Sherman grinned. “But you’ll listen?”
“Blather away.”
“Why do you find an equal vote in the Senate so reprehensible?”
“I don’t. In fact, I believe it’s in Georgia’s interest. We’re sparsely populated and will be disadvantaged by suffrage based solely on population.” Baldwin swung around to sit sideways with his legs crossed. “Roger, understand this, my delegation has sworn allegiance to Virginia.”
Sherman tried his most engaging smile. “Abe, this is politics. Allegiances last but a fortnight.”
“My backcountrymen distrust a strong national government, so I need the appearance of unity with seaboard Georgians. I can’t go against the rest of my deligation.”
“What would convince the other Georgia delegates to support a single vote in the Senate?”
“So, it’s games you want to play. All right, I’ll tell you. Your gambit on slavery won’t work. Compared to the other Southern states, Georgia isn’t as dependent on slaveholdings—and my district has an even lower ratio of slaves.”
“What will work?”
“You’re asking how you can buy their votes?”
“What do they fear? Assuaging fear costs less than feeding appetites.”
“You fiend. You never cease to astound me.” Baldwin uncrossed his legs and faced Sherman directly. “Remember, we speak hypothetically. Georgia claims vast tracts of land to the west, all the way to the Mississippi. The greatest fear in my state is that a national government will take this land away from Georgia and carve it into new, independent states. This isn’t just hubris. Huge fortunes are at stake.”
“Does this concern you personally?”
“It concerns Wilkes County—and prominent people along the seaboard.”
“Thank you, Abe. You’ve given me something to work with.”
“I’ve given you nothing. I’m serious, Roger. No deal, no assurances, no staked-out common ground. We leave as we entered—good friends who just happen to be on the opposite sides of a peevish political dilemma.”
“I understand,” Sherman said.
Baldwin grinned like a privateer that had just caught sight of a Spanish galleon. “I must admit my friend; I can’t wait to see what you do with this bit of flotsam.”
“We’ve been trounced.” Paterson looked downtrodden.
Sherman kept his voice light. “We’re in committee and we need only one more state.”
“Which state do you propose to seduce?” Paterson asked. “They’re fitted tighter than a dovetailed chest of drawers.”
“William, it’s time for you to present your plan,” Sherman said.
“I’m not ready.”
“What?”
“I’m not ready.”
“William, we’ve passed the Virginia Plan. You must present now.”
On Tuesday and today, the convention had whipped through the rest of the Virginia Plan. With the suffrage issue behind them, no one had any more fight. This morning, after approving nineteen resolves, four more than originally proposed, the Committee of the Whole officially reported out the plan.
“Roger, you were the one who told me to seek advice from Delaware and Maryland. Martin drives me crazy.”
“How much time do you need?”
“Maybe Friday.”
Sherman gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to expend political points asking for a delay.”
“You control Martin then. I’m done with this charade.”
Sherman stopped short. “You’re right. I apologize. I gave you an impossible task. We’ll just have to seek more time.”
“Do you think they’ll consider my plan?”
“When the delegates see it, we’ll win converts. Sanity will once again prevail in the chamber.”
Sherman didn’t believe a word he said.
“General, may I speak to you?”
“Mr. Sherman, just the man I was looking for. Let’s talk.”
Both had just arrived at the State House for Thursday’s session. Sherman followed Washington to the tower Stair Hall and up to the landing midway to the second floor. The landing was the architectural masterpiece of the building. Its Ionic pilasters were capped with bellflower pendants. A cornice framed a high Palladian window that looked down to the yard below.
“Why were you looking for me, General?”
“I wanted to check the mood of the small states. The campaign can be wrapped up quickly with your support.”
“With all due respect, I don’t believe things can be wrapped up quickly.”
Washington gave Sherman an unrelenting stare. “Why not?”
“Paterson has worked tirelessly on a plan with the other small states. They insist on presenting it.”
“The committee already reported out a plan. One, if memory serves, that was vigorously debated. The will of the Committee of the Whole has been determined.”
“The assembly hasn’t had an opportunity to see this plan.”
“Why’ve you delayed in bringing it forward?”
“The small states came unprepared. It had to be hashed out in the scant time between sessions. Maryland arrived late.”
“Who’s behind this plan?” Washington demanded.
Did Washington mean which states or which men? Sherman, tall enough to maintain level eye contact, suddenly felt in wont of stature. “New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, and Connecticut. Possibly New York.”
“You support this infamy?”
“Yes, sir.” Sherman paused. “But honest disagreement is not infamy.”
“It’s at least foolish. The country disintegrates, and you quibble over peccadilloes.”
Washington walked over to the Gothic laced window. He looked down at the yard for a long period, then squared his shoulders and returned to where Sherman stood. “Mr. Sherman, we must come out of this convention with a plan for a new government. It’s imperative. What must I do to secure your cooperation?”
“Sir, you have my cooperation.”
“But you don’t support the plan duly voted for by the committee.”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“Why not!”
“It will trample Connecticut.”
“My god, man, can you not see? Are things so different in Connecticut?”
“No, sir. The situation in Connecticut is dire.”
“Then why can’t you support this plan?”
“Because it’s sedition!”
Washington looked ready to explode. Sherman braced himself, but instead, the general turned and walked back to gaze out the window again. After a longer recess, he slowly turned to face Sherman. “We disagree … obviously.” Washington turned his full frame toward Sherman but stayed at the window casing. He spoke softly. “Roger, presently we’re weak at home and a disgrace abroad. I believe state governments cause our disorder. They go to incredible length to guard their power.” Washington took a step closer. “Your refusal to yield will destroy this great country.”
“General, I believe every word you just said, except the last sentence. If not for my efforts, this convention would already be dead.”
Washington slowly closed the space between the two men; then, surprisingly, he put his hand on Sherman’s shoulder. “I believe you. Now what must we do to save our country?”
“Allow Paterson to present his plan. It won’t pass, but an idea or two weaved into the Virginia Plan might win the united support we need.”
“I’ll instruct Gorham to give Paterson the floor.”
“Thank you. He’ll be ready tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“I need time to counsel him. His ire must be harnessed.”
With exasperation, Washington said, “Very well. I’ll support a recess.”
Washington removed his hand and made a motion to leave.
“Sir, if I may.”
“Yes.”
“We want the same goal, but we serve different constituents. You have my commitment to work for
a sound national government, but I must continue to present my views.”
“Roger, I insist on your vote to get us out of committee.”
“If I say yes, what am I committing to?”
“When we vote out the final recommendation of the Committee of the Whole, I want you to vote with the will of the chamber.”
“Alright, William, explain it to us one more time.”
They all grouped around the table where Mrs. Marshall served meals. After being granted a one-day recess, the small state leaders had rushed to the boardinghouse to go over Paterson’s plan one more time.
The room had a comfortable feel. The bright yellow wainscoting complemented the pastoral wallpaper highlighted with traces of yellow. The massive sideboard along one wall, created by the English furniture maker Thomas Chippendale, must have been Mrs. Marshall’s prized possession and displayed her willow-patterned china and sparkling silver service. The seafaring paintings around the room paid tribute to her deceased merchant husband.
Paterson cleared his throat. “The first resolve quotes our instructions from Congress to remind the delegates of our limited authority.”
“I don’t need a reminder to see we’ve verged off course,” Martin said.
“Let’s hold the criticism and allow William to move through this quickly,” Sherman said. “We’re out of time.”
Paterson read through the plan with no further interruptions. The laws of Congress were supreme and bound the states. Congress had the authority to apply duties on import and provide penalties for noncompliance. The state courts interpreted laws, with appeals to the national judiciary. Taxes were levied based on the formula used by the Virginia Plan for representation. The national government could use force to collect unpaid taxes or to enforce laws, but only after an unspecified number of states concurred. The executive consisted of more than one person and could be impeached by a majority of state executives. The state executives collectively appointed federal officers and a supreme tribunal of judges, and controlled the military. The supreme tribunal held the power to impeach all federal officers except the executive.
Since this was a revision of the Articles, then by omission, each state continued to have one vote. There were other details, but basically, this version was more refined than the plan they had outlined three weeks ago. They used language from the Virginia Plan, including “three-fifths of all other persons,” to determine taxes as a ploy. If slaves justified increased representation, then slaves could determine taxes.
Sherman still believed that Congress would accept this plan, but he had been convinced during the debates that they must go further. What should he do?
“Does everyone agree?” Sherman asked.
He visually worked his way around the table, getting a nod or short affirmative answer from everyone. Everyone except Luther Martin, who sat to his immediate left.
“Luther, how do you vote?”
“I presume you don’t wish me to pontificate?” Martin asked.
“Brevity makes a man appear smarter,” Sherman answered.
With an uplifted eyebrow, Martin voted. “Aye.”
Sherman smiled. “You must want to appear a genius.”
This caused genuine laughter. Relief that they had all agreed heightened the levity. Sherman decided not to voice his reservations.
“William, how long to scribe a clean copy?” Sherman asked.
“Two, three hours.”
“Before you start, we have one last issue. Who pays for copies?” After a long silence, Sherman added, “You must all want to appear smart.”
Now the mood verged on dizzy euphoria. Sherman regretted the quip; he needed to deal with this issue seriously. “William, can you buy the copies?”
“No.” Paterson assumed a helpless expression. “We’ve written for more funds. Our delegation—”
“This is the New Jersey Plan,” Sherman interrupted.
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
“We have no money.”
Sherman looked around at the other men. No one volunteered.
“Very well, Connecticut will fund the copies. On one condition: there are sure to be additional expenses, so each of you must write your legislatures for additional funds.”
After extracting promises from each state, the party broke to allow Paterson time to scribe an original. As the delegates left, Ellsworth approached Sherman.
“How can Connecticut pay? We’ve consumed our allowance.”
“I’ll buy the copies. It’s not a big expense; it just irks me that everyone pleads poverty after they entertain each other in taverns with public money.”
“The price of leadership?”
“The price of leadership.”
“Roger, I apologize, but I no longer like this plan.”
“Don’t apologize; neither do I.” Sherman liked Ellsworth’s look of surprise. He probably had expected a rebuff.
“Well, uh, may I propose amendments from the floor?”
“Yes.” Still more surprise on Ellsworth’s face.
“Roger, what’s our position?”
“Neither plan fits the country’s needs, but a system that falls between them might work.”
“What about the Virginia Plan with equal vote in the Senate?”
“What do you think?”
“I can support such a system.”
“We need more, but the rest will fall after suffrage.”
“And you have a plan?”
“I’m working on one.”
“That was a quick meeting.”
“Things move fast now.”
Howard had come to freshen up the room when he saw the men leave. Sherman had a thought. “Howard, are you familiar with copiers?”
“Not personally, but boarders seemed pleased with Williamson’s.”
“Reasonably priced?”
“I’ve never heard a complaint.”
“Where are they located?”
“On Chestnut, between Seventh and Eighth, not far from the State House.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, do you know where Robert Morris lives?”
“Of course, on the corner of Market and Sixth. It’s the grandest home in Philadelphia.”
“I need a letter delivered.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
“Thank you. I’ll bring it down in a minute.”
Sherman climbed the stairs to his room to write letters. He decided to write Rebecca first. Her last correspondence conveyed a forlorn tone. She continued to worry about money and the children’s health, and she had been particularly upset by the theft of an heirloom silver tankard. The loss also upset Sherman, but he wanted to make light of it to ease her mind. When he got to that part of the letter, he wrote, “How much trouble and anxiety is saved. We shall no longer be troubled to put it away so carefully every night.”
He tried to assuage her other concerns but knew that only his return would make her happy. The convention would go long or badly. He could only hope for a long enough recess to visit New Haven. He tucked that goal in the back of his mind as he turned to the other letter he needed to write.
The letter to Washington required care. Sherman wanted to be brief and explicit, much more difficult than being verbose and vague. He sat at his writing shelf thinking that his little note would probably take as long to compose as Paterson would need to scribe the entire New Jersey Plan.
After several false starts, marked by the balled-up stationery strewn at his feet, Sherman finally found the right tone
Your Excellency,
Thank you for your precious time this morning. You have my cooperation within the limits of my obligations.
This convention must report out a sound system of government that strengthens the national system. I believe it will. Compromises will be struck and a consensus built.
However, if Congress fights our work, all will be lost. I believe tha
t a confidential dialogue with key congressional members may avert disaster. If I may, I recommend sending an emissary to New York to act as an arbitrator between the two bodies.
This individual must enjoy your highest trust. I suggest Mr. Hamilton. No one would doubt that he spoke for the leadership of the Federal Convention and his vote is wasted in any case.
With sincerest regards,
Roger Sherman
Sherman wondered how this letter would be received. The advice was sound, but Washington would suspect that Sherman had a private scheme in mind. He didn’t—only an inkling of a plan—but it depended upon a communication channel to Congress. Sherman could set one up, but the channel had to be tied directly to the power at this convention. His idea depended on Virginia’s endorsement, so they might as well control the emissary. Sherman hoped Washington would sense the need and that his trust in Hamilton would override his reservations. Governor Clinton had stacked his New York delegation with cronies who would fight a strong federal government, so the loss of Hamilton’s vote posed no additional risk.
Sherman read the note several more times. He resisted the temptation to add to it. The more he wrote, the more suspicion he would raise. Washington would take the bait because he knew Sherman had his own contacts in Congress. The Hamilton suggestion was the masterstroke. He was a member of Congress, lived in New York, spoke for Washington, and possessed a genius for finance.
Sherman heard a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
“Mr. Sherman, this package arrived for you.”
“Thank you, Howard. Can you take this letter to Mr. Morris’s home right away?”
“Of course, sir.”
Howard turned to leave, then immediately whirled. “This letter is addressed to Gen. George Washington.”
“He’s staying with Mr. Morris.”
“Should I insist on hand delivery?”
“I shouldn’t think that necessary.”
Howard looked disappointed. “I just thought I might meet the great man.”
Sherman smiled, remembering his own meeting this morning with “the great man.” “I’m sorry, Howard, I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re quite right. This is highly important, and I want you to insist on hand delivering it to the general.”
Tempest at Dawn Page 21
