Tempest at Dawn

by James D. Best

  A motion was passed to delete the redundant “white and other.” Then a motion passed to take the first census in three years instead of six.

  As planned, Ellsworth made a speech supporting prohibition of export taxes. Sherman wanted to send South Carolina a signal that Connecticut would help fight off the coordinated attack by Madison, Wilson, and Morris on slave trade.

  Sherman listened expectantly as Madison renewed his assault, but with a new twist. “Gentlemen, most of the revenue will be drawn from trade, and it makes no difference whether it comes from imports or exports. We should examine both, including any prohibitions on import taxes.”

  Clever, Sherman thought. Madison was telling South Carolina to accept export taxes or to allow an import tax on slaves. As Madison took his seat, Sherman saw him give the slightest of nods to Wilson and Morris. They both gave long-winded speeches supporting an export tax.

  After a midday break, Luther Martin stumbled to the front, weaving between the tables until he passed close to the Virginia table. Martin looked pointedly at Madison and said, “Fool,” in a voice loud enough for Sherman to hear in the back row.

  Martin, looking as rumpled as ever, swayed as if on a roiling sea. Sherman thought the man could dismay him no further—then he began to speak. “Gentlemen—” Martin bowed slightly toward the South Carolina table and continued, “and pharisaical delegates from the South … the slave trade, not an export tax, is the issue. We ought to prohibit this disgusting practice. Or place a heavy tax on it.”

  An audible gasp went up in the chamber. Martin, inebriated and bored, decided to mount a frontal assault, one aimed at the true sticking point. Raising the slave trade directly would inflame tempers and erase any pretense of civil debate. And he wasn’t done.

  “The slave trade is dishonorable to our character. It has no place in our Constitution. Since five slaves count as three freemen, the Constitution encourages traffic in human chattel. We must offset this incentive by attacking the purse of those who engage in this ugly business.”

  Martin’s gait grew steady, and then he said, “You should all be ashamed.”

  Madison had whirled around to watch Martin retreat to his seat. His face looked incredulous as he held his quill motionless above his inkwell. Normally, Sherman took pleasure in a discombobulated Madison, but Martin’s outburst meant greater problems for him than for his bright little colleague. The chamber grew so still that Madison’s resumed quill scratching sounded like a chair grating across the floor.

  When Pinckney spoke, Sherman winced at the sharpness of his words. “If South Carolina is left alone, it may prohibit the trade, but if we’re bullied, we’ll walk from these proceedings.”

  Mason owned nearly a hundred slaves, but he seemed oblivious to the apparent hypocrisy of his remarks when he followed Pinckney. “Slavery is an abomination. It discourages the arts and manufacturing. The poor despise honest labor because slaves perform it. Every master is a petty tyrant. Gentlemen, make no mistake, slavery will bring the wrath of God on our country! The government must be given the power to stop importing Negroes!”

  The delegates at the South Carolina table bent together in a whispered exchange, and then Pinckney asked for the floor. “It might be reasonable that slaves be taxed like other imports, but South Carolina will reject the union if the slave trade is abolished.”

  Sherman’s head lifted with that comment. Did Pinckney just offer a compromise? His next sentence answered his question.

  “I move to commit a clause that slaves be liable to an equal tax with other imports.” Disdainfully, he added, “That should remove the difficulty.”

  “Thank you for offering a compromise.”

  Pinckney busied himself gathering up his belongings. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other affairs.”

  “I take it you’re unhappy to have been placed in a position to compromise.”

  Pinckney gave Sherman a cross look. “That sanctimonious little prick. He should free his own slaves before instructing us. And you shouldn’t look so pleased. We had a deal.”

  “I’m upholding my end.”

  “Not well enough.”

  Sherman kept his voice even. “South Carolina and Connecticut agreed on a set of accommodations, but there are eleven states. The ones that fight against the trade were originally on your side.”

  Pinckney slapped his portfolio closed. When he looked up, the usual arrogant expression was absent from his handsome face. “Roger, this is not done. You would be wise not to waiver.” With this, Pinckney tucked his portfolio under his arm and marched out of the chamber.

  Ellsworth walked over and asked, “What has Charles so bothered?”

  “He’s angry that Madison figured out that South Carolina would rather see a tax on the import of Negroes than a tax on exports.”

  “South Carolina would rather cut a deal to make Madison president than see slavery hampered.”

  Sherman gave a hearty laugh. “Now you go too far. Pinckney’s angry, not mad. Come on, let’s take a brisk walk before we return to Mrs. Marshall.”

  Part 6

  Unanimity

  Chapter 36

  Thursday, August 23, 1787

  Madison bounded down the stairs. After he made the turn at the landing, he saw Pinckney in front of him. “Charles, may I join you for breakfast?”

  Pinckney stopped his descent and turned toward Madison. “You may not.”

  Madison stopped a few steps above Pinckney. “You’re angry?”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Sarcasm, not sulking.”

  “I don’t sulk.” Pinckney turned to continue down the stairs and mumbled, “I reserve my sarcasm for friends.”

  Madison laughed out loud. Pinckney whirled and gave him a piercing look. “Mr. Madison, do not provoke me.”

  “Of course not. I apologize.” Madison bounced down the remaining stairs. “Charles, please. We must talk.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we—”

  “Never mind. Let’s eat. I’m famished.”

  Madison and Pinckney walked into the Indian Queen’s elegant dining room and were immediately seated. After ordering, Pinckney said, “You’re a dastardly turncoat.”

  “I fight for principles. A turncoat has none.”

  “Principle is a fancy word. I see self-interest—and hypocrisy.”

  A server arrived, balancing a crowded salver on his fingertips. The man fastidiously arranged their breakfast and then asked if everything was to their satisfaction. Pinckney gave the dismissive wave he used with servants. After the servant bowed and backed away, Pinckney leaned toward Madison. “You betrayed the South.”

  “You can accuse me of betraying slavery, but not the South. The South is more than slavery.”

  “The South is less without slavery, you fool. How would your plantation fair without slaves?”

  “I merely want the slave trade curtailed. No one has raised emancipation. The South has quite enough Negroes.”

  “Virginia does not comprise the entire South. The rest of us need more slaves, and we don’t want to buy them from Virginia.”

  “This idea that Virginia has too many slaves is ludicrous. Where did it come from?”

  “So, our little master wants to enlarge the slave population of Montpelier.”

  Madison looked at his oatmeal and pushed it away. He had inadvertently filled the bowl to the brim with maple syrup. Madison looked at Pinckney. “You must admit the deal was weighted heavily in your favor.”

  “I admit no such thing.”

  “No tax on exports, no import tax on slaves, and slaves counted as three-fifths of a person. All in exchange for a bastardized Senate.”

  Pinckney made a show of sniffing his melon. “A small price for empire.”

  “We’re building a republic.”

  Pinckney dug out a spoonful of melon and poised it in midair. “A small price, nonetheless.”

  “You must relent on this infernal importation o
f Negroes.”

  “A small tax is acceptable, but in exchange, we have other demands.”

  “What other demands?”

  “The obligation of every state to return fugitive slaves. As it so happens, also part of the Northwest Ordinance.”

  Madison fumed. “Slavery cannot dictate every aspect of our government.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I won’t allow it.” Madison crisply tapped one egg with his knife, and a perfect serrated circle appeared one-third of the way down from the top of the shell. He lifted the top off in a single twisting motion, swirled a knife under the remaining shell bottom, and slipped the egg into a small bowl. After he replicated the ceremony with a second egg, he lifted his eyes to see Charles Pinckney wearing a bemused smirk.

  Madison listened as King read the report from Sherman’s committee. King’s smooth voice wafted through the chamber. “To make laws for organizing, arming and disciplining the militia, and for governing such part of them as may be employed in the service of the United States, reserving to the states respectively the appointment of the officers, and authority of training the militia according to the discipline prescribed.”

  “This turns the states into drill sergeants!” exploded Gerry. “I’d rather disarm the citizens of Massachusetts than submit to this despotism.”

  Martin blustered with indignation, “Are you men fools? The states will never give up control of the militia. How will they protect their liberty?”

  Madison sighed. Gerry’s and Martin’s negativism exhausted him. He snapped his quill into his inkwell too hard and jammed the tip. As he used his penknife to cut a new point on his quill, King read the next clause. “The national legislature shall fulfill the engagements and discharge the debts of the United States and shall have the power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises.”

  Gerry remained in a snit. Shaking his head, he said, “To not require assumption of state debts is tomfoolery.”

  Sherman immediately said, “The First Congress can decide the extent of the ‘debts of the United States.’” Before Madison could turn his head, Sherman had already taken his seat. Even for Sherman, the comment was unusually terse. Gerry’s reflexive assaults on anything and everything must be frustrating his adversary. Good.

  Butler surprised Madison with an emotional outburst. “If this compels payment to the bloodsuckers who took advantage of our soldiers, then I strongly object. I insist we exclude speculators.”

  After some additional complaints about speculators reaping a windfall, King proceeded to the next clause. “The Senate of the United States shall have the power to make treaties, and to appoint ambassadors, and judges of the Supreme Court.”

  Gouverneur Morris move that the Senate should ratify the treaties made by the executive, but the Morris modification failed, and they called it a day.

  Wandering into the barroom at the back of the Indian Queen, Madison spotted Gouverneur Morris. Sliding onto the bench across from him, Madison said, “I agreed with your motion.”

  Morris looked up from a legal document. “That’s because you’re a smart boy, James.”

  “I think I mentioned this ‘boy’ thing before.”

  “Just a figure of speech. You must learn to be less sensitive.”

  “I’ll talk to Gerry. He can instruct me on how to shrug off little irritations.”

  “Ha, good, my boy.” Morris waved the barmaid over to their table. Without asking, he ordered Madison a glass of Madeira. After the barmaid scurried away, Morris said, “We must bar the committee doors against malcontents.”

  “What committee?” Madison asked.

  “Oh, there’ll be another committee. The committee. I’m working to get us both assigned.”

  Many believed that political bodies debated issues, voted, and that was the end of it. In truth, assemblies cobbled together something closer to a rough draft. Committees smoothed phrasing, added nuance, adjusted points, and even deleted great volumes of verbiage. Their final committee would have inordinate influence over the Constitution.

  Madison felt chagrined. “I should’ve thought about the next committee. Thank you.” Madison sipped his Madeira. “Do you think it’s close? I feel like I’ve been in a death struggle for months.”

  “Skirmishes, mere skirmishes. You must learn to husband your energy for the coming Armageddon.”

  “That seems overstated.”

  “My bread and butter, my boy. Without hyperbole, your hobbling friend would find himself without an audience.”

  “You mean to entertain?”

  “I mean to ladle my bluster with a touch of maple syrup.” Morris looked momentarily pleased, but his face quickly grew serious. “The general wants unanimity.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Madison snapped, irritated by Washington’s compulsiveness.

  “The doctor wants to discuss it nonetheless.”

  “When?”

  “Shall we finish our Madeira and see if the good doctor is lounging under his mulberry tree?”

  As Madison circled behind the house, he was not surprised to see a tired-looking Franklin sitting in a cushioned rocking chair under his famed tree. The absence of guests did surprise him. Usually in the late afternoons, admiring females or conniving men surrounded Franklin. Today, when they rounded the corner of his house, they had heard neither self-conscience giggles nor conspiratorial whispers. The old man sat alone, quietly reading a book.

  “Gentlemen, please sit. May I offer you lemonade or porter?”

  “We don’t mean to disturb your peaceful afternoon,” Madison offered.

  “I chased away some people earlier, but only in the hope that you two would visit.”

  Morris swung a straight-backed chair closer to Franklin. “You’ll never see me pass up your superb porter.”

  John miraculously appeared, and Franklin gave him a nod. Madison pulled his own chair closer to Franklin. “I understand you wanted to see us together.”

  “We must plot the last scene in our little drama.”

  “The final committee?” Madison asked.

  “We’ll trust the two of you with that episode. I was referring to the final vote.”

  “The general seeks unanimity?”

  Franklin leaned forward. “Can we get it?”

  “No.”

  Franklin leaned back and slowly rocked his chair. “Even if not everyone in the chamber agrees, we think we can finesse a unanimous vote of the states.”

  Madison thought a moment. “What about New York?”

  “Hamilton will sign, but New York is not officially represented.” Franklin stopped rocking and leaned forward again. “Jemmy, who will refuse to sign?”

  Madison knew that Washington and Franklin had already discussed this question, so he took time to think through the possibilities. “Gerry and Martin will refuse to sign. I think Patrick Henry has warned Randolph not to sign. Mason worries me, as does Gorham.”

  “Gorham! Why Gorham?” Morris exclaimed.

  “Because he’s astute,” Madison said, pleased with his companions’ startled expressions. “He knows Rufus is solidly with us and Gerry adamantly opposed. It gives him the swing vote. He’d be foolish to give that away without exacting a price.”

  “My God, you’re right,” Franklin said. “What will he demand?”

  “Something valuable to Massachusetts, I should think,” Madison answered.

  Franklin seemed to contemplate for a moment. “Gouverneur, can we trust Rufus to intercede with Gorham?”

  “Normally, I would say yes, but this may present too much of a temptation. They could collaborate to extract the maximum price.”

  “Alex can get Gorham’s measure,” Franklin said. “He’s supported him many times in Congress.”

  When Morris gave a nod, the issue seemed settled. John conveniently chose this time to bring out their drinks, and Morris made a show of taking a long draw on the porter. “Excellent,” he said.

  Franklin smiled
and then turned to Madison. “Do any other states worry you?”

  “No. Martin can’t sway Maryland, and if both Randolph and Mason bolt, the remaining Virginians will override them.”

  “That’s our assessment as well. What do you think it would take to get Mason, Randolph, Gerry, and Martin to sign?”

  “Nothing political will move Gerry or Martin, but the general might ask for a personal favor.”

  “Already broached with the general,” Franklin said. “He might approach Martin, but he refuses to barter with Gerry. What about Randolph and Mason?”

  “Mason’s a puzzle.” Madison took a sip of his beer. “Randolph is easier to understand. A signature requires commitment.”

  “Something he’s loath to do,” Franklin said.

  “Exactly.” Madison set his drink down. “He won’t sign.”

  “We should concentrate on Mason, Martin, and Gorham,” Franklin said. “If we succeed with two or more, then we’ll figure out if there’s anything to be done with Gerry and Randolph.” Franklin looked in dire need of a nap, but he wasn’t done. “One more item. Sherman must get Paterson back for the signing.”

  Madison shifted in his chair. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Good.” Franklin looked peeved. “As soon as that whelp Paterson got the Senate he wanted, he ran home. Tell Sherman the general and I insist on Paterson’s signature.” Franklin raised his hand toward the house, and John appeared directly. “Anything else, gentlemen?” the doctor asked.

  “Only that I’m beginning to worry about Virginia ratification,” Madison said. “Patrick Henry is lining up against it.”

  “Too far in the future for this old codger,” Franklin said, as he rose. “We must first get an approved plan with the appearance of unanimity before we worry about ratification.”