Tempest at Dawn (52 page)

The two men followed Witherspoon into the kitchen.
The first thing to strike Madison was the aroma of roasting meats.
His mouth watered, and he realized that the long Sunday service had
put many hours between his breakfast and supper.

The kitchen was a beehive. Two men stood at a
central table, one butchering and the other skewering meat. A boy
in the corner made a hasty swipe at the plates and glasses that had
been dumped on a small table by a scurrying woman. Two other women,
skirts hiked to protect against embers, moved in and out of the
huge fireplace, adding kettles, stirring pots, and slicing meat off
various spits. The bustle looked normal for a popular inn, but then
Madison noticed three small dogs running inside wood cylinders to
turn the spits.

Before Madison could say anything, Sherman asked,
“Are they bitches?”

“
How did you guess?”

Madison turned to see a rotund tavern owner looking
as proud as a new father.

“
In my experience, males don’t tread the same
path indefinitely,” Sherman said.

The plump inn owner rolled in laughter.
“Right you are. The male pups flip directions like a gull searching
for another crumb.”

“
Are they hard to train?” Madison
asked.

“
My, yes. No one has been able to
replicate my success.” The innkeeper touched his nose with his
forefinger. “I have my secrets.”

Madison watched the small dogs relentlessly
trudging toward an unreachable goal. “These animals and I are
kindred spirits. I too run in circles, yap to no notice, and spend
my energies to fill someone else’s belly.” Madison was pleased to
see everyone laugh at his quip. Sherman even gave him a pat on the
back, a rare display of intimacy from the stiffest man he had ever
encountered. Perhaps this meeting would prove productive.

“
They must draw customers,” Sherman
said.

“
My whelps bring them in and my food
brings them back. My place settings may not be fine china, but no
one in Philadelphia serves better food.”

“
The food is good,” Witherspoon said.
“Otherwise, you’d be buying me dinner at an expensive
tavern.”

The innkeeper put a guiding hand on
Madison’s back. “Take a seat, and I’ll have one of my daughters at
your table faster than a dog can wag its tail.”

“
With pleasure,” Witherspoon said.
“Our appetites have been charged by the Lord Almighty.”

The innkeeper was as good as his word.
Within seconds, a stout young woman approached their table, wiping
her hands on her apron. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope you
brought an … Rev. Witherspoon, good to see you again.”

“
And you, my dear. I brought some
friends today.”

“
I see. What can I get you
men?”

“
What’s your soup today?” Madison
asked.

“
Lentil. Made fresh and
hearty.”

“
We’ll start with a bowl of soup, a
basket of bread, and Madeira, followed by a salver of meats and a
platter of fresh vegetables.” Madison turned to his guests, “Does
that meet with your approval?”

“
Indeed,” Witherspoon said. “And load
the salver with a generous portion of pork.” Witherspoon cocked his
head toward the kitchen. “They roast it slow with a constant turn
by our wee canine friends. Delicious.”

The maid bounced her ample hip against
Witherspoon’s shoulder and said, “I’d never forget your fondness
for our pork, my dear man. I’ll personally carve a crispy end piece
for you.” With that, she whirled away toward the kitchen.

“
New admirer?” Sherman
teased.

The reverend blushed. “I eat here often. It
fits my budget.”

Madison had a friendly, but somewhat formal,
relationship with Witherspoon. Still, he decided to join in the
ribbing. “That lovely maid seems very familiar with your
habits.”

“
She’s not that … James, you must
guess at the extent of her knowledge. I’ll not enlighten
you.”

Madison looked at Sherman, and they both
started laughing. Any other response by Witherspoon would have
tempted the two to throw additional ribald allegations at their
ever-proper dinner mate.

Witherspoon looked askance at their
jocularity and asked, “Did you enjoy the morning services?”

“
I always enjoy services,” Sherman said. “Even
if the sermon proves less than enlightening, I always leave
refreshed.”

“
As you should. God cleanses the soul so that
when we converse with ourselves, we enjoy a guiltless
companion.”

“
Then I should be grateful, because I spend a
lot of time alone,” Madison said.

“
Too much James—you needn’t be so
intense.”

“
Much is at stake, Reverend. Opportunity
cannot be discarded for frivolous pleasures.”

“
When do you intend to marry?” Witherspoon
asked.

Madison felt his face flush. “You must
guess, because I’ll not enlighten you.”

“
Your father worries.”

“
You’ve been in communication with my
father?”

“
Only because you have not. Why don’t
you write?”

“
About my amorous affairs?”

“
You have some?” Sherman asked in a
tone that said he was jesting.

“
Excuse me, but we must change the
subject,” Madison seethed. His notes and research took all his
private time. Besides, he had no news he could share with his
father, certainly none about a future wife. Others might find time
for dalliance, but he had a mission.

“
All right,” Witherspoon said. “Then
tell me, what place has religion in your design for a new
government?”

“
None.”

Madison looked at Sherman. They had both
answered together and with equal forcefulness.

“
None? What will guide the men that
guide us?”

“
We can’t rely on the goodness of
men,” Madison said dismissively. “Bad characters, as well as good
men, seek power.”

“
God chastens bad characters.”

“
We cannot rely on his thoroughness.” Madison
grew irritated.

Rev. Witherspoon gave Madison a long look, then
shook his head and turned to Sherman. “Why does a pious man answer
the same as our naïve young friend?”

Sherman sat very still for such a long time that
Madison thought he resembled a marble statue. When he spoke his
voice was even. “My faith is personal, and I grant the same
privilege to others.”

“
We agree at last,” Madison said.

Sherman smiled. “We agree more than you
suppose.”

The maid suddenly appeared with three bowls of soup
and a loaf of uncut bread. A small sip of the soup convinced
Madison that the quality of the food hadn’t been exaggerated. He
dug in with relish.

“
You’re making a mistake,” Witherspoon said.
“The soul, as well as the body, needs nourishment.”

“
Men seldom get nourishment in a government
chamber,” Madison said distractedly.

Witherspoon showed a hint of prickliness. “Make
light, if you must, but the crass impulses of men can be tempered
only by a reminder that a greater power will one day sit in
judgment. God helps weak men do good.”

“
The design must assume otherwise,” Madison
said.

“
Gentlemen,” Sherman said, “let’s enjoy our
meal. Granted, our design doesn’t impose piety, but neither does it
preclude piety. Each man must make peace with the Maker. It shall
be ever so, despite laws and admonishments.”

“
Admonitions are my profession,” Witherspoon
said.

Madison saw Sherman grow even stiffer. “Sir, do you
admonish me?”

“
Certainly not.” Madison enjoyed watching
Witherspoon’s discomfort. The reverend cut the bread as he
surrendered. “Roger’s right; let’s enjoy our meal.”

As the three satiated men stepped out of the tavern,
Madison turned toward Witherspoon. “If I could beg your pardon, may
I have a moment with Mr. Sherman?”

“
Do you mean to speak about
me?”

His question caught Madison off guard.
Witherspoon must still be smarting from their previous discussion.
“No, I must check on an item concerning the convention.”

“
An item so sensitive that you must
take him aside?”

“
Our proceedings are
secret.”

“
We spoke about your convention
earlier.”

“
Our convention has never addressed
religion, so our discussion was philosophical.”

“
More’s the pity.” Witherspoon gave a
nod of his head toward the street. “I’ll wait over
there.”

Madison hesitated until Witherspoon had
walked a few paces. “I’m afraid we may have offended the
reverend.”

“
Don’t let your defenses down; he’s
over there regrouping for another charge.”

“
I believe you’re right. I’ll bet he
brings the subject up again.”

“
As he said, it’s his job. Stick to
your principles. I never told you, but I agree with your Statute
for Religious Freedom.”

“
That was not my statute. Jefferson
wrote it.”

“
You got it passed by the Virginia
legislature. The honor goes to the one that puts theory into
practice.”

“
Perhaps there are other areas in
which we agree.”

“
What’s on your mind?”

“
Ratification. Can you support
ratification by the people?”

“
The state legislatures should
ratify.”

“
I intend to push for direct
ratification.”

“
Do as you think best.”

“
Will you join me on this
issue?”

Sherman looked at Madison. Finally, he said,
“I’ll propose ratification by the state legislature, but I won’t
insist.”

Madison felt relieved. When Sherman
insisted, events seldom took another course. He decided to move to
the next issue. “Do you remember the suggestion that each senator
would vote independently?”

“
I accepted that
procedure.”

“
With a single vote per state, only an
odd number of senators can avoid split votes like we have here.
Three senators per state would be too many and one too few. Two
seems perfect, but only if they vote independently.”

Sherman smiled. “James, I already
agreed.”

“
I’m sorry. I practiced that argument
assuming resistance.”

“
And a fine argument it
was.”

Sherman’s agreeability unsettled him.
He had left the most difficult item for last and would soon see how
far Sherman’s newfound cooperation extended. “On the election of
the executive, I

”

“
I believe we should end on a good
note,” Sherman interrupted, and with that, he made a formal bow
capped with an informal smile. “Good day, Mr. Madison, and thank
you for a wonderful meal and your engaging company.”

Sherman gave a wave of his hat to
Witherspoon and walked off.

Madison cringed. He had turned in
the direction of a ruckus behind him and saw that New Hampshire had
finally waltzed in—two months late. They had entered the chamber to
the type of fraternal greetings used by politicians and horse
traders to convey supposed intimacy. Their earlier presence would
have given Sherman a greater edge in negotiating privileges for the
states. At this late date, another small state made little
difference.

The new
delegation caused a delay because the keeper had to find an
additional table. When the session opened, they debated a
resolution that required national officers to take an oath to
support the Constitution. Wilson objected. “I’m not fond of oaths.
A good government doesn’t need them, and a bad one doesn’t deserve
them.”

Despite Wilson’s reservations, the
clause was approved. Because of his jittery anticipation of the
next issue, Madison recorded the vote with quick strokes of his
pen. They would now consider the clause requiring that the
Constitution be submitted to the people for ratification. Ellsworth
immediately moved to refer the new Constitution to the state
legislatures.

Mason presented the
counterargument. “Succeeding legislatures, possessing equal
authority, can undo the acts of their predecessors. The national
government cannot stand on such a tottering foundation. Where must
we resort? To the people, the ones who retain all
power.”

The evidence for Mason’s argument
sat in the room. They were superseding the existing government, and
they should make it difficult to do the same thing in the future.
The most effective blockade would be approval by the people, not
government agencies that could withdraw support at will.

Randolph
sounded testy. “Gentlemen, I remind you, the popular mind
remains fixed at May 25.”

This offhand comment startled
Madison. The journey that the men in this room had traveled
included no outside passengers. He would have to put some thought
into how to bring the populace beyond May 25.

Gouverneur Morris
clomped to the front of the room and stared at
the Connecticut table. “Mr. Ellsworth assumes that we proceed on
the basis of the Articles. I thought we were beyond that. A
majority of the people can alter the federal government, just as
any state constitution can be altered by a majority of the people
in that state.” Morris sat with a finality that said he had
squashed the argument once and for all.