Tempest at Dawn (37 page)

Madison felt dejected as he gathered up his things.
His journal would show no progress today, only whining and
exhortations to do something, anything.

Madison and Hamilton sat in
comfortable chairs in front of a dead fireplace. The Indian Queen
harbored its own cloud of flies that added annoyance to the sticky
heat. Philadelphia hired boys to scoop up horse droppings, but the
summer fly problem grew worse as the days grew hotter.

Madison made a constant motion
with a fan. “Alex, why are you leaving? You saw today's
proceedings. We need you.”

“
We must try a different
tack.”

“
What’re you talking about? What’s
your mission in New York?”

“
I've been sworn to secrecy, but
all the levers of power don’t reside in Philadelphia.”

“
Your comments brought sense to the debate.
Votes follow logic.”

“
Don’t delude yourself. Votes
follow power—power and money.”

“
What deal are you sent to barter?”

“
I've said too much already.
Please don’t force me to be rude.”

Madison sat and contemplated. Only
the general could authorize a scheme that required Hamilton to be
in New York. What plot had he hatched? Who was privy? Why hadn’t he
been informed? Madison became irritated. They’d decided that their
young and idealistic philosopher was not mature enough to be taken
into their confidence. The general had formulated a deal that
included Congress—a deal that possibly exceeded the bounds of
propriety. Was it necessary? Not yet. The large states could
control the convention only if they had the will. Madison threw
down a swallow of Madeira and vowed to get to the bottom of these
dealings.

Despite
Madison’s and Hamilton’s exhortations the previous day, Ellsworth
continued to insist that each state have an equal vote in the
second branch.

Wilson removed his spectacles and
looked directly at the delegates. “If there is a compromise, it
won’t come from the large states. Shall one-quarter of the United
States withdraw from the union, or shall three-quarters of the
population abandon their rights?” Wilson let an uncharacteristic
edge creep into his voice. “If these defiant little states refuse
to join us, then separation it shall be.”

Madison watched Ellsworth display
uncharacteristic emotion as he answered Wilson’s attack. “The
danger of the big states combining is not imaginary. Suppose three
free ports are to be established. Wouldn’t an alliance be formed to
favor Boston, Philadelphia, and some port in
Chesapeake?”

Ellsworth absentmindedly reached
into his waistcoat, pulled out his snuffbox, looked down at it, and
stuffed it back in his pocket. He looked as if he wanted to add
something but then glared at Wilson as he returned to his
seat.

Madison rose to offer a rebuttal,
but his frustration with the stupidity of the entire debate caused
him to utter the unspeakable. “Gentlemen, let’s be honest. Our
differences don’t lie between the large and small states. Our
divisions result from whether we own slaves or do not own slaves.
If defensive powers are to be given, they ought to go to
slaveholding states.”

Madison sat to stunned silence. As he reached for
his quill to note his own remarks, he realized he had stumbled
badly.

As the embarrassed silence
extended, Franklin tried to relieve the tension by moving the
debate away from slavery. “Opinions turn on two points. With
proportional representation, the small states claim their liberty
is at risk. With equal state votes, the large states fear their
property is at risk. When a broad table is to be made and the edges
of the planks don’t fit, the carpenter takes a little from both
planks to make a perfect fit. In like manner, both sides must part
with some of their demands in order to achieve other
accommodations.”

Madison seethed as Franklin
presented some complex and convoluted proposal that the doctor
intended as wadding to cushion Madison’s faux pas. He knew he had
overstepped the unspoken bounds of propriety, but if they were to
move the convention forward, they needed to address the real issues
instead of false dilemmas. They argued endlessly over state power,
but everyone squeezed their eyes tight against the greatest danger
to the new nation. Slavery held a scythe above the delegates’ heads
that could slice their best intentions to bloody pieces.

When King spoke, he looked
directly at Sherman. “I’m astonished, sir, that when a fair
government is within reach, you renounce the blessing because of an
idealistic attachment to your state.”

As King sat, Paterson stood
unrecognized and nearly shouted, “The large states must believe
we’re blind! The South is so puffed up with her wealth and Negroes
that evenhanded treatment is out of the question.” Paterson swatted
a fly away with enough force to stun it, had he had the luck to
connect. “There is no middle way. Look at the votes. They’ve been
cast by interest, ambition, and the desire for power.”

Paterson’s face grew red as a ripe
tomato. “Give ambition opportunity and it will abuse it. The whole
history of mankind proves it.” Paterson threw his hand through the
air. Madison wondered if he meant to shoo another fly or take a
swat at the large states. “The small states can never agree to the
Virginia Plan because the small states will end in ruin, and if
we’re to be ruined, I’d rather let a foreign power take us by the
hand.”

Madison looked at Washington. Why
didn’t he silence this tirade? Paterson had not been recognized,
and his deportment violated their rules. The general’s withering
look was wasted on Paterson’s back, but he made no move toward his
gavel.

Paterson blustered on. “The little
states have been told, with a dictatorial air, that this is our
last chance to build a good government. The large states dare not
dissolve this Confederation. If they do, the small ones will find a
foreign ally, one with honor and good faith.”

Madison grew increasingly alarmed. Could no one stop
this man?

“
Let me be clear,” Paterson said,
in his prosecutorial voice. “It’s treason to annihilate our duly
established government. Treason!”

He stood arms akimbo. “Gentlemen,
I do not trust you!”

Paterson finally walked over to his seat, but before
sitting he spat, “The sword may decide this controversy.”

King started to respond with
patience. “Sir, I didn’t speak in dictatorial language.” Despite
what looked like a gallant attempt, King lost his own composure.
Shaking his head, he turned to the general assembly but pointed at
Paterson. “This intemperance has marked Mr. Paterson himself. I
wasn’t the one to speak with a rage previously unheard in this
chamber. I wasn’t the one to say I was ready to abandon our common
country and court the protection of some foreign hand.”

King turned to face Paterson
directly. “I’m grieved that such a thought entered into Mr.
Paterson’s head. I’m stunned he allowed it to escape his lips. I,
sir, would never court protection from a foreign power. Never! Mr.
Paterson, there’s no excuse that justifies your
insults.”

When King sat down, the chamber grew breathlessly
silent. Finally, someone behind Madison softly moved for
adjournment. The second came in a voice just above a whisper. After
the vote, Madison sat still and felt, rather than saw, the
delegates file quietly out of the room. He soon sat alone, looking
down at his laborious and all-embracing journal. Was this the
end?

Madison walked with his normal
rapid pace toward the Indian Queen. He had felt miserable when he
left the State House, and his mood had not improved with the chance
to move around and breathe air that others had not
exhaled.

“
The Virginia Plan is a festering
corpse.”

Madison turned to see his nemesis.
“Mr. Pinckney, we need only to vote to revive the plan.”

“
A deep coma then?”

“
We’ve merely had a three-day
detour.”

“
So the Virginia Plan is divine.
It shall be resurrected after three days. Please excuse my
ignorance.”

“
Charles, I need your help.”

Pinckney put a hand on Madison's
shoulder and stopped his progress. “James, you ask for my
help?”

“
I and the republic. Give me your
advice. How do we break this deadlock?”

Pinckney began to stroll toward
their inn. “Why not give in to equal suffrage in the Senate? I
agree the real issue is not small versus large states. A cooler
Senate can protect our slaveholdings.”

Madison grew wary. “Equality in the Senate is a bad
solution.”

“
You must admit that our frontier
grows faster than the Northwest. The next states will be in the
South.”

“
You’ve talked with
Sherman.”

“
I talk to all the delegates.”

“
But your allegiance is with the South, not
New England.”

“
My allegiance is to South
Carolina.”

“
Don’t conspire with Sherman. Deal
with me first. I can be accommodating.”

“
Your newfound broadmindedness is
welcome—but perhaps too late.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Actions have already been put in
motion.”

“
What actions?”

“
I’m afraid you must learn this from someone
other than me.”

Madison fumed. Pinckney knew. He
must learn what was going on, or his credibility with the other
delegates, and Pinckney in particular, would be destroyed. No, it
was already shattered.

The next day, Madison skipped down
the church steps after Sunday services. He wanted to catch
Gouverneur Morris, who had returned from his personal
trip.

“
Mr. Morris, may I have a
word?”

Morris halted his own awkward
descent and gave Madison a hearty smile. “Of course, my dear boy.
Come along, but you must slow your pace to my hobbled
gait.”

“
Neither an absent leg nor a
dreadful convention has crushed your spirit. How do you remain so
cheerful?”

“
With pigheadedness. I refuse to let other
people’s fulminations disrupt my life. This morning’s sermon only
convinced me to remain an unrepentant rogue.”

“
Mr. Morris, do you know what’s
going on?”

“
Something, my dear boy,
something. I’m on my way to Robert Morris’s home to find out
exactly what.”

“
You don’t know?”

“
I believe our dear general and
the doctor have hatched a plan, but I know not what.”

“
May I join you? This private scheming has me
troubled.”

“
Of course. We’ll beseech our
compatriots to confess their sins.”

Madison’s spirits soared. If
Gouverneur Morris didn’t know, then his own ignorance felt more
comfortable. Besides, even the general couldn’t ignore two senior
delegates. He’d soon know the worst.

The two men were led into the
parlor to find a dejected Morris and Washington. Robert slouched in
a wing chair, staring at the cold fireplace, while Washington sat
on the other side of the room, writing a letter. Madison could
sense that they hadn’t been talking.

“
Gentlemen, please come in,” Morris
said.

The general barely acknowledged
their entrance.

Gouverneur Morris opened the
conversation. “Sorry to disturb, but we want to talk about the
convention.”

“
Do you bring news?” Robert Morris
asked.

“
We came seeking information,”
Madison said.

“
What kind of information?”

“
Why was Hamilton dispatched to New York?”
Madison asked.

Madison sensed an abrupt movement
from where Washington sat writing his letter. “Mr. Hamilton is on
personal business for me,” the general said. The hard tone signaled
that no further inquiry would be entertained.

“
Emotion runs
high,” Madison said. “The delegates are obstinate
and

”

“
Indeed!”

Everyone sat silently, waiting for
Washington to elaborate. Finally, he said, “More than a few
delegates have threatened to go home. Each minute, I sit in fear
that news will arrive that the convention has dissolved. The
current crisis cannot be exaggerated.”

“
I agree,” Madison ventured. “I
hope Hamilton’s trip means you’ve crafted a solution. May I ask his
mission?”

“
You may not.”

Madison fought for control.
“General, I deserve to be taken into your confidence.”

“
His mission doesn’t fit into your
neat plan,” Washington said with more than a little
sarcasm.

“
You believe I caused this crisis?”

“
Your insistence on perfection has not helped
matters.”

“
I’m trying to avoid the sins of
the past.”

Washington turned around in his
chair and looked at the three men on the other side of the room.
“I’m concerned with the sins of the present.” He turned back to his
letter and muttered, “And the parishioners do not
repent.”