Madison returned to his seat to record the vote. The motion to give power to the national government in all cases where the states were incompetent passed. Again, Connecticut divided. Madison wondered if he could exploit this apparent rift within the Connecticut delegation.
Next, a clause that gave the national legislature power to veto state laws passed without debate.
Late in the day, Madison took the floor to say that, upon reflection, he no longer supported the use of force against a delinquent state. He asked for a postponement of the resolution. Everyone was eager to leave, and postponement passed without dissent. The long session thankfully ended.
Madison hunched over his desk to rewrite the day’s notes. The task proved more daunting than he had expected. He worried for his health. Always sickly, Madison constantly inventoried his physical condition, fearful that some debilitating illness might get in the way of his mission. He paused to sip his wine and wondered if this private journal would document the founding of a republic or end up as discarded refuse. It could go either way. He refused to entertain the idea of failure, so he bent again to his task.
A soft knock interrupted him. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Randolph. “Edmund, please enter.”
“Thank you, James. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”
“Of course, what can I do for you?”
“I want to be relieved of my duties as sponsor of the Virginia Plan. You must assume the mantle. I’m—”
“Please don’t let this minor harassment intimidate you.”
“Minor? Are you deaf?”
“No, no. I’m sorry. I misspoke. Of course the attacks were not minor. They were—”
“Reprehensible!” Randolph paced the small apartment. “This is your plan. You defend it.”
“Edmund, you’re already in the forefront. There’s no way we can undo the opening sessions.”
Randolph took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Then you must talk to your friend, Charles Pinckney, and insist that he and his colleagues desist.”
“I can’t control Charles. And I would hardly call him a friend.”
“Then why are you always with him? I see you two scheming together all the time.”
Madison laughed. “I wish you could hear our conversations. He may embarrass you in public, but he pillages me in private. No, I cannot appeal to our rogue delegate. He’s beyond my reach.”
“Whose reach is he within?”
Madison motioned Randolph into a chair. Randolph reluctantly quit pacing and sat down. Madison leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands, and held Randolph’s eyes.
“Edmund, I believe the South Carolina delegation works in unison. This morning, I upbraided Charles for yesterday’s behavior. Today, he quelled his devilish tongue, but Butler adopted his tactics. What do you think they’re after?”
For the first time, Randolph looked thoughtful. “It must relate to their slaveholdings.”
“My guess as well.”
“They back our coalition only to a point. They’ll support us until they perceive a threat to their property.”
“I believe you’re correct. Today, Congress is controlled by the North eight to five, but legislation requires unanimity, so any slaveholding state can block threatening bills. Under our plan, Congress is proportional to population, with no state veto.”
Randolph continued to appear thoughtful. “They fear the strength of the North under a new government. That’s it. But we’re slaveholders and we harbor no such fear.”
“What’s different between Virginia and the Deep South?” Madison asked.
Randolph paused a minute. “We’ve outlawed the slave trade. They fear restrictions on the importation of new slaves!”
“Very astute. I’ve always been impressed by your political instincts. Now that you’ve deduced the real issue, we should be able to figure out a way to mitigate their fears. I suggest we call a Virginia quorum and use our collective wits to herd South Carolina back into the barn.”
“Agreed, as long as I am not a principle in the assault.”
“We won’t plan an assault. We must find enticing bait to lure them in.”
“James, I don’t want to be in the foreground.” Randolph stood to leave. “My career on stage is at an end.”
Madison escorted Randolph to the door and then poured himself a half glass of wine. He uncorked a ceramic jar and poured a generous amount of white powder into the glass. He had heard that some people took medications with water, but his health was far too precarious for that kind of risk. Swirling the wine with his finger, he swallowed it in a single gulp.
He knew what caused his discomfort. He had promised Witherspoon to end the slave trade, but he had just told Randolph that they must assure South Carolina that this convention wouldn’t interfere with the trade. Madison poured a splash of wine into the glass and whirled it in tight, fast circles. He discarded the swill into the chamber pot and poured another portion into the glass. This time he filled it to the brim.
Chapter 13
Saturday, June 2, 1787
Responding to a light knock, Sherman opened the door.
“Come in, Oliver.”
“Would you rather talk in the sitting room? We can have tea.”
“No, this is private.”
“Problem?”
“Let’s sit.”
Each moved to his customary place, Sherman in the threadbare easy chair and Ellsworth striving to find a comfortable position in a ladder-back chair. Friday’s and this morning’s sessions had been uneventful, dry and inconclusive discussions of executive powers. As they were leaving the State House, Sherman had asked Ellsworth to visit him in his room after they returned to Mrs. Marshall’s.
“Oliver, what’s bothering you?”
Ellsworth looked down, then met Sherman’s eye. “You mean my votes on Thursday?”
“And Friday.”
“The issues yesterday were unimportant.”
“It sent signals of disunity in our delegation.”
“Are you suggesting that we must be unified in all of our votes?”
“Yes—if we’re to influence this convention.”
Ellsworth pulled out his German-made snuffbox. This action started an elaborate ritual that would take several minutes. Ellsworth wielded his snuffbox whenever he wanted to stall.
Growing impatient, Sherman said, “Oliver, I’m not suggesting you blindly follow my lead, only that we work together. Explain your position. Perhaps I’m the one in error.”
“Roger, you know I respect you.” Ellsworth stopped, fidgeted a moment, and then said, “I’ve modeled my life after you. Normally, I’d never question your judgment.”
“But you do now?”
“You obstruct every move. You fight every point. Must we abandon everything we fought for in the Revolution?”
“I don’t follow.”
“We fought the Revolution so we could control our own destiny, choose our own government. Now everything’s falling apart. We must come out of this convention with a strong national government.”
“The Virginia Plan?”
“It goes too far. But must we fight every element?”
Sherman settled back in his chair. “Oliver, how do you think legislation is bartered?”
“Must it be bartered?”
“Yes.”
“Are there no elements we can accept? Shouldn’t principles guide us?”
Sherman leaned forward. “Do you accept that we must prepare for some difficult bargaining?”
Ellsworth started to reach for his snuffbox, stopped, then said, “Roger, there’s no question that we must negotiate with all our might to protect our interests.”
Sherman smiled. “‘Negotiate’ sounds so civilized, a gentleman’s game. Bartering is what we do in the streets. Negotiation means finding common ground between reasonable men. Barter requires owning something that another holds dear. Jefferso
n negotiates in Paris. We barter in Philadelphia."
“Meaning?”
“We must capture something the Virginians desperately want.”
“What?”
“I wish I knew. What are the precious jewels in Madison’s plan? We must forage until we discover what holds the highest value for them.”
“By contesting every point?”
“At this stage, we shouldn’t pursue what we want but seize something the Virginians crave. Later we trade.”
Ellsworth reached for his snuffbox. By the time he’d finished, a fine dust had settled about his clothes and person. “In the end, you won’t abandon principle?”
“That’s my nightly prayer.”
“That doesn’t sound like a promise.”
“It’s not.” Sherman glanced down and then met Ellsworth’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Oliver, but in my long career, I’ve made some deals I regret, some I loathe.”
“Yet you continue to put yourself in situations that totter on the edge of a moral abyss.”
“Yes.”
“How do you cope?”
“I decided that I don’t need to worry about ethics—as long as I continue to worry about ethics.”
Ellsworth laughed and then studied his knees. “Roger, I think I understand.” Then looking up, he added, “I’m sorry I voted against you.”
“No matter. It never hurts to confuse the opposition.”
“We should’ve had this discussion earlier.”
“My error.” Sherman crossed his legs to signal patience. “Let’s get specific. Which principles concern you?”
Sitting straighter, Ellsworth said, “Several.” He fingered his snuffbox but didn’t pick it up. “You were the one that got me thinking along a different line Wednesday night at the City Tavern. Do you remember the conversation?”
“Of course.”
“I supervised Connecticut's war expenditures, and I learned that liberty depends on money.”
“Go on.”
“Our paramount objective must be to secure a sure source of funds for the national government. The European powers can be held at bay only by a united nation of thirteen states with enough funds to field an army and a navy.”
“Agreed.”
“But Wednesday night you argued against the national government taxing the people.”
“I was appealing to Read and Paterson, not you.” Sherman waved dismissively. “You know their biases. But I believe the states must supply the nation’s money, or they’ll become extraneous.”
“My experience says that approach never works.”
Now it was Sherman’s turn to stall. He went over to a bruised bureau and poured himself a schooner of water from an earthenware pitcher. Returning to his chair, he said, “Oliver, I must accede to your position on this point. You’re the one with treasury experience. You went to Yale and Princeton, while I have little formal education. You’ve been abroad; I’ve not.”
Sherman continued as he settled into the chair. “Let me offer another path. There are many sources of funds. We can reserve specific taxes to the national government and dedicate others to the states. Then each may remain supreme within their realm.”
Ellsworth looked thoughtful. “That might work.”
“Good. Anything else?”
Ellsworth again started to reach for his snuffbox.
Sherman laughed. “Obviously, yes. Tell me.”
“Your comments on democracy angered me.”
“That was a device. Well … not entirely. I do have reservations about the wisdom of the people.”
“I don’t share those reservations.”
“You must admit that Shays’s Rebellion exemplifies the excesses of democracy?”
“I do not.”
Sherman blanched. “Explain.”
“You know the situation among our farmers. The country has no money. Hard-working, patriotic farmers can’t pay their taxes or buy the most rudimentary implements to till their land. So we throw them in jail and confiscate their property. They have a right to raise up arms.”
“Who gave them this right?”
“You.”
“How? When?”
“You signed the Declaration of Independence. Perhaps you should read it again. It says that man has an inalienable right to rebel against an oppressive government."
“Our government is not oppressive.”
Ellsworth snapped his snuffbox hard against his chair. “Many consider physical confinement and loss of livelihood oppressive.”
“It’s not the government’s fault.”
“It is.”
“We’re here to fix that.”
“Not at the expense of our republican principles.”
Sherman sighed. “The people can be easily duped to follow an anarchist.”
“Only when the government gives the anarchist a platform.”
“Do you suggest that people are wise when things go well?”
“Yes. Collectively. Some will be foolish, but if we try to guard against the lowest level, we invite rule by the privileged few. We must endure the ignorant to protect the liberty of the majority.”
“Your populism may exceed Madison’s.”
“Virginia is not my model. Connecticut’s my model.”
Sherman took a sip of water, unclear about how to proceed. Ellsworth was right. Connecticut had a strong republican tradition. Leaning forward, Sherman said, “Oliver, I’m proud to have influenced your political career. I’m even prouder that you’ve learned to chart your own course. You’ve given me much to think about.”
“Thank you.”
Sherman leaned back. “I’ll probably not live long enough to measure our success, but you’re a young man. You’ll hold powerful positions in this new government.”
“I may not want to hold a position in the national government.”
“That would be our nation’s loss.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but my loyalty is to Connecticut.”
“I understand, but we need to talk about tactics. The political arena doesn’t nurture idealism. Rough and ruthless men always emerge to pursue power.”
“I have faith that good men will be attracted to a good government.”
“Oliver, let me be clear. Politics, disguised by a veneer of civility, is played on the very edge of barbarism.”
“I’m not naïve.”
“Good. Let’s get back to tactics. We must vote together.”
“In all cases?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“I am a horrid speaker. I believe you should present Connecticut’s views. I’ll speak from time to time, but my talent is to convince in private, not public.”
“As we are at the moment.”
Sherman chuckled. “Have I succeeded?”
“You’ve reminded me that our destination requires circuitous detours. I can be a patient and willing passenger.” Ellsworth walked to the bureau and poured himself some water. After retaking his seat, he said quietly, “If principle dictates, and my vote won’t alter the course you chart, I’d like the freedom to vote my conscience.”
“Agreed.”
“And speak my mind on occasion?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me how you wish to proceed.”
Leaving his room, Sherman almost bumped into Witherspoon.
“Good afternoon, Reverend.”
“A fine day it is. Do you have time for a stroll?”
“Unfortunately not. I’m rushing to an appointment.”
“Oh yes, busy, busy. You have a big challenge.”
“I suspect we’ll muddle through.”
“How’s the family?” Witherspoon asked.
“Fine. A little illness, but my church is lending Rebecca a hand. Did you see James?”
“Yes, we had a stimulating conversation. Unfortunately, we resurrected some old disagreements.”
“It’s a relief to know others disagree.”
/> “Madison sees you as an opponent.”
“I was referring to my own allies.”
“Do you oppose James?”
Sherman smiled. “Only some of his ideas.”
“Allow him to explain. You’ll see he makes sense.”
“What did you and James argue about?” Sherman asked.
“Slavery.”
“A volatile issue.”
“What’s your position?” Witherspoon asked.
“I’ll endeavor to make slavery illegal in Connecticut.”
“I meant in the South.”
“What’s James’s position?”
“I asked for yours.”
“Reverend, I can’t share my positions with you. You’re a friend of James Madison.”
Howard suddenly emerged from a room he had tidied up.
“Ah, Howard, if I may, how do you feel about slavery?”
Sherman thought Witherspoon’s question tactless and inappropriate. Howard couldn’t answer such a direct question from a guest.
“My feelings are private,” Howard said nonchalantly.
“Then what’s your opinion?” Witherspoon refused to be put off.
“First, if I may, sir, what’s your opinion?” Howard responded.
“I think slavery is a reprehensible evil.”
“You must also believe that God punishes evil.”
“I do.”
“What’s your opinion on violence?” Howard asked.
“Another reprehensible evil.”
“Then you must reconcile your reprehensible evils.”
Witherspoon started to speak, but Howard interjected, “You must excuse me, sirs, I have chores I must attend to.”
Sherman watched Howard’s long legs gracefully carry him to the rear staircase, where he quickly disappeared. Turning back to Witherspoon, he was pleased to see him baffled.
“What do you find so amusing, Roger?”
“Riddles. I find riddles amusing.”
“I’m glad you’re here, John. I need your help.”
Tempest at Dawn Page 15
