabric or pounds of mutton, and she could tell you exactly the yield of breeches or stew. But emotions were not the stuff of stitchery or recipes.

And take the advice of your fondest friend—the Schuyler girl is yours for the asking. It’s time to rally, soldier. Do not wait to speak your heart.

B-but . . . ,” Alex stammered, “I had assumed the good doctor’s wife would be doing this.” He showed his teeth in a nervous smile. “Are we quite sure Miss Schuyler, ah, well, that she knows what she’s doing?

You support the abolitionist cause?” he asked. “Fervently,” she said. “We Schuylers have always, always espoused a belief in the equality of black and white souls.

Beloved by you, I can be happy in any situation, and can struggle with every embarrassment of fortune with patience and firmness. I cannot however forbear entreating you to realize our union on the dark side and satisfy, without deceiving yourself, how far your affection for me can make you happy in a privation of those elegancies to which you have been accustomed. If fortune should smile upon us, it will do us no harm to have been prepared for adversity; if she frowns upon us, by being prepared, we shall encounter it without the chagrin of disappointment. Your future rank in life is a perfect lottery; you may move in an exalted you may move in a very humble sphere; the last is most probable; examine well your heart. —Letter from Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, August 1780

And so, Mrs. Schuyler resorted to a strategy that had served her own mother well in times of need. She was throwing a ball.

The Schuyler Mansion Albany, New York November 1777

Chocolate! Of course. Eliza the sensible Schuyler. Plain dresses, no wigs, not even a bit of décolletage to give us something to look at.” And as he spoke, his free hand darted forward and swatted at Eliza’s shawl, dragging it roughly from her shoulders. “What! I spoke too soon! Look at those, I had not realized you were so . . . blessed!

I can’t believe it! At last, a suitor the Schuyler parents will approve of. Washington’s most-trusted aide! And neither too British nor too young nor—” “Nor too rich. Mama will not like that, I fear.

The Schuyler Mansion, Also Known as the Pastures Albany, New York December 14, 1780

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT her mother, for as much as this was Mrs. Schuyler’s triumph, it was Eliza’s day. And on this very special day Eliza remained true to herself to the last.

A round table covered in a beautiful damask cloth was carried into the great hall for the ceremonial cutting of the cake. As was the custom, the cook had baked a piece of nutmeg inside. Whoever received the slice with the nutmeg was supposed to be the next to marry. Catherine Schuyler nearly fainted when it turned out to be Peggy.

ELIZABETH SCHUYLER HAMILTON stood next to her husband as he skimmed rocks across the Pastures’ frozen duck pond. A nearby flock of geese rose from the riverbank and squawked at the two of them, switching directions in midair at the sound of Alex’s sliding another rock across the ice.

Though quite distinct in appearance, they were nevertheless so close that they were often referred to collectively as “the Schuyler sisters,” as if they were triplets.

Alexander had believed that Eliza’s father, Philip Schuyler, would look after her. But the old general’s long history of ill health, coupled with the deaths of his wife and his favorite son-in-law, soon claimed him as well. He died in November 1804, only four months after Alexander.