Tempest at Dawn (61 page)

“
Your carriage?” Sherman asked, pointing to
the nearly finished carriage in the doorway.

“
Yes. What do you think?”

The black and gilded carriage was too pretentious
for Sherman’s taste, but he said, “The workmanship looks
exceptional.”

“
Even fine workmen need to feel the watchful
eye of an overseer.” With that curt statement, Washington marched
into the shop. The barnlike structure had an expansive feel,
housing three carriages in varying states of construction. The two
wheelmen were situating their handiwork against a wall, and five
other workmen bustled around the carriages.

A beefy man approached the general. “We didn’t
expect to see you today, General.”

“
You should always expect me, Mr.
Greer.”

The man grimaced and looked back at the carriage.
“It’ll be ready in ten to twelve days, as I explained
yesterday.”

“
The upholstery?”

“
The leather has not yet arrived, but that
won’t delay us.”

“
You said that yesterday.”

The large man’s eyes grew hard and he leaned ever
slightly toward Washington. “General, with all due respect, our
work is impeccable and on time.” The man gave another glance at the
coach behind him and continued in a voice loud enough for his
workmen to hear. “Constant interruptions are the only thing that
might delay us.”

“
I’m sorry if my visits disturb you, but I’ll
never relinquish the right to oversee my interests.” Washington
leaned toward the man’s ear, but he spoke with his stage whisper.
“Let me be clear: I will not discontinue my inspections nor limit
my remarks to avoid hurting your feelings.”

Greer retreated half a step and then bowed his head
respectfully. “Of course, sir. I apologize if my meaning was
misunderstood. I only meant that the work is at a delicate stage
that requires concentration. The gilding must be done to exacting
standards.”

“
So must the coachwork. I insist on inspecting
the calfskin and horsehide.”

“
The horsehide for the coachman’s seat is in
the back. I assumed you were only concerned with the passenger
compartment.”

“
You assumed incorrectly. May I see the
material?”

“
Of course. If you’ll wait, I’ll bring it into
the sunlight.”

The burly man moved with unusual speed to the back
of the shop. Washington turned to Sherman. “Your committee will
make a recommendation on the militia. I would take it as a personal
favor if you didn’t preclude a standing army.”

The abrupt change startled Sherman. “We have a
tradition of relying upon a citizen militia.”

“
We must face our defects and provide cures. I
fought a war with well-meaning, but undisciplined, volunteers. We
should not do so again.”

“
You were successful.”

“
Barely.”

“
You’re asking only that there be no
stipulation against a standing army?”

“
Correct.”

“
I will work to that end.”

“
Thank you.” Washington turned to the
returning coach maker, who held the horsehide in his outstretched
arms.

Washington reached out and turned over one corner of
the hide to examine the back. “What do you think, Roger?”

Sherman didn’t need to touch the hide. “These are
remnants. Serviceable, but not top grade.”

“
Mr. Greer?”

“
Sir, I beg to differ. This hide is tanned to
the highest standards. In this business, we use all our
materials.”

Washington raised an eyebrow in Sherman’s direction.
He felt uncomfortable that Washington had put him in the middle,
but Sherman stepped closer and took a careful look at the remnants.
“Mr. Greer, if you use these hides, how will you handle the
seam?”

The man looked uncomfortable. “Yes, I see. The seam
would go down the middle of the seat.”

Washington nodded toward the other carriages. “Use
these remnants on one of those.”

“
Yes, sir, of course. I’ll get you a hide
that’ll require no seam.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Greer. I’ll leave you to your
work.”

Washington turned on his heels and walked toward the
alleyway. Sherman scrambled to catch up and expected the general to
remark on the scene that had just transpired. Instead he asked,
“What will your committee recommend about state debts?”

Without hesitation, Sherman said, “Assign the power,
but not the obligation.”

“
Why?”

“
We don’t have the information in front of us.
It will take weeks, perhaps months, to negotiate and separate war
debts from other borrowings. I also don’t believe we have authority
on this issue.”

“
We don’t have the authority to write a new
constitution.”

“
Excuse me, sir, but do you want us to address
state debts?”

“
No. I believe your reasoning valid.”
Washington gave a small wave to a passerby. “We’ll let the First
Congress sort that mess out. Assigning the power serves the
purpose.”

Sherman smiled. He walked the rest of the way,
confident that the first executive under the new government could
handle the troubles plaguing this youthful nation.

“
And to make all laws necessary and proper for
carrying into execution the foregoing powers, and all other powers
vested, by this Constitution, in the Government of the United
States or any department or officer thereof.”

Sherman felt a twinge of unease. He had read the
clause several times, and it had never given him pause, but hearing
it read aloud raised an instinctive alarm. Could “necessary and
proper” create a breach? Before Sherman could put his qualms into
words, the measure passed without objection.

Sherman listened to the next clause. “Direct
taxation shall be regulated by the whole number of white and other
free citizens and inhabitants of every age, sex and condition,
including those bound to servitude for a term of years, and
three-fifths of all other persons not comprehended in the foregoing
description, (except Indians not paying taxes) which number shall,
within six years after the first meeting of the legislature, and
within the term of every ten years afterwards, be taken in such
manner as the said legislature shall direct.”

A motion was passed to delete the redundant “white
and other.” Then a motion passed to take the first census in three
years instead of six.

As planned, Ellsworth
made a speech supporting prohibition of export taxes. Sherman
wanted to send South Carolina a signal that Connecticut would help
fight off the coordinated attack by Madison, Wilson, and Morris on
slave trade.

Sherman listened expectantly as Madison
renewed his assault, but with a new twist. “Gentlemen, most of the
revenue will be drawn from trade, and it makes no difference
whether it comes from imports or exports. We should examine both,
including
any
prohibitions on
import taxes.”

Clever, Sherman thought. Madison was telling South
Carolina to accept export taxes or to allow an import tax on
slaves. As Madison took his seat, Sherman saw him give the
slightest of nods to Wilson and Morris. They both gave long-winded
speeches supporting an export tax.

After a midday break, Luther Martin stumbled to the
front, weaving between the tables until he passed close to the
Virginia table. Martin looked pointedly at Madison and said,
“Fool,” in a voice loud enough for Sherman to hear in the back
row.

Martin, looking as rumpled as ever, swayed as
if on a roiling sea. Sherman thought the man could dismay him no
further

then he began to
speak. “Gentlemen—” Martin bowed slightly toward the South Carolina
table and continued, “and pharisaical delegates from the South …
the slave trade, not an export tax, is the issue. We ought to
prohibit this disgusting practice. Or place a heavy tax on
it.”

An audible gasp went up in the chamber. Martin,
inebriated and bored, decided to mount a frontal assault, one aimed
at the true sticking point. Raising the slave trade directly would
inflame tempers and erase any pretense of civil debate. And he
wasn’t done.

“
The slave trade is dishonorable to our
character. It has no place in our Constitution. Since five slaves
count as three freemen, the Constitution encourages traffic in
human chattel. We must offset this incentive by attacking the purse
of those who engage in this ugly business.”

Martin’s gait grew steady, and then he said, “You
should all be ashamed.”

Madison had whirled around to watch Martin retreat
to his seat. His face looked incredulous as he held his quill
motionless above his inkwell. Normally, Sherman took pleasure in a
discombobulated Madison, but Martin’s outburst meant greater
problems for him than for his bright little colleague. The chamber
grew so still that Madison’s resumed quill scratching sounded like
a chair grating across the floor.

When Pinckney spoke, Sherman winced at the sharpness
of his words. “If South Carolina is left alone, it may prohibit the
trade, but if we’re bullied, we’ll walk from these
proceedings.”

Mason owned nearly a
hundred slaves, but he seemed oblivious to the apparent hypocrisy
of his remarks when he followed Pinckney. “Slavery is an
abomination. It discourages the arts and manufacturing. The poor
despise honest labor because slaves perform it. Every master is a
petty tyrant. Gentlemen, make no mistake, slavery will bring the
wrath of God on our country! The government must be given the power
to stop importing Negroes!”

The delegates at the South Carolina table bent
together in a whispered exchange, and then Pinckney asked for the
floor. “It might be reasonable that slaves be taxed like other
imports, but South Carolina will reject the union if the slave
trade is abolished.”

Sherman’s head lifted with that comment. Did
Pinckney just offer a compromise? His next sentence answered his
question.

“
I move to commit a clause that slaves be
liable to an equal tax with other imports.” Disdainfully, he added,
“That should remove the difficulty.”

“
Thank you for offering a
compromise.”

Pinckney busied himself gathering up his belongings.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have other affairs.”

“
I take it you’re unhappy to have been placed
in a position to compromise.”

Pinckney gave Sherman a cross look. “That
sanctimonious little prick. He should free his own slaves before
instructing us. And you shouldn’t look so pleased. We had a
deal.”

“
I’m upholding my end.”

“
Not well enough.”

Sherman kept his voice even. “South Carolina and
Connecticut agreed on a set of accommodations, but there are eleven
states. The ones that fight against the trade were originally on
your side.”

Pinckney slapped his portfolio closed. When he
looked up, the usual arrogant expression was absent from his
handsome face. “Roger, this is not done. You would be wise not to
waiver.” With this, Pinckney tucked his portfolio under his arm and
marched out of the chamber.

Ellsworth walked over and asked, “What has Charles
so bothered?”

“
He’s angry that Madison figured out that
South Carolina would rather see a tax on the import of Negroes than
a tax on exports.”

“
South Carolina would rather cut a deal to
make Madison president than see slavery hampered.”

Sherman gave a hearty laugh. “Now you go too far.
Pinckney’s angry, not mad. Come on, let’s take a brisk walk before
we return to Mrs. Marshall.”

Madison bounded down the stairs. After he made the
turn at the landing, he saw Pinckney in front of him. “Charles, may
I join you for breakfast?”

Pinckney stopped his descent and turned toward
Madison. “You may not.”

Madison stopped a few steps above Pinckney. “You’re
angry?”

“
What did you expect?”

“
Sarcasm, not sulking.”

“
I don’t sulk.” Pinckney turned to continue
down the stairs and mumbled, “I reserve my sarcasm for
friends.”

Madison laughed out loud. Pinckney whirled and gave
him a piercing look. “Mr. Madison, do not provoke me.”

“
Of course not. I apologize.” Madison bounced
down the remaining stairs. “Charles, please. We must
talk.”

“
Why?”

“
Because we

”

“
Never mind. Let’s eat. I’m
famished.”

Madison and Pinckney walked into the Indian Queen’s
elegant dining room and were immediately seated. After ordering,
Pinckney said, “You’re a dastardly turncoat.”

“
I fight for principles. A turncoat has
none.”

“
Principle is a fancy word. I see
self-interest—and hypocrisy.”

A server arrived, balancing a crowded salver on his
fingertips. The man fastidiously arranged their breakfast and then
asked if everything was to their satisfaction. Pinckney gave the
dismissive wave he used with servants. After the servant bowed and
backed away, Pinckney leaned toward Madison. “You betrayed the
South.”

“
You can accuse me of betraying slavery, but
not the South. The South is more than slavery.”