Tempest at Dawn (41 page)

Philadelphia, as the site of the signing of
the Declaration of Independence, took pride in holding the rowdiest
Fourth of July gala in the nation. Festivities would go from dawn
until deep into the night. The city echoed with public
celebrations, ringing bells, and martial music. Every church would
conduct special devotionals, and all 117 taverns would compete for
revelers with loud entertainment. The formal celebrations had
started early in the morning, with city officials, aspiring
orators, and preachers making the customary thirteen toasts.

Fascinated by the inebriated throng, Madison
failed to notice Pinckney walk up beside him.

“
Perhaps we should dramatically
increase the size any new state.”

Madison said, “Thank God, we will.
Fewer states in the Northwest Territory may save us from drunken
mobs. Imagine twenty toasts

we’d have to stretch our celebration to the
fifth.”

Pinckney looked surprised that Madison had
caught the allusion. Madison would have been embarrassed if
Washington hadn’t told him about that part of the arrangement with
Congress. By acting blasé about Pinckney’s remark, he’d stopped
what would have been a series of snide comments designed to show
off privileged knowledge.

“
Did they finally agree the number of
states in the Northwest Territory?” Pinckney asked to verify that
Madison knew the particulars of the deal.

“
Only five states.” Without turning,
Madison noticed Pinckney’s slight shrug. Good, Madison thought, he
knows we are on equal footing.

Pinckney complained, “This whole exhibition
seems excessive. Everyone acts as if independence were an end in
itself. We’re independent, but we’re adrift without a sextant.”

“
These people have
no

”

Before Madison could finish his point, a
huge, flushed man, dressed in a suit that struggled to cover his
overhanging belly, started yelling in his ear. “Gentlemen, lift
your drinks. Let us rejoice in the year of our lord one thousand
seven hundred and eighty-seven and the year of our independence,
the twelfth!”

The city had distributed kegs of grog at
each corner of the Commons and, despite the early hour, many toasts
had already made the crowd boisterous. A loud cheer erupted, and
those experienced enough to bring their own tankards threw down
another swallow of the watered-down rum.

The chubby man’s next words added hot
embers to Madison’s heartache. “People, another toast to the grand
Federal Convention

may they
form a constitution for an eternal republic”

Pinckney said, “These people are too simple
to discern a republic from a public privy.”

“
Charles, you’re too cynical. The
people can be fooled for a time, but Americans won’t allow a tyrant
to steal their liberty.”

Pinckney grunted with disgust. “No, they’ll
sell their liberty for free grog.”

“
Let’s move into the State House,”
Madison said abruptly. Madison feared that someone might overhear
in the close crowd, even though Pinckney spoke nearly in his ear.
If someone picked up his voice, his words could be reported in a
newspaper or spread by tavern gossip. Madison turned and entered
the State House so Pinckney would be obliged to follow. The guards,
standing on either side of the door, recognized them as delegates
and allowed them to enter.

Madison saw delegates gathered in the
Central Hall between the Judicial Chamber and the Assembly Room.
Most were deep in conversation, ignoring the events outside.
Madison threw a glance at the windows in the Judicial Chamber and
saw that other delegates and city dignitaries blocked them.

Without looking into the Assembly Room,
where they regularly met, Madison said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

He sprang up the Great Hall staircase,
sprinted past the Palladian window at the half-story landing, and
continued up to the Long Gallery that extended the entire length of
the building. As expected, men with enough influence to gain access
to the State House blocked these windows as well. At the east end
of the hall, Madison spotted James Wilson.

“
Charles, can you excuse me? I need to
talk to Mr. Wilson.”

“
But of course, go, speak to your last
faithful brother-in-arms.”

“
Do you no longer support our
cause?”

“
I’m a realist. You get what you
can.”

“
How do you know where the line that
cannot be crossed is drawn?”

“
Not easy. You must lose all to know
for certain. Anytime you stop short of full failure, you may have
been six inches or six feet from that gossamer boundary.” Pinckney
looked in both directions down the Long Gallery. Evidently not
seeing anyone of interest, he said, “Go confer with Mr. Wilson. I
prefer to mix with the plebian throng instead of witnessing their
merriment from behind a shield of glass.”

Before Madison felt the stab of the insult,
Pinckney had reversed course and bounded down the staircase. As
Madison approached Wilson, he watched the pudgy man peer with
disapproval over the top of his reading glasses. Had this visage
prompted Pinckney’s cutting remark?

“
Mr. Wilson, how are you on this fine
anniversary of our independence?”

Wilson directed his scowl toward Madison.
“Good morning, Mr. Madison. I take it from your greeting that you
believe declaring something makes it true. What a simple view of
life.”

“
Nothing in life seems simple to me
anymore, but your reference escapes me.”

“
We declared our independence on July
4, 1776.” Wilson turned his condescending gaze on Madison. “If
memory serves me right, we fought seven bloody years and spent our
progeny’s birth right to actually become independent. Saying it was
so did not make it so.”

“
The people need their celebrations
and their symbols,” Madison said. “What raised your
ire?”

“
What raised my ire?” Wilson parroted.
“What tiny annoyances have fouled my normally cheery mood? Let’s
see. Drunken imbeciles cheering banalities espoused by minor
functionaries. An ignorant citizenry oblivious to our imminent
demise. A convention eager to propose a sham republic. Yes, it’s
possible these things have soured my mood.” Wilson turned back to
the window. “If not those things, then perhaps a pompous military
strutting around the Commons makes me fear rule by the
sword.”

“
I believe our army and militia have
earned this day in the sun.”

“
Our soldiers, yes, but I fear the
Society of the Cincinnati.”

“
Washington can control
them.”

Wilson didn’t respond, so Madison
looked through the window. He saw the Light Infantry prepare to
execute a
feu de joie
,
Madison’s favorite parade maneuver. The soldiers stood in a dressed
line and readied their rifles. The first man on the right snapped
the rifle tight into his shoulder and fired into the air. Each man,
from right to left, quickly copied the movement and fired so fast,
it sounded like one continuous shot instead of twenty. Madison
loved the symmetry of the rifle reports and the practiced precision
of the movements. Today, the Light Infantry executed the difficult
maneuver flawlessly.

Without turning, Wilson said, “At the
conclusion of these ceremonies, the Cincinnati will march us to the
Reformed Calvinist Church for a special sermon. As president of the
society, Washington will lead the procession.” Wilson shook his
head. “The radicals want to put unrestrained power into the hands
of one of their own. Can the great general resist the siren
song?”

“
I’ve no doubt that he can and will,”
Madison said.

Looking away from the window, Wilson asked,
“How can you be sure?”

“
He’s working hard to put together a
government through the auspices of this convention. He wants the
proposal for a new government to come from us, not the Cincinnati.
I don’t agree with the course he’s charted, but his intent is
honorable. He’ll not succumb to the Cincinnati.”

“
Even if you’re right, other dangers
lurk.”

“
Agreed.”

“
Where are you?”

“
I stepped over to ask you the same
question,” Madison said.

“
I’ll fight to my last breath for a
true republic. I’ll fight for representation based on
population

in both houses.
I’ll fight to reduce the influence of the states.
I’ve
not moved.” Wilson struck a
pompous pose and asked, “Have you?”

“
No. And it cost me
dearly.”

“
Good. Then we shall continue to work
together.”

“
It will be my honor,” Madison said.
The pair spent a few minutes watching the parade movements. Madison
said, “They’ve packed the committee.”

“
Did you know Ellsworth conveniently
came down sick? Sherman has taken his place.”

“
This whole thing has Sherman’s
imprint.”

“
More than Sherman’s. Elements of this
scheme could not have happened without Virginia’s Gen.
Washington.”

“
Nor without Pennsylvania’s
Franklin.”

“
Touché. They must be working
together.” Wilson looked even more dejected than when Madison had
first approached him. “How do we fight them?”

“
Pinckney tells me logic doesn’t win
political battles. Power wins.”

“
Pinckney’s another turncoat. We must
hold the remaining South, Pennsylvania, and Massachusetts.” Wilson
lost his affected look of superiority. “Have we lost
already?”

Madison had absorbed Wilson’s melancholy,
but he vowed to remain firm and fight this awful mistake. The
delegates in the Long Gallery started to migrate downstairs.
Madison gestured in their direction. “It looks like we’re preparing
to march.”

“
I understand we’ll hear a sermon by
James Campbell, some aspiring young reverend.” Wilson started to
move in the direction of the stairs. “It’d be a shame not to be
blessed by his untainted wisdom.”

On June 28, Franklin had made a motion for a
special sermon on the Fourth of July. A simple sermon had exploded
into an orchestrated procession from the State House to the
Sassafras Street church, led in grand martial style by the Society
of the Cincinnati.

When Madison and Wilson emerged from the
State House, the Cincinnati had formed in the street, with
Washington in the lead. Madison felt the rat-tat-tat beat of the
fife and drum unit that stood immediately behind Washington.
Looking behind the ramrod columns of military officers of the
Revolution, Madison saw the delegates looking ill at ease and
disorganized. “Shall we join the jumbled mess?” Madison asked
lightly. “It appears our fellow delegates have brought the disorder
of the chamber into the street.”

They joined the throng and soon found
themselves unconsciously walking somewhat to the beat of the drums.
When they arrived at the church, the Cincinnati stood politely
aside as the delegates filed through the double doors and took the
honorary front pews. Madison turned in his seat and watched the
officers take the remaining seats or find standing room in the
back. Every available space had been filled. Settling forward,
Madison was startled to see a very young man climb the circular
steps to the elevated pulpit. The immature reverend looked relaxed
and at ease, as if he preached to a packed house of illustrious
dignitaries every Sunday.

The man gazed over the congregation until
everyone grew silent. When he spoke, his surprisingly robust voice
easily carried his words to the far corners of the meetinghouse.
“Gentlemen of the Federal Convention, welcome. I’m gratified that
you’ve come to seek God’s guidance in your unprecedented and
formidable commission.” Then with a self-deprecating smile, he
added in a light tone, “We all need a little help now and then.
Shall we pray?”

After a brief, eloquent prayer, the Reverend
James Campbell looked over his congregation and spoke in a
commanding voice.

“
Gentlemen, your country looks to you
with anxious expectations on your decisions. She rests confident
that the men who cut the cords of foreign tyranny are also capable
of framing a government that will embrace all of our interests.
This is our chance for a new beginning. The illustrious Federal
Convention should not rely upon the state constitutions, for they
were made on the spur of the occasion, with a bayonet at our
breast, and cannot reflect a perfect republic.”

Madison sat upright. Perhaps he and Wilson
had another ally. He couldn’t have agreed more with the reverend’s
first words. The state constitutions were a poor model for a
general government, and the expediency of war had caused many
states to forego many of the principles of a true republic.

“
A plan acceptable to the people must
remain faithful to the principles of our present government and the
American character.”

These words deflated Madison’s hopes. Was
the reverend suggesting that the convention must remain faithful to
the Articles of Confederation?

“
Any proposition to add kingly power
to our federal system should be regarded as treason.”

This sharp statement might be a warning
against a strong central government or, more literally, against
enthroning an emperor.