King started to respond with patience. “Sir, I didn’t speak in dictatorial language.” Despite what looked like a gallant attempt, King lost his own composure. Shaking his head, he turned to the general assembly but pointed at Paterson. “This intemperance has marked Mr. Paterson himself. I wasn’t the one to speak with a rage previously unheard in this chamber. I wasn’t the one to say I was ready to abandon our common country and court the protection of some foreign hand.”
King turned to face Paterson directly. “I’m grieved that such a thought entered into Mr. Paterson’s head. I’m stunned he allowed it to escape his lips. I, sir, would never court protection from a foreign power. Never! Mr. Paterson, there’s no excuse that justifies your insults.”
When King sat down, the chamber grew breathlessly silent. Finally, someone behind Madison softly moved for adjournment. The second came in a voice just above a whisper. After the vote, Madison sat still and felt, rather than saw, the delegates file quietly out of the room. He soon sat alone, looking down at his laborious and all-embracing journal. Was this the end?
Madison walked with his normal rapid pace toward the Indian Queen. He had felt miserable when he left the State House, and his mood had not improved with the chance to move around and breathe air that others had not exhaled.
“The Virginia Plan is a festering corpse.”
Madison turned to see his nemesis. “Mr. Pinckney, we need only to vote to revive the plan.”
“A deep coma then?”
“We’ve merely had a three-day detour.”
“So the Virginia Plan is divine. It shall be resurrected after three days. Please excuse my ignorance.”
“Charles, I need your help.”
Pinckney put a hand on Madison's shoulder and stopped his progress. “James, you ask for my help?”
“I and the republic. Give me your advice. How do we break this deadlock?”
Pinckney began to stroll toward their inn. “Why not give in to equal suffrage in the Senate? I agree the real issue is not small versus large states. A cooler Senate can protect our slaveholdings.”
Madison grew wary. “Equality in the Senate is a bad solution.”
“You must admit that our frontier grows faster than the Northwest. The next states will be in the South.”
“You’ve talked with Sherman.”
“I talk to all the delegates.”
“But your allegiance is with the South, not New England.”
“My allegiance is to South Carolina.”
“Don’t conspire with Sherman. Deal with me first. I can be accommodating.”
“Your newfound broadmindedness is welcome—but perhaps too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“Actions have already been put in motion.”
“What actions?”
“I’m afraid you must learn this from someone other than me.”
Madison fumed. Pinckney knew. He must learn what was going on, or his credibility with the other delegates, and Pinckney in particular, would be destroyed. No, it was already shattered.
The next day, Madison skipped down the church steps after Sunday services. He wanted to catch Gouverneur Morris, who had returned from his personal trip.
“Mr. Morris, may I have a word?”
Morris halted his own awkward descent and gave Madison a hearty smile. “Of course, my dear boy. Come along, but you must slow your pace to my hobbled gait.”
“Neither an absent leg nor a dreadful convention has crushed your spirit. How do you remain so cheerful?”
“With pigheadedness. I refuse to let other people’s fulminations disrupt my life. This morning’s sermon only convinced me to remain an unrepentant rogue.”
“Mr. Morris, do you know what’s going on?”
“Something, my dear boy, something. I’m on my way to Robert Morris’s home to find out exactly what.”
“You don’t know?”
“I believe our dear general and the doctor have hatched a plan, but I know not what.”
“May I join you? This private scheming has me troubled.”
“Of course. We’ll beseech our compatriots to confess their sins.”
Madison’s spirits soared. If Gouverneur Morris didn’t know, then his own ignorance felt more comfortable. Besides, even the general couldn’t ignore two senior delegates. He’d soon know the worst.
The two men were led into the parlor to find a dejected Morris and Washington. Robert slouched in a wing chair, staring at the cold fireplace, while Washington sat on the other side of the room, writing a letter. Madison could sense that they hadn’t been talking.
“Gentlemen, please come in,” Morris said.
The general barely acknowledged their entrance.
Gouverneur Morris opened the conversation. “Sorry to disturb, but we want to talk about the convention.”
“Do you bring news?” Robert Morris asked.
“We came seeking information,” Madison said.
“What kind of information?”
“Why was Hamilton dispatched to New York?” Madison asked.
Madison sensed an abrupt movement from where Washington sat writing his letter. “Mr. Hamilton is on personal business for me,” the general said. The hard tone signaled that no further inquiry would be entertained.
“Emotion runs high,” Madison said. “The delegates are obstinate and—”
“Indeed!”
Everyone sat silently, waiting for Washington to elaborate. Finally, he said, “More than a few delegates have threatened to go home. Each minute, I sit in fear that news will arrive that the convention has dissolved. The current crisis cannot be exaggerated.”
“I agree,” Madison ventured. “I hope Hamilton’s trip means you’ve crafted a solution. May I ask his mission?”
“You may not.”
Madison fought for control. “General, I deserve to be taken into your confidence.”
“His mission doesn’t fit into your neat plan,” Washington said with more than a little sarcasm.
“You believe I caused this crisis?”
“Your insistence on perfection has not helped matters.”
“I’m trying to avoid the sins of the past.”
Washington turned around in his chair and looked at the three men on the other side of the room. “I’m concerned with the sins of the present.” He turned back to his letter and muttered, “And the parishioners do not repent.”
Gouverneur Morris and Madison exchanged a quick glance, but Morris offered no support. Evidently, the general’s fulminations could dampen his spirit.
Madison decided he had to proceed, even if alone. “General, I know how disappointed you are, but—”
“No, Jemmy, you do not.”
“Please, excuse me, sir, but—”
This time Washington cut him off with an uplifted finger because a servant had entered. “General, sir, Roger Sherman requests to see you,” the servant said.
Washington paused a long second and then said, “Show him to another room and ask him to wait.”
Washington sat for several minutes before slowly rising. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” He looked down at the letter he had been writing. With a slight shrug, he walked over and handed it to Madison. “Here, Jemmy, you may read my correspondence while I talk to my guest.”
Madison quickly scanned the letter, hoping to find out what this was all about. Instead he got a glimpse into the general’s heart.
Everybody expects something from this convention; but what will be the final result? I am persuaded that the primary cause of our disorder lies in the different state governments and the tenacity with which they grip power. Independent sovereignty is ardently contended for, whilst separate interests refuse to yield to a more enlarged scale of politics. Disrespect for a general government renders this great country weak at home and disgraceful abroad.
I have no more ardent wish than to know what kind of government is best for us. No doubt there will be diversit
y on this important subject and it is necessary to hear all the arguments. To please all is impossible and to attempt it would be in vain. The only way is to form a government as good as we can and then trust the good sense of the people to carry it into effect.
Chapter 23
Sunday, July 1, 1787
Sherman hastily stood when he heard the door open. Washington turned his back to Sherman, sliding the pocket doors together until they met with a light clap. “Mr. Paterson is your charge.” Washington turned to glare at Sherman.
“I apologize for his intemperate remarks.”
“Intemperate?” The general looked tired and dejected. “That man may have destroyed my country.”
Sherman didn’t know how to respond, so he simply asked, “Has Alex left?”
“Mr. Sherman, I thought if I acquiesced to your intrigue, we could salvage this convention.”
“General, with all due respect, you did more than acquiesce. The design is now as much yours as mine.”
“Can you not control your people?”
“My people know nothing of our doings.”
“Only a weak commander gains allegiance by disclosing private discussions with his superior.”
“You’re correct; that was a poor excuse.” Sherman noticed that no tea had been offered, so he went directly back to his question. “Sir, did Alex leave?”
Washington glowered a moment, then simply said, “Yesterday.”
“I believe we must proceed as if nothing untoward has happened.”
“You do, do you? Well, I disagree.”
“General, the plan can still work. Hamilton’s on his way. Give it a chance.”
“We shall, but we won’t pretend nothing untoward has happened.” Washington stretched to his full height. “Mr. Sherman, I expect you to proceed immediately to Mr. Paterson and upbraid that firebrand to within an inch of his life. Another outburst like that, and I’ll personally ride to Trenton and get the man disbarred. You have vital tasks in this intrigue—do not misstep. Last, I’ll hold you to your promise to keep the small states at this convention. Good day.”
With that, Washington marched toward the doors, flung them aside, whirled around in the central hall, and snapped them together like a clap of thunder.
“It had to be said.”
Sherman shook his head. “No, William, it did not.”
“Especially not in such harsh words,” Dickinson added.
Sherman, Ellsworth, Dickinson, and Paterson sat in a private room at the City Tavern. Sherman had arranged the meeting immediately after his truncated appointment with Washington.
Ellsworth snapped his snuffbox against the table. “You went overboard.”
“I told the truth. Damn their so-called Southern manners.”
“You said you’d find a foreign ally and that the sword would decide this controversy.” Dickinson’s voice conveyed contempt. “You went far beyond violating Southern manners.”
Paterson leaped to his feet and shoved the chair away with so much force that it tipped over and clattered across the floor. “The bastards plot treason!” Paterson spat.
Sherman strained to remain calm. “William, sit down. Get control of yourself.”
“Treason, control? Those words don’t go together.”
Sherman took a deep breath. “William, it’s not treason to replace a government that’s already lifeless.”
“Our Revolution is not dead!”
“I’m talking about the Confederation. Our ideals can survive if we rekindle the flame, but you threaten to douse the few remaining embers.”
“The Virginians, not I, threaten hearth and home.”
“Sit. You’re too excited. Sometimes a frontal assault isn’t the best way.”
“Brave men face villains squarely. They don’t—”
“William, I’m trying to be patient, but you push too hard.”
“I’ll push even harder. I’ll not rest until—”
“You leave only rubble?” Sherman inserted a quiet pause, then said in a conciliatory tone, “William, please sit. Let’s talk sensibly.”
“Roger, do not placate me. I’m not in the mood.”
Sherman flew out of his chair, walked around the table in two quick strides, picked Paterson’s chair off the floor, and slammed it down square on all four legs. “William, you wear your mood with far too much pride. Now sit!”
Paterson stood a moment and then sat without a murmur.
Everyone sat in silence, eyes averted, as they studied their hands or seemed to find something unexpected in their tankard. Sherman realized that this rare exhibit of temper had caught them by surprise. So be it. He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. “William, in a week or so, I could have broken this convention open. Now, you may have wrecked my plans—and your career.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been instructed to flog you into submission—or else. Powerful forces want you disbarred.” Sherman retook his seat and spoke quietly. “William, they can do it.”
After a moment of silence, Sherman saw the defiance in Paterson’s face before he heard the words. “I’ll apologize or do whatever else is necessary.” Paterson’s eyes swept those of everyone in the room. “But I want you to know, Roger, I’ll humiliate myself only to stay in the fight.”
Sherman didn’t think this fulfilled Washington’s directive, but their elaborate plan required New Jersey’s vote. He poured Madeira into Paterson’s half-filled glass. “I think that wise, William.” Sherman set the bottle down. “Can you give me a week—no more attacks?”
Paterson looked at his refilled glass and then met Sherman’s eyes. “I’ll hold my tongue for one week. After that, I must do my duty.”
Sherman lifted his glass and raised it in a salute. “Excellent. Could I have gotten a fortnight?”
Paterson returned the gesture, but before taking a sip, he said, “Roger, you know my tongue could never remain tied for that long.”
The laughter told Sherman that they had circumvented the matter for the time being. He could only hope that events in the next few days would relegate this episode to distant memory.
Sherman left the City Tavern to rendezvous with Baldwin. When he stepped into the glare, he wondered if nature had decided to punish the guilty with insufferable heat. He walked slowly to keep from perspiring too much, but before he got halfway to the wharf area, he was so sticky that he resumed his normal pace. He told himself that if he had hired a carriage, he’d still feel like a lathered horse.
He had selected the same out-of-the-way coffeehouse where he had clandestinely met with Baldwin several weeks ago. When Sherman entered the commercial district tavern, he saw that his friend had already arrived. He felt relief walking into the dark recesses and quickly dropped his valise and shrugged off his coat. A great advantage of a place by the docks was that no one paid attention to the gentlemen’s code requiring a man to wear a coat on in public.
“You ol’ reprobate, how’d you pull this off?”
Sherman slid into the tall hardwood booth. “And good morning to you.”
“Oh, pleasantries is it? You make me trudge to this workingman’s tavern for chitchat?”
“I picked this place because I thought you’d feel at home with the clientele.”
“I do.” Baldwin waved his arm around. “These are honest seafaring men. They have a lot in common with my Wilkes County constituents: hardworking, unpretentious, and eager to be left alone.” With a nod in Sherman’s direction, Baldwin added, “You, on the other hand, sully the place. For our next meeting, I’ll locate a pirate’s den.”
“Mr. Baldwin, what in the world has you so worked up?”
“Why did Pierce and Few board a coach for New York?”
“Perhaps we should talk about that.”
“Indeed, we should. Two of my state’s delegation just up and grab a coach to New York like a plague had suddenly hit Philadelphia.”
“They’re member
s of Congress, returning to do their duty.”
“Don’t play innocent. They left with William Blount.”
“Blount’s also a congressman.”
“Blount’s a crook!”
“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Baldwin, you mustn’t defame the honorable delegate from North Carolina.”
“Roger, that man defames himself. He lies, steals, and cheats. He’s obsessed by money. How can you use such a man?”
“When you use money as bait, you catch the greedy.”
“Pierce and Few are honest men. Why’re they sharing a coach with the only member of this convention I would decline to dine with?”
“Perhaps they’re not as judgmental as you.”
“Roger, quit being evasive.”
“Abe, we’re old friends. I merely—”
“I’m looking for a new friend.”
“With four Georgia delegates, your vote—”
“You assume I’d vote with you. That’s amazingly presumptuous.”
“Abe, we need your vote to hold this convention together. I had to reduce the number of Georgia delegates to make your vote count.”
“So you took it upon yourself to alter the sovereign state of Georgia’s delegation to the Federal Convention. Roger, at times you’re aggressively insolent.”
Sherman gave a dismissive shrug. “Nobody’s perfect. If you’re through twaddling, would you like to hear the plan?”
Baldwin looked Sherman in the eye for a long moment. “If you’ll quit being oblique, I’ll listen. But it had better be good. I’m still angry.”
“I’ll explain everything because I need your vote.” Sherman settled back into the recesses of the bench seat. “The North controls Congress, eight states to five, but fifteen members are here, so there’s no quorum. When Blount, Few, and Pierce arrive in New York, there’ll be a quorum, and the South will hold a temporary majority.”
“Too bad Congress has no power.”
“Congress isn’t completely powerless. Jay is negotiating a trade bill in Europe, and the North is giving away navigation rights on the Mississippi to get access to Caribbean trade.”
Tempest at Dawn Page 27
