Tempest at Dawn (34 page)

“
I’ll go home to celebrate a grand republic
based on proportionality in both houses of the legislature. It’s
within reach.”

Pinckney’s expression turned bleak, and his voice
took on a despondent tone. “James, you
are
a fool. Perhaps a
dangerous one.”

“
You throw a label that fits your
shoulders.”

“
Please listen. You believe in separation of
power. Can’t you see that the states provide a natural defense
against an unbridled national government? An extension of your own
principles?”

“
The states are rife with
corruption.”

“
The states are rife with
democracy.”

“
Democracy must be structured, controlled, and
channeled.”

“
You’re hopeless.”

“
No—I’m full of hope.”

The two men again glared at each other. Finally,
Pinckney said, “Please excuse me, I forgot a previous engagement.”
With that, he whirled and marched off in the opposite
direction.

Thursday’s session began with Connecticut again
insisting on an equal vote in the Senate.

Madison maintained a blank expression as he gained
the floor. “In Connecticut, townships are incorporated, with
limitations imposed by the state. Has Connecticut usurped local
authority? No. Nor, sirs, should you fear the central government’s
usurpation of state authority.”

Madison knew he had hit the mark when he saw Sherman
play the stoic, but he winced when Hamilton added that the states
might dwindle into nothing, so the government design shouldn’t
depend on their existence. Madison wished Hamilton could restrain
himself from tweaking the noses of his opponents.

When no one cared to parry Hamilton’s taunt,
Madison’s leg jiggled with excitement as he glimpsed complete
victory.

The next item, term length in the lower house,
shouldn’t have been controversial. The Virginia Plan called for
three years, but instead of quick concurrence, they debated for
hours on whether it ought to be one, two, or three. Madison pointed
out that it would be expensive for members to travel back and forth
for elections. Sherman immediately rejoined that representatives
should return home to mix with the people, or they’d acquire the
habits of the nation’s capital. The sentiment in the chamber
shifted endlessly, but eventually they voted for two years as the
natural compromise and called it a day.

Madison sprang from the carriage he had rented.
Normally, he walked the two blocks between the Indian Queen and
Robert Morris’s home, but he was dressed in his best finery, and a
formal invitation dictated a formal entrance. Morris had invited
Philadelphia society, as well as selected delegates, to a grand
ball at his home.

The previous sessions had remained tepid. They
debated pay for the lower house and whether a representative could
also hold a state office. Both subjects had been concluded to
Madison’s satisfaction. Everyone was in an excellent mood, so
Morris couldn’t have picked a better time for a party.

Madison straightened his jacket, looked around, and
took note of several groups of men who had spilled out of the
corner house to sip from glasses, smoke pipes, and laugh in
congenial conversation. Two very proper servants stood sentry on
the stoop. As Madison entered the house, he realized why some
people had gathered on the sidewalk. The house boomed with riotous
gaiety, men and women clogged the central hall, and lively music
competed with flirtatious bantering.

Madison squeezed through the crowd toward the music.
He danced poorly, but he enjoyed watching other couples whirl with
élan and grace. The large front parlor had been stripped of
furniture, and a four-piece ensemble played beautifully in one
corner. Madison took possession of an open space along one wall and
admired the six couples that danced effortlessly in the center of
the room.

The most prominent was Washington. He smoothly
waltzed Eliza Powell in stately turns that made the other dancers
look stiff and awkward. Everyone watched the couple, but Madison
thought the vivacious and pretty Eliza Powell would command
attention even if she were burdened with an awkward partner.
Married to the wealthy mayor of Philadelphia, her reputation as the
city’s leading socialite was tainted by whispers of alleged
infidelities. Madison thought her an engaging coquette, but he
suspected that jealousy triggered the gossip.

“
He’s danced with her six times.”

“
Good evening, Mr. Mason. I didn’t notice you
standing there.”

“
You couldn’t take your eyes off
Mrs
.
Powell.”

“
Nor can anyone else. She’s
striking.”

“
Our general will start tongues wagging if he
continues to monopolize her favors.”

“
He loves to dance. Hours from now, he’ll
still be twirling around the floor.”

“
He has the stamina of a horse, but he should
take care to entertain all the ladies. Let’s get some
punch.”

Madison enjoyed watching the dancers but followed
Mason anyway. To the slight Madison, the room across the hall
presented a sea of shoulders. People chatted amiably in clusters,
blocking access to the refreshments. Madison trailed Mason’s back
as he impolitely shoved his way through the guests. Reaching the
steward, Mason asked, “What do you have to drink this evening?”

“
What would you like?”

“
Red wine.”

“
Of course, sir.”

“
I’ll have the same,” Madison
added.

The steward turned to a sideboard arrayed with
fancifully shaped bottles and decanters. On the shelves above,
crystal stemware reflected sparks from the uneven chandelier light.
The steward, moving with practiced ease, grabbed two glasses by the
stems with the splayed figures of a single hand and set them down
on the sideboard without the slightest clink. He then presented a
wine bottle, holding the neck with one hand as he cradled the body
in the palm of the other.

“
A claret from the Bordeaux region of France.
A fine red that I highly recommend.”

Mason responded with a perfunctory flipping of his
fingers that said forget the theatrics and pour. After they had
secured their wine, Madison again scurried behind as Mason rudely
pushed his way out of the room. Madison was disappointed when,
after reaching the central hall, Mason turned left, toward the back
of the house. He had hoped to reenter the parlor to watch the
dancing, but he could not ignore the powerful Virginian. Mason
continued out the back door and walked away from the boisterous
party until he found a quiet spot toward the rear of the large
corner lot. Nothing advertised Morris’s wealth more than his
elaborate outbuildings. The yard included a hothouse, an icehouse,
and a twelve-horse stable, all immaculately maintained.

They turned and looked back at the gaily lit house.
The evening was pleasant, a bit warm and muggy, but a slight breeze
felt refreshing. The ensemble’s notes wafted through the open
windows to give the garden an aura of enchantment. Madison felt a
rare serene moment until Mason trounced his mood.

“
God, I hate
Philadelphia. I grow weary of the showy etiquette and pretentious
nonsense so fashionable in this city.”

The remark surprised Madison. He liked Philadelphia
and intended to enjoy the evening. “Their habits are different from
Virginia’s,” Madison said neutrally.

“
Different and boorish. It’s not worth the
effort to learn how to conform to their silly fashion and
formalities. Their narcissism deserves disdain.”

Madison thought this hypocritical coming from the
owner of Gunston Hall, one of the richest plantations in Virginia.
Madison had always appreciated Mason’s commitment to reason, but he
looked anew at the man and saw a prissy, self-satisfied aristocrat
that loathed people who didn’t comport themselves as he thought
proper. He also showed little patience with people too ignorant to
immediately accept his learned and enlightened opinions. Despite
his off-putting haughtiness, Mason held strong republican
convictions. He was an especially strong proponent of the natural
rights of man and personal liberty, having personally crafted the
much-copied Virginia Declaration of Rights.

Madison took a sip of the excellent wine. “George,
if I may be so bold, you seem out of sorts this evening.”

Mason looked directly at Madison. “We’re on the
wrong path.”

“
The wrong path? This has been an exceptional
week. Great progress. What displeases you?”

“
The deification of our grand hero of the
Revolution.” Mason gestured toward the house with his wineglass.
“This convention means to anoint him.”

“
Don’t you support him?”

“
My support does not require me to condone a
coronation.”

“
No one suggests that.”

“
Mr. Hamilton?”

“
Alex gets carried away. His devotion
sometimes skews his otherwise sound judgment, but he sways no
one.”

“
The general sways delegates without their
conscious knowledge. They design an unrestrained executive,
assuming his personal restraint will safeguard our republic.” Mason
took a forceful swig of wine. “Very shortsighted.”

Madison looked down and shuffle-kicked a small rock
back into a flower bed. Had Mason seen something he had missed?
After a moment, he said, “George, your concern is valid, but
premature. We haven’t defined the powers of the various branches.
Checks and balances will overwhelm any individual.”

“
You approved a single executive when I was
out of chamber.” The tone was accusatory.

Madison understood. Mason still wanted an executive
that comprised three men. He suspected Mason craved executive
office but judged his opportunity slight if the office were
restricted to a single individual. Harboring no such ambitions
himself, Madison had missed how lust for office could bias a
delegate’s opinion.

“
The debate was sound and I believe the
decision right.”

“
I’ll never agree to entrust the rights of the
people to a single magistrate.”

“
The rights of the people will be entrusted to
a system, not one man. Do you distrust the general?” Madison
challenged.

“
Washington’s a man, not a saint,” Mason
snapped, but quickly added in a softer tone, “I trust him more than
others, but we must think in term of generations, not years.
Adulation seldom charts a wise course.”

“
Do you suggest I’m blinded by
adulation?”

“
You? No, my young friend, you’re blinded by a
greater vice, the ambition to invent the perfect
republic.”

“
Guilty. And unrepentant.”

“
There’s dirty work ahead. Crafty and powerful
men will tempt you to settle for half a loaf. Don’t let ambition
for your precious plan grind your principles to dust.”

Madison decided that he wasn’t enjoying this
conversation. He had looked forward to this party and had no
intention of wasting the evening with a bitter old man. “George,
I’m going to refill my glass and join the gaiety inside. We’ll talk
when there’re fewer distractions.”

Madison quickly turned and walked away as fast as
good manners would permit. At the intersection of two garden paths,
a giggling young woman banged into him with such force that she
nearly knocked him down. Instinctively, he grabbed her shoulders
with both hands as they spun a half circle to keep their balance.
As they steadied, Madison stood inches from a pretty face lit with
laughter. Embarrassed, he realized that she had a firm grip on his
forearms.

“
Excuse me, sir. I beg your
pardon.”

Madison could find no words, at least, no words he
could utter. The young girl’s frisky blue eyes and sweet face had
instantly enchanted him. She let go of his arms and stood there
expectantly. He realized he still held her shoulders and lifted his
hands as if he had placed them on a hot griddle.

“
Excuse me,” he said with a slight bow. “My
obvious clumsiness.”

“
Not at all. I was looking behind me as I ran.
Please excuse my unladylike behavior.”

“
No need to apologize. This was my first dance
of the evening.”

The young woman rewarded him with a crackling smile
that lit up every feature of her face. “You’re a gentleman. Thank
you.”

With another giggle, she whirled and continued down
the garden at a more dignified pace. As she retreated, Madison
could not take his eyes off her backside, which she swung with a
subtle rhythm that must have been for his benefit.

As Madison turned to enter the house, he spotted
Hamilton on the rear stoop wearing an impish grin. “My, my, the shy
little Madison makes a play for a married woman. A child, no less.
You should leave such nonsense to us seasoned rakes.”

Madison felt a blush. “I had no such intention. She
crashed into me.”

“
The engagement held less import than the
disengagement.” Hamilton gave a good-hearted laugh. “Stealing
wonton glances at a woman’s behind will taint your stellar
reputation.”

Madison climbed the first step and glanced back. She
was gone. “I couldn’t help myself. Married, you say?”

“
Dolley Payne Todd is her name, and she was
running away from her playful husband. You must step into the house
and hunt legal game.”

“
Nothing will compare. The brief encounter has
spoiled me.”