Prelude to Glory, Vol. 8

by Ron Carter

  He paused, then added, “In the meantime, we’ve got a shipping company to run. I think we’d better get back to work. Read the constitution again two or three times, make notes, take it home tonight, read it again, and talk about it in the morning. In the meantime I’ll leave the Madison letter here on the desk. Read it. I’ll spend some time later today and tonight with my files of contacts and make some sort of plan to reach the ones in the states that are in doubt. We’ll talk again in the morning. Anyone have some better ideas?”

  Heads were shaking when the front door opened and Caleb walked in. “I got the crew organized for the Penrod. She can sail on tomorrow’s tide. Sheldon Torres will be captain, and—”

  He fell silent, eyes narrowed as he stared at the four men. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  Matthew gestured. “A letter from James Madison, and copies of the new constitution. It’s finished. Read it.”

  Caleb walked to the desk and picked up the letter, then a copy of the constitution. “There was talk on the docks that it was finished. This is it? Four pages?”

  Matthew nodded. “Four pages. Seven articles. Nothing like it in the world.”

  Caleb glanced at the others, silent, faces set, eyes boring in. “About fifty men in a room all summer? Four pages? That’s all?”

  Tom broke in. “Just read it.”

  Caleb glanced at the document. “From the look on your faces, this must be like the Bible.”

  Billy said quietly, “Close.”

  Matthew rose from his chair to face Caleb. “Before you came in we decided to spend some time with the letter and the constitution today and take them home tonight to study them some more. It takes nine states to ratify it, and Madison is asking for help. We’ll be back in the morning to make a plan. Should we meet early? Seven o’clock?”

  “Agreed.”

  Quietly, thoughtfully, the five men came back again and again to read the letter from James Madison. Ratification. Nine states. By noon all five men realized the four printed pages had turned their world upside down. They were entering a new era in the history of the world, and their lives would never be the same. Their fierce pride in being Bostonians, from the sovereign state of Massachusetts, would not change, but they sensed that soon, very soon, their pride in being Americans would come first. Americans. A new sovereign nation taking its rightful place among the other sovereign nations of the world, with a new government, the like of which no monarch, no king, had ever dreamed. The ultimate power of this infant nation was given to the care of common sense, the decency, the daring, the genius of the ordinary people! What king or monarch in the civilized world would believe it? What would they say? What would they do?

  The office of Dunson & Weems handled the necessary business of the day, but in the minutes between, the room was filled with an intense silence while the five men went over the four printed pages again and again. With each reading they discovered a word, a phrase, a sentence, with meanings so profoundly deep that they had to pause and read it again and again to begin to plumb the depths of the wisdom of the men who had survived the sweltering summer in the East Room of the Philadelphia Statehouse, locked in fiery debate, and through the slippery, sometimes shady art of political compromise, had crafted a document unlike any other.

  With the sun reaching for the treetops to the west, they checked their clock, locked the office door, and worked their way through the unending gather of men and freight on the docks. Tom moved north, and the other four together moved west, then separated—Billy toward Brigitte and their home near the Common, and Matthew, with his heavy files under his arm, to Kathleen, while Adam and Caleb walked on to the home of their waiting mother.

  Kathleen met Matthew at the door with John at her side. She glanced at the files, then at the intensity in Matthew’s eyes, and knew instantly something pivotal had occurred. She reached to peck him on the cheek, then asked, “Something happened?”

  “A letter from James Madison. And copies of the new constitution.”

  She stopped dead. “In truth? You have copies?”

  He nodded. “I want you to read it and tell me what you think.”

  John’s face clouded as he peered up at the two. “What’s a constitution?”

  Matthew paused for a moment before he looked his son in the eyes to answer. “It’s a paper that says how we’re going to have a new country.”

  A look of near terror crossed John’s face. “I like it now. I don’t want a new one.”

  Kathleen reached to touch his hair. “Not a new Boston. Or a new home. Just a way to make the one we have now a better one.”

  She looked at Matthew. “Ready for supper? I’ll read the letter and constitution after.”

  Kathleen set the beef roast and condiments on the table, they took their places, and bowed their heads while Matthew offered grace. They ate with Matthew preoccupied, Kathleen respecting his need for quiet, and John shifting inquiring eyes from one to the other, knowing something he did not understand was going on, but unsure what it was. He never doubted his mother’s word, but still . . . he did not want a new home or a new Boston.

  Matthew and John helped clear the table, and Matthew dried the dishes while Kathleen washed. Matthew rose above his need to pore over his files and the constitution, and sent John to get the family Bible from its place in the library. The three of them sat at the dining table while Matthew read the parable of the good Samaritan. Then he turned to John.

  “One more story. Which one do you choose?” There was no question which story was to be chosen. There were two that captured the boy’s imagination beyond all others. Samson, and David and Goliath. They had read Samson only last night.

  The boy’s face lighted. “David. When that big giant was going to get him.”

  “Goliath?”

  “Yes. Goliath.”

  With pauses, and emphasis, and a few words of his own added to increase the intensity, Matthew slowly and dramatically read the seventeenth chapter of the Book of First Samuel in the Old Testament. When the round stone from the brook struck Goliath in the forehead and his fall made the ground tremble, there was an extended “Ooooo” from John, who sat mesmerized, wide-eyed as he saw it all in his mind. Then John asked the question he always asked, “How big is a cubit?” and Matthew answered as he always did. “Goliath was about nine feet tall.” He raised his hand high over his own head. “More than that big.”

  John murmured, “Oooooo. How big was David?”

  Matthew eyed the boy from head to toe for a moment. “About your size. Maybe a little taller. He was twelve.”

  John grinned, lost in the miracle.

  Matthew asked, as he always did, “What do we learn from this story?” and John answered as he had been taught.

  “Faith.”

  “In whom?”

  “The Almighty. That’s how David did it.”

  Matthew bobbed his head. “And now we’re going to have enough faith to get you into bed.”

  With John in his nightshirt, the parents knelt at their son’s bedside, and the boy bowed his head and clasped his hands beneath his chin to offer his evening prayers. When he finished, Kathleen tucked him in, trimmed the lamp, left the door partly open, and followed Matthew back to the dining room, where he sat down at the table, squared his files and papers in front of him, and handed two documents to Kathleen.

  “Here’s the Madison letter and the proposed constitution. Let me know your thoughts.”

  For half an hour the two sat at the table with the lamp casting its pale yellow light over the papers, Kathleen poring over the constitution while Matthew systematically laid out his files. Kathleen finished and sat back in her chair, hands resting for a moment on her extended mid-section.

  Matthew saw her hands. “You all right?”

  She nodded and shrugged. “Fine. The baby moves once in a while.” She tapped the constitution. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. It all sounds so simple when you read it, but when you s
tudy it out, it’s new. Am I right?”

  Matthew leaned back in his chair. “Like nothing the world has ever seen. Read it again and notice how the framers have provided a system of overlapping checks and balances. They’ve made everyone, every institution, subject to scrutiny by someone else or some other institution. Congress can veto the President. The President can override a veto. The courts can correct the Congress or the President. Congress can make the laws, but the judiciary enforces them. Every office in the entire structure is bound by good behavior, including the President. Misconduct? They can be impeached. It’s pure genius.”

  He paused and his eyes dropped to the table for a long moment before he continued. “And notice where the ultimate power comes to rest.”

  “The vote?”

  Matthew nodded. “The vote of the people. The common people. Can you imagine what is going to happen in Europe when they find out we’re putting our ultimate faith in the common people? Farmers, shopkeepers, merchants, mechanics, sailors? Think about it. Never in the history of the world . . .”

  Kathleen slowly raised her hands to cover her mouth as she stared into Matthew’s eyes, and for a long time they did not move while it broke clear in her mind what was happening. She lowered her hands and spoke quietly.

  “We’re changing history.”

  “Our own, and the world’s.”

  She continued. “But before it becomes law, the constitution has to be ratified by the states. Is that right?”

  “Nine.”

  “And that’s why Madison wrote to you. That’s why you have all those papers here tonight.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re going to be right in the middle of it. It’s going to be a battle. The last one. The big one.”

  “Starting tomorrow. Are you up to it? With the baby due in January?”

  “What choice do I have? You do what you have to do. I’ll be all right.”

  For a moment it flashed in Matthew’s mind. History will remember the men. But the women? When will they get their due?

  He drew a breath. “I’ll be a while. Why don’t you go on to bed? I have a little more to do with these files.”

  She nodded. “I’ll leave the lamp up.”

  It was past one o’clock when Matthew’s head drooped over his files, his eyes closed, and his breathing slowed. Minutes later he jerked awake, staring, trying to understand where he was. He turned down the lamp and made his way quietly down the hall to the bedroom, where he hung his clothes over a chair, pulled on his nightshirt, and quietly slipped into bed beside Kathleen. Her voice came softly in the darkness.

  “You all right?”

  He did not answer. He turned her until her back was toward him then drew her to him, wrapped inside his arms. She reached to take his hand in hers and moved it up beneath her chin, and closed her eyes, and they slept.

  Dawn broke clear in a cloudless sky and by seven o’clock all five men were seated around Matthew’s desk in the waterfront offices of Dunson & Weems. Outside the tides were going out and the gulls and grebes were cluttering the air with their arguments over the dead fish and refuse left behind. Stacked in front of Matthew were his files containing correspondence with political leaders in all thirteen states. He wasted no time.

  “This is how I see it as of now. The constitution must be ratified by nine states. Each state is to convene a ratification convention on its own terms. There is no time limitation given.” He held up Madison’s letter. “Madison thinks the ratification will succeed, but he has no illusions about it. It’s going to be a battle. He has identified the states he thinks will ratify quickly, and those he expects will resist.”

  Matthew stopped to pick his words. “Let’s get our terms in order. The states that are friendly to the constitution we call ratification states. The states that oppose the constitution we call non-ratification states, or other states. Are we clear?”

  The four men nodded, and Matthew went on. “Remember, three men at the convention refused to sign the finished constitution. Mason and Randolph of Virginia, and Gerry of Massachusetts. I say this to point out the fact that even among the men who did the work, there were those who disagreed. And it’s certain there are states that are going to disagree.”

  He continued, “Madison says Pennsylvania is a pivotal state. Big, with a heavy population. September eighteenth, one day after the constitution was signed, Benjamin Franklin delivered a copy to the Pennsylvania Assembly and had it read before the legislatures and an audience that filled the gallery. Within two days every newspaper in Philadelphia had it printed.”

  He paused, then said, “It provoked two reactions. Ratification supporters were enthusiastic. The others believed it would destroy Pennsylvania’s charter and constitution—eventually ruin the state and rob it of its power and authority. So the others met and planned an attack. As soon as the constitution was published statewide, they had newspapers everywhere publish articles claiming the convention in Philadelphia had exceeded its authority, warning that the Constitution would eliminate the state of Pennsylvania altogether, that the proposed Senate would become a body of aristocrats, and that the President would become a monarch. The opponents tried to sway the Quakers by claiming the Constitution approved slavery. There was no bill of rights. These articles pointed out the Constitution did nothing to guarantee the rights of the citizens, and they claimed that if this new constitution is approved, the entire revolution will have been fought in vain. Someone under the assumed name of ‘Centinel’ published eighteen newspaper articles in which he attacked the members of the convention personally, asserting that Benjamin Franklin was too old to know what was really going on and that George Washington had been duped by fast talking politicians.”

  “You think there’s any truth to that?” Billy asked.

  “Not according to Madison,” Matthew said. “He was there through the whole thing, and he says Franklin knew exactly what was at stake. And as for Washington, Madison can’t say enough good about the man.”

  Matthew went on, “This has all happened in the last few days, but the worst of it is happening right now. The Pennsylvania legislature is in its final days for the year, and the ratification supporters want to call a state ratifying convention before they adjourn. Adjournment is scheduled for September twenty-eighth. Six days. The others want a delay in appointing a ratifying convention—as much time as they can get. If they succeed, it will give them until next year to spread their attack.”

  Matthew turned to Caleb. “The Penrod sails with the tides today, headed south for Elks Head, at the top of the Chesapeake. With all canvas out, it can take one extra day to go up the Delaware to Philadelphia, and still make Elks Head on schedule. You can be in Philadelphia by late afternoon of the twenty-fourth.”

  Caleb straightened, knowing too well what was coming.

  Matthew continued. “Any reason you can’t make that trip?”

  Caleb shrugged. “And do what?”

  Matthew handed him a piece of paper. “Find this man. James Wilson. He’s a lawyer. Give that paper to him. I’ve exchanged letters with him, and he knows me. He was one of the more powerful voices in the convention, and he’s now a leader in the battle for ratification. He’ll tell you everything you need to know, and maybe find a way for you to help.”

  Matthew stopped and all eyes were on Caleb while he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, deciding if he could be gone for a sustained period of time.

  “I can go. I’ll have to get some clothes from home and some money.”

  “Wait until we’ve finished here, then get your clothes. We’ll get you some money. What time does the Penrod sail?”

  “Ten o’clock. Two hours. A little over.”

  Matthew checked the clock. “We’ll have you there on time.” He picked up a second paper and handed it to Caleb. “Here’s the name of a boardinghouse where I stayed in Philadelphia. I can recommend it. On Thirteenth Street, just off Market. Owned by a widow named Sarah Asher. As
her’s Boarding. Call her Mother Asher.” Matthew stopped to chuckle at the remembrance of the stocky little woman mothering him. “She’ll take care of you.”

  Caleb glanced at the paper, read the brief information, and tucked it into his pocket with the other paper before he spoke to Matthew. “You need me to stay here for anything else?”

  “Yes. You need to know what else is going to happen in the next few weeks.” He turned to Billy.

  “Madison thinks New Hampshire will be trouble. It started about twelve years ago. New Hampshire was the only province without a formal charter of incorporation, which means they did not have a legal government when the last governor appointed by King George—his name was John Wentworth—fled for his life in 1775. So delegates from the towns created an illegal provincial congress that took control. That congress drafted a constitution and made the congress the new house of representatives for the state. An argument broke out between the towns on the coast and those on the three major rivers—Piscataqua, Merrimack, and Connecticut—and the towns further inland, over claims that the coastal and river towns were getting rich at the expense of the inland settlements. The result was a move by some western towns to secede from the state of New Hampshire and become part of Vermont. As you know, Vermont is still an independent republic.”

  Matthew paused, gathered his thoughts, and went on. “There’s more to it than that, but for our purposes, the essence of it is this. We have to make contact with a man over there who is powerful in politics. His name is John Langdon. He represented New Hampshire at the Constitutional Convention. He’s strong for ratification. Last report, he was in Portsmouth, on the coast. Both Madison and I have exchanged correspondence with him, and he knows me.”