The “Strawman” Constitution

Well, eleven days I wrote about the Constitutional Convention.  Specifically, we were introduced to the Committee of Detail.  Their job was to take all the proceeding of the previous sixty days of work and, over eleven days, condense it into some semblance of order.  As I mentioned before, this wasn’t in any way a finished product.  It was what we call at our office a “strawman” document…a starting point from which to refine issues.

The Convention delegates took a much-needed eleven-day vacation.  They wrote letters home, caught up on the latest news in Philadelphia, took in a play, did some reading, or just relaxed.  All the delegates, that is, except the five members of the Committee, who worked really hard to put things together.

Edmund Randolph desired “a fundamental constitution.”  He wanted it kept simple and free from the kinds of language and provisions that simply bogged down the document with inflexibility with which the future couldn’t deal.  The Constitution should contain general principles and propositions, believing “the construction of a constitution of necessity differs from that of law.”

The Committee of Detail did not, as far as I can tell, come up with the famous Preamble.  That would fall to the Committee of Style down the road.  But they offer up some general guidelines.  We again turn to Virginia’s Randolph, who believed such text should state “that the present foederal government is insufficient to the general happiness, that the conviction of this fact gave birth to this convention, and that the only effectual means which they can devise for curing this insufficiency is the establishment of a supreme legislative, executive and judiciary…“.

The document was divided into articles and sections and printed.  On August 6, 1787, the delegates returned and received their “strawman” copy.  Some were surprised and even shocked at what the document contained, though not because (like our recent healthcare legislation) no one knew what it contained.  Quite the contrary, there were no unknowns here.  It’s just that, after months of debate, it was still a little bit unnerving to see all laid out in plain text.  After receiving the draft, the session for the day ended, but the convention was far from over.

Each article, section, and clause was still open for debate and, if necessary, a vote.  And for the next five weeks, that debate would continue.  The delegates to the Constitutional Convention knew that much had been accomplished.  And each one knew there was a long way to go.

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Convention Grants Eleven Days for the Details

WordPress has added this nifty new feature to our suite of tools.  It’s a world map, and it allows me to see the countries from where all of you come to visit.  This morning, I see there are folks from the United States, and Poland, and some other places.  It’s kind of cool to see the various countries and continents represented.

I don’t know where you are specifically, but where I am, it’s been downright hot.  We topped out at 106°F yesterday (which is a staggering number for central Iowa), and it’s been over 100° for what seems like a month.  I look outside the window, and the yards stare back with deep-fried goodness.  Fortunately, our break has arrived.  Storms rolled through last night, bringing our first real rainfall in a month, and this morning the winds had a northern component to them.  It’s still really humid, but it actually feels cool!

The summer of 1787 was pretty hot as well.  Early-American Philadelphia roasted in a hot, humid, hazy sunshine that made a good many people sick, a lot more people very short-tempered, and everyone wish someone would just invent shorts and t-shirts already.

For the delegates to the Constitutional Convention, it was time for a break as well, and not just from the temperatures, which had conveniently moderated a bit ten days prior.  Two months of debate, two months of disagreement, and two months of discussion were all beginning to wear them down.  But a tremendous amount of progress had been made in that two months.  The basic shape of the new government had been worked, including that most sticky of issues:  how a bicameral legislature would be represented.

It was time to start collecting the various parts, what the delegates called “resolves” (and twenty-three had been passed to this point), along with other proposals and amendments, into some kind of order.  George Washington, who would have rather been riding the countryside, following the rivers and thinking about a canal system, penned in his diary that they needed to “draw into method and form the several matters which had been agreed to by the Convention as a Constitution for the United States.”

So on July 26, 1787, the Convention created the Committee of Detail.  The job of this committee was not to create a finished product, but simply to get things organized.  Then the delegates could look over their work, have some more debate, and make corrections and further changes.  The Committee was Detail was made up of five members, including Virginia’s Edmund Randolph (who, as we know, ultimately did not sign the finished product), James Wilson from Pennsylvania, Nathaniel Gorham from Massachusetts, Connecticut’s Oliver Ellsworth, and John Rutledge from South Carolina.  They were given eleven days (until August 6) to knock together a “Report”.

And the rest of the delegates to an eleven-day sabbatical.  The delegates themselves didn’t talk about the proceedings in “mixed” company, fearing the spread of rumor and outright falsehoods.  But many wrote letters home to family and friends, since flying or driving home was, in 1787, out of the question.  There was much “wagging of tongues” around Philly, as bystanders and newspapers speculated on what might be taking place.

General Washington went trout fishing.

Recommended Reading:  Decision in Philadelphia – Another account of the Convention I’m reading right now, and it’s pretty good.

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Convention Approval, the Hard Way

George Clymer was a member of the Pennsylvania legislature.  He had also been a member of the Constitutional Convention.  That gathering, which spanned the summer months of 1787, had seen argument, contention, and discord give way to eventual consensus.  A Constitution had been ratified in mid-September, but as the month neared its end, the time had come for the states to get involved.

On the 28th (just a couple weeks after Mifflin unveiled the new document), George stood up in the state body and proposed that a convention for ratification be agreed upon.  While there was hearty approval from those favoring the Constitution, there was plenty of dissent.  The more hesitant noted that legislative session was due to end the following day (a Saturday), and new business (especially something as important as the Constitution) was probably better left tabled for the next session.  In addition, elections were just a month away, so it was preferred to let the new body take up the debate about a special convention.

Those in Clymer’s camp knew the situation.  They believed they had the votes to pass Clymer’s resolve now.  But with the session ending and elections coming, there was adequate time for the “anti-federalists” to make enough noise to scare people.  Maybe the elections would cause a wave of anti-federalists to be voted in, and a convention would be buried under the weight of opposition.

After some debate, the issue was put off until late Friday afternoon.  But when everyone reconvened at 4:00pm, some people were missing from the room.  Nineteen anti-federalists were no-shows, which meant the body didn’t have the quorum necessary to conduct any business…such as, shall we say…vote on a state convention for the purpose of debating the Constitution.  What a coincidence!

This caused no small uproar in the city of Philadelphia.  Taverns that evening were full of strong ale and strong opinion.  People took to the streets, some with strong feelings one way or the other, and others with no real knowledge of what was being argued about at all.  And the federalists?…those in favor of the Constitution?…they just wanted to know where the nineteen missing men were holed up.  The sergeant-at-arms went looking and found them sequestered in a home owned by “Mr. Boyd” on 6th Street.

Do I really need to tell you what was about to happen?  18th century politics were a little bit different than they are today.  Oh yeah, we have groups of delegates that will, in opposition to a bill or some piece of legislation, purposely vacate their chairs so that a quorum cannot be reached…it still happens from time to time.  But we don’t very often see the response that the citizens of Philadelphia witnessed on September 29, 1787.

That Saturday morning, a group of men broke down the door of Mr. Boyd’s house, ran in, and absconded with two legislators.  They were dragged, kicking and screaming, back to Independence Hall, and placed in their chairs.  A quorum had been reached and, very quickly, the question of a constitutional convention was put to a vote.  Not surprisingly, it passed 45-to-2.

Pennsylvania, ready or not, was going to debate and decide what to do about the Constitution.  The date was set for November 30th.

Recommended Reading:  Ratification:  The People Debate the Constitution, 1787-1788 – This one is not yet in my collection…it should be.  It should also be in yours.

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Thomas Mifflin Gives First Public Reading of New Charter

Well, with ratification came reading, and with reading came the inevitable reaction.  I suppose that a statement like that, in light of all the times I’ve blathered on about the Constitutional Convention, isn’t all that surprising.  But let’s speak to it for a minute this evening.

On a September Monday in 1787, the Constitution was ratified by the delegates meeting on the first floor of Independence Hall in Philadelphia.  On a September Tuesday (the next day), which happened to be September 18, 1787, Thomas Mifflin got to make the climb to the second floor.  It was there that the Pennsylvania legislature had been meeting for the last couple of weeks.  The first floor was normally their domain, but they had graciously allowed the Convention delegates to use the space.  And with all the rumor swirling around about a new Constitution and a change in government structure, it’s pretty easy to imagine a bunch of legislators quietly listening with ears pressed against the floor, trying to catch snatches of what was being said one floor below.

One can almost see the “lookout”, standing outside the door, making sure no one is coming.  And when Mifflin’s shoes are heard on the steps, the lookout quickly and quietly runs back to the room and half whispers, “Somebody’s on the way!”…at which point everyone jumps back to their spots and makes things look like normal business.  I’m sure it didn’t happen that way, but it paints a humorous, children-in-the-classroom type of behavior with which we’re all familiar.

Anyways, Thomas Mifflin entered the room, Constitution in hand, and read it to those assembled.  It was the first public disclosure of the document.  If you’ve never read the Constitution, you might fear that the delegates were in for a many-hours-long discourse.  But of course, we’ve all read our nation’s most important document, so we know that, assuming no interruptions, Mifflin likely completed his work in less than two hours.  And once he was done, Pennsylvania’s governing body knew they were in for some dramatic changes.  Pennsylvania’s constitution (in place for nearly a dozen years) called for a one-chambered legislature, yearly elections, and a leader chosen by the legislature.  All this talk of electors and a bicameral legislature and checks and balances was a lot to process at one time.

And let’s be honest, even Pennsylvania’s own constitution was the subject of fighting among the citizens…there had much inkshed and some bloodshed over it.  There were factions and fights, division and disruption aplenty.  Now, to top it off, here was Mifflin telling them their national government was radically changing.  There was something new about which to fight!!

Those against ratification would go to great lengths to prevent it, and those for ratification would go to greater lengths to get it.  We’ll be back in 1787’s version of the Pennsylvania statehouse before too long, because it’s going to get a bit goofy…

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Convention Delegates Working for the Weekend

Fridays around our office tend to be relaxed affairs.  We wear jeans and tennis shoes and white socks.  Well, those of us that don’t take the day off, which is sometimes about 50% of staff.  We take it easy…maybe a slightly longer lunch period, an extra 15 minutes of Angry Birds, some extra snacks, that second soda we normally deny ourselves.  Believe me, we still work, but it’s definitely a wee bit lighter duty than the other four days of the week.

For the delegates at the Constitutional Convention, the final Friday of their gathering was anything but relaxed.  Of course, I’m referring to September 14, 1787, which was a Friday.  The Committee of Style and Arrangement, tasked with taking the various agreed-upon articles and molding them into a cohesive document, had taken the better part of five days to do its work.  But they got through it and presented their final draft of the Constitution to the delegate body…that was the 12th, a Wednesday.

And then the debate over language and syntax began.  There was word-smithing and a general tightening up of the Constitution’s language.  But there were also some bigger ideas that received some “last-minute” consideration.  This Friday saw some of those.

Benjamin Franklin offered up that Congress should be given the power to build canals.  It seems a bit strange to us that Franklin would ask for something so specific to be added, but if we think ahead to all of the canals that were created in the 1800s, we realize that the old doctor had a bit of foresight.  But concerns over monopolies and a fear that some states would use the canal system as an excuse to establish a bank – and we know that Aaron Burr used a similar tactic to do just that a few years later – killed the idea pretty quickly.

There was a debate over Section 8 of Article 1, which dealt with piracy, but that, too, remained unchanged.

And Section 9, Article 1 also got floor time.  This piece of the Constitution addressed the regularity with which Congress should publish a record of its public expenditures.  As written, it was to be done annually.  But some wondered if that a little too specific.  Maybe more than one report a year would be necessary, while in other years, none would be required.  As we know, in today’s world of trillion-dollar debts and exorbitant waste, once a year isn’t nearly enough.  At end of the discussion, the delegates settled on the phrase, “shall be published from time to time.”

And that was that.  As we know, Saturday would also be a day of work, as the final changes and discussions were ironed out and the Convention came to an end.  Monday, September 17th, would see the Constitution ratified.

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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Alexander Hamilton: Six Hours One Monday

Alexander Hamilton is a fascinating study in contrasts, and I hope that over the last couple of years, the numerous scribbles I’ve put together on the man would give you that feeling as well.  Hamilton was a man who was born into some of the worst conditions of his time, but achieved greatness.  A man who loved General Washington, but nit-picked with him (and even quit his staff job) over relatively trivial matters.  A man who adored his wife almost to distraction – he would write, “My Angel!  I told you truly that I love you too much.  I struggle with an excess which I cannot but deem a weakness and endeavor to bring myself back to reason and duty…” – and yet entangled himself in at least one costly affair…and maybe others.

Today we visit another such contrast, displayed at the Constitutional Convention in the summer of 1787.

The Convention’s first few weeks could be called (in the most general sense) a brainstorming session.  There was Edmund Randolph’s presentation of the Virginia Plan in late May, which was a radical departure from the existing Articles of Confederation.  Had you been fortunate enough to be sitting in the assembly on June 15th, not only would you have been enormously uncomfortable in the stifling heat and humidity, you would have heard New Jersey’s William Patterson offer up the “New Jersey Plan”, which should get some keyboard-time in the future.

Then there was a day off (the 16th), the day of worship (Sunday the 17th) and “Alexander Hamilton” day on June 18, 1787.

It was then that this 32-year-old visionary stood up and offered his ideas.  For six hours he offered them up and, in doing so, inadvertantly drove a stake into the ground that would follow (and often haunt) him for the remainder of his short life.  As we know, the proceedings of the Convention were supposed to be sealed until all of its attendees were dead, but Hamilton’s speech was leaked to the public.

In some sense, it’s a minor miracle that Hamilton was even a delegate to the Convention.  While he certainly deserved to be there, it was a case of “who you know, not what you know.”  Alexander represented New York, which was governed by George Clinton.  Clinton loathed Hamilton’s political views, was a supporter of strong states’ rights, and detested any power given to a central government.  So he tried to load the New York delegation with men of his ilk…men like Robert Yates and John Lansing (who we’ve seen before on these pages).  But Hamilton had a strong ally who happened to also be his father-in-law.  Philip Schuyler was an incredibly wealthy man, and owned the allegiances of numerous powerful landowners in New York.  He had lost the governor’s election to Clinton ten years prior, so Schuyler was politically connected as well.  He made sure a voice opposing Clinton’s (one Alexander Hamilton) was present at the convention.

Anyways, I digress a bit, though I think it’s valuable to have a bit of context.

Hamilton’s “sketch” (as he called it) called for an executive (called a “governor”) elected for life (assuming good behavior and subject to recall), an upper house with Senators elected for life, a lower house elected by the people for 3-year terms, and an elected-for-life judiciary.  State governors would be appointed by the national government.  The lower house would be the originator of all laws, while the executive held the veto power.

Now some of these things look pretty familiar to us.  The three-pronged executive, judicial, and legislative branches are what we have now, as is the bicameral legislature.  The same holds with the judiciary – our Supreme Court justices are appointed for life.  But for delegates just 5 years removed from a fight for independence, the “for life” provisos for the executive and upper house looked way too much like a British monarchy.

In his defense, Alexander Hamilton had put together a cohesive system with solid checks and balances (that I haven’t detailed).  In fact, John Quincy Adams, reading Madison’s notes on Hamilton’s speech a half century later, remarked that it was, in theory, a better constitution than that which was adopted.  But our 6th President also hit on the gold when he added that Hamilton’s ideas were “energetic, and approaching the British Constitution far closer, and such as the public opinion of that day never would have tolerated.”

Alexander Hamilton’s speech was probably opposed by 90% of his hearers that day, though no one spoke up in protest.  Maybe the delegates believed that if no one discussed it, it never really happened.

I know less of Hamilton than many, and less of history than most.  But I think that in this “idea” phase of the Convention, Hamilton’s ideas (while certainly on the disagreeable fringe of where the delegates wanted to go) were viable.  Put ideas on the table, let the discussion build, and create a consensus of how a new government should work.  But instead, this speech became the “wild outlier”, the statistical aberration that, when maliciously leaked to the public, dogged Hamilton to the end of his days.

In his biography of Hamilton, Ron Chernow describes this six hours of Hamilton’s life as “brilliant, courageous, and, in retrospect, completely daft.”  In her book covering the convention, Catherine Bowen writes, “Alexander Hamilton at the Federal Convention cuts a disappointing figure…”

I think his speech presents another of those contrasts.  Hamilton, the man who staunchly defended the Constitution in its final form.  The Founder who tirelessly penned 50+ essays explaining why the system adopted was so good for the country.  The New Yorker who almost single-handedly brought about ratification in his home state (where the opposition owned the political machine).  In contrast, the man whose idea of “government in the United States” as presented at the Constitutional Convention went completely off the reservation.

Recommended Reading: James Madison – Yeah, go figure. Just one paragraph on Hamilton’s speech, but just about the best synopsis.

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Federal Convention Builds Two Houses in a Day

Throughout the three-plus months of the Constitutional Convention, the delegates disagreed about a bunch of stuff.  It had started almost immediately with a debate over semantics.  Was the government national or federal?  Both words were nuanced depending on which ears heard them, and the delegates argued for (and against) each.  And that was the very beginning.  The delegates argued over slavery.  They argued over the number of executives (can you imagine two Presidents?!?).  They debated checks and balances.  They debated the judiciary.  And at the end, when the Constitution had been written and submitted for approval, it was back to semantics and language.

But one of the things on which nearly all the delegates agreed was the issue of democracy.  And they were mostly against it.

What?!?

Yep.  Much like innovation (which we discussed last year when talking about the Convention), well, I’ll let Catherine Bowen explain.  She writes, “…to members of the Federal Convention the word democracy carried another meaning than it does today.  Democracy signified anarchy; demos was not the people but the mob.  When Paterson of New Jersey said ‘the democratic spirit beats high,’ it was meant in derogation, not in praise.  Again and again we meet these phrases:  if aristocracy was ‘baleful’ and ‘baneful,’ unchecked democracy was equally to be shunned.”

But the delegates knew from whence they came, and unchecked aristocracy led to, if I may call it such, “tyranny of the few.”  The just-ended War of Independence had been fought over this issue.  Virginia’s George Mason, a wealthy landowner much like his neighbor George Washington, spoke for many when he said, “We ought to attend to the rights of every class of the people . . . provide no less carefully for the . . . happiensess of the lowest than of the highest orders of citizens.”

There had to be balance.

So I suppose that it only made sense to the delegates that there be a divided legislature, on the order of their British counterparts.  And on May 31, 1787, they made it official.  The Committee of the Whole voted in favor of Edmund Randolph’s Resolve 3:  “That the national legislature ought to consist of two branches.”

Of the existing state legislatures, only Pennsylvania and Georgia had one-chambered legislatures.  And the greatly-respected Dr. Benjamin Franklin (representing Pennsylvania at the Convention) was a staunch advocate of a one-chamber house (he would be so until the day he died).  So when the votes were tallied, James Madison noted that the measure passed “without debate or dissent, except that of Pennsylvania, given probably out of complaisance of Docr. Franklin.”

Of course, there would still be a bundle of debate concerning terms of service, checks on the legislative branch, and most importantly, the issue of representation.  But one of the foundational elements of our system was settled on this day…the bi-cameral legislature.

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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Yet Another Convention in Philadelphia

The first snow of the year has arrived.  It’s not accumulating at all, but I can see the flurries fall as the evening matures.  Our winter has started off much milder than last year’s version, but it’s just started, so there’s a long way to go.

I wanted to briefly mention the Philadelphia Convention this evening.  No, not that Convention, as we’ve discussed it quite a bit this year (and will visit it several more times in the future).  The convention I want to discuss is the one that took place after that one.

As you might recall from previous readings, the Pennsylvania legislature was meeting upstairs during the final weeks of the Constitutional Convention.  And while the discussions downstairs were held in secret, there is little doubt that a bundle of rumor, a boatload of speculation, and maybe even a fact or two made its way to the second floor of Independence Hall.

And the close proximity of the two gathering bodies meant that the Pennsylvania legislature would see the finished product first once ratification was complete.  Indeed, just two days after business was completed, the Pennsylvania Packet published as its only news item the entire Constitution, printed in four pages.  And the state legislature got its first exposure a day earlier, as Thomas Mifflin (a Convention delegate) took to the floor and read the Constitution aloud.

To say eyebrows were raised would be to grossly understate the reaction…and with good reason.  Pennsylvania’s own Constitution was altogether different, calling for a one-chamber legislature, elections every year, and a President chosen by the legislative body.  And since 1776, the system had been in place.  And since July of 1787, rumor had been swirling that drastic changes were coming.  In the eyes of many statesmen, Mifflin’s reading confirmed the worst.

The call by supporters of the “new” Constitution for a ratification convention was met with shock and dismay by supporters of the “old”.  For weeks, the arguments back and forth continued, both in the newspapers and in the courts of public opinion.  James Wilson, another the delegates and one of the unsung (and unknown) heroes of the Convention, worked tirelessly in support of innovation (there’s that word again), but met with heavy opposition.  Congress (the big one created under the Articles of Confederation) called for state conventions just eight days after the Constitutional Convention ended, giving rise to fears that things were simply moving too quickly.

It took a couple of weeks for the vote to take place, and the tactics used by each side were both alarming and somewhat comical (and have a place on next year’s schedule), but it finally passed…Pennsylvania’s legislature would meet to determine the new Constitution’s fate in their state.  And on November 30, 1787, the Philadelphia legislature gathered for its convention.  And while the body would meet for five weeks, it would require less than two of them to render a verdict on the Constitution.

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Madison’s First Federalist – Famous Number 10

I’ll keep it brief this evening…hopefully…

More than a year ago, we discussed the publication of the first of the Federalist Papers.  This collection of essays, which comprise what is quite likely the single greatest defense of any government charter anywhere in the world, was penned by three hands under one pseudonym.  Publius, the author in the papers, was actually the 3-headed brain of Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay.

In the weeks following the Philadelphia Convention, James Madison (like Hamilton) looked around and saw newspapers churning out anti-Constitutional articles one after another.  Some of Madison’s comrades, from his very own state of Virginia, were pushing hard against ratification.  Men like George Mason and Patrick Henry, good men to be sure, saw the Constitution not as a natural fix to the weaknesses of the Articles of Confederation, but as a direct threat to the freedom of every American.

Opposition had really begun in New York, when Yates and Lansing left the Convention in Philadelphia early and returned home.  By the time October rolled into November, Madison found that many northern newspapers were filled “with vehement and violent calumniations of the proposed Government.”

Plans for a pro-government response had begun even before the Convention had adjourned in September, and Hamilton and Madison (as well as others) were besieged with requests to publish a readable defense of the Constitution.  And as we know, young Hamilton got the ball rolling, and would work in prolific manner to keep it rolling, publishing 51 of the 85 essays.  But the only-slightly-older Madison contributed as well, completing 29 essays…

…including the famous Number 10, Madison’s first, which was published in New York’s Daily Advertiser on November 22, 1787.  In his biography of the “Father of the Constitution”, Ralph Ketcham summarizes this most important of writings, in which Madison defended the concept of a “large republic”.  “Madison asked his readers to consider the likely result of extending the representative principle to a large territory.  He granted that this would result in great diversity of interests in the government, but then pointed out what other theorists had overlooked:  in a system which fairly represented the people, this would preserve freedom rather than threaten it, because no one interest would be able to control the government;  each interest – economic, religious, sectional, or whatever – would be a natural check on the domineering tendencies of others.  Thus Madison made a virtue of human diversity and neutralized the selfishness of mankind.”

There is some sense of irony in Madison’s masterful defense.  As a member of the Virginia delegation, he had argued strongly against equal representation in the Senate, only giving in to the Great Compromise when it was readily apparent that the Convention could go no further without it.  He had left Philadelphia (as had Hamilton and many other Constitutional “supporters”) with reservations about the final product.  But as we know, giving a greater voice to the minority helps offset one of the weaknesses of a pure democracy:  the tyranny of the majority.  And clearly Madison understood that danger, and Number 10 addresses it directly.

In one fell swoop, Madison turned the anti-Federalist argument of loss of freedom on its head.  A large republic, rather than restricting freedoms, was the most suitable protector of freedom.

We read The Federalist Papers now and are impressed with their thoroughness and scope.  But we overlook the fact that these three men rarely had time for editing and word-smithing.  Madison reported that the time crunch was such that the documents barely had time to be reread by the author himself, to say nothing of passing them between the men.

Remarkable…

UPDATE:  Martin and Marcia over at What Would the Founders Think? have dissected Madison’s #10 in far more detail than my format allows.  It’s definitely worth a read.

Recommended Reading: James Madison

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The Constitutional Convention Draws to a Close

I don’t know about you, but when I come to the end of a project, I like that last day to be a relaxed one.  Maybe I tie up a loose end here or there.  Tweak a piece of code or a PowerPoint slide.  Some final edits on a document for the big presentation.  Maybe a little bit of last-minute word-smithing on the manuscript before it heads to publication.  But that’s about it.

I don’t want to be running around in a franctic panic, trying to take care of a dozen unfinished tendrils while simultaneously being hit with four or five “could-you-just-add-this” requests with three voice-mail messages informing me of problems sit in the phone queue.  That’s not my idea of a good time.

But in some sense, that second scenario is what faced the delegates to the Constitutional Convention.  September 15, 1787 was the Convention’s final working day.  The Pennsylvania legislature, which normally met in the room they were using, had already been in session for nearly two weeks and had graciously moved upstairs to give this body time to complete its work.

The Committee of Style and Arrangement, which had formed on the 8th, had finished its work five days later, presenting to the delegates a finished Constitution.  And from that point, debate had begun over wording, phrasing, style, and structure.  There were small changes suggested and accepted.  There were major changes suggested (like a Bill of Rights) and rejected.  And in between, there was dissension against and support for issues small and not-so-small.

And the 15th, rather than a wind-down, saw the flurry of activity continue.  It began with Maryland’s Daniel Carroll, who suggested that an address introducing the Constitution be prepared for the people, as that was a fairly common practice in that day.  After some debate, it was decided (in the interests of time) to have the standing Congress draft such a document.

There was argument (yet again!) over representation, as some delegates didn’t believe their state had quite enough representatives for their respective populations.  And once one state made such a demand, others were bound to follow.  It quickly threatened to rage out of control.

There was a continuation of old issues.  Mason again said that the Senate had way too much power.  Edmund Randolph (who had proposed the Virginia Plan) increasingly showed dissent for the government in its final form.  George Mason agreed and then offered up the proposal that, on this last day of business, stopped everyone in their seats.

He suggested a Second Constitutional Convention.

George Mason…who had come to Philadelphia swearing he’d be buried here rather than leave before a workable solution was found.  And it was more than a proposal, the man was insisting on it.

South Carolina’s Charles Pinckney stood to respond.  James Madison records that “Pinckney descanted on the consequences of calling forth the deliberations and amendments of the different states on the subject of government at large.  Nothing but confusion and contrariety could sping from the experiment.  The states will never agree in their plans – and the deputies to a second Convention coming together under the discordant impressions of their constituents, will never agree.”

In other words, it was now or never.  Nearly every member had some minor (or major) disagreement with the finished product.  But it would always be that way…no Constitution would be perfect, regardless of how much time was given to its construction.

There was much trepidation when the Second Convention came to a vote.  All states voted no.

Madison records the final acts as follows:

“On the question to agree to the Constitution as amended.  All the States aye.  The Constitution was then ordered to be engrossed.  And the House adjourned.”

There would be Monday’s signing, but the Convention was over.  The U.S. Constitution was completed.  It had been an exceptional three months.  The ratification process was about to begin.

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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A Touch of Style at the Federal Convention

There has been some significant debate recently over the idea of “American Exceptionalism”.  Some argue that it’s reality, while others say it’s a bunch of hooey.  What is it?  Well, I’m probably the wrong guy to be defining obtuse nine-syllable phrases, but here goes my best attempt.  American Exceptionalism is the idea that the United States is a special country (something of a one-of-a-kind nation), due to the nature of its founding, its rather unique form of government, and the success it has achieved.

Needless to say, some people argue from a different perspective.  They contend that American Exceptionalism is, in the best case, extreme jingoism…a self-exalted view that arrogantly puts America on a higher plane than other countries.  In the worst case, opponents of the concept say that this attitude is what permitted the scourge of slavery until the 1860s, allowed gross mistreatment of numerous Native American tribes, and continues to foster American imperialism around the world.

I happen to think that many things about the creation of this country were exceptional, and its likely that Today’s History Lesson has covered several of them.  And I think our topic for today may fit the mold as well.

On September 8, 1787, the Committee of Style and Arrangement was formed.  Hmm…not that exceptional?  I disagree.

If you look back over the last four months, you’ll find we’ve shared a handful of articles focused on the Constitutional Convention.  And what you’ll discover is that, far from being in agreement on anything, a great many of the delegates fought tooth-and-nail to prevent the creation of a new government.  Men like Luther Martin, Gunning Bedford, and John Lansing argued vociferously against changing the status quo…against that pesky concept of innovation.

In her book Miracle at Philadelphia, Catherine Bowen writes that, “In spite of disagreement, indecision, threats of withdrawal and articles not settled, the Convention was ready to put the Constitution into final form and present it to the country.”  Was the Constitution being ram-rodded through?  Absolutely not!!  Hundreds of years ago, Sir Francis Bacon said, “Let the losers have their words.”  And those who were against the various articles (and against the whole proceeding in general) more than had their say.  It’s part of what made (and what continues to make) the Constitution so powerful.

The Committee of Style was tasked with collecting all the documentation and putting it into a cohesive, easily-read document.  Five men comprised the committee, and their names read much like a Founding Fathers All-Star team.

James Madison, who would spend the rest of his life defending what the Committee created, and is known as the Father of the Constitution.

William Samuel Johnson, a quiet strength from the South who hadn’t missed a single day of the proceedings.

Gouverneur Morris, who spoke more during the Convention than anyone else, but also had the fortitude to publicly admit when he was wrong.  It was his hand that penned our Constitution.

Alexander Hamilton.  Bowen writes, “…his speech of June eighteenth had not been forgotten, with its monarchical slant; yet delegates knew his grasp of the situation, knew also that his pen was quick and eloquent;  nobody could say better what he wanted to say about the constitution of governments.”  He, along with Madison, would spill an enormous amount of ink defending what was about to be created.

And finally, Rufus King.  He had arrived in Philadelphia full of doubt, believing that the Congress under the Confederacy should take up changing the Confederacy.  But over the course of the Convention, he became a staunch supporter…and converts are always strong believers.

These men penned a letter (also written by Morris) to accompany the final document, and its words are timeless, too.  “It is obviously impractical in the foederal government of these States, to secure all rights of independent sovereignty to each, and yet provide for the interest and safety of all.  Individuals entering into society, must give up a share of liberty to preserve the rest.  The magnitude of the sacrifice must depend as well on siuation and circumstance, as on the object to be obtained.  It is at all times difficult to draw with precision the line between those rights which must be surrendered, and those which may be reserved…”

Exceptional?  I think so.  Bowen summarizes in agreement with me.  “The wonder is that twelve states got through months of discussion without disbanding, and that the Committee of Style could now go on with their task unhampered.”

And for five days, these five men would work.  They condensed, they word-smithed, and they debated amongst themselves over language and detail.  And in the end…well, let’s cover that when the time is right.  But I’ll give you a hint…it begins with three remarkable (dare I say “exceptional”?) words…“We the people…”

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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The Great Compromise: The Art of the Deal

As the delegates to the Federal Convention worked through the process of revising the Articles of Confederation, a couple of things had quickly become apparent.  One, the revisions wouldn’t likely be a band-aid, “patch-and-mend” fix of what already existed.  A complete overhaul was being proposed.  Second, included in that overhaul was a two-housed legislature, and the fight to determine its makeup would be long, difficult, and intense.

We look at the modern-day composition of our Senate and House of Representatives and we pretty much take its structure for granted.  To the “upper” house, each state sends a pair of Senators.  Representation in the “lower” house is determined by population.  States with more people have more Representatives, less populous states have fewer, and every state is guaranteed at least one.

In 2010, it’s automatic.  It’s a no-brainer.  In 1787, it was most certainly not automatic.

The men representing the larger states believed both houses should be built based on population.  However, their reasoning was not as self-serving as it may seem at first blush.  Of course, the result was that the larger states enjoyed something of a monopoly (or at least a strong majority) on the proceedings.  But there was more to it.  Larger states contributed proportionally more tax money to the central government’s coffers, so it stood to reason that large states should have a greater say.  Furthermore, wasn’t government based on the “will of the people” rather than the “will of the states”?  Under the Articles of Confederation, any state could veto legislation with which it disagreed, and the large states believed that “one state, one vote” had damaged the will of the people and given the small states way too much power.

The delegates from the smaller states saw things differently.  They believed that equal representation balanced the inequity that existed between small and large states.  It gave smaller states a larger voice and offered them protection.  In their minds, these delegates believed that large states would use their vote power to simply overrun the wishes of the small states.

I suppose that, in a perfect world, representation by population could have worked well, since the government was being designed was to be for the people, and not the states.  But it wasn’t perfect, and the small states were not backing down, and in the world that was Independence Hall during the brutally hot summer of 1787, it was a serious point of contention.

On June 11th, Connecticut delegate Roger Sherman offered up the suggestion that the proposed Senate be populated based on equal representation for the states, while the House be filled proportionately.  The proposal was initially defeated by the group, but it never really died, as the option to revisit it remained alive.  The delegates moved on to deal with less difficult matters, but all knew that this issue would arise again.

One thing that didn’t rise on the weekend of July 14th and 15th was the temperatures.  In the midst of a scorching summer, a reprieve of cooler weather and refreshing northwest breezes maybe helped set the stage for calmer debate and cooler heads.  I’m not sure that history records it, but maybe the windows of the Independence Hall were thrown open on the Monday morning of July 16, 1787, and the cooler air worked its magic.  It was on this day that the debate on representation was finally settled, and Roger Sherman’s “Connecticut Compromise” was adopted…by one vote.

It came to be known as the Great Compromise, and while we might sit here scratching our heads wondering what’s so great about it, there is little doubt as to the likely outcome had Sherman’s proposal not been passed.  I turn once again to Catherine Bowen’s Miracle at Philadelphia.  “There are critics today who think the Convention erred, and that the Senate, like the House, should have remained proportional.  Yet without the Great Compromise it is hard to see how the Federal Convention could have proceeded further; since the beginning it had been cause for battle.”

Luther Martin, with whom we are familiar, wrote after-the-fact that the struggle “nearly terminated in a dissolution of the Convention.”  James Madison, from the large state of Virginia and one of the stars of the Convention, didn’t agree with the result, but understood that fighting the smaller states further on the issue was pointless.  If a new government was to have any chance to survive, it had to first be born.  The Great Compromise was the single most important event in the Convention’s timeline.

Is it a perfect solution today?  The critics that Bowen references would say no.  Ron Chernow writes that “the Senate’s composition introduced a lasting political bias in American life in favor of smaller states.”  And honestly, proportional representation seems to me the proper way to do things.  But ours is not a pure democracy, and the Senate actually offers some “counter-protection” against a weakness of a democracy:  the tyranny of the majority.

And 225 years ago, proportional representation in both houses wasn’t going to get a new constitution written.  It wasn’t going to end the complete small-state dominance afforded by the Articles of Confederation (to say nothing of its other weaknesses).  And it wasn’t going to create a government system that, despite glaring flaws, has survived more than two centuries without being thrown to the historical ash-heap.

Recommended Reading: James Madison

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Philadelphia Convention Sees First Early Departures

From beginning to end, the Federal Convention in Philadelphia had its share of detractors.  Some of them, like Rhode Island, were against even the formation of a convention.  The small state would send no delegates and, of the 13 Colonies, would be the very last to ratify the document that came from the three-month gathering.

Others became disenchanted after spending a little time in Independence Hall and getting a feel for how the “political winds” were blowing.  For numerous delegates, the Articles of Confederation were adequate, or maybe just needed some tweaking.  Furthermore, the Congress had allowed the meeting with the proviso that its sole purpose was to revise the Articles.

So when Edmund Randolph took the dais on May 29th and proposed what was essentially a clean break from the Articles, not a few delegates became clear opponents.  We’ve talked about Luther Martin and his ponderous diatribes against all aspects of the Convention.  He and fellow Marylander John Mercer would end up leaving the Convention as a show of protest to the proceedings.

There was Gunning Bedford, whose paranoia over large-state dominance led to his thinly-veiled threat that small states might resort to foreign governments to assist them.  This kind of talk was a direct assault on the very purpose of the Convention.  In fact, it was an attack on the Articles of Confederation already in place.  It was close to talking treason.  But such were the strong feelings.  As we have said before, change in the 18th century (often referred to as “innovation”) was charged with negative connotations.

New York’s delegation was deeply split on the Convention.  On the one side was Alexander Hamilton.  For years he had been saying that the Articles of Confederation were weak.  They were adequate for an American Revolution, but for the future, they simply didn’t cut it.  Numerous editorials and newspaper articles, authored by his pen, sought to build support for revision.  And while he might not have been preeminent at the Convention, no delegate present could say he had done more to push for the Convention than Hamilton.  On the other side were Robert Yates and John Lansing, Jr.  These two men, related by marriage, were close associates with George Clinton, New York’s governor.  Clinton’s strong opposition to changing the status-quo was passed on to his subordinates.

And by July, the divide in the New York delegation had reached the breaking point.  Hamilton, much chagrined for his proposals in June (which we’ve mentioned but will cover in greater detail down the line), had left the Convention to return to his law practice (but don’t worry, he would come back to Philadelphia and ultimately sign the Constitution).  But Yates and Lansing simply could not come to ideological terms with the road the Convention was taking, and both walked out in protest, the first delegates to do so.

The problem comes with establishing a firm date for their departures.  Catherine Bowen lists the date as July 10, 1787.  Ron Chernow’s biography of Alexander Hamilton lists July 6th.  Ralph Ketchum, in his biography of James Madison, doesn’t actually list a date, but the text lends itself to a “second week of July” timeframe.  Various sources on the Internet list July 5th, 6th, and 10th.  I don’t find a solid consensus.  But because I saw as many references to the 10th as any other date, I’m going with that.

And truthfully, in this particular case, I’m willing to let the date remain in limbo a bit, simply because 1) the 10th is as likely to be correct as any other date, and 2) the main idea is to convey that opposition was strong enough to cause delegates to leave.  Yates and Lansing were the first…they would not be the last.

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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Constitutional Convention Reaches Low Point

No one spectating the Federal Convention during Philadelphia’s blistering summer of 1787 would have said that the first month’s proceedings had gone smoothly.  Of course, the meetings were secret, so there were no spectators.  But still the point remains.  The first month had seen some progress, but also some serious hangups.  The biggest sticking point, without a doubt, was the issue of representation in the legislature.  Small states wanted essentially a “one state, one vote” structure, while larger states preferred representation to be based on population.  Like most disagreements in life, the real issue was control.

Under the Articles of Confederation, each state had an equal voice and each state had the power of veto.  This meant that small states, like Maryland or Delaware, could suppress legislation that affected the entire remaining population.  And frankly, the small states liked it…they had serious power.

The plans being proposed (by larger states like Virginia) radically altered the existing imbalance of power to the other side of the scale.  And the small states were vehemently opposed to it…and they made their feelings known.  Plus there was the whole issue about what kind of people should comprise the Senate, which led to another set of arguments.  Not too long ago we mentioned Luther Martin, the Marylander with a penchant for verbosity.  His speech on June 20th, in some sense, lit a fire under opponents of the Virginia Plan (and pretty much any idea upsetting “small state” power established by the Articles), and for a while, things weren’t looking so good in Independence Hall.

On June 27th (and most of the 28th) Martin was at it again, quoting Locke, Priestly, Somers, and others as he rambled toward a conclusion that the convention had no business taking power away from the states.  Madison scribbled in exasperation that Martin labored, “at great length…with much diffuseness, and considerable vehemence…”.  New York delegate Robert Yates, who actually sided with Martin, said of Martin’s meanderings, “It was not possible to trace him through the whole, or to methodize his ideas into a systematic or argumentative arrangement.”

Once Luther Martin had finished his “dissertation”, Virginian James Madison got up and worked to refute all that Martin had contended, using his typical logic to attack Martin’s ideas point-by-point.  But the small states were steadfast.  It was at this point that elder statesman Benjamin Franklin, looking at the division and hearing the harsh rhetoric, suggested that each day’s proceedings open with prayer.  Clearly assistance of a Divine nature was not unwelcome.

In his biography of James Madison, Ralph Ketchum writes that June 30, 1787 was the Federal Convention’s “rock bottom.”  It was then that Gunning Bedford (shown above), a somewhat large man from the (small) state of Delaware spoke words most dangerous to the convention’s purpose.  “I do not, gentlemen, trust you,” he shouted.  The larger states wouldn’t dare kill the Confederation, he threatened, because the small states had another option.  “…sooner than be ruined, there are foreign powers who will take us by the hand.”  One can almost imagine the stifling silence that followed those words that flirted with the precipice of treason.

Rufus King, from the relatively small state of Massachusetts, rose and said, “I am concerned for what fell from the gentleman from Delaware – ‘Take a foreign power by the hand’!  I am sorry he mentioned it, and hope he is able to excuse it to himself on the score of passion.  Whatever may be my distress, I never will court a foreign power to assist in relieving myself from it.”

June 30th was a day of vitriol and acrimonious debate in Independence Hall.  It’s a very good thing it was a Saturday, as Sunday (for most of the delegates) would provide time for solemn reflection and reconsideration in a local house of worship.

Recommended Reading: James Madison

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Opposition Speaks up at the Federal Convention

When James Madison addressed the men meeting in the stifling heat of Independence Hall on June 19th, he made no mention of the preceding day’s events.  Actually, “events” (plural) is incorrect, as there was really on one event on the 18th.  The entire day was devoted to Alexander Hamilton’s vision of a new American government.  For nearly six hours, Hamilton’s laid out his plans.  The big problem was that it was too British in scope.

In broad strokes, he laid out a panorama of strong central government with a very powerful President, Senators elected for life, and state governors appointed by the national government.  There was no real debate over his plan…probably because the remaining delegates at the Federal Convention were completely stunned into silence.  To many, his plan was dangerously close to monarchy.  Diminished states’ rights put supporters of the existing Articles of Confederation instantly on the defensive.  Hamilton was a brilliant thinker, and the proceedings of the Convention were to be kept secret until all attendees had died, but Hamilton’s speech was leaked to the public and it would follow him for the rest of his life.

And while Madison may have only agreed with parts of Hamilton’s plan, he was thrilled that it made the Virginia Plan (which he fully supported) seem very moderate by comparison.

But June 20, 1787 was more than just the first day since the Virginia Plan was presented that George Washington sat through a full day of debate.  It was the day the opposition really started to dig in.  New York’s John Lansing got up and gave a long speech protesting the proceedings in general (he would end up leaving the Convention early in protest).  He was followed by Virginia’s George Mason, who disagreed with the power being given to Congress.

But it was Luther Martin (shown above) who worked his voice the most that day.  The Marylander was characterized throughout the 3-month process as an angry dissenter.  In her book Miracle at Philadelphia, Catherine Bowen described him as “impulsive, undiscipline, altogether the wild man of the Convention, furious defender of state sovreignty, by no means foolish in all that he said…”  His verbosity was off-putting and, on this day, he spent a lot of time disputing the need for two branches of Congress.  Giving a national judiciary power over the states was anathema to Martin, as were most of the rest of the proposals.

There had been debate throughout the Convention, but on this day, it became apparent how difficult the debate was going to be.

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The Virginia Plan: 18th-Century Innovation

Innovation.

In today’s world, it’s a word we hear an awful lot.  And I suppose that’s good, because it’s all around us.  I’m typing on a laptop computer due to innovation.  It has an LCD screen due to innovation.  It weighs in at less than 6 pounds due to innovation.  It’s 86°F outside as I type, but I’m nice and comfy inside due to that word.  It’s innovation that allowed me to give my 35″ tube TV (that weighs 150 pounds) to my folks, replacing it with a 40″ model that’s barely 1″ thick and weighs just 40 pounds.

It made Bob Ross a terrific painter and teacher.  It helps you fix your car, mow your lawn, see in the dark, and keep dry when it rains.  Let’s be honest…innovation is pretty nice.

But it wasn’t always that way.  There was a time when innovation was something to be avoided.  For example, when the delegates gathered in 1789’s version of Philadelphia for the Federal Convention, those considered innovators were looked down on.  In her book Miracle at Philadelphia, Catherine Bowen writes, “Innovation was a word that had been in bad repute for centuries.  It meant something impulsive, a trifle addled, the work of an enthusiast and certainly an infringement on the law.”

On May 29, 1787, Virginia Congressman William Grayson, giving his thoughts on the prospects for the Convention, said, “What will be the result of their meeting I cannot with any certainty determine, but I hardly think much good can come of it:  the people of America don’t appear to me to be ripe for any great innovations.”

Had Grayson actually been a fly on the wall of Independence Hall the same day he gave his assessment, he would have been blown away when, as James Madison recollected, “Mr. Randolph then opened the main business.”  Speaking for the Virginia delegation, Edmund Randolph (shown above, from Grayson’s own state no less!)  offered up fifteen Resolves that were not only “innovative”, they turned the Articles of Confederation on its proverbial head.

The Resolves, which ultimately became known as the Virginia Plan, called for a brand new three-pronged government, comprised of a national executive, a national judiciary, and a national legislature.  The legislature was to be made up of two branches, a house made up of representatives elected by the public, and another house made up of representatives elected by the first house.

And as we all know, the Virginia Plan was very close to the final structure that was adopted.  What’s more, the other “radical” ideas suggested were very similar in their construction, which shows how many of the delegates were very much on the same page.  The Convention was but 4 days old, and already the current government structure was being shown the door.

Innovation, indeed!

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The Philadelphia Convention Officially Opens

We recently discussed the arrival in Philadelphia of the delegates that would meet, in the words of Congress, “for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation.”  We also explained that methods of travel in 1787 didn’t look much like what we have today.  There were no planes, trains, and automobiles.  Nor were there subways and steamcars.  Bicycles were still 40-50 years away.  The fastest methods of transport used horses, and not everyone had them.  Roads were little more than dirt pathways, and the spring of that year had been especially rainy.

In addition, there was also the rule requiring delegates from a majority of the states be present before activities commenced.  Since there were thirteen states, seven needed to be represented.  Furthermore, Rhode Island (wanting nothing to do with the upsetting the status quo) had already committed to boycotting the proceedings.  So while the Convention was scheduled to start on the 14th of May, it was readily apparent on the 14th that delegates from seven states had not arrived.  In fact, only eight delegates had arrived in total.

But delegates did straggle in and, on May 25, 1787, the required quorum of seven states was reached.  The Convention could officially begin.  Activities were modest (it was a Friday, after all), with the election of a Convention President (big surprise here, George Washington) and a Secretary (William Jackson).  Additionally, the rules committee was created, comprised of Virginia’s George Wythe, South Carolina’s Charles Pinckney, and Alexander Hamilton from New York.

It began rather quietly and would falter throughout, but the finished product three months later would be one of the most exceptional achievements in history…the U.S. Constitution.  And over the next three months, I hope we’ll be able to visit a few of the highs (and lows) of this most-important of gatherings.

Recommended Reading: Miracle at Philadelphia

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Stars Gather for the Federal Convention

 The Constitutional  Convention that ended in September of 1787 certainly ended differently than the one that began in May.  In fact, it’s only known as the “Constitutional” Convention because of the results.  It began as a “Foederal” Convention.  But actually, it kind of began before that.

In 1785, Maryland and Virginia got into a heated argument over navigation on the Potomac River, and representatives from each state decided to meet at Mount Vernon to reconcile the issue.  Using this as a springboard issue, the commission was enlarged and met instead in Annapolis, Maryland in September of 1786.

But Alexander Hamilton, long a champion of a modified charter (to the Articles of Confederation), suggested to Congress that all thirteen states gather for even broader-reaching discussions…as he wrote, “to take into consideration the trade and commerce of the United States.”  Since all things financial were Hamilton’s specialty, and commerce was very weakly addressed in the Articles, it made sense to him.

To many, however, the Articles of Confederation were perfect because they strictly limited the power of any federal government.  All this talk of “trade and commerce” sounded way too far-reaching and more like a trashing of the Articles than a modification.  In the end, Congress resolved that the convention meet “for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation.”

The meeting place was appropriately Independence Hall (where the Declaration was signed eleven years prior) in Philadelphia, and the start date was May 14, 1787.  Seventy-four delegates were named, of which fifty-five showed up.  Of course, transportation wasn’t what it is now, and the spring of 1787 had been particularly wet, so delegates kind of mucked their way into Philadelphia.  The ever-punctual James Madison arrived on the 3rd of May, but others would straggle in.

Rhode Island sent no one, and was resolutely against any measures that forced them to give up the financial racket they had built using their own currency.  “Rogue Island” it was often called.  One man said that “Rhode Island has acted a part which would cause the savages of the wilderness to blush.”  George Washington wrote that “Rhode Island still perseveres in the impolitic – unjust – and one might add without much impropriety scandalous conduct, which seems to have marked all her public councils of late.”  Harsh rhetoric, to be sure, coming from a man of guarded words.

And what of Washington?  Well, he arrived on May 13, 1787 to a hero’s welcome.  The bells chimed (and not just because it was Sunday morning), artillery was fired, and the General was escorted through Philadelphia by the City Troop.

The Federal Convention was about to begin…

Recommended Reading:  Miracle at Philadelphia – As I’ve been plowing through Ketcham’s book on James Madison, I’ve been taking little tangents for related material.  This is one of them.

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Hamilton, Madison, and Jay: Ministers of Defense

As we saw a few months back, the ratification of the U.S. Constitution caused no end of debate among the Colonists.  The new charter called for a stronger central government than the Articles it replaced, albeit a three-sided government designed to hold itself in check.

But its passage, in September of 1787, had the effect of dividing the Colonies along political lines.  Hyperbole, foolish rhetoric, and exaggeration certainly aren’t exclusive to our day, and they were rampant as the second half of 1787’s September turned to October.  Chernow’s biography of Alexander Hamilton is immensely quotable, and his characterization of the time is most telling.

“The rancor ushered in a golden age of literary assassination in American politics. No etiquette had yet evolved to define the legitimate boundaries of dissent.  Poison-pen artists on both sides wrote vitriolic essays that were overtly partisan, often paid scant heed to accuracy, and sought a visceral impact.”

It was against this backdrop that Alexander Hamilton, already busy with the duties of an attorney, threw himself into a project of his own creation…defending the U.S. Constitution.  While Hamilton possessed a brilliant mind, he was smart enough to know that he couldn’t handle all aspects of a proper defense.  So he assembled a “dream team”.

John Jay, with his sharp intellect and strong integrity, was the first choice.  The two of them then selected three additional supporting writers.  James Madison and Gouverneur Morris were natural choices, as both had been at the Constitutional Convention and would most clearly understand the Framers’ intents.  The fifth was William Duer, with whom we are also familiar.

Morris really wanted to contribute, but was too busy.  Duer began a couple papers, but they weren’t finished and didn’t make the completed set.  That left Jay, Madison, and Hamilton.  Jay, with his expertise in foreign affairs (he had helped negotiate the Treaty of Paris in 1783), handled that arena.  Madison covered issues relating to the Republic itself.  Hamilton took the executive and judiciary sections, taxes, and the military.

In the end, John Jay’s rheumatism limited him to a mere 5 essays, so the Constitution’s defense became largely a two-man show.  James Madison wrote 29 essays, and Hamilton contributed the remaining 51.

The first of the essays, from Hamilton, appeared in The Independent Journal on October 27, 1787.  Over the next seven months, these writings, penned by the anonymous “Publius”, would lay the groundwork of “Constitutional” understanding to the public.

More than 200 years later, those same essays, published as The Federalist Papers, continue to give us insight into the hearts and minds of the creators of one of the most exceptional documents in written history.

Recommended Reading: The Federalist Papers – Every American citizen should read at least two works…the U.S. Constitution and The Federalist Papers.  I’ve read the first, but sadly, only a couple of essays from the second.  That will change.  I’m making The Federalist the first book on my 2010 reading schedule.  I challenge you to do the same.

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Constitutional Framers Put it in Writing

In May of 1787, men from all over the United States (it probably still sounded a little strange to them) gathered in Philadelphia to discuss the Articles of Confederation.  As the country’s first constitution, it had met a need as the Revolution was winding down.  But there were weaknesses.  Issues like foreign and inter-state commerce, tax collection, and the whole concept of a central government weren’t adequately addressed.  Under the Articles, each state had complete veto power, meaning legislation that was good for the whole country would be impossible if one state’s delegates disagreed.  Changes needed to be made.

And these 55 men gathered to make them.  But among these men were some who simply thought the Articles had served their purpose and a completely new charter was necessary.  Numerous plans were considered.  Alexander Hamilton’s idea, put together with the meticulous detail only he could do, was lauded for its completeness, but looked a little too “British” in scope, with a central government that was deemed too strong.

The idea submitted by James Madison offered a “lower” house elected by the people, an “upper” house elected by the “lower”, and an executive elected by both.  But both houses would be proportional to population, which gave the larger states a distinct advantage in the power of their voice.  It didn’t help that Madison hailed from Virginia, the largest state at the time.

The smaller states quickly recognized this and called a “time-out”.  When play resumed, William Paterson, from the “small” state of New Jersey offered a plan.  He left the legislature as it currently stood under the Articles, which provided for a single house that gave small states the same power as large states.  The large states, of course, took exception.

They might still be arguing over this today, except that someone (in this case, Roger Sherman from Connecticut…a small state) solved the issue.  He proposed a lower body populated based on each state’s population, and an upper body of “one state, one vote”.

They hashed this idea out for another two weeks, and then the Great Compromise (as the Connecticut Compromise came to be known) passed on the June 23rd.  There was more haggling over issues (particularly the sticky, divisive issue of slavery which was ultimately shelved for the sake of the rest) and then there was the drafting of the language into a single document, handled by Gouverneur Morris’ (I love that name) Committee of Style and Arrangement.

The U.S. Constitution was submitted for signing and ratified by the Convention on September 17, 1787.  The sigh of relief for a job well done was short-lived, as each state’s delegates now had to persuade their home state to adopt the new document.  For some, that would be a most difficult task…

Recommended Reading: Alexander Hamilton – I’m approaching the end of this massive, yet very readable book.

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