AW Farmer, or 'A Westchester Farmer', was Samuel Seabury's pen name.
---
This whole affair had caused a rift in our relationship. I didn't mean it to. Alexander became even more immersed in his work, and I spent more and more time in the workshop.
Alexander tried to talk to me. More than once. He tried hard to understand why I turned my back against my king. Maybe that's what he didn't understand- I don't serve under any king, and I never will. But when that didn't work, he just called me 'unreasonable' and stormed off.
I mean, yes, I was unreasonable, but Alexander was unreasonable too. I know that my sudden proclamation of supporting the patriots was- well- sudden, but Alexander was acting ridiculous- wasn't he the one that was supposed to be an extremist on the patriot side?
On the bright side, Hercules Mulligan had finally wasn't acting strange. After that night, he had explained to me that he had seen me read the letter from 'The Sons Of Liberty'. "I had been afraid of what you would do had you been a loyalist."
He had also briefly explained to me some of the politics of the time. From what I had understood, the American side were called the patriots, and the British side were called... British, but Americans supporting the British were called loyalists. It's pretty simple, but it's the only simple part of it.
Mulligan had also disclosed that he, himself, was a part of the Sons of Liberty, which seems to be the equivalent of the FBI, but I'm probably wrong- he lost me at 'political organization'. Well, at least I got the American part right.
Alexander seemed to be deflated during the next two weeks, and yet I could still see a storm forming in his head. He started acting strange, and he started coming back to our room much later at night.
Another week later he had stopped nagging me about my choice, but I felt his uneasiness. Anyway, that's not something I shouldn't be concerned with at the moment- Hercules had tasked me with going to the market to get some kind of fancy material. "'Tis the easy part, my boy- avoiding the pickpockets is, by far, more of a challenge."
The markets are packed, and completely bustling with people. Children weave around people, blending into the crowd seamlessly. From what I was told, the children are the ones I want to avoid. My wallet is securely stashed in a hidden pocket Hercules made me, so I'm not that worried.
After walking for a bit, I trip over something. Through the feet of the crowd I notice a little bracelet laying there, and I quickly pick it up before it gets lost. It's a dainty little thing, elegantly reflecting the sunlight. It seemed to be made out of silver and adorned with little red gemstones.
It looks expensive, especially for this time period. This obviously belongs to someone with money, but who would drop something like this? Maybe it's important to that person. My first thought was to find them, but how could I? I know nothing. But I couldn't just leave with this.
So I put on the bracelet and waited for something to happen. For someone to come- anything, honestly. Many people passed, unbothered, and I still waited.
I waited a while, but nobody seemed to have lost anything- maybe that's when I realized it was pointless. I thought of leaving the bracelet on an obvious surface, but it would get snatched by someone.
I sigh and take the bracelet with me.
When I finally return, with the needed materials in one hand and the bracelet hidden under my sleeves, it's already dark. I must've waited longer than I thought as the workshop is empty. After putting all the various fabrics on the table, I go up to our shared room.
Alexander is by the desk, pen-feather-thing drooping in his hand- it takes a moment to realize that he's asleep. A faint smile tugs at my lips, and I pluck the feather out of his hand, safely putting it out of the way.
He's going to be in pain tomorrow if I don't move him. With a small amount of hesitation, I lift him from his chair. After taking off Alexander's waistcoat and stockings and relocating him to the bed, I take a peek at what he's working on.
It seems to be some kind of personal project, as it was very rough and messy. When I took a closer look, I realize that it's not Alex's work- it's a long pamphlet called "Free Thoughts, on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress" by some farmer. Through all of the pages, there was Alexander's work- circled words with comments, question marks, grammatical corrections, bullet points scattered around the page- and it was obvious that he disagreed with whatever was written. At one point there was an arrow pointing at a sentence with a messy "RIDICULOUS!" written on the bottom.
I wondered what got Alexander so riled up, but the moment I tried reading it my braincells slowly died from the old English, so I stopped and carefully put the pamphlet away.
While I was getting dressed to bed, Alexander kicked the blanket and muttered something about 'preventing salutary effects, farmer boy' which made me chuckle. Whatever he had read must have been really impactful for Alexander to think about it in his sleep. After slipping into the bed, Alexander somehow found me and clung to me, sticking his freezing body to mine.
Fucking leech, but I couldn't bring myself to be mad. I sigh and hope that he won't start kicking me in his sleep, but the chances of that are low. Really low.
Alexander sighs and mutters something in his sleep again, something about "ridiculous quibbles", right before pressing his ice cold nose to my neck.
---
Whatever the pamphlet was, it really ticked Alexander off. It's hilarious, honestly- he would appear in the workshop at random times of the day to rant about it, saying that he couldn't concentrate on his studies while such blasphemy was being published and read, Solomon, honestly, who lets this damned farmer walk free?
Maybe this was his weird way of socializing- we still weren't on talking terms because of the disagreement that day, but he simply couldn't resist complaining about this. Speaking about complaining- he couldn't get enough of it, always coming back with an "Oh, one more thing-!"
It was cute until he started to disrupt my work. The fourth time I pricked my finger that week- because he startled me- I finally said "Why the fuck do you care so much about this?"
"Solomon, you've surely read it, it's all complete and utter nonsense-"
"No, I haven't." I interrupted him, sewing another button on a waistcoat. "I'm not good at reading stuff like that- there's too many complicated words that lead to nowhere."
"Complicated?"
I clicked my tongue. "What I mean is I'm used to reading... uh- concise texts. You know, they get to the point quickly." I'm not fluent enough to read such long texts, I wish to say, but I don't. "It's a personal problem, so."
He hums. "So you mean that you fail to understand a text that is not concise?"
"Well it's not that I can't. It's simply harder for me to do so when the author is beating around the bush."
Alexander nods, as if something clicked. "That does seem to explain a lot." Before I could muster an offended 'hey', he had already gone off to his room with a quick "Just a moment, Solomon!" I sigh, returning to my work.
After a minute, Cato entered the workshop with a baffled look on his face. When I asked what had happened, he had answered that Alexander had ran down the hall while threatening to beat up some bushes and Westchester farmers.
The amount of surprise I felt when Alexander wrote the 'in a nutshell' version of the pamphlet is underwhelming. Alexander basically shoved the two pages into my hands, waiting impatiently as I read it.
He made two points in every paragraph- an explanation of what was said and an explanation on why it was bullshit (or 'why 'tis not a sound argument,'as Alex gracefully put it). Suddenly, the pamphlet made sense- this farmer was defending the crown, and... Alexander said it was bullshit?
"Do you know what you sound like?"
"Pray tell."
"A patriot." He freezes, looking at me with an unreadable expression. I look at the pages again and speak honestly. "You're literally defending the Continental Army."
"I-" Alexander stuttered. "I'm not- Just because I do not agree with his points doesn't mean that I..."
"I know." I don't. Some of the points are attacks against the crown, not against this farmer's points. I look over it again and I finally say something "This pamphlet will continue to bother you- if you really feel strongly, you can write a response. Look over it again- you've got something here."
Alexander snatched the few pages, eyes flitting over the page. I go to bed.
When A Full Vindication of the Measures of the Congress appears on our shared desk after a few weeks, I say nothing. He doesn't say anything either, but I hear the whispers when I go outside of a thirty-five page response to the farmer's thoughts.
He sure had a lot to say. Alexander didn't try to sell me anything about Britain anymore, and he constantly asked Hercules about his beliefs. Though wary, Hercules replied the best he could. I have no idea what made him change his opinion so drastically, from "Fuck patriots, King George please marry me" into "I support the British, I guess, but-"
That doesn't sound like much, but, believe me, it is. Either way, I'm glad- It's all slowly coming together.
And so, life continued. I still went back to the market to see if somebody lost the bracelet, but no luck. The days in New York were getting colder, and winter was approaching fast. I had to walk around with another thick layer of clothing ("Mr Mulligan, sir, I'll be fine, there is no need to-" "I insist. You Hamiltons have no sense of self-preservation, honestly- 'tis going to snow!").
Tugging my vanilla-scented (I couldn't stand the awful smell that it came with, so I just overkilled it with the perfume I had) scarf over my nose, I sigh and come back home. Hercules was right- it is too cold to go out for a stroll.
When I came back, I noticed a pamphlet sitting innocently on a table. 'Letters of a Westchester Farmer' looked back at me, and I instantly knew that it was a reply. Oh, I am going to get a kick out of this.
"Alex!"
"My name is Alexander, and what?" I hear a muffled shout from above. Purposely ignoring the first part, I shout back "The farmer dude responded!"
A second of silence, and then I hear rapid footsteps heading me way. My eyes are met with a whirlwind of messy hair and concerning dark eye bags. "Alexander, when's the last time you've slept?"
He takes the pamphlet, muttering something to himself, but I know that he's purposefully ignoring me. I'm not falling for that.
"Hamilton."
"Yesterday? I don't know- ha!" Alexander lets out a sharp laugh at what he was reading, continuing to read under his breath. I sigh, snatching the pamphlet out of his hands and holding it high up.
"Oi! I was reading that, you arse!" He tries to reach up, but to no avail- he's much shorter than me, despite almost being an adult. A frustrated look crossed his face, painting his face red. "Give that back! I need to read that!"
"The only thing you need right now is sleep, 'Lex."
"Solomon, your names for me are getting more horrid every day-" He breathed in, trying to reach the pamphlet again. "'Tis is directly addressed to me, you are simply cruel! I shall catch up on sleep later!"
I sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to let go. "Fine- a compromise then. If you get ready for bed- by that I mean night-clothed- I'll give you this, okay?"
"But I-"
"No buts, Hamilton." Alexander sighs, rolling his eyes. "Do we have a deal?"
"I suppose," and, like a kid having a tantrum, he storms off, leaving me to contain my amused chuckles. I look at the pamphlet, reading the first few lines of it.
---
Sir,
You have done me the honour "to bestow some notice upon" a little pamphlet which I lately published, entitled, Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress, in a Piece which you call, A full Vindication of the Measures of the Congress, from the Calumnies of their Enemies. My present business shall be to examine your Vindication, and see whether it fully exculpates the measures of the Congress, from the charges brought against them by the friends of order and good government. This task I shall endeavour to perform-
---
Yeah, no, I'm not reading any more of that. I don't really have to either- whatever it is, I'm sure Alexander will rant about it later. I'm pretty sure it's just fancy complaining anyway.
I look around the workshop to see if anything is out of place, when I hear an irritated call to 'get my arse up here'. What a gentleman.
Alexander quickly plucks the pamphlet out of my hands when I enter the room, greedily soaking in all of the words. I'm not surprised in the slightest, but I know that if I leave him like this, he'll just get stand there for the whole duration of the time it takes to read that.
The scoffing has already started. "'You had no remedy but artifice, sophistry, misrepresentation and abuse: These are your weapons, and these you wield like an old experienced practitioner?' Damn bastard." He twirls a red strand of hair, and I'm reminded of the terrible state it's in. Leaving it the way it is would be a tragedy for tomorrow, so I leave his side to find a comb.
When I come back, he was sitting on the ground, by the bed, eyes still glued to the paper, the position he assumes when I try to untangle his locks. How he figured what was going to happen, I had no idea, considering that he was still obsessively muttering what was written, but I'm not complaining.
"'I, also, congratulate you on the discovery of "a seeming contradiction" in the Free Thoughts'- what in the world is this? I fail to understand how his pathetic mind works-" I hum as I comb a tangled part of his red strands. "Who does he think he is? Look- 'I could point out to you a dozen more of its errors in diction and grammar', as if that makes my claims less relevant! And then he moves on to say that he 'wrote the Free Thoughts, as I write now, without much regard to stile, or grammatical accuracy. My business was not to please or amuse, but to convince my countrymen and fellow-subjects of the evil tendency of the measures of the Congress'- he knows not the first thing about the Continental Congress! Nevertheless, his lack of grammatical accuracy appals me."
Alexander rambles on as he reads, nitpicking the whole time as I comb through the rest of his hair. "'You deceive yourself if you do. Every day will produce more Free Thoughts, and Canvassings, and Examinations, till their influence is totally destroyed, and their tyranny at an end'- Damn Loyalists and their arrogance, who do they think they are? He is the only deceiver I see-"
Damn Loyalists.
Damn Loyalists.
I freeze mid-comb, processing what he mindlessly just said. Alexander also seems to realise, stopping mid-sentence. After a strained moment, I resume combing his almost knot-free hair. Alexander waits another second, before continuing to read without any commentary. That didn't last long, because the Farmer had said something 'absolutely idiotic'.
"'As soon as a colony becomes independent on its parent state, it ceases to be any longer a colony'- yes, 'tis the point! And look what he wrote next- 'In every government there must be a supreme, absolute authority lodged somewhere'. That's not what I was stating, you... ugh!" Alexander didn't seem to find the right word to describe the man. I smile when I realise what this night uncovered for me.
---
"Alexander, maybe this is a bit too extreme..." I said cautiously, as the said male spell-checked 'The Farmer Refuted'.
"Solomon, I cannot stoop to his level of illiteracy- that would be reassuring America that incorrect grammar is not something to be frowned upon!"
"No, I'm talking about the... seventy-eight page part of it." Alexander looked at me as if I had said something stupid. Putting down his quill, he looked at me.
"I have already written it, and none of it is irrelevant or mindless ramblings, unlike some people," he said with a smile. I sigh, looking over the first page, feeling a bit overwhelmed. It honestly looks like a novel.
It took him just a bit more than two months to write this, alongside all of his schoolwork. "Alex, you really are one-of-a-kind." A smug smirk graced his lips, and he answered with an "I know, my friend, as you are, too."
That wasn't a compliment, and we both knew it, so that's how I excuse the sharp smack to his head. Alexander laughs. "I jest, I jest!"
That's means 'I'm joking', I think. I laugh, not truly offended, and Mr Mulligan comes in with a smile. "Greetings, both of you. How's our newly turned Patriot feeling about publishing your work?"
Alexander tenses, and I blink at the new information. Alexander's a patriot? Why didn't he tell me? But suddenly, it makes sense- after all, I have to thank Mulligan for the long talks he had with Alex at night- of course he'd be the first one to know. I smile.
"Ready to publish the 'polite' dissection, right?" I say, gesturing air quotes for the word 'polite'. "Also, do you honestly want me to believe that he's newly turned?"
Mulligan laughed, and I laughed lightly too. "Well said, well said." Alexander looks relieved, and I smile at him again.
"Ready to kick some Loyalist ass?" He gives me a baffled smile and laugh, and everything is well again.