Read had apparently decided to defy the other Delaware delegates and defect from the small state camp. Madison scribbled his notes with growing excitement. Wilson spoke for a moment before Madison grasped the irony of his remarks.
Wilson, head tilted down, glared at the delegates in defiance over the spectacles perched low on his nose. “This nonsense must be challenged. I see no incompatibility between the national and state governments, provided that each stays within its sphere. I vehemently disagree with Mr. Read!” Wilson sat with a firm finality.
The debate showed the weariness of the late afternoon, and a motion to adjourn found quick approval.
Madison stuffed his papers into his valise a little more aggressively than necessary. Franklin caught his eye as he waved his rented prisoners away.
“An aggravating day, eh, Jemmy?”
“I apologize for showing my disappointment.”
“Don’t be despondent. We’re in committee, a less formal setting. People feel free to speak their minds.”
“I noticed.”
“But you don’t welcome it.”
“What bothers me is that everyone is jumping sides. Mason, Butler, and Randolph fight our proposals on the executive. Even you spoke in their support. Pinckney forces a reconsideration of our vote on electing the lower branch. Morris herds me into the library to scold me. Mason is livid because of a supposed affront. Wilson and Pinckney deliver a poorly disguised threat to unite without the small states.”
Madison paused and laughed. “All of this would cast me into a pit of despair, except that then Read makes an impassioned speech for our side. Then, astonishingly, Wilson objects to Read’s comments. Sherman seems the only predictable man in the chamber. I wonder sometimes if we haven’t locked ourselves in a sanitarium.”
“Politicians are seldom admired for their healthy mental attitudes.”
“Three-quarters of us are lawyers. We’re supposed to be logical.”
Franklin’s laugh joggled his entire body. “Lawyers aren’t rational; they rationalize. They tweak and stretch and fondle words until they have transformed sentences into something quite unrecognizable to the simple student of the English language.”
“Do I detect the printer’s bias for strict composition?”
“And the author’s bias for clarity. Perhaps Shakespeare was right in saying we should kill all the lawyers.”
“We couldn’t assemble a jury of their peers to agree on the sentence.”
Franklin gave a hearty laugh, “Quick, my young friend.”
Madison beamed with the praise. “I must learn to use witticisms more often. People find me dull.”
“Dear Jemmy, we each have our role to play in this little drama. I believe one man can work great change and accomplish great things, if he first forms a good plan, cuts off all amusements that would divert his attention, and makes the execution of the plan his sole business. Our success depends on you.”
Madison took a moment to think. Looking about the almost empty chamber, he noticed Franklin’s debtors talking animatedly in one corner. They obviously were willing to wait as long as necessary to carry their charge back to his home. He turned to Franklin. “Thank you, sir.”
“Something more is bothering you.”
“I’m tired.”
Franklin raised an eyebrow.
“Well … I received letters from my parents. They may’ve set my mood.”
“How are they?”
Madison shook his head. “My father again instructed me to protect slavery.”
“So you rebelled with an intemperate remark in front of the whole assembly?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Don’t berate yourself. Someone needed to say it. I’m glad you had the courage.”
“Courage or foolhardiness?”
“Some of each, I suspect. How about your mother?”
“She’s either sick, recovering from an illness, or detecting symptoms of an oncoming ailment.”
“Health can be precarious, especially when you’re on constant guard.”
“My fear is that I inherited her weak constitution. My father believes we both exaggerate, use ill health as an excuse.”
“Do you?”
“A question I ask myself … at times.”
“Well, take care. Get rest. We need you.”
“I shall. Thank you.” Madison stood to depart.
“What did Morris scold you about?”
Madison sat back down. “My wavering on the use of force against the states.”
“That wasn’t your call.”
“How do you know?”
“The general and I discussed it.”
“Morris is leaving the convention for a spell.”
“I heard.” After a pause, Franklin said, “I’ll talk to him before he leaves. He’ll present no more trouble. Listen, the give and take of politics is messy at best. The disorder of a republic must be endured. Remember, this is the system you wish to invent.”
“I fear for our control.”
“Must we control? I take heart in watching people change their minds,” Franklin said. “That’s the great purpose of deliberating bodies.”
“I can accept disagreement for the moment, but before we break our locks of secrecy, we must have solidarity.”
Eyes twinkling, Franklin repeated for the hundredth time his now famous repartee delivered after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. “Yes, indeed Jemmy, we must all hang together, or, most assuredly, we’ll all hang separately.”
Chapter 15
Thursday, June 7, 1787
“What drove his outburst?” Sherman asked.
“Emotion and necessity.” Dickinson hesitated a moment. “Roger, you must understand, Delaware’s been a state for only twelve years. For us, survival has a higher priority than sovereignty.”
Sherman, Ellsworth, and Dickinson walked three abreast toward the State House. The weather was fair, and a fresh spring day brought people outdoors. Idle shopkeepers stood in doorways, neighbors conversed on corners, and constables tipped their hats to passersby.
Sherman wondered what had transpired in the Delaware caucus. Just a few days ago, Read had threatened to bolt the convention. He had appeared committed to protecting the one vote per state doctrine, but yesterday had reversed himself and all but called for the annihilation of the states.
“John, what instructions did you bring?” The hesitation told Sherman he had guessed right.
“We’ve been instructed to work for a strong national government. Roger, we’re surrounded by powerful and ambitious neighbors. We need a restraining influence on the large states or we’re doomed.”
“Are you required to record your instructions with the secretary?” Ellsworth asked.
Smart, Sherman thought.
“No. Our instructions aren’t from the legislature as a whole, but from prominent members.”
Sherman nodded. “That means Delaware’s threat to withdraw from the convention can still hover over the chamber. How far must you go?”
“I’m not here to capitulate. We want a strong national government, but one with as much state influence as we can negotiate.”
Ellsworth laughed. “Prepare yourself. Roger has already lectured me about negotiations. He believes gentlemen negotiate, but we must barter with brazen marauders.
“Roger, I’m disappointed you have such a low opinion about our esteemed colleagues.”
“Oliver engages in hyperbole,” Sherman said. “I merely pointed out that to protect our states, we must first plant our pennon on a far hill. Compromise comes after we win territory.”
They walked on a few paces, and then Dickinson said, “Delaware’s intent shall remain our secret. I promise we’ll battle the Virginians as if our life depended on it.”
“It does.” Sherman kicked a wadded handbill into the street. He realized that his feeble coalition could easily collapse if he didn’t come up with a fresh idea.
Di
ckinson opened the day’s session with a motion that state legislatures appoint the upper house of the legislature, which everyone now called the Senate. Sherman seconded the motion and Gerry took the floor.
“Gentlemen, four modes of appointing the Senate have been proposed.
“First, by the other branch of the legislature,
“Second, by the national executive,
“Third, by the people,
“And, fourth, by the state legislatures.”
Gerry rattled these off with fast-moving eyes and comical head bobs. He endorsed election by the state legislatures but digressed into a long and convoluted argument that this method protected commercial interests against landed interests. Sherman nodded at Dickinson to try to salvage the motion.
“Esteemed delegates,” Dickinson said, “the Virginia Plan unites thirteen small streams into one great river. Thus, the national government will run in the same direction as the states and possess the same defects. We must design a government like the solar system, where the states are the planets, free to move in their proper orbits.”
Dickinson walked over to Wilson and pointed at him with an uplifted palm. “Mr. Wilson wishes to extinguish these planets, forgetting, gentlemen, that those states counterbalance the weight of the sun.”
Wilson took the floor in a huff. “I never endorsed extinguishing these so-called planets. Gentlemen, the national government cannot devour the states. On the contrary, the states will devour the national government. The preservation of our liberty demands that the states stay in their proper—and subordinate—orbits.”
Wilson walked over and mimicked Dickinson by pointing at him with an uplifted hand. “Perhaps Mr. Dickinson can explain how the great state of Delaware counterbalances the sun.”
When Dickinson refused to respond, Madison spoke. “Nothing is more contradictory than to say that the national government will possess the same defects as the states, and in the next breath, say that the states are the proper check on the national government.”
Sherman tapped the arm of his chair as he watched Madison return to his table with a smug expression. So far, Sherman’s alliance had failed to present a decent argument.
Pinckney spoke next. “The Senate ought to be independent and permanent—appointed by the state legislatures for life.”
They’d been debating how to select the Senate, not term length. Now Pinckney had scared the delegates with an aristocratic proposal. Worse, he proceeded to propose dividing the states into three classes according to size, giving the first class three senators, the second two, and the third one. He had switched to suffrage! Pinckney was part of the opposition, but Sherman had hoped that he’d support the small states on this issue. He did. But he bungled it as badly as Sherman’s side.
Mason, a trueborn nationalist, surprised Sherman further. “Gentlemen, whatever power we give to the national government, a portion must be left to the states. States must possess some means to defend themselves against oppression by the national government. We’ve provided for self-defense in every other area. Shall only the states be without a means to protect themselves?”
Someone had finally presented a solid argument, but why had Mason supported a small state proposal? When the vote was tallied, the state legislature appointment of the Senate passed unanimously. Sherman understood.
“No joy in victory?”
“They seek to placate us, but it’s not enough.”
“The unanimous vote?” Ellsworth asked.
“The vote was arranged. They hope if the states appoint the Senate, we’ll accept proportional suffrage in both houses.”
The two men sat in Mrs. Marshall’s sitting room, drinking tea. Mrs. Marshall entered, bearing a small tray. “Gentlemen, I’ve brought you some fresh apple fritters.”
Sherman sat upright. “Thank you. The aroma’s made it difficult to concentrate.”
Mrs. Marshall offered the tray to Sherman, bending low to display more cleavage than necessary. “We can’t distract you gentlemen from your important work now, can we?”
Sherman kept his eyes on her face and was rewarded with a sly smile. When she offered Ellsworth the tray, minus the deep bow, the two men traded a glance.
Sherman took a bite. “Mrs. Marshall, these are extraordinary. We must keep them a secret, or I won’t be able to get a room the next time I’m in your fair city.”
“I’ll always have a room for you, Mr. Sherman. How long do you think this visit will last?”
“A while. Progress is slow.”
“But satisfactory, I hope.”
“We may not discuss the proceeding,” Ellsworth said quickly.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to pry into your business.”
Ellsworth broke off a piece of his fritter and, before tossing it in his mouth, said, “We’re doing the people’s business.”
Mrs. Marshall, looking guileless, said, “Then perhaps the people shouldn’t be excluded.”
Ellsworth nodded. “The press is full of remonstrations.”
“I’m not talking about empty-headed newspaper writers, I’m—” Sherman’s laughter stopped her midsentence. “And what do you find so amusing, Mr. Sherman?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Sherman waved his hand toward Ellsworth. “Please, don’t let me stop you. Enlighten the man.”
“I speak my own mind,” she said, with uplifted chin. “Your proceedings should be public.”
“We’re not cooking fritters,” Ellsworth said.
When Mrs. Marshall looked as if she might reach for a fireplace poker, Sherman found himself laughing uproariously. Mrs. Marshall stood akimbo and glared at the dumbfounded Ellsworth. She waited for a quieter moment and then said, “You may not be cooking fritters, Mr. Ellsworth, but whatever you’re brewing smells foul.”
Sherman suddenly grew serious. “What’ve you heard?”
Mrs. Marshall shrugged. “Discord. Your concoction appears to have a tribal flavor.”
“Delegates are talking?”
“Not to us, but we see the bickering in tavern corners.
“Good to keep in mind. Thank you.”
With an exaggerated curtsey, she said in an overly sweet voice, “Far be it from me to instruct men of such stature.” Mrs. Marshall started to leave, but then stopped and looked at each man in turn. “Gentlemen, please remember: we must live off your stew for a long time. Do a proper job.”
After she had left, Ellsworth scratched his chin and asked, “Did I miss something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The opinion of an intelligent woman.”
“Women have no place in politics,” Ellsworth said.
“Thank God, or men would be mincemeat.”
Ellsworth looked puzzled a moment, shook his head, and then asked, “Was Pinckney proposing a compromise?”
“I doubt it. The Virginians wouldn’t entrust Pinckney to carry the mail. I suspect the idea sprang from his own mind. Madison’s adamant for proportionality in both houses.”
“What do you think of Pinckney’s suggestion?”
“It doesn’t solve the problem. Do the arithmetic.” Sherman washed the last of his fritter down with a sip of tea. “The big states would still dominate.”
“It might be better than pure proportionality.”
“Too early to surrender.”
“Do we go on the offensive?”
“Too early to attack.”
Ellsworth looked Sherman in the eye and asked, “What do you intend about Mrs. Marshall?”
“I intend to enjoy her cooking.”
Friday’s session started with a reconsideration of the veto over state laws. The original rule allowed a veto when state laws violated the Constitution. Pinckney wanted to expand the scope to “negate all state laws the national legislature judged improper.”
Madison seconded the motion. “I oppose the use of force, and a veto provides the mildest means available to enforce compliance with national measures.”
Gerry, as usual, was angry. “You mean to enslave the states, as you do your Negroes. No overbearing pundit—and there are enough of those around—would have thrown out such a ludicrous idea. We’ll never accede to this notion. Never!”
Sherman finally received recognition. “Mr. Madison says the national government must have the power to stop unconstitutional acts by the states.” Sherman saw Madison lift his eyes from his notes to look at him. “That resolve already passed. Mr. Pinckney has proposed a broad enlargement. I request he define improper, and I further move to postpone until a definition has been supplied.”
Wilson responded in an exasperated tone. “It would be impractical to define improper. Mr. Sherman should be embarrassed to use such an ordinary delaying tactic.”
Pinckney’s proposal failed seven to three, and the assembly adjourned in a sour mood. As the delegates departed, Sherman sensed a shift in mood and momentum. The Virginians had suffered their first defeat with their loss of the “improper negative” motion. In politics, victory turned on timing. As Sherman gathered his papers, he wondered if this defeat provided a vital signal. Was it time to counterattack?
Paterson started Saturday’s session by pointing out that with proportional representation in both houses, Virginia would have sixteen votes and Georgia one. “Gentlemen, I’m prepared to give energy and stability to the federal government, but the proposal to destroy state equality is astonishing.
“Mr. Madison insists that New Jersey sacrifice its suffrage. We refuse. What remedy is available?” Paterson’s eyes flitted faster than a firefly. “Only one, gentlemen. A map of the United States must be spread out and all the existing boundaries erased. A new partition can then be made into thirteen equal parts. The whole nation must be thrown into hotchpot and equal divisions made. Only then can we have the fair representation that obsesses our dear Mr. Madison.”
Titters of laughter sprinkled the assemblage. Sherman grinned at the audacious proposal. Perhaps ridicule might succeed where logic had failed.
Tempest at Dawn Page 18
