Tempest at Dawn (59 page)

“
Montpelier, Orange County.”

“
May I visit occasionally?”

“
I don’t encourage customers in the shop—but
for you, anytime. I may not get started for weeks
though.”

“
You’ll be completing this one. I’d like to
watch.”

Rittenhouse looked wary and then affected a polite
smile. “You don’t intend to supply the Virginia market, do
you?”

This triggered a genuine laugh. “I’m all thumbs. I
merely hope to fix simple things that might break.”

“
In that case, come ahead. I’ll explain some
of my other devices. Give me opportunity, and I’ll own your next
tobacco crop.”

“
Perhaps Virginia’s entire crop. I intend to
drive my neighbors green with envy. Expect a rash of orders from
the Old Dominion.”

“
In that case, I shall include my calculations
for the transit of Venus. That should impress them.”

“
That would be very gracious of
you.”

Madison could tell that he had repaired the damage
of his intemperate remark, so he picked up his hat, preparing to
leave. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Mr. Rittenhouse.”

When he turned to lift the door latch, Rittenhouse’s
voice gave him pause. “I’ll build you a good telescope, Mr.
Madison. You build us a good government.”

“
Yes, sir. I shall do my best.”

“
How?”

“
Indirectly, my dear boy, indirectly. When you
want to catch a big fish, you must first capture the bait.”
Gouverneur Morris took on a self-satisfied look. “We’ll not attack
the slave trade directly but attack another piece of the
equation.”

“
The prohibition to tax exports?” Madison
asked.

“
I knew you were a clever lad.”

Madison grew irritated with Morris’s phony
gregariousness. He had been the architect of this convention and
was tired of being treated like a junior partner. Morris had
invited him and Wilson over to his home to plot and scheme, a
pastime Morris relished. Despite his rakish image, Morris’s home
was formal and dignified. Unlike Robert, this Morris did not use a
rococo painting to lend a ribald touch to the decor. Gouverneur
Morris needed no other props than his personality.

“
What part do I play?” Madison
asked.

“
We want one of your logical
arguments.”

Madison grew wary. “When?”

“
Tomorrow.”

“
That puts me far too much in
front.”

“
I understood you had promised,” Wilson said,
with a shade of haughtiness.

Madison turned toward the owlish man. “I said I’d
help after you created a breach.”

“
Don’t worry, my boy, we shall precede you and
blast a big hole in their lines.”

“
You ask a lot.” Madison sat thoughtful.
“There’s a price.”

Wilson looked annoyed, but Morris rocked with
laughter. “Of course, of course. There’s always a price. What do
you want?”

“
A stronger check on the
legislature.”

Wilson gave Madison a condescending look. “That’s a
piddling price.”

Madison felt embarrassed at the dismissal, but he
wanted this more than anything else at the moment. “Then you’ll
agree to a three-quarters vote to override a veto?”

“
If that’s what you want, then you must demand
an absolute executive veto.”

“
That’s already been defeated.” As soon as the
words escaped, Madison regretted them. He wanted the respect of
these men, and he would never get it if he always let logic dictate
his thinking. “Let me be clearer. Since an absolute veto has
already been rejected, we need a red herring. I’ll propose that
laws must be approved by both the executive and the Supreme
Court.”

“
Splendid. We’ll make a backroom brawler of
you yet.”

Madison bristled. Where was Morris when he had
pulled every ploy possible to get this convention assembled? Who
had convinced Washington to leave his precious Mount Vernon? Morris
had never even espoused a consistent theory of government, yet he
believed himself the master and Madison the student. Suddenly, a
realization struck Madison. It didn’t matter. Every politico used
others to get what they wanted, even if it meant turning a blind
eye to their fellow conspirators’ frailties.

Madison sat a bit straighter, in complete control of
his emotions. “Thank you, Gouverneur. You’re a master at
dissimulation. I’ve learned more from you than from any other
delegate.” Madison gave a tip to an imaginary hat. “I hope I can
count on additional lessons.”

Morris puffed up like a satiated rooster. “That you
may, my boy, that you may.”

Madison shifted his gaze. “With Mr. Wilson’s fine
legal mind and your shrewd navigation, I’m confident we’ll capture
the opposition flag.”

“
Intelligence has not been dealt equally,”
Wilson preened.

Madison sat amazed. This was far too easy. Men,
especially men of this stature, should not be susceptible to such
thin flattery. But they were. The evidence sat before him. He
decided that Morris had indeed taught him an invaluable lesson.

On Wednesday morning, Madison moved that both the
president and the Supreme Court have veto power over legislation.
He felt bitter when his motion went down to overwhelming defeat
without rousing the slightest argument.

As he brooded, Gouverneur
Morris

never one to accept
defeat easily

raised the
ante. “I move for an absolute executive veto.”

Madison watched Sherman stand in his typically rigid
posture. “Gentlemen, I understand the concern, but one man cannot
be wiser than two-thirds of both houses.”

After additional speeches, the coordinated effort of
Madison, Morris, and Wilson finally exhausted the delegates,
causing them to vote for a three-quarters veto override. Madison
knew the harsher restraint on the legislature had not passed due to
reasoned persuasion, but because the assembly wanted to move to a
different subject. Still, he felt satisfied. A victory, however
achieved, was a victory nonetheless.

The next clause was the
power to tax. Rutledge gave an angry speech, concluding with, “I’ll
vote for the tax clause on the condition that parts protecting
slavery remain intact.”

Gouverneur Morris leaped up without being
recognized. “It’s not equitable to tax imports without taxing
exports!”

Washington gaveled Morris down, and an uncomfortable
silence ensued. Madison waited for Wilson or Morris to push the
issue, but when neither made a move, he signaled that he wanted to
speak.

He picked up a piece of paper from his table.
“Gentlemen, I oppose a prohibition against export taxes.”
Consulting his notes, he presented the logical arguments to support
his case. Wilson followed with a long speech that reinforced his
points. Madison hoped that their strategy of wearing down
resistance would work again.

Gouverneur Morris took his turn. “Every country
taxes the exportation of unique articles. France taxes her wines
and brandies.” As was his habit, Morris thumped across the front of
the chamber. “Export taxes can also be used as a weapon. If we
impose a tax on lumber, for example, we can punish the West Indies
for restricting our other trade.”

Sherman displayed an atypical tone of exasperation.
“Gentlemen, I thought this matter settled. Imports are taxed and
exports are not. Complexity renders an equal tax on exports by
region impractical.” Sherman moved to postpone and the assembly
quickly agreed.

“
That’s what you call a big hole in their
lines?”

“
That was a trial salvo, my dear boy.
Something to rattle the troops. I didn’t expect you to charge
in.”

“
I thought Washington’s gavel forced your
retreat.”

The genial Morris countenance flashed anger. Madison
took pleasure in setting him on his heels. Perhaps he could grow to
like backroom politics.

He felt even more pleased when Wilson added, “You
left us in the lurch.”

The rare Morris anger flashed between the two men.
“Strategy is important, but timing is everything. You jumped the
bugle.”

“
I distinctly remember that you said today.”
Madison could not help throwing salt on the cut.

“
And I distinctly remember that your price was
a three-quarters override. I got you a stronger veto, but your
feeble foray put the delegates into a slumber.”

Madison felt the sting and remembered why he didn’t
like combative politics. He decided to revert to the tactic that
had worked so well the night before. “You’re right, Gouverneur. I
may have been overanxious.”

Morris laid a hand on Madison’s shoulder. “Not to
worry, my boy, no harm. These naughty little trysts always start
with some awkward fumbling before they reach a fluid
crescendo.”

Madison returned a smile and ignored the disdain on
Wilson’s face. When Madison stood to leave, Morris grabbed his
attention. “The general wants us at Ben’s courtyard.”

“
When?” Wilson sniffed.

“
Now.”

Damn it. It was bad enough that Gouverneur
played the
Kapellmeister
of
their little troupe, but it jarred Madison to be summoned by this
braggart. After all, Washington was a Virginian. When would it be
his turn to fetch Gouverneur to the great man’s
presence?

Wilson looked anxious. “Is the general upset with
our position on export taxes?”

“
I don’t think so,” Morris said. “All the
senior delegates will be there.”

“
Is there a crisis I’m unaware of?” Wilson
asked in an annoyed voice.

“
That’s best left for the gathering,” Morris
answered.

The response pleased Madison because it meant that
Morris didn’t know why they had been called together. “Who else
will be present?”

“
Robert and Alex,” Morris said.

“
Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York,” Wilson
mused. “The three big states. Something’s in the wind.”

“
The important part is that we’re not meeting
at Robert Morris’s home,” Madison said. He answered their
bewildered expressions by explaining, “The general wants Ben’s
advice.”

“
Why do you say that?” Wilson
asked.

“
Franklin’s health limits his mobility. When
Washington wants his counsel, he goes to the doctor.”

Madison enjoyed the look on their faces. His logical
mind, plus knowledge of the habits of the two patricians, had
momentarily placed him on an equal plane with these two men who saw
themselves as master politicians.

Morris waved his arm in an elaborate gesture that
meant they should depart. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Washington stood to greet the new arrivals. After
Madison, Morris, and Wilson took seats, he said, “Thank you for
coming. I won’t keep you in suspense. I asked you here to discuss
Clinton.”

“
What mischief has he been up to?” Morris
asked.

“
Our fear is that we only know the half of
it,” Franklin answered. “Since Clinton pulled Yates and Lansing
from the convention, he’s been spreading ugly rumors.”

“
And we can’t violate our secrecy oath to
dispute them,” Washington inserted.

“
They violated it,” Hamilton nearly
yelled.

“
Did they?” Washington gave Hamilton a stare
that Madison wouldn’t want aimed at him. “The rumors describe a
convention I’ve not attended.”

In a level tone, Hamilton said, “They violated the
intent of the secrecy accord.”

“
And how should we punish them?” Washington
asked. When he received no answer, he said, “Dr. Franklin has been
informed that articles will appear in all the major newspapers
alleging that we intend to anoint the second son of George III as
king.”

“
Clinton also called out the state militia,”
Franklin added.

“
To what purpose?” Wilson seemed
startled.

Franklin shrugged. “Ostensibly for training.” He
removed his spectacles to rub his eyes. “The worrisome part is that
New York’s militia is rife with Cincinnati.”

“
Training be damned. He means to intimidate
us—or perhaps worse,” Hamilton said with disgust.

Wilson looked at Franklin. “We must prepare for
attack.”

Now Franklin looked annoyed. “Who should prepare?
The guards surrounding the State House?”

“
The Pennsylvania militia.” Wilson looked
determined.

About ten years before, a mob had stormed Wilson’s
home because he had defended Robert Morris in a corruption case.
Wilson had gathered thirty friends and fought off what could only
be called a riot. Ever since, Wilson preached meeting force with
force.

Madison felt compelled to defuse the growing alarm.
“If I may, I think the message is aimed internally. Clinton wants
to show New York that they have the military strength to remain
independent. He’s started the ratification engagement before we
have even laid ink to parchment.”

“
That makes more sense,” Franklin said.
“Clinton’s a rogue, not reckless. He’d never threaten war against
the combined forces of the other states.”

Wilson scowled. “Don’t underestimate Clinton’s
treachery.”

Hamilton stood and paced in front of the men. “If
Jemmy’s right, Clinton’s militia is still a threat, perhaps not
immediately, but in the years ahead.” He stopped in front of
Washington. “Let me return to New York and start a campaign to
impeach the son of a bitch. Powerful men have grown tired of paying
tribute to that martinet.”