a lady of fine understanding, and very amiable accomplishments.”11
The wedding announcement became a subject of some good-natured humor directed at Montgomery by the Livingstons. Like most of the privileged social group in the colonies, the Livingston family embraced the idea of a natural elite, but they were careful not to portray themselves as aristocrats or noblemen. The colonies were evolving toward a culture that fancied the concept of the self-made person, apart from the European tradition of relying on bloodlines to determine social status. Although adhering to deferential values, the prosperous and influential segment of the population had no wish to become a catalyst for class struggle by callously flaunting its social position.12
Thus, on July 24, 1773, Richard Montgomery and Janet Livingston married at Clermont with most of the Livingston family present for the ceremony. Richard leased his farm at King’s Bridge to a tenant, and the Montgomerys established their residence in a small house at Rhinebeck where Janet owned property. With most of his remaining funds, Richard purchased more land adjoining Janet’s tract. He then set to work fencing the pasture, plowing the fields, building a small grain mill, and laying the foundation for a larger home. Janet’s sister, Catharine, formed a favorable opinion of Richard during this time, but she also noted his bouts of melancholy brought on by fears that his contentment was too good to last: “Mrs. [Catharine Livingston] Garretson, who sometimes came to stay with her eldest sister at the cottage, had ample opportunity of knowing this brother. She spoke of the influence of his manly character upon the villagers, of his grave rebuke of idleness and vice and of his many amiable domestic virtues. . . . He was so happy in his domestic relations that forebodings would sometimes arise and he would exclaim, ‘I never was so happy in all my life; everything conspires to make it so,’ then shaking his head sadly he would say, ‘This cannot last; it cannot last.’”13
Janet told of a strange and frightening dream that she had three months after their marriage. In it, Montgomery and his brother engaged in a fierce duel, and Richard sustained a mortal wound. Upon awakening and relating the vision to her husband, he said, “I have always told you that my happiness is not lasting. . . . Let us enjoy it as long as we may and leave the rest to God.”14
Although both were basically fatalists, the personal philosophies of the Montgomerys differed somewhat. While Richard seemed to accept fate with little reservation, Janet tended to agonize more over their destiny and turned to her husband for reassurance. Although Richard had forsaken his army career, the lingering mental attitudes formed by years of service were not as easily shed. His military background probably conditioned him for a direct, confrontational approach to life’s problems. This professional soldier’s mindset prevented him from dwelling upon matters that he deemed beyond human control. On the other hand, Janet’s thinking reflected the cultural role of privileged women of that era. Society accustomed women of leisure to a seemingly gentle, passive existence in which demure ladies attained their goals through indirect means. With this feeling of being limited in personally directing their lives, many of these women tended to brooding reflection of their perplexities.
Ominous perceptions, however, could not spoil the marital bliss that the Montgomery newly weds enjoyed. The Livingstons welcomed Richard into their family, and he emerged as an industrious and faithful husband who cherished his quiet, rural life. Janet readily accepted her position as a devoted and dutiful wife.
Still, the couple experienced some areas of contention. Janet, for instance, wanted to have a child, particularly a son, as soon as possible. However, Richard did not share her enthusiasm. He chided her by saying, “Be contented, Janet. Suppose we had a son, and he was a fool. Think of that!” As in most other matters, Janet deferred to her husband’s judgment.15
In a letter written in late 1774 to Perkins Magra—friend of both Richard and Janet, and an officer who had served with Montgomery in his previous British regiment—Montgomery admitted to nostalgia about his former comrades: “There are some in the corps [17th Regiment] for whom I entertain a more cordial regard than I shall probably ever feel again for any of my fellow creatures.” The newly established country squire then turned to a description of his present life, writing with zeal and pride about the improvements he had initiated on his small estate: “ ‘Tis a pity you can’t come help me plan a house which I shall lay the foundation of this fall. My mill is almost finished.” He also confirmed his contentment in his current existence: “Your suspicions touching my hobby horse are not well founded. I rode a skittish nag for fifteen years. A country life is the only recourse of disappointed ambition, to have something to do the surest means of procuring good spirits and comfortable feelings.” The retired soldier closed his letter with a fateful remark: “I begin to think I shan’t die by a pistol.”16
By 1775, emerging events surrounding increasingly antagonistic relations between the colonies and England interrupted the tranquil life of the Montgomerys. The practice of maintaining unwanted British soldiers in the colonies under the Quartering Acts had resulted in the Boston Massacre, and the protracted series of restrictive trade and taxation acts culminated with the Boston Tea Party in late 1773 and the Intolerable or Coercive Acts of 1774. These last measures brought the closing of the port of Boston and the declaration of martial law in that colony. All of these points of contention contributed to unraveling the bonds of the parent British state with the American colonies. When colonial leaders gathered at the First Continental Congress in September 1774, the situation had reached crisis proportions. With the open hostilities between British troops and colonial militia at Lexington and Concord in April 1775, and the convening of the Second Continental Congress in May 1775, American patriots decided to secure a full redress of their grievances with Britain by armed rebellion.
The most publicized events that received the bulk of British reaction erupted in Massachusetts, which Parliament considered to be the seedbed of the revolt. Similar incidents, however, occurred throughout the colonies. New York produced its share of extralegal activities directed against British authority. Yet, avid patriots in other colonies occasionally faulted their fellow colony for demonstrating an apathetic zeal toward their cause. After returning home from a visit to New England in the summer of 1773, a Philadelphia enthusiast wrote to his friend in Boston that patriotism “seemed to have taken but shallow root in some places, particularly New York, where political principles are truly as unfixed as the wind. One year sees the New Yorkers champions for liberty, and the next hugging their chains.”17
The reputation thus acquired by New York was mostly unfair. The slow maturation of the patriot infrastructure in this province largely resulted because New York City functionally served as the capital of the British government in the colonies. Many New Yorkers, probably more than anywhere else, owed their livelihoods to the English bureaucracy. This widespread affiliation took some time to erode and generated a deceptive image of the colony. New York was slow in its revolutionary efforts only in contrast to the New England colonies, the crucible of the Revolution. The tortuous path of New York’s patriot movement concealed the depth of its commitment only to an unwary observer.
Six weeks before the Boston Massacre, New York City residents rioted against British troops. On January 19, 1770, strained civil-military relations in Manhattan led to two days of street fighting, referred to as the Battle of Golden Hill. Built-up animosity between royal military forces stationed in the city and the populace precipitated open fighting between British soldiers and New Yorkers in the Golden Hill area on John Street. Hostilities between the two factions resumed the next day with a second riot on Nassau Street before order returned.
A disturbance involving a felled liberty pole served as the provocation for this incident. In March 1766, New Yorkers joined most of the other colonies in erecting so-called liberty poles to celebrate the repeal of the unpopular Stamp Act, a major political victory over Parliament. These structures usually occupied a prominent location in the town. They functioned as patriotic symbols and rallying points for speeches and demonstrations espousing opposition to British policies in the colonies.
British
