Tempest at Dawn (44 page)

“
The domination of the most powerful arm of
the government by the states,” Wilson exploded. “Damn you and damn
your blind loyalty to your precious Connecticut!”

“
Please, we’re not here to hurl insults,”
Madison said, his soft voice commanding more attention than a
shout.

“
What are you here for?” Sherman
asked.

Madison answered, “You must surrender part of your
state’s autonomy.”

“
We already have. We insist on influence in
only one legislative house in a government of three
branches.”

“
That’s enough to destroy the
Federation.”

“
You believe the states need no
protection?”

“
From what threat?”

Sherman could not control his frustration. “I’ll
assume from Mr. Wilson’s remarks that we’re to speak our mind
without reservation.” Sherman shifted his gaze from Wilson to
Madison. “Gentleman, you’re hypocrites. You say the small states
need no protection, yet your saintly cohorts argue for permanent
supremacy for your states over the future western states.” Sherman
stood to leave. “Good day, gentlemen. You may see me again when you
apply your precious principles to all Americans, both present and
future.”

As Sherman walked away, he overheard Madison
mutter, “Damn Gouverneur Morris.”

Chapter 26

Madison knocked on the door a third time. He guessed
the owner was upstairs, but the heavy brass knocker should have
reverberated all the way to his sanctuary on the third floor.
Finally, he heard a noise, and the door opened to reveal a
middle-aged man in an immaculate white smock.

“
Yes.”

“
Good afternoon, Mr. Peale. I’m here
to see Gen. Washington.”

“
See him another time.” The man
started to close the door.

“
He told me to come at this appointed
hour.”

Peale hung his head around the partially
closed door. “Then he was in error. I don’t allow visitors at a
sitting.”

“
Please check with the
general.”

“
No.”

“
I’m sorry, but I must
insist.”

The man gave Madison a nasty look and then
said, “Wait,” before he slammed the door.

He would wait. When Washington set an
appointment, he meant it to be met promptly. Charles Willson
Peale’s crabby nature didn’t surprise Madison, because he had also
sat for the celebrated portraitist. He turned to look down Chestnut
Street toward the State House. The convention on Saturday morning
had rehashed the same old arguments on both sides of the Senate
suffrage issue. Madison tapped his foot. His alliance was
unraveling. Only Virginia, Pennsylvania, and South Carolina
remained firm. It had been a disappointing day, but Madison hoped
that some states might switch back when emotion abated and reason
reasserted itself.

The door reopened and Peale said,
“Come.”

Madison followed Peale up a dark, narrow
staircase that creaked with every step.

“
I visited your museum last Tuesday,
Mr. Peale. Very impressive.”

“
My exhibit is public, my studio
private.”

“
I apologize.”

As Madison approached the stair landing, his
nostrils flared from a stench of turpentine and linseed oil. A wave
of nausea reminded him why, despite pleas from his father, he had
avoided another sitting. The brightness of the studio always
startled Madison. Whitewashed walls reflected the natural light
that glared from several casement windows. In the middle of the
room, a white linen cloth hung behind a shaft of light that fell
from an overhead lightwell. Washington, sitting ramrod straight in
a close-fitting wig, was dressed in his famed blue and buff uniform
with three gold stars on each shoulder. The light beam that spilled
from the glass-covered opening in the ceiling brought to mind the
image of a saint awash in radiance.

Without comment, Peale moved to his work
area and picked up a brush to test how much it had dried and
stiffened. The canvas showed a sketched composition dominated by an
oval destined to represent Washington’s face. Everything but the
artist’s palette looked neat and ordered. Madison saw evidence of
the meticulous nature that inspired Peale to collect and catalog an
elaborate collection he exhibited at his museum near the State
House. Differently sized brushes lay in orderly rows, and animal
bladders filled with paint were arrayed with such precision that
Peale could select one without looking. “My portraits cannot carry
a chain of expressions,” Peale said. “Keep your conversation
brief.”

“
I’ll strive to maintain my stoic
reputation,” Washington answered.

“
General, sir, with all due respect,
in the future, please do not schedule a meeting during one of my
sittings.”

“
I shan’t answer for fear my
expression might change.”

Madison suppressed a grin as he sat in a
ladder-back chair against the wall.

“
Why did you ask for an appointment,
Jemmy?” Washington asked without turning his head.

“
Sir, I’ll get to the point,” Madison
said. “The convention provides only the punctuation for issues. The
maneuvering occurs outside chamber doors.”

“
We’ve had this discussion. You’ll no
longer be excluded from our schemes.”

“
Thank you, but I have another
request. I want to be assigned to committees.”

Washington swiveled to look at Madison. A
frustrated “Damn,” escaped Peale’s lips. “Jemmy, you’ve been
excluded from committees to protect your health.”

“
I feel fit at the moment. I want to
serve wherever I can be of benefit.”

“
You work incessantly.”

“
This opportunity will not come
again.”

“
Yes, but

”

“
I’ve complained in the past, but I
can manage a committee assignment.”

“
And your journal?”

“
I can manage.”

Washington returned to his pose. “This is
good news. You can add reason and balance to our committee work.
Thank you.”

Madison took the cue and stood to depart. “I
apologize for the interruption, Mr. Peale.”

“
Please excuse my rudeness,” Peale
said midstroke. “I look forward to a commission to paint your
portrait again. Perhaps later this summer?”

“
I’ll make a point of it. Good day,
gentlemen.”

On Monday, Gouverneur Morris delivered the
committee’s report. Washington sat on the short dais in full
military regalia. Madison wondered if some of the delegates thought
Washington intended to amplify his authority to encourage decorum.
Most of them probably didn’t know that after adjournment, the
general planned to walk across the street for another sitting at
Peale’s studio.

Morris looked nervous. “Gentlemen, we’ve
concluded that the first branch should comprise fifty-six members.”
He listed each state’s allocation, and Madison instantly saw that
the committee had skewed the numbers to the advantage of the South:
thirty-one representatives for the nonslave states and twenty-five
votes for the South. Not a majority, but certainly beyond what
their population warranted. They could check legislation with only
minimal support from the North.

“
Secondly, if new states are created,
the legislature shall possess the authority to regulate the number
of representatives based on wealth and inhabitants.”

Sherman stood, clasped his hands in front of
his waistcoat, and spoke without a trace of enmity. Madison studied
him. The man was driven by passion, yet he displayed less emotion
than a worn-out harlot. “Could someone please explain how the
committee settled on the numbers? They don’t appear to correspond
to any criteria discussed in this chamber.”

Gorham tried to explain. “We used the number
of whites and blacks, with some regard to property.” Appearing
uncomfortable, he soldiered on. “There were objections to
membership based purely on population, because the legislature
would grow very large, and western states might one day outvote our
Atlantic states.”

Paterson took the floor, and Madison braced
for an angry onslaught. Instead, Paterson gave a terse response. “I
considered the rules too vague.” As he started to take his seat, he
calmly declared, “New Jersey will resist the report.” But before
his posterior actually touched the seat, he bolted upright
again.

“
May I ask a simple question? In the
sovereign state of Virginia, does a man hold a vote for each of his
slaves? Or even for three-fifths of his slaves?” Paterson glared
around the chamber. “No, gentlemen, he does not! We use
representatives because it’s impossible to gather all the people.
But if such a meeting occurred in Virginia, would slaves attend?
They would not! You don’t allow Negroes representation in your own
states, so why should we allow them to be represented in the
general government?”

As he sat down, Paterson threw out a final
challenge. “Please excuse my befuddlement, but could someone please
explain the underlying principle to me?”

While Madison scratched out Paterson’s
outburst, Sherman moved that the report should be referred to yet
another committee, one with a member from each state. Madison felt
divided; his loyalty to the South conflicted with his foremost
principle of proportional representation. This was where Sherman’s
obsession with equal suffrage in the Senate had driven them:
dueling committees to apportion the other house. Principles once
violated bred corruption.

Gouverneur Morris interrupted his thoughts.
“The report is little more than a guess. I second the motion.”
Madison didn’t know the inner workings of the committee, but if
Morris could defect so easily, it must have been acrimonious. The
assembly quickly passed the motion for a new committee, with only
two nays. The new committee members included himself, Roger
Sherman, Gouverneur Morris, Rufus King, Pierce Butler, and six
other capable delegates. As the meeting adjourned, Madison realized
that Washington had already kept his promise, but he had never
imagined that another committee would be formed so soon.

As he stood to leave, Sherman caught his eye
and gave him one of his quirky smiles. The meaning escaped him
until he realized that this would be the first time in nearly two
months that the two adversaries would work together. It was about
time.

Most of the eleven members sat around four
tables that had been pushed together to form a large work area.
Madison took an empty seat next to Gouverneur Morris, who looked
agitated.

“
Good afternoon,
Gouverneur.”

“
We shall see.”

“
You sound unhappy.”

“
This business may never
end.”

“
It must. I hate snow.” This brought
some tense laughter from around the table.

“
Damn it, if you had stood by your
committee’s work, we’d be closer,” Butler said.

Morris chose not to reply, so Madison spread
out his papers and arranged his inkpot and quills. Soon all eleven
members were present, and Butler said testily, “Let’s get to
work.”

Sherman made a guttural noise and said, “I
propose Gouverneur Morris chair the committee.”

“
Why?” Butler demanded.

“
Because he was on the prior
committee, and he can guide us around the shoals.”

“
That committee failed,” Butler
protested.

“
I decline,” Morris said, obviously
peeved. “If you think someone from the prior committee can add
value, I nominate Mr. King.”

Nobody spoke. Some looked around the table;
others pretended to consult their papers. The mood frightened
Madison. The muggy room didn’t help, but at least on the second
floor, they could open the windows to catch whatever faint breeze
wafted above the hot streets. Nailing the windows shut in the
Assembly Room seemed excessive when a few sentries could have kept
eavesdroppers away from the building.

Finally, Sherman said, “I think Mr. King is
a fine choice, and I second the nomination.” Rufus King voiced no
objection and quickly won the dubious honor.

Before King could set the order of business,
Butler grabbed everyone’s attention. “The South insists on security
for her Negroes. They won’t be taken from us.”

“
No one threatens that,” Sherman
said.

“
Some gentlemen have a very good mind
to do just that.”

“
Mr. Butler,” Sherman said, “we all
have special interests that warrant protection.”

“
The strength of America swells faster
in the South,” Butler exclaimed.

“
Meaning?”

“
This committee should award the South
a larger proportion of representatives.”

“
You demand equality?” Morris asked
incredulous.

“
I demand protection for my
property.”

Gouverneur Morris pushed his inkwell away,
as if finished for the day. “This business has led me into a deep
gloom. A division has been manufactured between the North and
South, and the distinction is groundless.”