Tempest at Dawn

by James D. Best

  Read didn’t answer.

  “Are we doomed?” Paterson asked.

  “We’re weakened, not doomed. Form still counts. Our states can thrive if they retain power in the new system.”

  Sherman bent forward and folded his hands in front of him. “Gentlemen, we’re fighting for the survival of our states.”

  Ellsworth pulled his jeweled snuffbox from his pocket. With a fastidious motion, he extracted a pinch and sniffed it with an abrupt head bob. Then, pulling out a bandana, he carefully wiped his nose. Completing the little ceremony, he looked at his mentor.

  “Roger, I beg to differ. We are fighting for the survival of our nation.”

  Chapter 12

  Thursday, May 31, 1787

  “Charles, why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Don’t act innocent. Why’d you challenge Randolph so aggressively?”

  “Was I aggressive?”

  “You know you were.”

  Pinckney shrugged. “I tire of the milksop. The real question is, why did you put him in front of the chamber?”

  “He’s the governor of Virginia,” Madison answered, exasperated.

  “I was unaware that Virginia was in such a destitute condition.”

  Madison had been talking to delegates on the sidewalk outside the State House when he spotted Pinckney. “Charles, are you cantankerous by nature or spite?”

  “Oh, I should think by nature.”

  Madison sighed. “What mischief have you planned for today?”

  “Mr. Madison, nature’s children need not plan. Air and mischief arrive in equal quantities. It’s only a matter of plucking the right morsel.”

  “Damn it, Charles, you must not blaze your own path!”

  “Mr. Madison! You startle me. You resort to damnation instead of logic? Please, sir, remember your reputation for control.”

  Madison blurted, “Gen. Washington was highly displeased with your behavior yesterday.”

  Pinckney visibly flinched. “So, now we move to intimidation.”

  “Charles, as a friend, I’m merely passing on a caution.”

  Pinckney straightened himself. “Very well. I shall make the greatest effort to hold my tongue. I believed I was advancing our cause by pushing the point. Please convey my apologies to the general.”

  “Will you apologize to Governor Randolph?”

  “Now you push the point too far.”

  Pinckney whirled and entered the State House. Madison watched in befuddlement. He had finally quieted Pinckney’s tart tongue, but the man remained a cipher. What was his purpose yesterday?

  Madison heard a dull, hard noise reverberate behind him. Clomp, pause, clomp. He turned to see Gouverneur Morris wearing a welcoming grin as he approached the State House.

  “Jemmy, my good man, how are you this fine morning?”

  “Anxious. And yourself?”

  “Ready to take on the world, or at least our small corner.”

  “Let’s hope the world is ready to engage, not postpone.”

  Morris gave a laugh that jostled his paunch. “Dear Jemmy, relax. Surely, you didn’t expect fair weather the entire voyage?”

  “A minor squall shouldn’t have altered our course. We should’ve gone forward with the vote. Only Delaware objected.”

  “Others remained silent because Delaware did their work.” Then with a more earnest voice, he added, “Listen, we can pass the resolutions any time we choose, but it would be a mistake to ram our plan down their throats.”

  “Majorities drive conventions.”

  “These are proud men. They need to be given voice.”

  “Voice yes, debate certainly, but threats and extortion?”

  “They played their only card.” Then with a shrug, “You can’t blame them.”

  Madison started to object, but Morris interrupted. “Tell me, how’s Pinckney’s mood?”

  “Contrite. But I fear it’s only temporary.”

  “No doubt. You can’t train a cat, but they do keep the mice at bay.”

  “I fear Pinckney hunts larger game. Randolph’s livid.”

  “He’s only angry because the volley came from his own side.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Randolph doesn’t know how to tack; he follows the wind. The rest of us must tend the sails. By the way, Washington wishes to speak to you during a break.”

  “Do you know the subject?”

  “Heavens no. The good general forgot to confide in me.”

  Madison suppressed a twinge of anxiety. “You did a fine job yesterday,” he said. “A bit blunt, but it moved us forward.”

  “Pusillanimous debate sours my stomach. What say, shall we enter the pit?”

  “Yes, let’s see if Pinckney can keep his claws retracted.”

  Before Madison’s ink dried, the motion that the legislature should consist of two branches had passed. He quickly scratched out the delegates’ comments, using abbreviations and marks. He suddenly realized that he couldn’t keep up. First, someone spoke from over here; then, without pause, someone new started speaking from another area. The exchanges bounced around the room as swiftly as a farmer switched teats on an udder. He decided to capture the proceedings in a quick scribble and rewrite the notes each evening while the events remained fresh.

  Sherman had the floor, and the issue was the election of the first branch. “Gentlemen, I strongly urge the election of the national legislature by the state legislatures. Only in this manner will capable and experienced men be chosen. The people should have little to do with government. They are constantly misled.”

  Sherman stood perfectly straight, left hand balled in a fist, his right hand clutching the wrist of the left. On the rare occasion when his hands moved, the motion was as rigid as starched linen.

  Madison appraised his speech as artifice. Connecticut possessed a strong democratic tradition and, among all the states, enjoyed the most republican form of government. Sherman’s real objective was to ensure that the states held as much power as possible under the new government.

  Elbridge Gerry gained the floor. Although he was from Massachusetts, a member of the large state alliance, Gerry hated the idea of a strong central government. Madison gave thanks that he spoke poorly and digressed into ill-mannered diatribes. Thin-faced, with a sharp, beaklike nose, Gerry always wore a bemused, superior expression that revealed an elitist nature. A nervous head tic exaggerated his birdlike appearance, and he had an odd habit of speaking in bursts, punctuated by unintelligible stammers. Madison didn’t worry about Gerry because loyal Massachusetts delegates outnumbered him.

  Gerry stuttered a moment and then blurted, “Gentlemen, I heartily agree with our esteemed colleague from Connecticut. The evils we experience flow from an excess of democracy. The masses cannot recognize a good government when it is placed in front of them.”

  Madison almost chuckled. He wondered if Sherman felt embarrassed to be linked with Gerry’s demagoguery.

  Gerry went on to vilify the infamous Shays. Most people condemned Shays’s farmer revolt, but Madison cherished the Massachusetts insurrection. Without it—and the alarm it raised throughout the nation—these delegates would be snug in their own beds.

  Gerry surprised Madison by abruptly shifting his harangue to a personal peeve. “It seems a democratic maxim to starve public servants. The people of Massachusetts always clamor to reduce our salaries.” After another stammer, he threw his words like grapeshot. “Honorable men should be properly rewarded for their sacrifice and service. But when the people have voice, they demand that we wallow in the same poverty as an indentured servant tied to a miserly master.”

  Gerry’s head bobbed uncontrollably. “Gentlemen, although I remain sympathetic to the cause, I’ve learned by experience the danger of the leveling spirit.”

  As Madison wrote his notes, another part of his mind marveled at the pettiness of some men.

  Mason brought reason back to the discussion. “Fellow delegates, we’re
obligated to protect the rights of every class of citizen. The first branch of the legislature is the repository of our democratic principles. It’s true that we have experienced excesses of democracy, but we shouldn’t run in the opposite direction. We must design a system that provides for the rights of the lowest, as well as the highest, order of citizens. I urge the election of the first branch directly by the people.”

  Fervent applause sprinkled the chamber, while others sat with folded hands. The revolutionary spirit waned in many.

  Madison was grateful to see James Wilson, from Pennsylvania, point the argument directly at Sherman’s undeclared intent. “Gentlemen, we must eliminate interference by state governments. Opposition to national measures comes from the officers of the states, not from the people.”

  Wilson looked like an owl, bespectacled and always wearing a freshly powdered wig. Many people saw him as pompous, but Madison knew him to be a fervent supporter of a strong national government controlled by the people.

  Wilson continued in a condescending manner that gave the impression of a schoolmaster lecturing dull students. “I wish to raise federal authority to a considerable level and, for that reason, it must have popular support. The first branch of the legislature should be elected directly by the people.”

  Madison set his notes aside to take the floor. “The great fabric of our national government must be stable and durable. This requires a solid foundation of the people, not the shaky pillars of state legislatures.” Madison looked directly at Sherman. “I’m an advocate for refining appointments by successive filters, but we can push this device too far. The expedient should be used only in the appointment of the second branch of the legislature, the executive, and the judiciary.”

  As Madison took his seat, Gerry huffed and strutted to the front of the chamber. Gerry’s stutters made it difficult for Madison to record his speech. After an unintelligible mumble, he said, “The common man sees no further than his next meal, and he denies others a place at the table. I don’t support giving the people a direct influence on the government.”

  Gerry sat to astonished whispers. Madison tried to check his prejudice against the merchant class, but Gerry proved strikingly uncultured. The man had built a fortune in commerce, and like many of the newly rich, he lacked basic manners. Madison felt relieved when the assembly moved to a vote.

  The popular election of the first branch won six to two. The full Massachusetts delegation buried Gerry. As Madison jotted down the results, two puzzles grabbed his attention: Why had South Carolina voted no—and more perplexing—why had Connecticut divided? Sherman and Ellsworth normally moved as one, and a divided vote was a discarded vote. Madison sneaked a peek at the two men. Sherman wore an impassive expression, but Ellsworth looked disturbed.

  The secretary read the fifth resolution of the Virginia Plan. “The second branch of the national legislature ought to be chosen by the first branch from a group that has been nominated by the state legislatures.”

  Madison was disturbed to see Butler argue against the motion. “This resolution destroys the balance between the states and the national government. The state legislatures must elect the second branch.” Butler shifted his weight and looked directly at the governor of Virginia. “I wish to pose a question to Mr. Randolph.” After a brief pause for effect, Butler asked, “Please, sir, may we hear your opinion about the number of members in this second branch?”

  Flabbergasted, Madison forgot to lift his pen and stained his notes with an expansive blot of ink. Butler had picked up Pinckney’s lance. Madison looked straight ahead—he had no desire to see Pinckney’s smirk. The thrust aimed at the witless Randolph was meant to penetrate all the way through to him.

  Randolph reluctantly struggled to his feet. “When I offered these propositions, I stated my ideas as far as the proposal required.”

  As Randolph tried to sit, Butler boomed, “Surely, the esteemed governor of Virginia, the leader of his state’s government, the protector of its sovereignty, has an opinion on the subject?”

  Randolph didn’t hide his anger. “The details aren’t part of the plan. That’s for this assembly to decide.”

  Randolph tried to regain his composure. Tentatively reaching down, as if to shuffle papers again, he abruptly said, “Uh, if I were to hazard an opinion, I think the number of the second branch ought to be smaller than the first, and uh, yes, small enough to protect against the turbulence of democracy. Some check is needed, and a good senate seems a likely answer.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Randolph, for sharing your succinct insight and unparalleled wisdom,” Butler said as he took his seat.

  Madison blanched at the clumsy, capitulating exchange. Each element of the plan must be explained by stressing the harmony of the entire system. Madison realized that Randolph didn’t understand what he had presented. He again wished that a better spokesman had been chosen.

  Thankfully, Wilson helped the convention move beyond the embarrassing moment, but after a reasoned preamble, he startled Madison with his conclusion. Peering over his glasses, he said, “Gentlemen, I oppose both election by the state legislatures and election by the first branch. The second branch must be independent of both. I strongly urge the popular election of both branches.”

  The resolution had been crafted to appeal to a broad alliance. The states nominated and then the first branch elected senators from the slate of candidates presented by the states. Butler argued for the election by the states, while Wilson supported election by the people. These two men were supposed to be members of Madison’s alliance, yet they attacked a crucial element of the plan from opposite directions. Keeping people in line was proving more difficult than Madison had expected.

  The vote, when it came, brought additional surprises. The first, and most devastating, was its defeat, seven against three. Frustrated, Madison scratched, So the clause was disagreed to & a chasm left in this part of the plan. He ended the entry with a harsh, oversized exclamation point.

  Madison walked the yard with Washington. Actually, the general sauntered while Madison’s short stride caused him to scurry like a child trying to keep up with an unmindful parent.

  “Jemmy, I’d like you to rethink the sixth resolve.”

  “Excuse me, sir. We all agreed.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Madison felt alarm. “Deleting the sixth resolve guts the plan.”

  “Just one section of it.”

  “Which?”

  “The use of force against members of the union.”

  Surprised, Madison said, “General, with all due respect, you, more than anyone, must understand the need for this provision.”

  “I understand the frustration that motivated some to include the clause.”

  “You endorsed it.”

  “A government cannot make war on its members.”

  “General, please. You’ve suffered the defiance of the states. You fought the Revolution with blood while the states ignored your pleas for the barest of necessities.”

  “I would never have turned my army against a state to collect their levy.”

  “A single frigate could’ve easily forced the states to pay.”

  “Mr. Madison, I would’ve won the war but lost the point of going to war.”

  Madison was stunned by the general’s sudden intensity. All of this had been arranged in advance. Governments needed money like fire needs wood. An enfeebled Congress had been unable to make the states pay their quota, even when British troops stood ready to kill their sons. After the peace, collecting revenue had become even more difficult.

  Madison believed it imperative that the new government should wield enough power to compel payment. And Washington had agreed until now. What changed his mind? Perhaps the threat from the Society of the Cincinnati made him question the use of force. Perhaps Delaware’s threat to tear apart the convention made him cautious of proposing too much national power. Perhaps the dissension within their alliance had given him pause. />
  Madison risked igniting Washington’s notorious temper. “General, sir, fairness sometimes requires a government to use force.”

  “I can’t imagine armed action for a concept as vague as fairness.”

  “If I may, the Articles of Confederation punishes those who do right. Those who pay subsidize the indolent. Force, used judiciously, can right wrongs.”

  “Find another way.”

  “No parliamentary trick can substitute for force of arms.”

  “I’ll have no part of a government that can wage war against its citizens. You’re a smart lad. Figure something out.”

  “Of course, sir. I shall think about it.”

  “Mr. Madison, you may think about it all you want, but you’ll withdraw the clause immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the recess, the convention began to deal with the powers of the legislature. The first few measures passed without debate, and then the secretary read, “Legislative power in all cases to which the state legislatures are incompetent.”

  Madison cringed to see Butler take the floor. “I’d like to call on Mr. Randolph to explain his meaning of incompetent.”

  Barely rising, Randolph almost shouted, “I disclaim any intention of granting vague powers to the national legislature. I oppose any inroads on state jurisdictions. My opinion’s fixed on the point.”

  He sat with a stern finality that belied his fear. Could the South Carolina intrigue have no greater purpose than to bully Randolph until he caved? As Madison gained the floor, he wondered if it could be that simple.

  “Gentlemen, our deliberations over the last two days have been acrimonious. Delegates have challenged other delegates’ honorably held positions.” Madison quickstepped across the chamber as he continued to speak. “We must succeed in our noble effort, and I shall not shirk from anything necessary to form a sound republic, one with the authority to provide for the safety, liberty, and happiness of our great nation.” He abruptly stopped his rapid pacing and caught the eyes of the delegates. “I plead with you to do the same.”