New York - The Novel

them.
    Again, Paul Revere rode down to New York, this time to seek support. Naturally, Sears and the Sons of Liberty were up in arms for the Boston men. But many of the merchants were now enraged at London’s harsh measures. The Sons of Liberty were getting support from all quarters. One day, Master saw a large parade of women coming down Broadway, calling for a trade embargo. Tempers continued to rise. A British officer caught Sears in the street and put the flat of his sword across his back.
    Yet despite all this, Master was glad to see, there were powerful voices in the American colonies who saw the need for moderation. Toward the end of summer the other colonies called for a general congress to meet at Philadelphia, and the New York Assembly agreed to send delegates. The men chosen, thank God, were solid, educated gentlemen: Livingston the Presbyterian, John Jay the lawyer, a rich Irish merchant named Duane, and others. The congress was to meet in September.
    In the meantime, Master did what he could to encourage a return to sanity. He made his house a meeting place for men of moderate opinion. Sometimes his guests were members of the old, grandee Tory families—Watts, Bayard, De Lancey, Philipse. But often they were merchants whose sympathies might be wavering, but whom he hoped to keep on the right path—men like Beekman, or Roosevelt the distiller. But despite these modest efforts, he knew it was the men who had powers of argument and oratory who really mattered. He had particular hope in John Jay the lawyer—tall, handsome, persuasive, and related to so many of the great old families of the province.
    “It’s Jay and men like him,” he told Mercy, “who’ll make them see sense.”

    At the end of August, a cavalcade rode into town. This was the Massachusetts delegates and their party. Riding down the Post Road, they had also picked up the Connecticut delegates along the way. Their second day in town, Master was in Wall Street, talking to one of the Assembly men who’d dined with them the night before, when a small group came down the street.
    “See the fellow with the big head, wearing the bright red coat?” the Assembly man murmured. “That’s Sam Adams. And the pink-faced,balding fellow in black just behind him is his cousin John Adams. A lawyer. Clever, they say, and talkative—though he didn’t say much at dinner. Don’t think he likes New York. Probably isn’t used to being interrupted!”
    It was a little while later, returning home, that Master caught sight of the elderly man. He was walking stiffly, but with great firmness of purpose. His brown coat was buttoned tight. He looked vaguely familiar. John tried to think where he’d seen him.
    And then he realized. It was his cousin Eliot. He was a little shrunken and his face was thinner. But then, John thought, he must be over eighty. He went up to him.
    “Mr. Eliot Master? You may not recognize me, sir, but I am your cousin John.”
    “I know who you are.” It was said without enthusiasm.
    “You have come with the Boston delegates?”
    “I intend to watch events in Philadelphia.”
    “I remember your daughter Kate.”
    “I expect you do. She’s a grandmother now.”
    John decided to change the subject.
    “This congress is a serious business, sir. Let us hope that moderation will prevail.”
    “Oh?” Old Eliot looked at him sharply. “Why?”
    Even after forty years, John Master felt himself fumbling for his words under the lawyer’s stern eye.
    “I mean … there’s a need for cool heads …” He nodded. “Compromise.”
    The Bostonian snorted.
    “New York,” he said drily. “Typical.”
    “Just a minute,” cried John. Dammit, he thought, I’m not a drunken boy any more, and my Boston cousin isn’t going to put me down. “The quarrel is about tax without representation, is it not?”
    “It is.”
    “Well, we are not entirely without representation.”
    “Is that so? Our Assembly has been stripped of all power.” Old Eliot paused a moment. “Or are you referring to the doctrine of
virtual representation?”
He spoke the last words with wonderful contempt.
    John Master was aware that some in London had argued that, since the British Parliament had the interests of the colonists at heart, thenalthough the colonists had no actual representation in the British legislature, they were
virtually
represented. He could just imagine the ridicule to which the Boston lawyer would easily subject that notion.
    “I am