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Authors: James D. Best

Tags: #ben franklin, #constitutional convention, #founding, #founding fathers, #george washington, #independence hall, #james madison, #us constitution

Tempest at Dawn (11 page)

BOOK: Tempest at Dawn
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This was the best offer of the day. Sherman
noticed that the money changer also sold notions.


Two hundred and twenty for twenty
dollars—if you include a 50 sheets of stationery.”


Twenty,” countered the money
changer.

Sherman hesitated but then carefully counted
out the currency.

After Sherman handed over the paper
currency, the money changer disappeared behind his screen. Whatever
else the convention accomplished, Sherman thought, they must fix
the money system. The United States would never be a nation as long
as a fair exchange required English or Spanish money.

The money changer quickly returned and
counted out sixteen bills and other miscellaneous coins to reach
the agreed-upon exchange. Then, picking up a handful of stationery,
he deftly separated twenty pages from the stack as if it were paper
currency. Sherman had no doubt that the count was exact. He said
thank you and escaped to the cheerful people on the street.

Mrs. Marshall served supper at four in the
afternoon. Sherman found her an excellent cook and hated to miss
one of her meals, so he picked up his pace. Sherman entered the
house, shrugged off his cloak, and immediately entered the room
where Mrs. Marshall served meals. Several guests already sat around
the large table.

As he circled to an open seat, Mrs. Marshall
said, “Mr. Sherman, I’m glad you arrived. I have a courier letter
for you from Mr. Paterson.”

She picked up an envelope from the sideboard
and handed it to him. He took his seat while opening it. After
scanning the brief note, he rose and excused himself.


Oh dear,” Mrs. Marshall said. “I hope
it isn’t bad news.”


Quite the contrary.” Sherman smiled.
“The full New Jersey delegation has arrived, so the convention can
start tomorrow. The note invites me to dine with them at City
Tavern. Excuse me, I must hurry.”

He walked back into the hall to reclaim his
cloak. Mrs. Marshall followed, saying, “I’m happy the convention is
taking place. It’s sorely needed.”

Her comment stopped Sherman. “I thought you
weren’t sympathetic to our efforts.”


On the contrary, but I don’t
volunteer opinions. You gentlemen must decide whether we are one
nation or thirteen—or perhaps two.”


Two? Do you think more than one
nation is workable?”

Mrs. Marshall looked thoughtful and then
appeared to make a decision. “Thirteen means bedlam, one nourishes
the seeds of tragedy. I favor two: one slave and another to unite
the non-slaveholding states.”


The papers are filled with such
counsel, but most writers recommend three nations, with New England
and the middle states both nonslave.”


My opinion has not been formed by
empty-headed newspaper writers but from watching my guests.
Gentlemen from the South treat Howard with haughty disdain, and I
know their behavior hides depravity.” Patting Sherman on the arm,
she smiled and said, “Now hurry along. Pennsylvania’s future is
safe as long as men like you chart the course.”


I hope your faith isn’t misplaced.
I’m but a politician after all.”


You are a good man, Mr. Sherman. I
have confidence you’ll do your best.”

Perplexed, Sherman watched her return to her
other guests. This was a departure from his previous encounters
with Mrs. Marshall. What had changed her mind? Howard must have
spoken to her about their conversations. She probably viewed Howard
as near family and judged her guests by the way they treated
him.

Her ideas appealed to many, but Congress had
chartered the convention to repair deficiencies in the
Confederation, not to carve the United States into homogeneous
realms. He was glad she had decided to express her views, but he
would work toward a single, unified nation. Slavery was despicable,
but timing was everything in politics. The South couldn’t be
changed, especially with the power Virginia wielded at this
convention. The choice was between dissolution and compromise.
Sherman believed that the nation must be held together, or far
greater evils would ravage the people of every region.

Sherman left Mrs. Marshall’s and hurried
toward the City Tavern, eager because Paterson had refused to
discuss substantive issues until his other delegates had arrived.
Now they were finally here, giving the convention its requisite
seven states. Things would start in earnest tomorrow.

Sherman felt disappointed in his progress
since Franklin’s party seven days ago. A successful appeal to
Washington for a Committee of the Whole represented his sole
accomplishment. Sherman hoped that tonight they could hammer out a
rough agreement on an alternative plan. New England was still
sparsely represented. Even his fellow delegate from Connecticut,
Oliver Ellsworth, hadn’t arrived yet.

His thoughts turned to Madison. During the
past week, Sherman had avoided him. He wanted their first encounter
to serve a purpose. Besides, any preliminary conversations would be
useless. The Virginians didn’t hide their intent because they had
the votes, and Madison’s political skills would prevent him from
accidentally revealing any nuances around their strategy.

Sherman put his thoughts away as he
approached the City Tavern, which compared with the Indian Queen in
prestige but not in size. The Indian Queen sprawled across several
buildings, accommodating many more guests, but more important, its
stables could shelter carriages as well as horses, and the
outbuildings housed the servants and slaves accompanying rich
boarders.

The broad steps of City Tavern led to an
elegant central hall with rooms to either side. A bar and
coffeehouse occupied the back of the ground floor. When he entered,
a doorman directed him to a private room on the second floor.

Sherman knocked and entered to find William
Paterson, David Brearley, and Churchill Houston looking morose as
they hung over their tankards of ale. These were his allies?


Gentlemen, welcome to Philadelphia.
You have little idea how happy your arrival makes me.”


It’s a pleasure to see you again,
Roger,” Brearley said as he stood to shake hands. “We thought you
might not have received our message.”


I returned late to my boardinghouse.
I felt entrapped and abandoned, so I assuaged my ill temper with
the purchase of a new pair of shoes,” Sherman said cheerfully,
turning to greet Houston. “Now I regret the extravagance because
you’ve lifted my spirits.”

Looking dour, Houston shook Sherman’s hand.
“I’m glad we have a clever fellow like you on our side. Have you
charted a path out of this Virginian quagmire?”


I see William has been regaling you
with the evil doings of our Virginian brethren. Don’t despair.
They’re far too smart for their own good. Political conventions are
unpredictable and abound in detours. We’ll have ample opportunity
to spoil their plans.”


I hope you’re right, Roger,” Paterson
said. His darting eyes refused to remain on any individual for more
than a few seconds. “Those praetorian conspirators are drunk with
ambition—and they own enough votes to force their will on an
unsuspecting populace.” Paterson waved his hand to encompass their
small gathering. “This feeble group is the last defense against an
assault on our liberty.”


Not quite,” Sherman said. “Delaware
supports us. Our three states against their four is not an
insurmountable challenge. We need to turn but one state to gain
advantage.”


You make it sound easy, but more
states will arrive.”


Yes, but by my estimation, their
advantage will remain one state.”


It’s unfortunate that Rhode Island
has refused to send a delegation,” Brearley said. “We could easily
deadlock this convention.”

Using the popular sobriquet for the state,
Sherman said, “We need allies, but we’re better off without Rogue
Island. She sails the path to anarchy.”

Paterson held tight to his melancholy. “The
Virginians pose a dire threat to all that I hold dear.” Then he
asked in a plaintive voice, “What do we do, Roger?”


Order supper, of course,” Sherman
answered with a broad smile.

This, at last, drew some laughter from the
group. They had remained standing during the exchange and now took
seats to the sound of scraping chairs. Brearley rang a bell, which
instantly brought a steward.

After ordering, Sherman cheerfully recited
his adventures with the boot maker and the money changer. He had
fun with the story, exaggerating the money changer’s avarice and
repugnance. He meant it as a practical example, but Paterson failed
to see the parallel. Impatiently, he brought the conversation back
to the convention.


Roger, we must move to
business.”


Of course, William. I apologize for
the distraction.” Sherman scooted his chair toward the table to
signal that he was ready to get serious. “I propose we draw up the
general terms of a counterproposal to the Virginia
Plan.”

They spent the next several hours debating
the points of their plan. Sherman drew from memory amendments to
the Articles that he had advanced several years earlier, but he
made sure that everyone else had ample opportunity to include their
own ideas. His collegial approach accelerated the planning and
generated little disagreement.

Finally, they achieved their limited goal.
The outline granted Congress additional powers, levied import
duties and stamp taxes, regulated trade, based taxes on free
inhabitants instead of property, and provided for state courts to
try cases, with appeals to a national judiciary chosen by the
executive. If states didn’t comply with tax requisitions, then the
national government could collect the taxes directly. The executive
consisted of more than one person chosen by Congress.

After a review of their night’s work,
Paterson said, “I feel good for the first time since arriving in
this vulgar city. I can support this government, and it should
appeal to everyone except the monarchists—and they can be damned to
hell.”

Houston asked, “When can we present it?”

Sherman bristled at the question. Impatience
dashed more good legislation than any other cause. During the
course of the evening, he had enjoyed a sumptuous meal, starting
with extraordinary truffle soup. He now casually pulled the finale
of nuts toward him, pretending deep consideration before answering.
He picked up a walnut with his thumb and index finger. He appeared
to examine it like a precious stone as he made up his mind.


We should share our thoughts
immediately with Delaware. But we should wait before exposing our
strategy to others. Let the Virginians lay out their plan and
arouse fear amongst the sensible delegates. That’ll be our cue to
present our alternative.”


By then it may be too late,” Paterson
said. “Virginia has six states aligned with her.”


We won’t wait until an official vote.
We’ll start as a Committee of the Whole, so we’ll present in
committee, but not immediately. In the meantime, we must write it
out as a formal resolution, gather support behind closed doors, and
discredit their plan.”

Paterson didn’t look satisfied, so Sherman
tried another tack. “William, you must author this plan.
Connecticut is neither small nor large. Delaware, New Hampshire,
and Maryland distrust us. They fear we might jump to the other
side. This must be the New Jersey Plan. Only you can garner the
necessary support.”

Wearing a thoughtful expression, Paterson
asked, “How do you propose we proceed?”

His ruse had worked.


First, we must present our outline to
George Read. Let Delaware adjust the plan around the edges. That’ll
encourage them to own the design. Maryland and New Hampshire
haven’t arrived yet, so we’ll decide when to bring them in later.
As soon as Delaware agrees, you must scribe the resolutions in your
hand. Last, we should meet daily to measure events and plot our
course.”


Including Delaware?”

Feigning careful consideration, Sherman
said, “Yes, I think it is time to solidify our coalition. What do
you think?”


I agree,” Paterson said. “We must
provide leadership.”


Excellent. Gentlemen, the hour is
late for a tired old man. I suggest we meet after tomorrow’s
opening session. William, what time would you like us to
gather?”


We meet here for supper. I’ll invite
Read.”


Good idea. I can’t remember a finer
meal. When tomorrow’s session gets deadly dull, I’ll remind myself
that I will soon be enjoying a superb supper with stalwart
companions.”

As Sherman washed his face at a basin in his
room, he marveled that appeals to vanity worked best with the least
capable. No matter. He had won what he wanted at an inconsequential
price. The plan they had formulated met his goals. The New Jersey
Plan strengthened the national government while preserving the
sovereignty of Connecticut.

Sherman went to the writing shelf to tell
Rebecca the good news. He hadn’t received a response from his last
letter, but that wasn’t unusual because the round trip took more
than a week. She wanted him to complete his business and return
home, so she’d be happy to hear that the convention would finally
start.

Sherman wrote six pages but omitted
mentioning his new shoes. With their limited funds, she wouldn’t be
sympathetic to his indulgence. Sherman vowed to tighten up on other
expenditures. He was grateful that New Jersey had bought his
extravagant meal this evening.

BOOK: Tempest at Dawn
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