Tempest at Dawn (12 page)

As he dressed in his nightshirt, Sherman
felt confident about tomorrow’s opening session. Madison had made a
fatal error. Even if he passed his Virginia Plan, the national
Congress and the states would never ratify it. His was an
idealist’s mistake: purity of principle overriding common and
political sense. Sherman’s plan remained obedient to the
instructions from Congress. Madison’s plan dissolved Congress. When
the alternatives were laid out to responsible delegates, they would
recoil at the attack against their authorizing agency.

Sherman climbed into bed and pulled the
comforter tight against the night cold. Snuggled in the soft
warmth, he let his weary bones relax. He had earned a good night’s
sleep.

Suddenly his eyes popped open. James Madison
did not make fatal errors.

Madison tried to pace his breathing to the
heaving body beneath him. He wished he could do this as well as
other men. He had the timing about right, when a fallen tree in his
path made him gasp. He hated jumping a horse.

Damn Robert Morris. It was no accident that
Madison sat astride the biggest horse he had ever seen. The beast’s
back was so broad that Madison’s legs were splayed too wide for a
comfortable ride. His anger had grown when the livery boy raised
the stirrups as high as they would go. Morris had engineered this
indignity.

Madison felt more at ease after the huge
beast easily bounded over the tree. He searched the narrow trail
ahead but saw neither Washington nor Morris. His childhood, no, his
life had been plagued by illness, so he had never enjoyed what his
father thought of as manly pursuits. Deciding he would never
impress his host, he gently tugged on the reins to bring the horse
down to a trot. Washington was renowned as possibly the best
horseman in the country. It made no sense to speed through unknown
woods in an attempt to keep up with him.

Morris had invited Washington, Madison, and
Franklin to The Hills, his country estate along the Schuylkill
River. Franklin no longer rode, so he had stayed at the mansion to
enjoy the clean air, rural sounds, and river view.

Madison took a deep breath. Now that he had
slowed the horse to a comfortable pace, he began to enjoy the
experience. The woods smelled fresh after the city, and the
rhythmic clop of the heavy horse relaxed him. He suddenly felt
homesick for Montpelier. Before he could sink into a wistful mood,
he turned a corner in the trail and came upon his two
companions.

“
Mr. Madison, there you are. We were
about to circle back to see if you’d had a mishap.”

“
Quite the contrary, Mr. Morris. This
is a fine animal. Quick, obedient, and a good jumper. I slowed the
pace after the tree to enjoy this perfect afternoon.”

“
Glad to hear it. If you’re
comfortable with Brutus, we’ll charge on ahead.”

“
Brutus and I get along just fine. He
told me that he hardly noticed my weight on his sturdy
back.”

Washington laughed. “He looks a great steed.
Robert could have fit out a shelty, but he holds a high regard for
your riding ability. Right, Robert?”

“
Absolutely. Brutus scares
some.”

“
Really,” Madison said as he
affectionately patted the horse’s neck. “I find him temperate and
responsive.”

“
Well, we’ll be off then.” Morris
turned his thoroughbred horse in a tight circle and spurred it to a
full gallop down the trail.

Washington gave Madison a wink. “Enjoy the
afternoon, Jemmy.” He turned his horse and sped away with the deep
seat of an expert horseman.

Madison had never liked Robert Morris,
possibly because Morris had never liked him. But now he felt
released. He could explore at his own pace, and Washington had let
him know that he saw the game Morris had played.

Part of the problem was that Madison failed
to understand Morris. He owned land, but he did not honor land like
a Southerner. He just bought it and held it long enough to sell for
a profit. It made no sense. Land meant standing in the community, a
family heritage to be preserved, and an obligation to care for the
land and less-well-off neighbors. To a Virginia plantation owner,
land meant everything. To a Pennsylvania speculator, land held no
value beyond its price.

Madison shrugged off his irritation. After
all, they had received word before they left Philadelphia that the
full New Jersey delegation had arrived. With this new thought,
Madison grew excited. Tomorrow would culminate a year’s worth of
preparation. It would be a grand day.

He decided that Brutus was a gentle giant
with an even temper and a clear-eyed look that hinted of uncommon
horse sense. Big and smart. Madison thought of Roger Sherman and
dug his heels into Brutus.

“
Good delegates, please come to order.
Please come to order.” A gavel banged for attention. “Gentlemen,
please take your seats.”

Madison and Mason stood in a corner of the
clamorous chamber. Delegates conversed loudly in the open spaces,
while torrential rain pounded the windows, adding a loud, rhythmic
din to the male voices. They had been meeting at the State House
every day at one o’clock since May 14—the scheduled start of the
convention—to see if a quorum had arrived. Because everyone had
already heard about New Jersey’s arrival, delegates had arrived
ahead of time to talk politics, strut their finery, and enjoy the
atmosphere of expectancy. The room seethed with anticipation. The
day had finally arrived.

Madison turned to Mason. “I’ve been waiting
for this moment for over a year. Let’s take our seats.”

Madison jostled his way to a center-front
table that he had already reserved by distributing his writing
materials. He intended to take careful notes of the proceedings and
wanted to see and hear everything. Happy delegates interrupted his
forward progress by shaking his hand, slapping his shoulder, and
offering congratulations. Friend and foe alike seemed intent on
thanking him for orchestrating this momentous event.

The green baize tables were arranged in arcs
facing the speaker’s platform located on the east wall. The white
room, with slate-colored wainscoting, received excellent light from
twenty-four large pane windows. The square chamber, designed in
classic proportions and ornamented with pilasters and tabernacles,
radiated dignity. This was a room meant to witness history. The
president’s chair sat on a low dais behind the very desk where the
Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation had
been signed. The Continental Congress had met here. Washington had
accepted his election as commander in chief of the Continental Army
in this room.

Madison reached his table and looked up to
see a self-important Robert Morris impatiently waiting for the
laggards to settle.

Taking a deep breath and looking about the
chamber, Morris said, “Gentlemen, thank you. I’m pleased to
announce a quorum.” A dramatic pause. “We may proceed.”

Cheers rang through the chamber.

“
Gentlemen, please. Thank you. Our
first order of business is to elect a president.” Standing tall
upon the short dais, Morris continued, “I’d like to place in
nomination a true and selfless patriot, the commander of our
victorious Continental Army, a man of unquestioned integrity and
honor, the illustrious Gen. George Washington.”

Madison found himself instantly on his feet
with the other delegates. The applause continued long and spirited,
with occasional whoops and cheers. Everyone turned to the sole
person who remained seated, George Washington. The general looked
genuinely uncomfortable.

The sound hadn’t abated, nor had everyone
regained their seat before John Rutledge of South Carolina boomed,
“I consider it the greatest honor to second the nomination of Gen.
George Washington!”

Again, Madison rose, clapping
enthusiastically to honor the great hero of the Revolution. And
again, Washington sat in embarrassed silence.

As the applause died down, more quickly this
time, Morris asked, “Are there any further nominations?”

The room remained still.

Waiting a respectful moment, Morris said,
“We have a motion and a second. Will the states please confer,
determine your vote, and mark your ballot.”

It didn’t take long, nor was the vote a
surprise. Washington was elected unanimously by the seven states
present.

Madison watched Morris escort Washington to
the dais. As he had expected, Washington gave a poorly delivered
speech. He modestly accepted the honor, thanked the delegates,
reminded them that he lacked experience, and hoped that his errors
would be excused.

After Major William Jackson of South
Carolina was elected secretary, he read their instructions from
Congress, a procedure that caused Madison discomfort. The Congress
of the United States had authorized a convention of delegates “who
shall have been appointed by the several states to meet at
Philadelphia, for the sole and express purpose of revising the
Articles of Confederation, and reporting to Congress and the
several legislatures, such alterations and provisions therein, as
shall, when agreed to in Congress, and confirmed by the states,
render the federal Constitution adequate to the exigencies of
government, and the preservation of the union.”

Madison had a copy of the Virginia Plan in
front of him. The plan didn’t revise the Articles; it replaced
them. He didn’t intend to present his plan to Congress for
agreement or to the states for confirmation. He intended a
bloodless coup d’état. Many would be aghast at his effrontery, but
making adjustments around the edges of the Articles would never
work. Their grand experiment with republicanism would fade into
history, remembered as a mishap of foolish aspiration. This plan,
however, the one he now fingered possessively, would ensure liberty
for the citizens of the United States for countless
generations.

Governor Clinton of New York had engineered
their restrictive instructions. He ran the state as his personal
fiefdom and wanted no interference from a central government.
Because Congress convened in his state, Clinton unduly influenced
legislation, which extended his power to the national level. New
York should have been part of Madison’s large state alliance, but
Clinton had stacked the delegation with two lackeys to outvote
Hamilton. Although New York would fight his proposal, Madison was
sure they would never join the small states. New York would remain
a maverick and try to position itself on the fulcrum so it could
tilt the convention in either direction.

Jackson read the state credentials. Madison
knew that even Virginia’s credentials allowed only revision of the
Articles.

“
The state of Georgia by the grace of
God, free, sovereign, and independent. …”

Thankfully, this was Friday. The weekend
would distance the reading of the instructions and credentials from
Randolph’s presentation of the plan. The convention’s vested
authority was thin, but at least they were officially sanctioned by
Congress. If he could engineer a strong majority, then despite
their limited charter, no one would be able to ignore what came out
of this convention.

Pinckney suddenly took the floor and made a
motion to appoint a committee to draw up rules of order. Wythe,
Hamilton, and Pinckney made up the committee, with his fellow
Virginian, George Wythe selected as chairman. When they adjourned
until ten o’clock Monday, Madison felt relieved that the first day
had held no surprises.

He gathered up his papers, and as he leaned
over to pick up his valise, a large shape loomed over him. The
first thing he noticed was a handsome pair of new shoes. Looking
up, prepared to make some banal comment about the day’s
proceedings, he saw Roger Sherman of Connecticut.

“
Excuse me, James, but I wonder if
you’d be kind enough to forward a rule suggestion to Mr.
Wythe?”

Madison busied himself shuffling papers.
“I’d be pleased to, but I have work I must attend to. It’d be
better if you presented your idea directly to Mr. Wythe.”

“
I agree, but the committee has
already charged out of the room. I understand you’ll see Mr. Wythe
at the Morris house this evening.”

Madison head jerked up. Sherman seemed to
know everything.

“
What’s your suggestion?”

“
I’ve been conferring with my
colleagues. We believe a rule that any vote can be reconsidered
would facilitate deliberations.”

Madison slowly stuffed his papers into his
valise. “Not unprecedented, but certainly unusual. It could be
disruptive.”

“
I don’t see the harm. My colleagues
feel strongly that the opportunity to reconsider will quicken
debate and soothe disagreement. It’s an issue that kindles their
passion. I fear early disharmony—perhaps worse.”

“
That’s a vexing
statement.”

“
Unfortunately, the small states
aren’t organized, nor do they have a leader. Your plan frightens
them.”

“
I see.” Madison tucked his case under
his arm, preparing to leave. Looking up into Sherman’s strangely
placid face, he said, “I’ll mention your idea to Mr.
Wythe.”

“
Thank you, James. One more item.
There’s a rumor that the Rules Committee will recommend secrecy. A
republican government shouldn’t be shrouded from public
scrutiny—but I’m sure it’s only a false rumor.”

Madison hastened out of the chamber.

“
Good God, man. Move that
carriage!”