“There was a huge row over the last extension. It was the talk of the town. A lot of people didn’t want to fund a secret meeting.”
“Some people don’t like what we’re doing, public or private.” Sherman wiped his mouth with a napkin. “But they’ll continue to finance our delegation because they desire a voice more than they desire money.”
“And our bonds?”
“If all goes well, I think we can trust Alex to make them good.”
“Alex?”
“Rebecca, I can’t talk about our proceedings, but it’s no secret that Washington will be the first executive. Alex will surely head Treasury.”
“And you?”
“The young can take their turn.”
“It may be years before we can cash those bonds.”
“So, the truth comes out. You like it when I’m away.”
“Will New York be the capital?”
Sherman scratched his nose. “I think some have other designs, but it’s likely—at least for a while.”
Rebecca came around the table and picked up his dirty bowl. “Roger, you’re a great politician and a good man. New York is only a day away. You should explore the possibilities.”
“How do you know we’re not designing a monarchy?”
She gave him a bump on the head with the bowl. “Because you want to return to New Haven.”
Sherman gave her a hug around the waist. “I’ll talk to some people.”
“You do that. Besides, you didn’t act sixty-six last night.”
“Talking isn’t my only talent.”
“Talking? You’re a terrible speaker. All the wives ask me what you’re really like. They can’t understand how such a cold, stiff man gets his way in politics.”
“And what do you tell them about your stiff man?”
Rebecca blushed. “Nothing.”
Part 5
Slavery
Chapter 32
Monday, August 6, 1787
“Mr. Madison, may I—”
“Not now, perhaps later.” Madison did not slow his pace or even give an acknowledging nod. He walked past the clusters of delegates in idle conversation and marched directly into the chamber. When he reached his table, he immediately distributed his notes and writing materials, snapping his inkwell on the baize-covered table with enough force to draw inquisitive glances. Sitting down, he rifled his papers until he realized that everything was already in order.
Several times, he had approached Randolph, who had steadfastly insisted that the Committee of Detail could handle their assignment without Madison’s assistance. The five committeemen had locked themselves in the upstairs Council Room during the workday and studiously avoided other delegates at night. Why had they been so secretive?
Most of the delegates had left the blistering city, either to visit home or to venture into the cooler countryside. Madison had neither enough time to go home, nor the inclination to face his father, so he had remained at the Indian Queen to work on his notes.
He worried that Randolph lacked resolve and would easily bend to the other committee members. His notes could have been invaluable to the committee, but they never asked to see them. Now, as the assembly reconvened after a ten-day recess, Madison feared that the document they were about to distribute would veer from the convention’s directives.
Everyone filed to their seats, and Washington immediately awarded the floor to Rutledge so he could present the committee report. While he made his preliminary remarks, Gorham and Ellsworth walked around the chamber distributing copies of a document. When Madison received his copy, he flipped the pages like a raccoon sorting through trash. What he saw confirmed his fears. They had remained faithful to the votes on decided issues, but there were many other areas, some quite extensive, where they had borrowed from other sources. Madison was immediately struck by how little they had accomplished in two months.
He picked up Rutledge’s words: “We the people of the States of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut …”
The committee had gone to the expense of having their report typeset and printed as a folio pamphlet. The first page bore the imprint of Dunlap and Claypoole, one of the most prestigious printing houses in Philadelphia. They had shown the courtesy to restrict the printing to the right side of the page, so delegates could make notes in a broad left margin. At least they knew this wouldn’t be the final document.
Rutledge stopped reading to make a parenthetical comment that caught Madison’s attention. “We choose Congress as a name for the national legislature to appeal to our present congressmen. If the members believe the body is the same, they’ll assume they can be easily elected to the new body.”
Madison had no qualms about their choice of names for the various government departments, but he suspected that they had spent too much time on such a small matter. The convention had already informally adopted Senate for the upper house and the committee now specified House of Representatives for the lower house and Congress for the combined bodies. The Supreme Court showed little imagination, but the name fit the task. They avoided words that had become sensitive during British rule and selected the neutral president for the executive. The controversial parts didn’t appear on the first page, so Madison went back to reading. The biggest problems appeared to be with the executive, this new president.
Rutledge took several hours to read the report, seldom adding any explanation. Madison calmed down after studying the document. The deviations arose from issues in which the convention had never bought finality with a vote. Without guidance, the committee had no choice but to invent solutions. Madison believed that they should be able to quickly move through the document and button up the remaining issues. He tossed the folio onto the table and sighed. The committee had done a service by exposing their omissions.
“Did you have a pleasant visit home?” Madison asked.
He had found Sherman in the yard, and both men had started walking together. Strolling the tree-lined path, Madison wondered how they could accomplish any proper work in a room that felt like a blacksmith shed.
“Excellent. Did you enjoy the recess?”
“Mine was quiet. I stayed in Philadelphia to recuperate.”
“How’s your health?”
“Much improved. I caught up on my sleep.”
Sherman looked over his shoulder. “The general looks sunburned.”
“I understand he traipsed around Valley Forge and went trout fishing at Trenton. What’d you do in New Haven?”
“My wife and I hosted several large family gatherings, I enjoyed my own church services, and I performed some judicial duties.” Sherman gave a rare smile. “A pleasant and gratifying life to which I’m anxious to return.”
“If I had gone home, my father would have made me follow him around the plantation while he lectured me.”
“He appears to be a devoted father.”
“Appearances deceive.”
Madison felt uneasy because Sherman looked as if he might probe, but he merely asked, “And your mother?”
“Very supportive. I wish I could write her about the proceedings. She’s taken to bed again, and it would lift her spirits. Instead, I write about Philadelphia.” Madison looked up into Sherman’s impassive face. “What’s New Haven like?”
“Peaceful—and pretty. Green neighborhoods filled with friendly people. The college adds both a scholarly and a rambunctious note.”
“I’ll bet I’d like New Haven. I loved Princeton.”
“Then you must visit.”
“I shall. Did you have any interesting cases?”
“Just tedious debt issues. I broke the monotony by giving a rambling speech to dedicate a bridge.”
“You’ve never given a rambling speech here.”
For some reason, this made Sherman laugh. “I didn’t know what to say, so I stomped my foot and said, ‘This bridge looks sturdy built.’” He laughed again. “Some were critical of my brevity.”
&
nbsp; “That’s all you said?”
“What more needed to be said?”
Madison contemplated the strange man who walked beside him with the gait of a plow horse. Despite his physical awkwardness and poor speaking style, he projected self-assurance and seemed comfortable with himself. Was the man smart? Without a doubt, and he was savvy. Madison realized that Sherman was not oblivious to his shortcomings. The evidence lay in the way he used other people. There was a lesson here that he would have to think about.
On Tuesday they debated the committee report. Madison settled in for an easy day, because the initial clauses held little potential for conflict. The debate meandered, so Madison decided to ask why the committee had fixed a date for Congress to meet. He suggested that the Constitution should require only that Congress meet once a year.
Gouverneur Morris interjected that they shouldn’t be required to meet annually because there might not be enough business for an annual session.
Ellsworth, a bit exasperated, explained. “Until they meet, Congress won’t know whether a session is required or not. Nor will they know when to send their members.”
“Gouverneur Morris is right,” King argued. “Legislating too much is a vice. And the vast majority of legislation belongs to the states.”
Sherman made a typically terse statement. “I’m for fixing a date. The great extent of our affairs will supply purpose enough.”
They voted to leave the date in December but allowed Congress the authority to set a different date if it chose.
The report recommended that persons qualified to vote for state offices would be qualified to vote for the House of Representatives. Gouverneur Morris spoke with a level of emotion that surprised Madison. “The states should not establish qualifications. We should set the standard, and we should limit the vote to men of property.”
Wilson spoke with a note of condescension. “Does Mr. Morris wish to tell a man he can vote for his state representative, but he cannot vote for his national representative? That makes no sense.”
Gouverneur Morris thumped his wood leg. “Balderdash! I object to letting the states set the qualifications.” Another thump. “It’s not proper.”
Ellsworth explained. “Eight or nine states have already extended the right beyond freeholders, and the people will never rally behind a constitution that disfranchises them.” Ellsworth put his fingers in the waistband pocket where he kept his snuffbox. “Every man who pays taxes owns the right to vote for the man who spends his money.”
Morris was unconvinced. “May I remind the delegates that children don’t vote? Neither can the ignorant and dependent be trusted. The time is not distant when this country will abound with men who receive their bread from employers. Will such men guard liberty?” Morris sat back down but threw out one final taunt. “As for merchants, if they want to vote, they can acquire property.”
Madison caught Washington’s eye and signaled that he wanted the floor. “In the future, a great majority of the people will be without land and possibly without any form of property. They will combine their interests and threaten property rights. Despite these considerations, we must remain pragmatic. A few states still require a freehold, but more have granted suffrage to every man. Keep in mind, the people must ratify our work.”
When Madison took his seat, he saw a faint nod from Gen. Washington. As he picked up his quill, he felt chagrined to discover how much he craved approval, so he immediately made himself busy to suppress the uncomfortable emotion.
Franklin gathered himself up and spoke to the assemblage like he was their kindly guardian. “Gentlemen, I’d like to remind you that American seamen, who were carried in great numbers to British prisons, refused to free themselves by serving on the ships of our enemy. Contrast their patriotism with the British seamen, who readily served on our ships. This difference stems from our just treatment of commoners. We don’t have the right to narrow suffrage, and such a restriction will create ill will with many of the men in this chamber.”
Everyone knew that “many of the men” included Benjamin Franklin. After this upbraiding by their most senior delegate, the assembly dropped the matter and quietly adjourned.
“James, my good man, I’m glad I found you.”
Before his jolly greeting, a thumping dowel had signaled Morris’s approach. Madison held aloft a silver teapot. “Gouverneur, may I offer you tea?”
Morris plopped into the opposite chair. “That you may, my boy, that you may.”
Madison set the teapot on a silver platter and signaled for another teacup. The Indian Queen, in patriotic fervor, had sold all their European tea services and replaced them with sets crafted by Paul Revere. He would never voice the opinion, but Madison preferred the more elegant European designs to the simple American tooling. When a maid delivered another teacup, Madison covered the bottom with cream and added two teaspoons of sugar before pouring hot tea to the brim. “You’re not going to flail me about a property requirement, are you?”
“Heavens, no.” Morris took a cautious sip to test the temperature. “We have bigger game to hunt.”
Madison laughed. Morris never took defeat to heart; he just rotated the angle of attack or gracefully slid to a whole new issue. The man could not be deflated. “And what new conquest do you have in your sights?”
“The slave trade,” Morris replied. “We intend to kill it.”
Madison felt his good mood evaporate. “I think most of us consider that issue settled. You might unravel some painful negotiations.”
“Better than unraveling our budding empire. The South got the better of that deal, and we mean to balance the scale.”
“Who’s we?”
“Massachusetts and Pennsylvania.”
“Sanctioned by?”
“We don’t need permission.” Morris waved his hand dismissively. “Where do you stand?”
“I’ve placed that issue in the completed pile. What do you mean, balance the scale?”
“We must stop importing these poor souls onto our shores.”
“Make slave trade illegal?”
“As in Virginia.”
The Deep South had threatened to abandon the convention if there was any restriction on slave trade. Now Morris threatened to stop a lucrative commercial enterprise. On the other hand, he had promised Witherspoon to work toward prohibiting this heinous practice. Madison set his teacup down. “I’ll not be in the forefront, but if you create a breach, I will lend my influence, for whatever it may be worth.”
“A slaveholder and Virginian?” Morris threw his arms out.
“Gouverneur, I’ll not jeopardize the entire Constitution on this issue.”
With that, Morris swallowed the last of his tea and lurched onto his wooden leg. “Thank you, James. I shall count on you.”
On Wednesday they were supposed to take up the qualifications required to be a member of Congress. King asked for the floor and walked to the front of the chamber. He stood silently for a long time, gathering attention. When he started, he spoke slowly. “The issue of slavery grates on me. I’ve previously not made a strenuous objection because I hoped this convention would restrict the vice.”
The best orator in the chamber had launched the first salvo to reignite the slave trade question. Again, Madison wished he had a seat that allowed him to see the reaction of the delegates. Glancing up, he noticed a twinge of disapproval on Washington’s face.
King walked in a measured pace across the front of the chamber, shaking his head like a man perplexed. “There is so much inequality in all this. I had hoped some accommodation might take place.”
King stopped his pacing, as if coincidentally, in front of the South Carolina table. He suddenly waved the committee report over his head and spoke in a voice that shook the chamber. “This report is an abomination. Slaves are represented. The importation of slaves cannot be prohibited or even taxed. Exports cannot be taxed. I ask, is this reasonable?” King slapped the report onto the South Carolina table.
“The South cannot have it all!”
Madison saw Rutledge bristle. “I don’t know where you got this idea that slaves are represented. That’s foolishness.”
“I read it in the report!” King boomed. “Do not fifteen slaves have the same representation as twenty-five freemen?”
Instead of answering, Rutledge crossed his arms against his chest and glared until King marched back to his seat.
Sherman asked for the floor. “The point of representation has been settled. As for the slave trade, I consider it sinful but don’t believe myself bound on the issue. That is my position on the matter.”
Madison was stunned by Sherman’s feeble response, but before he could think it through, Washington banged his gavel. “Delegates, confine your comments to the report—in sequence. We’ll consider the entire report in due course.” He ended this order with a single sharp rap of the gavel.
The next section set the ratio of one representative per forty thousand “inhabitants.”
“I move to insert free before the word inhabitants.” When Gouverneur Morris uttered this incendiary sentence, Madison sensed a silent gasp from the delegates. Morris had had the effrontery to ignore Washington’s admonition and return the debate to slavery. Morris stood but did not bang his wooden leg. With a sad note in his voice, he said, “Rather than saddle posterity with a Constitution that tolerates slavery, I’d sooner pay a tax to free every Negro.”
Madison scribbled in increasing agitation. He knew Morris would not relent on the slave issue, which meant that everything closed could be reopened. Madison wondered if the leaves would turn color as he sat in this chair. Then a horrible thought struck him. He cringed at the thought of seeing snow piled on the windowsill.
As Madison entered the Indian Queen, he asked the doorman to send tea and a barber to his room. When he entered his quarters, he laid his valise on the bed and collapsed into the easy chair. This was a dangerous moment. Things could easily go astray. After a few minutes, he decided to seek help. He had ridden events ever since Sherman engineered a successful challenge to the Virginia Plan, but he vowed to assert himself. He wouldn’t allow his dream to be dashed because of passivity.
Tempest at Dawn Page 40
