Tempest at Dawn (10 page)

Everyone turned to glare at the far end of
the table. Madison saw that only Sherman took notice.

As dusk darkened the large room, most of the
dinner guests had left. The banquet was over, but the people next
to Washington couldn’t leave until the general signaled his
readiness to retire. Franklin, with the assistance of his
manservant, had moved down the table to join the small group. The
stragglers seemed content to smoke their tobacco, sip well-aged
brandy, and converse in a relaxed fashion. Pinckney and Butler had
turned amiable, their earlier unease dissipated by the meal and
drink. Madison hoped they would depart so he could talk openly
about their earlier comments, but they also seemed bound by the
general’s lingering.

Madison found Washington puzzling. Stiff and
formal with strangers and in public, he obviously enjoyed being
around people. He had heard the general brag that he couldn’t
remember a meal he had taken alone, or with only Martha. When away
from home he dined with his host or a gathering of local
dignitaries, or he found a crowded tavern. Mount Vernon’s
reputation for hospitality provided an endless string of visitors.
While commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, he had eaten with
his staff officers.

“
General, you must voyage to France,”
Franklin said. “Your name is on the lips of every Parisian. You’ll
learn what posterity will say of Washington, for a thousand leagues
is the same as a thousand years.”

“
Perhaps you’ve not noticed that I am
otherwise engaged.” With a sideways nod at Madison, Washington
added, “Our young Jemmy has waylaid me from my preferred
inactivity.”

“
We all had a hand in that,” Franklin
said.

Washington looked annoyed. “Having brought
the ship safely into port, I didn’t want to embark on another sea
of troubles.”

“
Our troubles can be managed,”
Franklin said. “We are an enlightened people. Every man reads and
is informed.” Franklin took on an expression meant to charm. “But
we shouldn’t expect our new government to be formed like a game of
chess is played. The players of our game are too many, their ideas
too different, and their prejudices too strong. Each move will be
contested. So, gentlemen,” Franklin said with a lilt that signaled
the climax of his little parable, “the play is more like backgammon
with a box of dice.”

“
Dr. Franklin, you hearten my soul,”
Washington said. “I trust my luck with dice far more than my skill
at chess.”

Everyone laughed, not at the general’s
self-deprecating remark.

Hamilton quickly rejoined. “General, I
eagerly put my faith in either your luck or your skill. If you can
lead us to victory against the mighty British Empire, you can
surely handle a few headstrong delegates.” The gratuitous flattery
caused an awkward moment, but Hamilton seemed unaware.

George Mason joined the conversation. “The
Revolution was nothing compared to the business before us. Then,
the people were inflamed. Now, we propose to invent a new
government through calm reason.” Mason ranked with Washington and
Jefferson in the Virginia hierarchy. As the sixty-two-year-old
patriarch of Gunston Hall, he was one of the richest planters in
Virginia. He held an almost religious fervor for reason. He
championed individual rights and had authored the famed Virginia
Declaration of Rights. He leaned across the table. “The happiness
of unborn millions depends on us.”

Madison became excited. “No nation has ever
changed its government without war or rebellion. We can set a new
course for mankind.”

“
Most of the world hopes we fail,”
Mason said.

“
The British certainly do,” Franklin
said. “They don’t want our example to incite further rebellion
within the empire. The British newspapers exaggerate our disorder
and mislead on purpose.”

“
Perhaps they don’t exaggerate as much
as you think, Doctor,” Pinckney said. “You’ve been out of the
country. Our problems seem difficult to overstate.”

“
I’ve had the privilege of observing
our European brethren, and I can assure you that we don’t hoard the
world’s woes. Our conditions, desperate though they may seem, are
preferable to Europe's troubles. Lofty aims drive our discontent.”
Again, Franklin struck a whimsical expression. “Everyone can be
happy if they maintain a happy disposition; such being necessary
even in paradise.”

“
Ah, so it is merely our dispositions
that bring us grief,” Pinckney said. “Our reputed difficulties
shall disappear as soon as we change our outlook. How simple. We’ll
merely write a joyful disposition clause into our new
constitution.”

A flash of irritation crossed Franklin’s
face, but it was immediately replaced with a bemused smile. “The
human condition is never simple, Mr. Pinckney. You cannot legislate
how people think. I find humans badly constructed. They are more
easily provoked than reconciled, more disposed to do mischief than
good, more easily deceived than undeceived, and more impressed with
their own self than considerate of others.”

Having delivered his disguised reproach,
Franklin steered the conversation away from Pinckney’s gibe. “I’ve
also observed that man takes more pride in killing than in
begetting. Without a blush, they assemble great armies to destroy.
Then, when they have killed as many as they can, they exaggerate
the number. But men creep into corners or darkness to beget.”

Madison laughed. Late evening conversation,
once turned to begetting, seldom returned to more serious subjects.
Alienating esteemed colleagues never garnered support, nor advanced
plans. Also, judging by Butler’s look, Pinckney would receive an
admonishment from his fellow South Carolinian to restrain his sharp
tongue. Madison sat back, ready to enjoy some quick-witted
bantering about sexual follies, when Pinckney’s voice destroyed his
evening.

“
Dr. Franklin, do you consider Madison
badly constructed because he owns over a hundred
slaves?”

Sherman found the decision hard. Each day he
had walked the streets of Philadelphia, and the same question
plagued him. Now he stood with his back to the street as
well-dressed people sauntered along the sidewalk behind him.
Sherman looked down at his scruffy shoes.

“
We can have you measured and fitted
in a single day.”

Sherman turned to see a boot maker
leaning out of his shop door. Sherman had been staring at a fine
set of boots displayed in his window. The wood sign swinging over
the door read, “
Cordwainer
.” In Sherman’s
experience, this pompous term meant that the boots he admired would
be expensive.

“
My father was a boot maker, and he
taught me the trade. These are certainly well-crafted
boots.”

“
Thank you. You have a keen eye for
workmanship.” Stepping further out into the street, he asked,
“Would you care to step in? We have several boots in work. A close
inspection by an experienced eye always results in an
order.”

“
That’s my fear. My other is that the
price is too dear for my purse.”

“
Our prices are reasonable, when you
consider the quality. Cobbled boots don’t wear, and they’re
uncomfortable. Mine will fit expertly and last forever.”

“
Let’s have a look.”

In the shop, Sherman saw three apprentices
working on different stages of construction. None seemed to take
notice of him as the master boot maker led him over to the bench.
Oil lamps augmented the large front window to provide the men good
light.

The orderliness of the shop impressed
Sherman. Tools not in use were neatly hung through holes in a half
shelf within easy reach above the bench. Sherman saw tanned leather
stacked by color and grade on large shelves along the opposite
wall. The floor was clean and nearly free of remnants. An expensive
rug lay at the front of the shop, where two sturdy chairs and a
table made a comfortable fitting area. The table displayed several
pairs of beautifully finished boots.

The scent of the shop recalled his youth. He
had grown up above his father’s store, and his earliest memory was
of the strong smell of leather. The odor permeated the house and
his father. He sniffed deep and knew he was going to make a
purchase.

“
Craftsmanship goes for naught if you
don’t start with good tanned hide,” the boot maker said, as he led
Sherman to the orderly shelves of raw material. He pulled out a
sample and presented the hide to Sherman as if it were fine lace.
“I do all my own buying and deal only with tanners who know their
business. You’ll not find higher quality anywhere in
Philadelphia.”

Sherman turned the hide over and felt both
sides. “My father also took pride in his skill at selecting the
best hides.”

“
Where’re you from?”

“
Connecticut. I’m a superior court
judge and mayor of New Haven. I represent my state at the Federal
Convention.”

“
You didn’t apprentice with your
father?” The boot maker had disapproval in his voice.

“
Yes, but I was too ambitious. I
became a surveyor but soon went into politics, where I’ve remained
ever since.”

“
Fathers want sons to follow their
footsteps. Two of these industrious young men are my sons.” With
this, the boot maker led him over to the workbench. He picked up a
boot and handed it to Sherman. “Look carefully at the stitching.
I’ve trained them well.”

“
Excellent, but as much as I admire
your boots, shoes are what I need at the moment.”

Without hesitation, the tradesman picked up
a shoe and handed it to Sherman. “Our shoes are worn by the best
gentlemen.”

Sherman turned the shoe over and examined
the sole. “How much?”

The boot maker looked at Sherman’s feet, as
if calculating. “What style?”

“
Simple but made from your finest
hide. I don’t dress fancy, but I demand well-made shoes.” Glancing
down, Sherman added, “Unfortunately, their appearance suffers long
before their utility.”

“
Twenty Pennsylvanian dollars or four
sovereign crowns.”

“
You have confirmed my second fear. Do
you accept Connecticut shillings?”

The man held up both palms. “They have no
value in Pennsylvania.”

Sherman drew his purse from his waistcoat.
He untied the leather cord, unfolded the flap, and peered inside as
if the contents would be a surprise. He couldn’t spend four of his
six sovereigns. With no hard money, Sherman would feel destitute.
“I haven’t exchanged my personal funds yet.”

“
There’s a money changer around the
corner. He’s honest and will give you as good a rate as available
in Philadelphia.”

Despite the boot maker’s endorsement,
Sherman wanted to shop around. Experience taught him that money
changers’ rates fluctuated wildly.

“
Thank you, I’ll see him, but possibly
not until tomorrow. Can we start the measurements in the
meantime?”

The boot maker looked thoughtful. “My shoes
are custom; they won’t fit another.” Then with an engaging smile he
used to close a sale, he added, “Since you’re an esteemed delegate
to the Federal Convention, I’ll start for a single sovereign.
They’ll be ready late tomorrow. Of course, delivery requires three
additional sovereigns or sixteen Pennsylvania dollars.”

“
Of course, but if you use paper to
calculate, you’ll see the remaining tariff is fifteen Pennsylvania
dollars.”

“
My error. I’m sorry, but I would’ve
had the correct figure by the time you arrived in the
morning.”

“
Very good, let’s proceed. May I
select my own hide?”

“
Of course.”

Sherman moved to the racks of tanned hides,
thinking that shopkeepers were the same the world over.

A small bell tinkled as Sherman pushed the
door open. In contrast to the well-lit cordwainer’s shop, the
dimness of this office signaled the miserly environs of a money
changer. A barrier stretched the width of the office, confining him
to the foyer. Soon, a short, pudgy man, wearing glasses perched at
the end of his nose, stepped from behind a screen.

“
May I help you?”

“
I’m looking to exchange Connecticut
shillings.”

“
Twelve to one,” the money changer
said without preamble.

Sherman blanched. After checking two other
money changers, Sherman had hoped the one recommended by the boot
maker would offer a better rate.

“
Such a disappointing exchange will
limit my commerce in your fair city.”

“
There is nothing I can do. Once a
month I risk transporting Connecticut money to my New Haven
correspondent.” He lifted both palms skyward. “I am subject to his
avarice.”

Sherman calculated that his Philadelphia
purchases would cost nearly a third more than back home. The
wealthy delegates used English and Spanish coin that carried a
premium value. Shopkeepers negotiated splendid deals for the chance
of acquiring foreign money. He was sure none of the Virginians had
found it necessary to visit this forlorn establishment.

The money changer interpreted Sherman’s
hesitancy as equivocation. “I know the hardship, but I must heed my
own cost and substantial risk. I’ll tell you what, if you exchange
a hundred and ten shillings, I can give you ten Pennsylvania
dollars.”