by Ron Carter
He stopped to allow the delegates to digest his reasoning. There was a rustle and some whispered remarks, and then he finished.
“What is unanimously done, must be unanimously undone. If the sovereignty of the states is to be maintained, the members of the federal congress must be elected by the states, not the people, since we have no power other than to maintain equal sovereignty among the states. To abandon that power by giving it to the people will throw the states into hotchpot!”
Then Paterson shifted his argument so abruptly that some delegates cast their eyes about, trying to follow it.
“The Virginia plan will also be enormously expensive! Allowing Georgia and Delaware two representatives in congress, the aggregate number of all representatives from all states in the house of representatives will be one-hundred-eighty! Add to it half that number for the senate, and you will have two-hundred-seventy members in the new national congress! In the present deranged state of our finances, can so expensive a system be seriously considered? The New Jersey plan will save most of this unthinkable expense, and all purposes of good government will be observed.” He stopped and waited for total silence before he leaned forward and ended his discourse. “At least a trial ought to be made of it.”
For a few moments he straightened the sheaf of papers he held in his hand, bobbed his head, and sat down.
James Wilson was on his feet instantly. “Multiplying words is to be avoided in what is now before us, so I beg leave to enter at once into a comparison of the two plans—Virginia and New Jersey—point by point without further prologue.”
For hours, with deadly precision, Wilson launched into the comparison, his voice and his arguments gaining strength as he demolished the New Jersey plan one step at a time. The Virginia plan included a bicameral congress, the New Jersey plan but one; the people have the power in the Virginia plan and therefore the people can prevail, while the states have it in the New Jersey plan, and rob the people of their voice. In the Virginia plan there is one executive, removable on impeachment and conviction; laws can be checked; there are lower national courts; the laws extend to all cases affecting the national peace and harmony; and finally, ratification is to be by the people themselves. All of which provisions do not exist in the New Jersey plan!
He paused and tapped his desktop with his index finger. “With regard to the question raised by Mr. Paterson that this convention is not empowered to depart from the Articles of Confederation, but only to amend them, I declare that I consider myself authorized to conclude nothing, but I am at liberty to propose anything.”
There was a moment of silence, and then an audible intake of breath at how deftly Wilson had undercut Paterson’s dogged adherence to the Articles of Confederation.
With the momentum gathering in his favor, Wilson pressed on. “Further, regarding Mr. Paterson’s fears regarding the sentiments of the people and their purported fear of a new government not grounded in the Articles of Confederation, I suggest that it is difficult, if not impossible, to know what those sentiments are. It is error to reckon that the sentiments of one segment of the people in one location is the sentiment of the whole. I do not believe that a federal government selected by the states is irrevocably endeared to the people, nor do I believe that one selected by the people is so obnoxious to them. I do not fear the outcome if the choice is given to the people at large, and not to the state legislatures!”
Clearly exhausted by his earnest and lengthy treatise, Wilson sat down, and young Charles Pinckney rose. In abrupt, succinct terms he said, “The whole of it comes to this. Give New Jersey an equal vote, and she will dismiss her scruples and concur in the national system set out in the Virginia plan.” He paused and changed direction. “I must also state that in my view of it, this convention is authorized to go to any length in recommending any form of government, so long as we find it necessary to remedy the evils which produced this convention in the first place.”
Randolph came to his feet and all eyes turned to him, some fearful he was about to embark on another odyssey as he had that first day, others fearful that he might provide the spark that would set off the powderkeg. He did neither.
“In the strongest language of which I am capable, I again point out the imbecility of the existing confederacy and the imminent danger of delaying a substantial reform. We must abandon what has proven itself to be a fatally flawed government and create a new one which we believe will bring peace and harmony among the states, and the people. To do otherwise would be an act of treason against our trust. Only a national government will answer all our needs, and I beg this august body to consider that the present moment is the last one for establishing such a government. Should we fail in doing so, the people will yield to ultimate despair.”
Gorham stood. “It is obvious this debate will not be concluded today. It is equally obvious that a Sunday recess will be beneficial. This committee is adjourned until Monday morning, June eighteenth, same hour.”
The weary, embattled delegation stood and began gathering their papers from their desks when Dickinson made his way to Madison’s side, and the two looked at each other for a moment before Dickson delivered his blunt warning. “You see the consequence of pushing things too far. Some of the small states are friends to a good national government. But we would sooner submit to a foreign power than submit to be deprived of an equality of voting power and thereby be thrown under the domination of the larger states.”
The two of them, champions of two opposing causes that were imminently to collide head-on, stared at each other for a moment, and then Dickinson walked back to his desk. The diminutive Madison watched Dickinson’s rigid back as he went, masking his shock at the audacity of the delegate from Delaware. Hot, impassioned debate on the floor of the convention was one thing; thinly-veiled threats off the floor were quite another. Madison turned back to the business of gathering his papers.
On that bright Monday morning of June eighteenth, not one member of the delegation had the slightest suspicion of the odd, bizarre proceeding that awaited them. Gorham called the committee of the whole to order and was startled when Alexander Hamilton stood. The slender, handsome, thirty-two-year-old New York delegate had achieved monumental recognition since his arrival in America before the revolution, from his native West Indies origins, where he was thought to be an illegitimate child. Brilliant, charismatic, he had risen through the ranks of the Continental Army during the war to become an officer and had performed spectacularly when the sick and tattered remnants of the shattered Continental Army crossed the frozen Delaware River and stormed Trenton. He had survived the unparalleled misery of Valley Forge, then been promoted to the staff of General Washington from 1777 to 1781. His boldness and overconfidence in his own views had brought him at odds with the General briefly, but the rift had healed, and Hamilton was leading his fighting command when the Americans stormed the British Redoubt Number Ten at Yorktown. At war’s end, Hamilton was a bright and shining star of the revolution. He studied law, and by 1787 his keen mind and boundless energy quickly brought him to the top of the legal profession in New York. He had entered the world of politics with pamphlets he composed, had printed, and were distributed, in which he loudly and publicly declared his strongly nationalist views on government.
Hamilton faced Gorham, waiting to be recognized, and Gorham declared, “The delegate from New York wishes to be heard.” Hamilton glanced at his papers and then spoke.
“I have been hitherto silent on the business before the convention, partly from respect to others whose superior abilities, age, and experience rendered me unwilling to bring forward ideas dissimilar to theirs, and partly from my delicate situation with respect to my own state, to whose sentiments as expressed by my colleagues I can by no means accede.”
He paused, and other delegates quickly understood that Hamilton had just leveled a scathing indictment against John Lansing, his fellow delegate from New York, for Lansing’s support of the Articles of Confederation. The New Y
ork delegation was split on the single-most explosive issue in the convention!
Hamilton rapidly continued. “The crisis which now marks our affairs is too serious to permit any scruples whatever to prevail over the duty imposed on every man to contribute his efforts for the public safety and happiness. I have examined both the Virginia and the New Jersey plans, and I am friendly to neither of them.”
Every delegate in the room stared in surprise, mystified at what was too quickly taking shape before them.
For one second Hamilton cast his eyes about, and then entered upon a six-hour presentation that touched every point of both the Virginia Plan and the New Jersey plan, picking each to pieces one clause at a time, his voice rising and falling with drama, his command of the language and selection of words enthralling. He was well past the fifth hour of his lecture-harangue when he caught everyone by surprise.
“It is my firm belief that the British government is the best in the world, and I doubt very much whether anything short of it will do in America. I accept the fact that my ideas reach far beyond those of most of the members of this body, but they do embody the principles necessary to check and control the evils in this country, which is the purpose of our being here.”
For one brief moment there was silence, and then every other man in the East Room shut out Hamilton, ignoring the remainder of his discourse. Each had at one time been a British subject, and each knew that the British constitution and form of government was seen in the international world of politics as providing the most liberty and justice for its subjects. Their separation from England came not because the British form of government was untenable, but because the British had abandoned and violated their own principles of liberty and justice in their harsh treatment of their thirteen colonies.
It was later that William Samuel Johnson of Connecticut undid Hamilton’s magnificent but badly misconceived effort with one cryptic sentence. “The gentleman from New York is praised by all, but supported by none.”
Hamilton sat down, and for a few moments no one spoke as the delegates puzzled over what Hamilton had hoped to accomplish. That he had attempted to shred both the Virginia and the New Jersey plans was evident, but was there more? Did he expect someone to construe his discourse as a proposal, to be seconded and voted upon?
There was no second, no comment. Hamilton’s efforts died on the floor.
Gorham shook his head and took charge. “We are adjourned for the day to reconvene tomorrow morning, June nineteenth, at ten o’clock.”
At 9:55 a.m. the following morning, Joseph Fry admitted the last of the delegates into the East Room, closed the doors, and sat down on his chair. Washington called the convention to order and delivered the dais to Gorham.
“I understand Mr. Madison wishes to address the committee of the whole.”
Madison stood, small, immaculate, disciplined. The representatives glanced at each other inquisitively, then settled, focused on Madison as he picked up a sheaf of his own notes. Silence gripped the hall as the men strained to hear his soft voice.
“Much stress has been laid by some gentlemen on the want of power in the convention to propose any other than a federal plan, connected with the Articles of Confederation. I can only say that neither of the characteristics attached to a federal plan will support that proposition. In the ordinary transactions between persons, breach by one party of an article with another sets both parties free from the article, unless in the article itself is language defining the remedy for such breach. This rule shows that we are not to consider the federal union as analogous to a social compact between individuals, for if it were so, a majority would have a right to bind the rest, and even to form a new constitution for the whole.”
He paused. No one moved, and he continued.
“If the current federal plan, founded on the Articles of Confederation, is not analogous to the ordinary transactions between persons, but instead is analogous to the compacts between states, what is the result? Clearly, under the law of nations, a breach of any one article by any one party, leaves all the other parties at liberty to consider the entire convention dissolved. That being so, I now point out that New Jersey herself breached the Articles of Confederation when she expressly refused to comply with a requisition issued to her by the Confederation Congress. In so doing, she has released all other states from the binding effect of the Articles of Confederation. Further, there is not one word in the said Articles that addresses what shall be done in the event one state does such a thing, as was done by New Jersey.”
Paterson sat transfixed, sensing for the first time that Madison was on the fringe of destroying his New Jersey plan. And for the first time men moved, and chairs scraped on the floor. Madison went on.
“May we now examine the New Jersey plan one proposition at a time.”
With a sense of calm dignity, facts known to every man in the room, and logic beyond reproach, Madison disassembled the entire plan.
“1. Will it prevent violations of international laws and treaties which will lead us into the calamities of war with foreign nations? The Articles of Confederation are silent on the question.
“2. Will it prevent encroachments by the states on federal authority? No! Virginia and Maryland have already entered into treaties that breach the authority of the confederation congress, and Pennsylvania and New Jersey have done the same, all without prior consent from congress, and with no apology after. Massachusetts has raised a standing army without even apprising congress of her intentions.
“3. Will it prevent trespasses of the states on each other? The records are clearly to the contrary. Virginia and Maryland have both given their own citizens unfair and unjust advantages over citizens of the other state in transactions. Creditors from one state who have brought suit in the other to collect debts justly owed have been denied any sense of justice.
“4. Will it secure tranquility and peace between the states? The recent insurrections in the state of Massachusetts have taught all states that they are exposed to such violence, and that the confederation congress is powerless to prevent it.
“5. Will it secure good laws and administration in the particular states? One need only study the multiplicity of laws in the various states, many in conflict with the laws in neighboring states, the mutability of their laws, the injustice that is manifest in them, and the impotence of the laws.
“6. Will it secure the union against the influence of foreign powers? History teaches that the intrigues practiced among the Amphictyonic Confederates, first by the Kings of Persia, and then by Philip of Macedon, then Achaeans, then Rome, followed by France, England, Spain, and Russia, can, and eventually will, develop between the states themselves, and the Articles of Confederation are powerless to prevent it.
“7. The smaller states would be well advised to examine the situation in which they would find themselves if Mr. Paterson’s New Jersey plan is adopted. They would have all the expense of maintaining their representatives in the new national congress, knowing all the time that they will be dominated by the larger states in all matters whatsoever.”
Madison stopped to adjust the papers in his hand before he concluded.
“I beg the smaller states to consider the situation in which they will remain in the event their commitment to an inadmissible plan prevents them from adopting any other plan.”
Again he stopped and this time he raised those piercing blue eyes to scan the faces of the entire delegation. His words came slow, measured, in the hushed room.
“Let the union of the states be dissolved and one of two consequences must happen. Either the states must remain individually independent and sovereign, or two or more confederacies must be formed among them. In the first event would the small states be more secure against the ambition and power of their larger neighbors than they are now? In the second event, can the smaller states expect their larger neighbors to confederate with them as equals, as it now stands under the Articles of Confederation?”
H
e paused to clear his throat and went on.
“Mr. Paterson has stated that ‘it would not be safe for Delaware to allow Virginia sixteen times as many votes as Delaware, although Virginia has sixteen times more citizens than Delaware.’ May I respectfully suggest that in so saying, Mr. Paterson has implicitly acknowledged that it is not just to grant Delaware equal voting power with Virginia, since Virginia has sixteen times more citizens than Delaware.”
The silence held as the delegates examined the logic of Madison’s thoughts, and then he finished.
“If New Jersey and Delaware conceive that an advantage can be had by both by an equalization of the power, why might not this right be granted to each of them by a constitution that that leaves them at liberty to do whatever they please?”
Men straightened in their chairs, overwhelmed by the rare power, and the logic, and the masterful delivery of Madison’s discourse. For a time Madison stood still, looking into the eyes of the delegates, watching their thoughts come together, sensing the set of their minds. Then he sat down. His presentation had taken most of the day.
Gorham broke the spell. He called for action on two or three small matters, then announced the vote would be taken on whether the convention would support the New Jersey Plan of Paterson, or the Virginia plan of Madison and Randolph. Not a man in the room moved as Jackson called out the names of the states and recorded the votes in favor of the Virginia plan.
Aye: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia. Total, eight.
Nay: New York, New Jersey, Delaware. Total, three.
Maryland, divided, no vote.
The Virginia plan had survived; the New Jersey plan had failed.
Paterson and Lansing dropped their eyes and began setting their desks in order. Their New Jersey plan was lost; the battle of the day had gone against them. But they also knew that the issue was not forever settled. Madison had left the door open to raise the same question for another fight, another day. As the delegates filed from the hall, most realized that the eloquence and the knowledge and genius of James Madison had saved the union, at least for the moment. As for tomorrow, none could predict.