“The Statesman”

September 18, 1776

Lower Manhattan, New York

 

It has been an eventful day, and I am elated to finally have the opportunity to go home. Concerned New-Yorkers have left me letters I have failed to read today, and I have denied requests to admit their presence in my office. I open the door to my office, and something peculiar greets me.

A moth?

The ochre insect perches on the edge of my cabinet in my office.  How can such insect find its way in this building and into my office? My heart skips a beat as the insect flies across the room onto the frame of my father’s portrait. If it were my real father, he would be laughing at his son in this very moment – William Montgomery, New-York statesman, a brave gentleman to live not far from the imminent dangers of the war, startled by an insect…

Quickly, I walk towards the window. I pull the windows open to set the insect free, but a sudden gust of cold wind rushes inside the room. Cruelly, the wind blows off the papers on my table, sending them dancing on the air and cluttering on my wooden floor. It is as if these unread letters are asking to be read.

Damn moth.

I proceed to pick up the papers scattered on my floor, all the way towards the drawers behind my chair. Underneath my drawers, a light blur of what it looks like a paper catches my attention upon kneeling down. Bending over, I reach for the dusty paper… only to find out that it is not just a paper. It is a pamphlet that I read not too long ago, and I can still remember the very words that, to this day, fill my heart with anguish. In fading ink on this yellowing paper are words largely written: Common Sense.[1]

My eye easily catches the phrases that to this day remind me of how this place used to be. “…The more simply any thing is, the less liable it is to be disordered, and the easier repaired when disordered.” An ambitious vision, Paine has. If he thinks that independence is the answer for an orderly nation, we are clearly in the wrong way. Thirteen different colonies are much more complicated than they seem, and to treat them as a simple few is a false understanding. A careful yet problematic optimism.

The colonies, disordered and separated, are struggling to construct their own constitutions. The artisans in Pennsylvania are battling with the merchants, farmers, and even brewers for a representation of their interests in the colony. Pennsylvanians are challenging the conventional notions of privilege and rank while appealing for a new political equality that does not depend on the traditional association of political rights and property. I also remember the news from Maryland, how the people protested against the inexperienced delegates in their constitutional convention. The delegates are still debating about the reductions in legislative terms, the design of a true senate, and the senatorial term limits.[2] Clearly, the colonies are not – or, shall never be – ready for a new government. This nation the Patriots envision to be united are separated and disorderly before the British forces could even destroy it. And as I believe, so it shall be.

As I leaf through the papers of the pamphlet, another phrase catches my eye. “But as the Colony increases, the public concerns will increase likewise.” Well, of course, I thought. The public concerns will also be the very same thing that will falter the progression of the colonies towards independence. Perhaps Paine is blind to the fact that some people will be of advantage, by nature or by right, and such fact will separate them from the disadvantaged. As a new government rises, an opportunity arises for some undeserving people to claim their rights under the new constitution. There is no equality because if everyone is equal, there should be no man starving today. If everyone is equal, no man is entitled to larger ownerships of land. Some people are just born without the luxuries of what the other few can afford, and the privileged cannot be held accountable for such imbalance.

I have heard that James Madison and George Mason IV are struggling to integrate the demands of their people over the colony’s new constitution. Their colleagues are not likely to agree on the suffrage for tenant farmers and every housekeeper. The landowners themselves fear that the value of their properties will deplete under the new constitution. As for my family here in New-York, the value is the least of my concerns – I have worked hard to maintain our property only to lose it because of the ensuing war.

As I look outside my window, I can see towering naval ships docking on Brooklyn Heights. The fast setting sun is illuminating the East River, and the lowering clouds are blurring the view beyond the bed. My family used to own that piece of land and beyond, at least a quarter of the distance to Coney Island Creek from the western tip of Brooklyn. We made our fortune from the occupying merchants who have conveniently set up their establishments close to the Brooklyn Heights docks, the final destination for many European trade ships.[3] I took over the property when my father died. The merchants and traders profited well until the rebellion broke, forcing them to flee. Failing to generate sufficient profit while facing large taxations, I was forced to sell my family’s land early enough before the British soldiers took over it and made it their base. I stare at the distant ships docked and imagine the large British militia. With the advances of experience and of numbers, the British forces sent Washington and his troops in retreat. The last thing I have heard of them is that they retreated farther up north, refusing to give up.

I suddenly hear a cacophonous sound of footsteps approaching my room.

“Mr. Montgomery?”

“Mrs. Wilson?” I am surprised by her sudden appearance. She notices the papers scattered on the floor and asks, “Is everything all right, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes, yes,” I answer as I quickly rush to pick up the letters on the floor. Emily Wilson is the wife of my colleague, Robert. They used to own lush lands in Long Island, but are now enjoying their remaining properties in the city and further upstate. The Wilsons are also known for having the most slaves in New-York, hosting several slave auctions a year.

“If I may ask,” I say as I stand up, “What brings you here, Mrs. Wilson? The night is fast approaching, and I am certain Mr. Wilson will want you inside the house at this time.”

“Call me Emily, please,” she replies. “I was expecting my husband to be home at the usual time he does, but it worried me when it has been an hour passed, and he hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I apologize, then, Emily. Mr. Wilson left not too long ago after we talked. I believe that our long conversation was what kept him from coming home on time.”

“So he has talked to you about it, then?” Her eyes widen with curiosity.

“I am not quite sure what you are implying, Emily.” She steps back a few steps to look around, making sure nobody hears what she is about to say. “The British forces,” she whispers, walking towards me. “Word has it that they are pushing further up north, Mr. Montgomery. Maybe in a few days, perhaps tomorrow! Are you not aware?”

“Pardon me, Emily, but –“

“You don’t know of it?”

“I’m afraid not…” I become nervous all of a sudden. I feel fear from within.

“The loyalists,” Emily starts, “have been much empowered by the words of Thomas Hutchinson.” I ask, “The former governor from Massachusetts?”

“Yes,” Emily answers. “He has published a rebuttal[4] challenging the notions of the Declaration. It’s not the reason for the aggressive movement of the British forces, but it has empowered the loyalists to assert their beliefs on the Colonies. The crown’s supporters have but more reasons to retain control over the colonies!”

“In the said papers, Hutchinson refuted the words of the Declaration. He wrote that it did not appear that there was any regular plan formed for attaining to Independence. What position is he in to say so, Mr. Montgomery? Our statesmen are experienced, and they are venerable men for representing the beliefs of the people. He also exposed how people here are rather divided themselves on their views on the independence.”

“What also enraged was his suggestion that slaves must be freed in order to uphold our idea that all men are created equal! How dare he! The slave are not even born here!”

“He also said,” Emily goes on, “that the King’s intentions of limiting trade with all parts of the world and imposing taxes without consent were no good reasons to revolt. What then is a good reason? He thought that our Patriots are unacquainted with the nature of government. That the colonies are not ready to be independent, that we lack knowledge to form a stable government and have a stable economy…”

“I can go on and on, Mr. Montgomery!”

I am astonished how I have not heard of this particular speech. Hearing Hutchinson’s words somehow assures me that I am not the only one in this colony. I believe in his discernment, and I am with him. The Colony must find resolutions other than war and deficient independence. At our present state, with each colonies dealing with issues impending their progress to establish their own governing body, we need the King’s rule and not his armed forces. As colonies, we lack the capacity to govern.

“If the rumored attack was not what you and my husband talked about, then – “

“We had a lengthy discussion about moving up north, and to carry the affairs for the constitutional convention up there, far from nearby troops. But about the impending attack, that I have not heard of.”

“Then go home at once, and leave town as soon as you can! In two days, Robert and I are taking the most we can with us. Your family is welcome to stay in our estate.”

There is a brief moment of silence before I can speak. “Emily, I am afraid I can no longer carry on as statesmen.”

“Mr. Montgomery!”

“I have carefully and deliberately thought of it, and I believe the moment is now. The intentions of the Patriots have cost my family and me the things we have worked so hard for. I believe that this war for independence will not justify the innocent lives lost, the dreams shattered, and the hopes that disappeared. I find it no reason to cut our ties with the king when he has done nothing but to stagnate the system we used to have…”

“Emily,” I look into her eyes, “I do not agree with the taxation the king has been imposing, but I certainly cannot agree that we have done our best to represent our voice. Perhaps Hutchinson is right – we may not be ready to take matters in our own hands. Or perhaps we are not meant to be at all. I know that there is a way, but the war is fast expanding and finding a peaceful resolution is not in our eyes anymore.”

“But… the convention… you agreed…?”

“Robert encouraged my delegation, and that was the matter of our conversation before he left today. I could not find a reason to reject his proposition, but deeper inside me, I could not find a reason to move forward.”

“Does he know about your decision?”

“I told him that I shall give my answer tomorrow.”

There is a long brief silence, and we look into each other’s eyes. “The people trusted you, William. They have expected you to represent them, to give them a voice in the new constitution.”

“It’s not an ordinary task to accomplish, and Robert knows that!” Upon notice that I am raising my voice, I struggle to keep my volume low. “The delegates from the other colonies have been struggling to create a constitution that will be fair for everyone, and it is not favoring them. With the war coming, things will be just more difficult, and it is a situation that I do not want to find myself in. I will not risk my present freedom for a freedom that I may never enjoy – freedom that the Declaration promises. Though I may not get back what I have lost, what I have failed to keep, I want to keep what I have safely and securely. I trust that there will be a peaceful compromise – one that shall prevent bloodshed and overbearing duties.”

“What about Jane, your wife? Your daughters Abigail and Elizabeth?”

“I believe my sister will welcome us in her home in Boston, as she lives alone with three slaves. I shall ask Jane’s brother to supervise our property here while we are gone.”

“Emily,” I look at her and hold her shoulders, “it is not my intention to reveal these things to you. Robert is a good friend of mine, and I revere him immensely as a statesman. I respect his beliefs, and your beliefs, but it is just so unfortunate that I cannot stand by him at this time. Perhaps I have been serving the wrong people, or perhaps the people chose the wrong man to represent their voices. I have no confidence for the union of the colonies, and my vision prohibits me to sincerely serve the people of this colony.”

“I trust that Robert will understand,” I tell her.

She holds my risks and pushes my hand lightly, and says, “He will understand, but he will be disappointed.” She turns around, leaving me staring at my wooden floor. As the sound of the door closing echoes through the room, the moth, still perched on my father’s portrait, is shaken. It flies around the room and lands on my desk, right by the stacked papers.

Grabbing the closest piece of paper from me, I slowly spread it across my hand. With the paper on my palm, I strike the moth with great might that I almost feel the table move against the floor. The moth is crushed, and I notice – once again — that the paper isn’t just a piece of paper.

My fingers are spread over the letterings, but I can clearly see what is written. Common Sense. I crumple the pamphlet, pressing it firmly against the table to clean off the crushed parts of the poor moth. I crumple it into a ball and look at the yellowing paper as I walk towards the window.

As if the moth has the capacity comprehend human speech, I say to crumpled paper balled in my hand, “The window was open long enough,” I throw it outside the window carelessly, and hear it lightly land on the silent street of Manhattan.

“You could have flown out.”

 

[1] By Thomas Paine, published 10 January 1776.

[2] See Rakove, especially section four on “Consequences.”

[3] See Brooklyn Heights Association, sections 1 and 4.

[4] See Hutchinson, pages 1, 4-6.