by Chris DeRose
Madison’s fellow congressman Cyrus Griffin in New York wrote him in March, after Madison’s departure for Virginia: “A prospect of the new Constitution seems to deaden the activity of the human mind as to all other matters; and yet I greatly fear the Constitution may never take place.” New Hampshire’s ratification convention had met and adjourned without taking a vote. Rhode Island, which had played no part in drafting the Constitution, had rejected it outright. (Contrarian as always, Rhode Island held a public referendum instead of the prescribed convention.) Griffin was concerned by “formidable opposition” in New York, as well as the “antipathy of Virginia.”16
Back in November Archibald Stuart had written Madison from Virginia, pleading with him to hurry home and stand in the upcoming election to the ratification convention. The Federalists believed Madison’s abilities would be crucial in winning Virginia’s support for the new Constitution. But for his part, Madison had not intended to be a delegate. He sensed an impropriety in the authors of the Constitution serving as its final judges. It seemed like a party to a lawsuit serving on his own jury.
“Light Horse” Henry Lee had written in December, warning that Orange County was bitterly divided and that there were many opposed to Madison and the Constitution. James Madison Sr. wrote a month later, warning of Baptist opposition to the Constitution, and of many others who were undecided or hostile.
In light of the confusion and opposition, Madison decided that he would do as he had been asked and run for delegate to the ratification convention, despite his scruples and the fact that running might endanger relationships he valued. “I sacrifice every private inclination to considerations not of a selfish nature,” he wrote to Washington on February 20. “I foresee that the undertaking will involve me in very laborious and irksome discussions; that public opposition to several very respectable characters whose esteem and friendship I greatly prize may unintentionally endanger the subsisting connection.”17
Madison left New York on March 4 and arrived in Orange the day before the election. “I had the satisfaction to find all my friends well on my arrival; and the chagrin to find the county filled with the most absurd and groundless prejudices against the Federal Constitution,” he wrote to Eliza Trist in Philadelphia.
On Court Day, when the elections were held, Madison mounted a “rostrum before a large body of the people,” and launched “into a harangue of some length in the open air and on a very windy day.” Though he had won several elections, James Madison—like other eighteenth-century candidates who “stood” rather than “ran” for office—had never before made a campaign speech. Madison’s debut on the stump can be viewed as a success. He won by a four-to-one majority and brought fellow Federalist James Gordon to victory with him.18 Francis Taylor, his cousin, noted 202 votes for Madison, 187 for Gordon, 56 for Thomas Barbour, and 34 for Charles Porter. Madison, not prone to pettiness or personal grievances, may still have enjoyed trouncing Porter, who had defeated him for the House in 1777.
Madison would be at the June convention to fight for the Constitution. But he had no idea who would be joining him there and felt the outcome of the convention was very much in doubt.
The only way forward, the only way the experiment could succeed, Madison believed, was unconditional ratification of the Constitution. But the Anti-Federalists were increasingly discussing other options—ratifying with preconditions such as the adoption of particular amendments, or else having another convention. “Conditional amendments or a second general convention will be fatal,” Madison flatly declared.19
Madison believed that the 1787 Convention had succeeded because of the temperament of its participants. Statesmen who put the national interest ahead of regional concerns and selfish personal ambition had come together in Philadelphia with the honest intention of repairing the flaws in the general government of the United States. If a second convention should meet, even if it were wiser than the first, “the game would be easy as it would be obvious,” Madison thought. Opponents to the union were sure to be elected. They would propose ideas unacceptable to other regions of the country with the express purpose of causing the convention to fall apart.20
Intelligence continued to trickle in to Madison on the state of the elections to the Virginia ratification convention. Carrington wrote, “Most of the elections in the upper and middle parts of the south side of the James River, have been made in frenzy, and terminated in deputations of weak and bad men, who have bound themselves to vote in the negative, and will in all cases be the tools of Mr. H.”21
Missing from the puzzle were the sentiments of some notable delegates. “I say nothing of the Governor,” Madison wrote, referring to Randolph, “because it is not yet certain which party will have most of his aid; nor of Monroe whose precise sentiments are not generally known. If I mistake not, he will be found not an enemy to the Constitution.”22
Madison lobbied Governor Randolph, knowing that his opposition could be fatal. He appealed to Randolph’s desire for union and pointed out how improbable it was that a second convention would produce a constitution any closer to his ideal.
On April 10, 1788, Madison wrote to Washington of his uncertainty about the prospects for ratification: “I am a very incompetent prophet of the fate of the Constitution.”23 The Kentucky region, inching toward statehood but still part of Virginia, was at first supportive, but “the torch of discord has been thrown in and has found the materials but too inflammable.” 24
Madison continued to do what was in his power, writing letters in support of the Constitution. He did not limit his correspondence to Virginia. In the Maryland convention, which was in doubt, Madison wrote a delegate, “The difference between even a postponement and adoption in Maryland, may in the nice balance of parties here, possibly give a fatal advantage to that which opposes the Constitution.”25 Thankfully, Maryland ratified the Constitution, 63–11, with no amendments proposed.26
With the ratification convention just two months away, Monroe wrote to Jefferson, apparently as a friend of the Constitution. Rather than displaying a gradual movement toward the Anti-Federalist camp, Monroe seemed even more favorable toward the Constitution in this April 1788 letter than in his October 1787 missives to Madison and Cadwalader : “The people seem much agitated with this subject in every part of the state. The principal partisans on both sides are elected. Few men of any distinction have failed taking their part.… That it will be nowhere rejected admits of little doubt, and that it will ultimately, perhaps in two or three years terminate, in some wise and happy establishment for our country, is what we have good reason to expect.”27 When Monroe had expressed his first impressions of the Constitution in October, he had at least mentioned reservations. Now, the next spring, he seemed not to have any. Madison wrote Jefferson in April, saying, “Monroe is considered by some as an enemy; but I believe him to be a friend though a cool one.”28 But Monroe would shortly reveal himself to be cooler toward the Constitution than Madison realized.
Jefferson’s next letter included a pedometer, a device for counting steps, along with instructions. “To the loop at bottom of it you must sew a tape, and at the other end of a tape, a small hook... cut a little hole in the bottom of your left watchpocket. Pass the hook and tape through it, and down between the breeches and drawers, and fix the hook on the edge of your kneeband, an inch from the kneebuckle. Then hook the instrument itself by its swivel hook on the upper edge of the watchpocket.” 29 One wonders if Madison used Jefferson’s pedometer as he nervously paced Montpelier in the days counting down to June—with his entire life’s work in the balance.
Hamilton, writing from New York, was distraught about the elections to his state convention. He believed that only news of prior ratification by Virginia could ensure victory in New York: “The moment any decisive question is taken, if favorable, I request you to dispatch an express to me with pointed orders to make all possible diligence, by changing horses etc. All expenses shall be thankfully and liberally paid. ”30
In the letter that accompanied Washington’s copy of his “Observations,” Monroe attempted to explain away his earlier support for the Constitution: “I had not at that time examined it with that attention its importance required, and of course could give you no decided opinion respecting it.”31 Whether he had truly not formed an opinion before, Monroe inarguably had one now. His “Observations” included his concerns about the vast, sweeping powers of the new government. Monroe had become convinced that the Constitution would lead to the destruction of the states. Then the national legislature would be left to manage the enormous “territory between the Mississippi, the St. Lawrence, the Lakes, and the Atlantic ocean” too large for it to govern.
Monroe was also concerned that the Constitution failed to protect fundamental liberties. “How are we secured in the trial by jury?” he asked. If the national government is given powers, “unless we qualified their exercise by securing this, might they not regulate it otherwise?. . . As it is with the trial by jury so with the liberty of conscience, that of the press and many others.”
And Monroe was flatly against the direct taxation allowed for in the Constitution, believing that it must end in either anarchy or the suppression of liberty. He believed the government would use tyrannical collection tactics and that these coupled with oppressive taxes would inflame the people to rebellion.
In his “Observations,” Monroe acknowledged the great defects of the Confederation, but cautioned against hastening into the proposed replacement: “Political institutions, we are taught by melancholy experience, have their commencement, maturity, and decline; and why should we not in early life, take those precautions that are calculated to prolong our days, and guard against the diseases of age? Or shall we rather follow the example of the strong, active, and confident young man, who in the pride of health, regardless of the admonition of his friends, pursues the gratification of unbridled appetites, and falls a victim to his own indiscretion, even in the morn of life and before his race had fairly begun.”
Monroe had determined that he could not support the new Constitution: “Although I am for a change, and a radical one, of the Confederation, yet I have some strong and invincible objections to that proposed to be substituted in its stead.” What is the hurry, he asked? “Is it to be supposed that unless we immediately adopt this plan, in its fullest extent, we shall forever lose the opportunity of forming for ourselves a good government?”
Monroe concluded his “Observations” with an appeal: “To the people of America, to you it belongs to correct the opposite extremes. To form a government that shall shield you from dangers from abroad, promote your general and local interests, protect in safety the life, liberty, and property, of the peaceful, the virtuous, and the weak.” Monroe knew that his position would place him at odds with some of his oldest and dearest and friends and political allies: “To differ in any respect from these men is no pleasant thing to me; but being called upon an awful stage upon which I must now bear a part, I have thought it my duty to explain to you the principles on which my opinions were founded.”32
While Monroe was getting his thoughts about the Constitution on paper, Madison was getting ready for the ratification convention. He studied the debates in South Carolina, which had ratified by a 149–73 vote on May 23, as well as the “Address of the Minority,” produced by the Anti-Federalists in the Maryland ratifying convention. Madison was mastering the very best arguments on both sides, in expectation of the battle to come.
Chapter Eleven
THE BATTLE OF SHOCKHOE HILL
“From the first moment that my mind was capable of contemplating political subjects, I never, till this moment, ceased wishing success to a well regulated republican government.”
—JAMES MADISON
When the Constitution was being considered in the ratification convention at Richmond, there was no more scope for negotiation or compromise. All the complex political issues had been reduced to one up-or-down question: Yes or No on the Constitution drafted at Philadelphia. Supporters and opponents were equally certain of the righteousness of their cause, and equally certain of the dire consequences should the other party prevail.
The date was June 2, 1788.
The delegates to the Virginia Ratification Convention met in the state capitol, chose a chaplain to say morning prayers, and elected Edmund Pendleton as chairman.
Pendleton was sixty-seven years old, asthmatic, and unable to walk without crutches. He had been thrown from a horse, his health was deteriorating quickly, and he was permitted to sit instead of stand while chairing the Convention. Pendleton began his chairmanship with a warning to the delegates:We are met together on this solemn occasion as trustees for a great people, the citizens of Virginia, to deliberate and decide upon a plan proposed for the government of the United States, of which they are a member.
The trust is sacred and important, and requires our most serious attention. Let us calmly reason with each other, as friends, having all the same end in view, the real happiness of our constituents, avoiding all heats, intemperance and personal altercations, which always impede, but never assist fair investigation. Let us probe the plan to the bottom, but let us do it with candor, temper, and mutual forbearance: and finally decide as our judgment shall direct.
The capitol at Richmond could barely accommodate the 168 delegates and spectators, so George Mason moved to adjourn and reconvene the following day at the New Academy building on Shockhoe Hill.
Madison arrived in Richmond later that evening to find a “very full house,” much to his surprise. Delays before a quorum could be reached typified meetings of the time, but the delegates to the 1788 Virginia Convention were there on the first day and prepared for a fight. Madison observed to Washington that “the federal party are apparently in the best spirits. There is reason to believe nevertheless that the majority will be but small, and may possibly yet be defeated.”1
The truth was that both sides were unsure of their numbers. By the time of the elections for the Virginia Ratification Convention, during the spring of 1788, candidates had already had more than six months to study the Constitution and form their opinions. Nearly all of the hopeful candidates had staked out their positions on the Constitution. But the number of supporters and opponents seemed to be about even, and there were a number of wild cards. The outcome appeared to depend on the votes of a few delegates who had yet to announce how they would vote— including especially Governor Edmund Randolph, who had refused to sign the Constitution in Philadelphia.
The New Academy had been built for the Chevalier Quesnay de Beurepaire, the grandson of King Louis XV’s court physician. De Beurepaire had dreamed of founding the first American institution of higher education that would be competitive with European universities, bringing over the finest instructors from throughout the world, and offering students the broadest curriculum available in America.2 Unfortunately, financial problems and the French political situation prevented the launch of the New Academy, but the building remained intact and at the time of the Convention was serving as the home of Richmond’s finest theater.3
When the Ratification Convention reconvened in the New Academy, perhaps Madison was reminded of his first days in public office, as a delegate to the Virginia Convention of 1776. Pendleton had chaired that meeting as well and authored the resolutions declaring Virginia independent. Madison had been twenty-five, unsure of himself and his place in the world, serving with the strongest leaders in Virginia. By the time of
Virginia’s convention to consider ratification of the Constitution, Madison was thirty-seven years old, an experienced congressman and Virginia Delegate, and the primary author of the document that the Convention delegates were to vote on.
Before delegates rushed into debate about the Constitution, Governor Randolph successfully moved to adopt the rules of the House of Delegates. By taking this measure Randolph was able to forestall what could have been days of bickering over which procedure to use.
George Mason then urged a clause-by-clause review of the proposed Constitution, with unlimited debate, before a final vote be taken: “The curse denounced by the divine vengeance will be small compared to what will justly fall upon us if, from any sinister views we obstruct the fullest inquiry.”4
Madison surprised Mason and the other Anti-Federalists by standing up to agree to Mason’s proposal. The truth was, both sides were afraid to test their strength, and each was terrified that the other party would force an immediate vote. Neither friends nor enemies of the Constitution feared debate, though there was some concern about its length. The Virginia legislature was scheduled to begin a special session June 23, and delegates felt that that the Convention should end before that date. Madison, who felt that attacks on the Constitution up to this point had been unfounded and emotional, believed that a clause-by-clause consideration of the document would only help his cause.
The Convention adopted Mason’s proposal and adjourned until 11:00 a.m. the following day. It would be their last act of consensus for some time.
On the morning of July 4, Patrick Henry wasted no time in making mischief. In his first Convention speech, he moved that the Virginia resolutions for appointing delegates to Annapolis and Philadelphia be read aloud. Henry’s not-so-subtle intimation was that the far-reaching changes that the Constitution made to the federal government were outside the mandate of the delegates.5 If Henry could make the process by which it had been drafted look tainted, perhaps he could cast a shadow on the Constitution itself.
