Tempest at Dawn (58 page)

“
Some are open to other
possibilities.”

“
If you believe in one God, and you have faith
that you have found him, you can admit no others.”

“
But you’ve always been highly
tolerant.”

“
Tolerant of other Protestant faiths. They
worship the same God.”

“
What about the Hebrews?”

“
I pray for them daily.”

Friday and Saturday’s sessions had covered old
ground and frustrated Sherman, who was anxious for progress. On
Monday, Randolph opened with an emotional plea to give the House of
Representatives control of finances. He wanted the House to have
sole authority over revenue and expenditures. The Senate would be
prohibited from any modification to amount, source, or use.

Mason leaped to agree and ended with an angry
harangue by saying, “I may consent to a Senate veto of money bills,
but they’re not entitled to it.”

After a spout of stuttering, Gerry threw his words
as a farmer might hurl stones at a mule’s backside. “The people
will never allow anyone but their immediate representatives to
meddle in their purses.” He glared across the chamber and then
blurted, “If the Senate is not restrained from originating money
bills, this plan will fail.”

Sherman felt a piece of paper slipped under his
hand. When he looked up, Ellsworth looked troubled. The scratched
note read, “
Why are Randolph, Mason, and Gerry so
angry
?
” Sherman thought a moment. He picked up his quill
and wrote, “
Mason due to principle. Randolph, because he lacks
principles. Gerry due to his nature.
” After Ellsworth read the
note, he looked no less troubled but gave a nod just the same.

Madison received the floor and started a monologue.
“The word
revenue
is ambiguous. In many acts, particularly
in the regulations of trade …”

Sherman’s concentration lapsed. He knew Madison
would deliver a long, logical argument, but he could anticipate the
points and couldn’t sustain the effort to follow his soft voice. He
worried that progress remained painstakingly slow after the recess.
Except for a few details, he felt he could predict where they would
end up, but how long would it take to get there? Sherman settled in
his chair, crossed his gangly legs, and told himself to be patient.
The convention needed unanimity, or close to it, and that would
take time.

After recess was called, Sherman watched Randolph,
Mason, and Gerry leave the chamber. They had argued the same
positions today, but they left separately. He decided that they
didn’t comprise a threatening coalition.

“
Where are you headed?”

Sherman recognized the voice of Dickinson. “Across
the street for lemonade.”

“
I’m with you.”

As the two men dodged horses, carriages, and wagons,
Sherman yelled above the din, “Is this social, or do you have an
agenda?”

Dickinson gave a thank you wave to
a teamster who had pulled up to give him room to scurry across. “Do
you have social calls?”

“
Not since I left New Haven. What’s on your
mind?”

“
Let’s get the lemonade first.”

“
Since you’re the one with
business, this is your treat.”

“
I’d gladly bribe you for the price of a
lemonade.”

“
I don’t barter my opinions, only my
time.”

“
Really?”

Sherman gave him a friendly smile in response.

The State House Inn had taken
advantage of the sweltering heat to set up an outdoor shelter to
sell iced lemonade. Rough-hewn logs supported a canvas cover with
brightly colored pennants over a makeshift table. Having bolted the
chamber, they had beat the convention crowd and had to wait behind
only a few strollers. When they reached the table, Sherman was
impressed with the innkeeper’s business acumen. The comely young
maid had conveniently forgotten to tie the string on her loose
cotton blouse, and when she leaned over to pour each glass, she
invited a tantalizing peek.

As they walked over to the shade of a tree,
Dickinson said, “I’ll bet not many men pass that stall without
stopping for a respite.”

Sherman lifted the glass in salute. “Since you’ve
already received good value for your money, I question whether I
owe you my time.”

“
Then will you lend me your ear?”

“
Ha, for that repartee, I’ll make
a donation. You look a charitable case.”

“
As a matter of fact, I wish to discuss
money.”

“
How so?”

“
I’ll propose this afternoon that
members of Congress be paid by the national treasury.”

“
I thought we agreed the states
pay.”

“
I’m concerned that some states
will set salaries so low, only the rich can serve.”

“
Pinckney’s motion failed.”

“
There’s more than one way to rig
a scale. I want the wages secured by the national government so men
such as yourself can serve, as well as men like
Pinckney.”

“
That’s considerate of you, especially since
you can satisfy Pinckney’s admission price.”

Dickinson made a dismissive shrug.
“A silly, transparent proposition. I want equal compensation to
avoid hard feelings and elitism.”

Sherman thought Dickinson’s
argument sound. Previously, he had argued for state compensation so
Connecticut could control its delegation. Now he saw it as a
hindrance to a truly national government. He wondered at how far
his thinking had evolved since arriving in Philadelphia. “I agree.
Anything else?”

“
I want to restrict members of
Congress from holding other national positions.”

“
Agreed.”

Dickinson’s head snapped and then he laughed. “This
from Madison’s greatest dread.”

“
I don’t follow.”

“
Separation of power. Madison’s
sacred incantation. You’re the mayor of New Haven and a judge of
the Connecticut superior court and, for many years, you were
simultaneously a member of Congress.” Dickinson laughed again. “You
must give the man fits. Executive, judicial, and legislative
powers, all tightly gripped in the hands of one man.”

“
Those are separate jurisdictions.
National, state, and city. I couldn’t support my family on the wage
from a single position.”

“
You prove my point. Congress must be paid
from the national treasury. You deftly juggled multiple posts, but
the task is beyond mortals.”

“
Mr. Dickinson, you’re enjoying
yourself far too much. If we had more time, I would make you buy me
another glass of lemonade.”

“
Unfortunately, we must get back so you can
earn that handsome allowance Connecticut pays you.”

Sherman felt Dickinson’s hand on his shoulder as
they walked over to the table to return the empty glasses. He had
tried to make light of Dickinson’s taunts, but in his heart, he
knew he would trust few others with such a broad expanse of power
as he had wielded in Connecticut.

Dickinson had foreseen correctly. Pinckney opened
the afternoon session with a motion that members of Congress should
receive no salary or expenses. He also proposed that members could
be appointed to positions in the executive branch.

Luther Martin stood unsteadily and made a point of
pulling down his soiled waistcoat. Sherman heard someone at another
table say a bit too loudly, “The man’s drunk.” Sherman wished that
Martin had taken his refreshment from the maid with the décolleté
blouse. Martin coughed into a filthy handkerchief and then waved
the offensive fabric at buzzing flies. “Gentlemen, without
patronage, the Senate won’t let the president in for his share of
the plunder.” He weaved a bit and then blew his nose before
resuming his semaphore. “I ask, is that fair?” Martin seemed to
instantly regain sobriety, and his voice lost its flippant quality.
“If our senators carry such mercenary views, we should choose a
despot, because it’s easier to feed the rapacity of one man than
the rapacity of many.”

Sherman gained the floor. “I move that members of
Congress be paid out of the United States Treasury.”

When his motion passed, Sherman gratefully voted to
adjourn for the day.

“
Mr. Sherman!”

Sherman stopped midstride to see Pierce Butler
charging at him like an enraged bull. “Yes?”

“
We have an agreement.”

“
It doesn’t extend to
compensation.”

“
It extends to a Senate committed
to protect the sensitive issues of my state.”

“
The Senate has enough control to
protect your interests.”

“
Not if we can’t control our
senators.”

“
I was unaware the type of man selected by
South Carolina could be controlled by an allowance.”

Butler’s lips quivered, and
several seconds passed before he could speak. “We don’t control
Georgia.”

“
They’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“
Mr. Sherman, do not trifle with
me. You know what I mean.”

“
We never discussed this issue. It’s not part
of our agreement.”

“
You cannot parse clauses like a
pettifogger. Our word, as gentlemen, is supposed to be our
bond.”

For the first time in recent
memory, Sherman felt his face flush with rage. “Mr. Butler, no one
has ever challenged my word. Ever. I’ll abide by our accord, but I
won’t allow you to dictate Connecticut’s position on all
matters.”

Sherman could see by Butler’s face
that he knew he had gone too far. When he spoke, it was with an
even tone. “So be it, Roger, but don’t split hairs. We didn’t sit
down and negotiate a contract. We promised each other to support
our respective state’s interests.” Sherman said nothing. “The next
time you consider a change in position, would you be kind enough to
check with me to see if it is a crucial cog in our
scheme?”

Sherman hesitated to regain his
composure and then said, “If I deem it relevant to our accord, I’ll
seek you out.”

Butler almost said something, then
shook his head and walked away. As Sherman watched him retreat, he
reminded himself that political alliances were as fragile as
chalkware. He had to be careful.

Madison felt a rush of excitement as he entered the
shop, his third visit since he had arrived in Philadelphia. He was
ready to order. The price would be high, but he wanted this
extravagance more than anything else offered by the indulgent city.
Tom Jefferson surrounded himself with clever novelties, but he
didn’t have one of these, and Madison looked forward to making him
jealous.

The shop looked like a disheveled laboratory. David
Rittenhouse, a renowned astronomer and mathematician, built clocks,
surveyor tools, and scientific instruments. Cluttered benches edged
the periphery of his workroom, and each bench displayed mechanical
pieces strewn haphazardly around half-built contraptions. The
laboratory made Madison’s heart pump with the promise of magic. In
addition to his other endeavors, Rittenhouse had built the first
telescopes in America, and Madison had come to buy one of these
miraculous instruments.

“
Welcome, Mr. Madison. Did you get your
father’s permission?”

Madison winced. It had taken several beseeching
letters to get his father’s approval, but he didn’t like to be
reminded who controlled his purse. “An expenditure this large
required consultation.”

“
Of course,” Rittenhouse said.

Madison picked up a piece of beveled glass and moved
it back and forth in front of his eye. “How long?” Madison
asked.

“
About eight weeks.” Rittenhouse waved his arm
to encompass the shop. “I have a large backlog.” He looked as
disheveled as his shop. In his midfifties, he had become a fixture
in the city since his arrival seven years before. A close friend of
Franklin, he had quickly established himself as one of the
intellectual leaders of Philadelphia and a prominent member of
Franklin’s American Philosophical Society.

“
Damn. I wanted to take it with me when I
return to Montpelier.”

“
The convention goes well?”

“
I’m not allowed to say, but it won’t take
eight weeks.”

Madison walked over to a bench that held a partially
finished telescope. With the back of his fingers, he caressed a
shiny brass tube. “Who’s this telescope for?”

“
The Philosophical Society. I’m sorry, I’ve
made commitments.”

“
Perhaps they can wait?” Madison picked up a
machined brass ring that was pretty enough to adorn a lady’s wrist.
“I can be generous.”

“
I can’t break my promise.”

Madison carelessly flung the ring back onto the
bench, where it pinged against the tube and then briefly spun like
a child’s top. “How noble of you.”

When Madison turned, Rittenhouse looked angry. “If
you had ordered on your first visit, you’d have your telescope by
now.”

Madison deserved that. He had allowed his
disappointment to make him rude. “I apologize; I didn’t mean to
insult you.”

Rittenhouse relaxed. “Never mind. I feel
complimented that you want my instrument so badly. I’ll rush
it.”

“
Thank you. If it takes eight weeks, you know
where to post it.”