Tempest at Dawn (15 page)

Sherman watched Madison ensconce himself in the same
center-front seat as Friday’s session. Sherman didn’t want his back
to the delegates. He had chosen a seat to the rear and side so he
could keep a watchful eye on everyone.

Soon Sherman heard the doorkeeper announce,
“Gentlemen, the president of the Federal Convention, Gen. George
Washington.”

The delegates stood as Washington entered from a
door to the right at the front of the chamber. The general carried
himself with such dignity that as soon as he sat and with no
further direction, everyone quietly took a seat. The chamber began
to feel crowded. Nine delegates had arrived over the weekend.
Confidence had strengthened as the number of represented states
grew to eight.

The high windows threw sharp shadows into the
chamber, and several men on the periphery had turned their backs to
the bright light. Sherman was grateful that the sun had started to
bake away the dampness. Heavy wool clothing and a reduced
opportunity to bathe had created a ripe, musty odor that hung heavy
in the room.

Washington called on Wythe to read the Rules
Committee report. Most of the rules were familiar and acceptable.
The list didn’t include secrecy, nor did it include a right to
reconsider prior votes. The Virginians hadn’t accepted Sherman’s
swap.

Most politicians paid scant attention to rules
because they were too eager to hear themselves speak. Experience
had taught Sherman that rules, wielded with a deft hand, could
control proceedings. One of the rules allowed any state to postpone
a vote for one day, giving the weaker side an opportunity to
marshal additional votes. Sherman guessed the rule was meant to
mollify his weak alliance, but he judged it inconsequential.

The Rules Committee had avoided controversy by
leaving the real work to be done on the floor, and Sherman didn’t
believe that any of the rules would raise controversy. He was
wrong.

Rufus King, of Massachusetts, immediately asked to
speak. Handsome, ambitious, and a fine speaker, the
thirty-two-year-old dandy was widely recognized as a rising
politician. His political talents were hampered, however, by
unattractive bouts of arrogance.

King spoke with the assurance of an exceptionally
gifted orator. “Mr. President and honorable delegates, I wish to
draw your attention to the rule that votes must be entered in the
minutes. Since the early acts of the convention aren’t meant to
bind the delegates, a record of the votes is dangerous. Changes of
opinion will be frequent. We shouldn’t furnish handles to our
enemies. I move that this rule be stricken.”

So, the Virginians wanted a secret meeting with no
record of the votes, even for posterity.

Butler, of South Carolina, called for the floor.
“Mr. President, it’s imperative that we proceed without undue
influence from beyond these doors. We must debate, weigh the
arguments, adjust our opinions, and finally, after careful
deliberation, vote our conscience. To facilitate this lofty aim, I
wish to introduce two rules.

“
The first is that no member shall be absent
from the House without the leave of this assemblage. Congress
cannot call members away.”

This rule surprised Sherman, but he immediately saw
the need. Many of the delegates were members of Congress. In the
past, when Congress hadn’t liked the course of a conference, they
recalled their members to preclude a quorum.

Butler continued, “Another rule is necessary. I
propose that no copy of the journal may be taken outside this
chamber and that nothing that happens inside this chamber be spoken
of outside these walls.”

There it was—the dreaded secrecy rule. Madison then
asked to speak. His soft voice commanded attention as everyone
concentrated to hear his words. Sherman noted that Madison’s quick,
animated hand movements and unrelenting eye contact also worked to
hold his audience.

“
We need long debate before we arrive at a
uniform opinion. In the meantime, the minds of members may change,
and there’s much to be gained by proceedings free of public
scrutiny.”

Turning toward Washington, he continued. “With
secret discussions, no man will feel obligated to retain his
opinion for the mere appearance of consistency.”

Madison had barely taken his seat before his fellow
Virginian, George Mason, had secured the floor. “Gentlemen, secrecy
is necessary to prevent misrepresentation by our adversaries. We
must proceed in private, or we’ll exhaust our energies defending
preliminary opinions.”

The Virginians had expected a vigorous
counterargument, so an awkward stillness ensued as Sherman and his
allies sat silent.

Richard Dobbs Spaight asked for the floor. “I
propose we allow a new vote upon any previous question when a
member sees a reasonable cause for reconsideration.”

Sherman watched Madison’s head spin from
Washington’s impassive face to look at Franklin. The doctor
shrugged faintly as if to say that he had no idea why North
Carolina had proposed the rule.

Sherman worked to keep a smile from his face. With a
quarter of her population slave, North Carolina feared a runaway
convention controlled by the abolitionist North. Sherman used this
fear to convince Spaight to support his goal of not finalizing
votes until the entire system had been drafted. With this rule,
North Carolina could hold prior votes hostage to a final outcome
that would protect her slaveholdings.

The first vote of the convention unanimously
defeated the motion not to record votes. Sherman was pleased. Open
proceedings worked to Connecticut’s advantage, but he was willing
to barter the issue as long as a complete account became public
prior to state ratification.

The rest of the newly introduced rules were referred
back to the Rules Committee. This maneuver delayed the vote until
the next day, but Sherman foresaw that the two crucial rules would
be adopted. The Virginians had the votes to secure secret
proceedings and, with North Carolina on his side, he’d have his
reconsideration rule. Sherman heard the motion to adjourn with a
sense of accomplishment. He had won the first exchange.

Sherman descended the State House steps at a
diagonal. Sensing his companion’s contemplative mood, Ellsworth
kept silent as he walked beside him. After adjournment, Sherman had
spent the good part of an hour conversing with the other
delegates—nothing substantial, just friendly discussions at the end
of a short business day.

Their exit from the State House provided his first
moment of private thought. Suddenly Sherman realized that he needed
to quicken his pace. He had promised Madison to invite Witherspoon
to meet him at the Indian Queen. He had dallied and needed to
hurry, or Witherspoon would miss the appointed hour. As he thought
about it, he realized he’d been basking in his success. A mistake.
His victory had altered the mechanics, not the substance, of the
convention. This was no time to slacken. Tomorrow would start the
real confrontation.

Ellsworth mistook Sherman’s quickened pace to mean
that he had finished his musing. Stepping quickly to catch up, he
said, “An excellent day; events went exactly as you predicted.”

“
The rules work to our advantage, but we only
won a few delaying tools. They still own the votes. Unless we alter
the balance, the convention will be their beast.”

“
But the stampede has been checked. Besides, I
enjoyed the surprise on Madison’s face.”

Sherman stopped walking and faced Ellsworth. “We’ve
gained their attention, but now the Virginians will be on
guard.”

Ellsworth took a snuffbox out of his waistcoat, laid
an ample portion along his wrist, and raised it to his nose. “The
large states sail under a false flag.”

He took a long sniff, inhaling every speck.

“
Roger, you must force those freebooters to
hoist proper colors.”

Chapter 10

Monday, May 28, 1787

“
Dr. Witherspoon, what a pleasure to see you.”
Madison scurried across the Indian Queen foyer, hand extended, to
greet his old teacher.

“
Please, James, call me John. You’re no longer
my student.”

“
Thank you, John. But excuse me if I slip
occasionally. Old habits die hard.”

“
New habits, my dear boy, new habits chase the
doldrums away.”

“
Perhaps, but I cling to old habits like a
warm comforter.”

“
Can we sit somewhere? You can tell me about
your habits and exciting new venture.”

“
Will you be my guest for dinner?”

“
Unfortunately not. My benefactor has invited
me to dine at his home with my two summer charges. We’ll have ample
time in the days ahead, but now I’m anxious to hear about your
grand scheme of government.”

Madison felt Witherspoon’s arm around his narrow
shoulder as the two men ascended the stairs that led to a sitting
room on the second floor. After settling comfortably in two facing
wing chairs, Madison ordered tea and cakes from an attentive
steward.

“
Our proceedings are private,” Madison said.
“I can’t discuss details, but I can tell you that you’ve influenced
the design. Thank you for your letters over the last
year.”

“
I enjoyed the intellectual exchange. Whose
philosophy did you follow?”

“
You may think this arrogant, but I choose no
single guide. I blended Aristotle, Locke, Hume, and Montesquieu
with my own reasoning—a unique design.”

“
Excellent. The student becomes the
sage.”

“
Doctor, I mean John, you’re far too generous.
I did nothing new; I merely sifted the thoughts of the best minds
to mix a new brew.”

“
Every cook uses the same ingredients. Some
prepare indigestible hash, while others concoct dishes that delight
the palate. Don’t denigrate your feat, young man. I’m confident
you’re a great cook”

“
Thank you. I believe I’ve designed a system
that harnesses man’s predilection for wrongdoing.”

“
Then you’ve performed a miracle. Man is a
bloodstained creature.”

“
Bloodstained, but capable of noble acts. A
sound design can steer him along an elevated course.”

“
James, that’s the function of religion, not
government. Don’t set your sights too high.”

“
Government can’t make man virtuous, but
government can constrain his vices, deny opportunity, and restrain
the lust for power.”

“
No wonder Mr. Sherman spoke so highly of
you.”

“
Roger Sherman? He’s positioning himself to
lead the opposition. Sherman’s an obstructionist.”

“
Surely you exaggerate. I spoke to him this
morning, and he was quite complimentary to you.”

“
Sherman’s a political beast. He tells people
what they wish to hear.”

“
I believe Sherman earnest in his
praise.”

“
I don’t trust the man. He has no anchor, no
principled underpinnings.”

“
I’ve also worked with Roger and have found
him a devout Christian and a man of virtuous
intentions.”

“
John, the government must remain secular,”
Madison said, exasperated.

“
You’re wrong. The government must not force a
particular religion on anyone, but it must never interfere with the
free expression of faith.” Witherspoon reached out and touched
Madison’s forearm. “James, a government can never be secular when
filled with god-fearing men.”

“
This is old ground. Our disagreements don’t
affect the design.”

“
I shall forgo the argument for the moment,”
Witherspoon said. “But you must explain your qualms about Sherman.
He holds his piety close.”

“
He holds his fealty to Connecticut
closer.”

An expression of comprehension came over
Witherspoon’s face. “I think I understand. Listen, James, Sherman’s
not a thinker, he’s a doer. None better. You want him on your
side.”

“
He’ll never join the nationalist
cause.”

“
I hope you’re wrong; otherwise you must
engage a formidable foe.” Witherspoon scrunched up in his seat.
“How’s your father?”

“
Excellent health, thank you.”

“
And Montpelier?”

“
Montpelier prospers.”

Witherspoon looked as if he were about to ask
another question, then gave a small shrug and said, “I’m glad to
hear things are good at home.”

When Madison offered no additional information,
Witherspoon asked, “Can I address a sensitive subject?”

“
Of course. You’re a friend.”

“
What are your intentions about
slavery?”

Madison nibbled a piece of cake and followed with a
sip of tea. “Slavery cannot become an issue at this
convention.”

“
It must.”

“
It cannot. It will destroy any chance of
agreement.”

“
James, only you can weave a path out of this
evil morass. You’re the architect of this new government—and a
slaveholder.”

“
I am not.”

“
A niggling distinction. You’ll inherit
slaves.”

“
You’re from the North. You can’t grasp the
emotions around this issue in my region.”

“
I can see that slavery corrodes justice.”
Witherspoon again touched Madison’s arm. “James, look inside
yourself.”

Madison sat for a moment. “I’m helpless.”