Chapter II: Part 2

"The war, as you have very justly observed, has terminated most
advantageously for America, and a fair field is presented to our
view; but I confess to you freely, my dear sir, that I do not think
we possess wisdom or justice enough to cultivate it properly.
Illiberality, jealousy, and local policy mix too much in all our
public councils for good government of the union. In a word, the
Confederation appears to me to be little more than a shadow without
the substance, and Congress a nugatory body, their ordinances being
little attended to.... By such policy as this the wheels of
government are clogged, and our brightest prospects, and that high
expectation which was entertained of us by the wondering world, are
turned into astonishment; and, from the high ground on which we
stood, we are descending into the vale of confusion and darkness."

Again he wrote to George Mason:

"I have seen without despondency, even for a moment, the hours which
America has styled its gloomy ones, but I have beheld no day since
the commencement of hostilities that I thought our liberties in such
imminent danger as at present. Indeed, we are verging so fast to
destruction that I am feeling that sense to which I have been a
stranger until within these three months."

Again in 1786 he writes:

"I think often of our situation, and view it with concern. From the
high ground we stood upon, from the plain path which invited our
footsteps, to be so fallen, so lost, is mortifying; but everything
of virtue has, in a degree, taken its departure from our land....
What, gracious God, is man that there should be such inconsistency,
and perfidiousness in his conduct! It was but the other day that we
were shedding our blood to obtain the Constitutions under which we
now live, and now we are unsheathing our swords to overturn them.
The thing is so unaccountable that I hardly know how to realize it
or to persuade myself that I am not under an illusion of a dream."

It was, however, the darkest hour before the dawn, and again it was Washington who became his country's saviour. In 1785, some commissioners from the States of Virginia and Maryland visited Mount Vernon to pay their respects to the well-loved commander. After conferring with him upon the chaos of the times, they decided to issue a call for a general conference of the representatives of the States to be held on September 11, 1786, at Annapolis, Maryland, to discuss how far the States themselves could agree on common regulations of commerce. At the appointed time the delegates assembled from Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New York and New Jersey, and finding themselves too few in number to achieve the great objective, the convention contented itself by issuing another call, drafted by Alexander Hamilton, then under thirty years of age, to all the States to send delegates to a convention to be held in Philadelphia on the second Monday in May, 1787, "to take into consideration the situation of the United States, to devise such further provisions as should appear to them necessary to render the Constitution of the Federal Government adequate to the exigencies of the Union."

The dying Congress tardily approved of this suggestion, but finally, on January 21, 1787, grudgingly adopted a resolution that--

"It is expedient that on the second Monday in May next a convention
of delegates, who shall have been appointed by the several States,
be held 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 conformed to by the
States, render the Federal Constitution adequate to the exigency of
the government and the preservation of the union."

It will be noted by the italicized portions of the resolution that this impotent body thus vainly attempted to cling to the shadow of its vanished authority by stating that the proposed constitutional convention should merely revise the worthless Articles of Confederation and that such amendments should not have validity until adopted by Congress as well as by the people of the several States. How this mandate was disregarded and how the convention was formed, and proceeded to create a new government with a new Constitution, and how it achieved its mighty work, will be the subject of the next lecture.

Anticipating the masterly ability with which a seemingly impotent and dying nation plucked from the nettle of danger the flower of safety, let me conclude this first address by quoting the words of de Tocqueville, in his remarkable work _Democracy in America_, where he says:

"The Federal Government, condemned to impotence by its Constitution
and no longer sustained by the presence of common danger ... was
already on the verge of destruction when it officially proclaimed
its inability to conduct the government and appealed to the
constituent authority of the nation.... It is a novelty in the
history of a society to see a calm and scrutinizing eye turned upon
itself, when apprised by the legislature that the wheels of
government are stopped; to see it carefully examine the extent of
the field and patiently wait for two years until a remedy was
discovered, which it voluntarily adopted, without having ever wrung
a tear or a drop of blood from mankind."

_II. The Great Convention_

Now follows a notable and yet little known scene in the drama of history. It reveals a people who, without shedding a drop of blood, calmly and deliberately abolished one government, substituted another, and erected it upon foundations which have hitherto proved enduring. Even the superstructure slowly erected upon these foundations has suffered little change in the most changing period of the world's history, and until recently its additions, few in number, have varied little from the plans of the original architects. The Constitution is to-day, not a ruined Parthenon, but rather as one of those Gothic masterpieces, against which the storms of passionate strife have beaten in vain. The foundations were laid at a time when disorder was rampant and anarchy widely prevalent. As I have already shown in my first lecture, credit was gone, business paralysed, lawlessness triumphant, and not only between class and class, but between State and State, there were acute controversies and an alarming disunity of spirit. To weld thirteen jealous and discordant States, demoralized by an exhausting war, into a unified and efficient nation against their wills, was a seemingly impossible task. Frederick the so-called Great had said that a federal union of widely scattered communities was impossible. Its final accomplishment has blinded the world to the essential difficulty of the problem.

The time was May 25, 1787; the place, the State House in Philadelphia, a little town of not more than 20,000 people, and, at that time, as remote, measured by the facilities of communication, to the centres of civilization as is now Vladivostok.

The _dramatis personae_ in this drama, though few in numbers, were, however, worthy of the task.

Seventy-two had originally been offered or given credentials, for each State was permitted to send as many delegates as it pleased, inasmuch as the States were to vote in the convention as units. Of these, the greatest actual attendance was fifty-five, and at the end of the convention a saving remnant of only thirty-nine remained to finish a work which was to immortalize its participants.

While this notable group of men contained a few merchants, financiers, farmers, doctors, educators, and soldiers, of the remainder, at least thirty-one were lawyers, and of these many had been justices of the local courts and executive officers of the commonwealths. Four had studied in the Inner Temple, at least five in the Middle Temple, one at Oxford under the tuition of Blackstone and two in Scottish Universities. Few of them were inexperienced in public affairs, for of the original fifty-five members, thirty-nine had been members of the first or second Continental Congresses, and eight had already helped to frame the constitutions of their respective States. At least twenty-two were college graduates, of whom nine were graduates of Princeton, three of Yale, two of Harvard, four of William and Mary, and one each from the Universities of Oxford, Columbia, Glasgow, and Edinburgh. A few already enjoyed world-wide fame, notably Doctor Franklin, possibly the most versatile genius of the eighteenth century and universally known and honoured as a scientist, philosopher, and diplomat, and George Washington, whose fame, even at that day, had filled the world with the noble purity of his character.

It was a convention of comparatively young men, the average age being little above forty. Franklin was the oldest member, being then eighty-one; Dayton, the youngest, being twenty-seven. With the exception of Franklin and Washington, most of the potential personalities in the convention were under forty. Thus, James Madison, who contributed so largely to the plan that he is sometimes called "The Father of the Constitution," was thirty-six. Charles Pinckney, who, unaided, submitted the first concrete draft of the Constitution, was only twenty-nine, and Alexander Hamilton, who was destined to take a leading part in securing its ratification by his powerful oratory and his very able commentaries in the Federalist papers, was only thirty.

Above all they were a group of gentlemen of substance and honour, who could debate for four months during the depressing weather of a hot summer without losing their tempers, except momentarily--and this despite vital differences--and who showed that genius for toleration and reconciliation of conflicting views inspired by a common fidelity to a great objective that is the highest mark of statesmanship. They represented the spirit of representative government at its best in avoiding the cowardice of time-servers and the low cunning of demagogues. All apparently were inspired by a fine spirit of self-effacement. Selfish ambition was conspicuously absent. They differed, at times heatedly, but always as gentlemen of candour and honour. The very secrecy of their deliberations, of which I shall presently speak, is ample proof how indifferent they were to popular applause and the _civium ardor prava jubentium_.

The convention had been slow in assembling. Ample notice had been given that it would convene on May 13, 1787, but when that day arrived a mere handful of the delegates, less than a quorum, had assembled.

The Virginia delegation, six in number, and forming probably the ablest delegation from any State, arriving in time, and failing to find a quorum then assembled, employed the period of waiting in submitting to the Pennsylvania delegation the outlines of a plan for the new Constitution. The plan was largely the work of James Madison, and how long it had been in preparation cannot be definitely stated. It is clear that four years before a Philadelphia merchant, one Peletiah Webster, had published a brochure proposing a scheme of dual sovereignty, under which the citizens would owe a double allegiance--one to the constituent States within the sphere of their reserved powers, and one to a federated government within the sphere of its delegated powers. Leagues of States had often existed, but a league which, within a prescribed sphere, would have direct authority over the citizens of the constituent States, without, however, abolishing the authority of such States as to their reserved sphere of power, was a novel theory. How far the Virginia project had been influenced by Webster's suggestion is not clear, but it is certain that before the convention met Pennsylvania and Virginia, two of the most powerful States, were committed to it.

The suggestion was a radical one, for the States, with few exceptions, were chiefly insistent upon the preservation of their sovereignty, and while they were willing to amend the Articles of Confederation by giving fuller authority to the central government, such as it was, the suggestion of subordinating the States to a new sovereign power, whose authority within circumscribed limits was to be supreme, was opposed to all their conventions and traditions. Washington, however, had warmly welcomed the creation of a strong central government, and his correspondence with the leading men of the colonies for some years previously had been burdened with arguments to convince them that a mere league of States would not suffice to create a stable nation. To George Washington, soldier and statesman, is due above all men the ideal of a federated union, for without his influence--that of a noble and unselfish leader--the great result would probably never have been secured. While still waiting for the convention, to meet, and while discussing what was expedient and practicable when they did meet, Washington one day said to a group of delegates, who were considering the acute nature of the crisis:

"It is too probable that no plan that we propose will be adopted.
Perhaps another dreadful conflict is to be sustained. If, to please
the people, we offer what we ourselves disapprove, how can we
afterwards defend our work? Let us raise a standard to which the
wise and just can repair. The event is in the hand of God."

Noble words, fit to be written in letters of gold over the portal of every legislature of the world, and it was in this spirit that the convention finally convened on May 25th, 1787.

When the delegates from nine States had assembled, Washington was unanimously elected the presiding officer of the convention. It began by adopting rules of order, and the most significant of these was the provision for secrecy. No copy should be taken of any entry on the Journal, or even permission given to inspect it, without leave of the convention, and "nothing spoken in the house be printed or otherwise published or communicated without leave." The yeas and nays should not be recorded. The rule of secrecy was enlarged by an unwritten understanding that, even when the convention had adjourned, no disclosure should be made of its proceedings during the life of its members. When after nearly four months, the convention adjourned, the secret had been kept, and no one knew even the concrete result of its deliberations until the Constitution itself, and nothing else, was offered to the approval of the people. The high-way, upon which the State House fronted, was covered with earth, to deaden the noise of traffic, and sentries were posted at every means of ingress and egress, to prevent any intrusion upon the privacy of the convention. The members were not photographed daily for the pictorial Press, nor did any cinema register their entrance into the simple colonial hall where they were to meet. Notwithstanding this limitation--for no present-day conference or assembly can proceed with its labours until its members are photographed for the curiosity of the public--these simple-minded gentlemen--less intent upon their appearance than their task--were to accomplish a work of enduring importance.

The extreme care which was taken to preserve this secrecy inviolate, and its purpose, were indicated in an incident handed down by tradition.

One of the members dropped a copy of a proposition then before the convention for consideration, and it was found by another of the delegates and handed to General Washington. At the conclusion of the session, Washington arose and sternly reprimanded the member for his carelessness by saying:

"I must entreat gentlemen to be more careful, lest our transactions
get into the newspapers and disturb the public repose by premature
speculations. I know not whose paper it is, but there it is
[_throwing it down on the table_]. Let him who owns it, take it."

He then bowed, picked up his hat and left the room with such evidences of annoyance that, like school-children, no delegate was willing to admit the ownership of the paper.

The thought suggests itself: How different the result at Versailles and Genoa might have been had there been the same reasonable provisions for discussion and action uninfluenced by too premature public comment of the day! In these days, when representative government has degenerated into government by a fleeting public opinion, the price we pay for such government by, for and of the Press, is too often the inability of representatives to do what they deem wise and just.

At the close of the convention its records were committed into the keeping of Washington, with instructions to "retain the journal and other papers, subject to order of Congress, if ever formed under the Constitution."

Even the journal consisted of little more than daily memoranda, from which the minutes ought to have been, but never were, made; and these fragmentary records of the proceedings of a convention which had been in continuous session for nearly four months were never published until the year 1819, or thirty-two years after the close of the convention. Thus, the American people knew nothing of their greatest convention until a generation later, and then only a few bones of the mastodon were exhibited to their curious gaze.

The members of the convention kept its secrets inviolate for many years. With few exceptions, the great secrets of the convention died with them. Only one, James Madison, left a comprehensive statement of the more formal proceedings. With this notable exception, only a few anecdotes, handed down by tradition, escaped oblivion. The first of the number to break the pledge of secrecy was Robert Yates, Chief Justice of New York, who, in 1821, published his recollections; but, as he had left the convention a few months after it began, his notes ceased with the 5th of July.

The world would thus have been for ever ignorant of the details of one of the most remarkable conventions in the annals of mankind had it not been that one of the ablest of their number, James Madison, regularly attended the sessions and kept notes from day to day of the debates. While he was not a stenographer, he had a gift for condensing a speech and fairly representing its substance. He jealously guarded his Journal of the Convention until his death. Its very existence was known to few. He died in 1836, and four years later the government purchased the manuscript from his widow. Then, for the first time, the curtain was measurably raised upon the proceedings of a convention which had created, as we now know, one of the greatest nations in history. Fifty-three years after the close of the convention, and when nearly every one of its participants were dead, Madison's Journal was first published.

When was a great secret better kept? Grateful as posterity must be for this inestimable gift of great human enterprise, yet even Madison's careful journal fills one with the deepest regret that this wonderful debate, which lasted for nearly four months between men of no ordinary ability, could not have been preserved to the world.

Two or three of the speeches which Madison gives in his Journal are complete, for when Doctor Franklin spoke he reduced his remarks to writing and gave a copy to Madison, but of the other speeches only a fragrant remains. Thus, that "admirable Crichton," Alexander Hamilton, addressed the convention in a speech that lasted five hours, in which he stated his philosophy of government, but of that only a short condensation, and possibly not even an accurate fragment, remains.

Without this extraordinary provision for secrecy, which is so opposed to modern democratic conventions, and which so little resembles the famous point as to "open covenants openly arrived at," the convention could not have accomplished its great work, for these wise men realized that a statesman cannot act wisely under the observation of a gallery, and especially when the gallery compels him by the pressure of public opinion to work as it directs. I recognize that public opinion--often temporarily uninformed but in the end generally right--does often save the democracies of the world from the selfish ends of self-seeking and misguided leadership; but, given noble and wise representatives, they work best when least influenced by the fleeting passions of the day.

It is evident that if the framers of the Constitution had met, as similar conventions have within recent years met at Versailles and Genoa, with the world as their gallery and with the representatives of the Press as an integral part of the conference, they would have accomplished nothing. The probability is that the convention would not have lasted a month if their immediate purpose had been to placate current opinion. It may be doubted whether such a convention, if called to-day, either in your country or mine, could achieve like results, for in this day of unlimited publicity, when men divide not as individuals but in powerful and organized groups, a constitutional convention would, I fear, prove a witches' cauldron of class legislation and demagoguery. Is it not possible that modern democracy is in danger of strangulation by its present-day methods and ideals? Again the words of Washington suggest themselves: "If, to please the people, we offer what we ourselves disapprove, how can we afterwards defend our work? Let us raise a standard to which the wise and just can repair."

Working with a sad sincerity and with despair in their hearts, this little band of men wrought a work of surpassing importance, and if they did not receive the immediate plaudits of the living generation, their shades can at least solace themselves with the reflection that posterity has acclaimed their work as one of the greatest political achievements of man.

The rules of order and the nature of the proceedings thus determined, the convention opened by an address by Mr. Randolph of Virginia, in which he submitted, in the form of fifteen points--nearly the number of the fatal fourteen--the outlines for a new government. He himself in his opening speech summarized the propositions by candidly confessing "that they were not intended for a federal government" (thereby meaning a mere league of States) but "a strong consolidated union." Upon this radical change the convention was to argue earnestly and at times bitterly for many a weary day. The plan provided for a national legislature of which the lower branch should be elected by the people and the upper branch by the lower branch upon the nomination of the legislatures of the States. This legislature should enjoy all the legislative rights given to the federation, and there followed the sweeping grant that it "could legislate in all cases to which the separate States are incompetent or in which the harmony of the United States may be interrupted by the exercise of individual legislation," with power "to negative all laws passed by the several States contravening in the opinion of the national legislature the Articles of the Union."

A national executive was proposed, together with a national judiciary, and these two bodies were given authority "to examine every act of the national legislature before it shall operate and every act of a particular legislature before a negative thereon shall be final." This marked an immense advance over the Articles of Confederation, under which there was no national executive or judiciary, and under which the legislature had no direct power over the citizens of the States, and could only impose duties upon the States themselves by the concurrence of nine of the thirteen.

Hardly had Mr. Randolph submitted the so-called Virginia plan when Charles Pinckney, of South Carolina, a young man of twenty-nine years of age, with the courage of youth submitted to the House a draft of the future federal government. Curiously enough, it did not differ in principle from the Virginia plan, but was more specific and concrete in stating the powers which the federal government should exercise, and many of its provisions were embodied in the final draft. Indeed, Pinckney's plan was the future Constitution of the United States in embryo; and when it is read and contrasted with the document which has so justly won the acclaim of men throughout the world, it is amazing that so young a man should have anticipated and reduced to a concrete and effective form many of the most novel features of the Federal Government. As the only copy of Pinckney's plan was furnished years afterwards to Madison for his journal, it is possible that some of its wisdom was of the _post factum_ variety.

Having received the two plans, the convention then went, on May 30, into a committee of the whole to consider the fifteen propositions in the Virginia plan _seriatim_. They wisely concluded to determine abstract ideas first and concrete forms later. Apparently for the time being little attention was paid to Pinckney's plan, and this may have been due to the hostile attitude of the older members of the convention to the presumption of his youth.

Then ensued a very remarkable debate on the immediate propositions and the principles of government which underlay them, which lasted for two weeks. On June 13 the committee rose. Even the fragments of this debate, which may well have been one of the most notable in history, indicate the care with which the members had studied governments of ancient and modern times. There were many points of difference, but chief of them, which nearly resulted in the collapse of the convention, was the inevitable difficulty which always arises in the formation of a league of States or an association of nations between the great and the little States.

The five larger States had a population that was nearly twice as great as the remaining eight States. Thus Virginia's population was nearly ten-fold as great as Georgia. Moreover, the States differed greatly in their material wealth and power. Nevertheless, all of them entered the convention as independent sovereign nations, and the smaller nations contended that the equality in suffrage and political power which prevailed in the convention (in which each State, large or small, voted as a unit), should and must be preserved in the future government. To this the larger States were quite unwilling to yield, and when the committee rose they reported, in substance, the Virginia plan, with the proviso that representation in the proposed double-chambered Congress should be "according to some equitable ratio of representation."

On June 15 the small States presented their draft, which was afterwards known as the New Jersey plan, because it was introduced by Mr. Patterson of that State. It only contemplated an amendment to the existing Constitution and an amplification of the powers of the impotent Confederation. Its chief advance over the existing government was that it provided for a federal executive and a federal judiciary, but otherwise the government remained a mere league of States, in which the central government could generally act only by the vote of nine States, and in which their power was exhausted when they requested the States to enforce the decrees. Its chief advance over the Articles of Confederation, in addition to the creation of an executive, was an assertion that the acts of Congress "shall be the supreme law of the respective States ... and that the judiciary of the several States shall be bound thereby in their decisions," and that "if any State or any body of men in any State shall oppose or prevent the carrying into execution of such acts or treaties the federal executive shall be authorized to call forth the power of the confederated States ... to enforce and compel obedience to such acts or an observance of such treaties."

While this was some advance toward a truly national government, it yet left the national executive dependent upon the constituent States, for if they failed to respond to the call above stated the national government had no direct power over their citizens.

The New Jersey plan precipitated a crisis, and thereafter, and for many days, the argument proceeded, only to increase in bitterness.

On June 18 Alexander Hamilton, who agreed with no one else, addressed the convention for the first time. He spoke for five hours and reviewed exhaustively the Virginia and New Jersey plans, and possibly the Pinckney draft. Even the fragment of the speech, as taken in long-hand by Madison, shows that it was a masterly argument. He stated his belief "that the British Government was the best in the world and that he doubted much whether anything short of it would do in America." He praised the British Constitution, quoting Monsieur Necker as saying that "it was the only government in the world which unites government strength with individual security." He analysed and explained your Constitution as it then was and advocated an elective monarchy in form though not in name. It is true that he called the executive a "governor" and not a king, but the governor, so-called, was to serve for life and was given not only "a negative on all laws about to be passed," but even the execution of all duly enacted laws was in his discretion. The governor, with the consent of the Senate, was to make war, conclude all treaties, make all appointments, pardon all offences, with the full power through his negative of saying what laws should be passed and which enforced. Hamilton's governor would have been not dissimilar to Louis XIV, and could have said with him, "_L'état, c'est moi_!" The Senate also served for life, and the only concession which Hamilton made to democracy was an elective house of representatives. Thinly veiled, his plan contemplated an elective king with greater powers than those of George III, an imitation House of Lords and a popular House of Commons with a limited tenure.

Hamilton's plan was never taken seriously and, so far as the records show, was never afterwards considered. His admirers have given great praise to his work in the federal convention. His real contribution lay in the fact that when the Constitution was finally drafted and offered to the people, while he regarded it as a "wretched makeshift," to use his own expression, yet he was broad and patriotic enough to surrender his own views and advocate the adoption of the Constitution. In so doing, he fought a valorous fight, secured the acquiescence of the State of New York, and without its ratification the Constitution would never have been adopted. Hamilton later thought better of the Constitution, and its successful beginning is due in large measure to his genius for constructive administration.

As the debate proceeded, the crisis precipitated by the seemingly insoluble differences between the great and little States became more acute. The smaller States contended that the convention was transgressing its powers, and they demanded that the credentials of the various members be read. In this there was technical accuracy, for the delegates had been appointed to revise the Articles of Confederation and not to adopt a new Constitution. A majority of the convention, however, insisted upon the convention proceeding with the consideration of a new Constitution, and their views prevailed. It speaks well for the honour of the delegates that although their differences became so acute as to lead at times to bitter expressions, neither side divulged them to the outside public. The smaller States could easily have ended the convention by an appeal to public opinion, which was not then prepared for a "consolidated union," but they were loyal enough to fight out their quarrels within the walls of the convention hall.

At times the debate became bitter in the extreme. James Wilson, a delegate of Pennsylvania and a Scotchman by birth and education, turning to the representatives of the little States, passionately said:

"Will you abandon a country to which you are bound by so many strong
and enduring ties? Should the event happen, it will neither stagger
my sentiments nor duty. If the minority of the people refuse to
coalesce with the majority on just and proper principles, if a
separation must take place, it could never happen on better
grounds."

He referred to the demand of the larger States that representation should be proportioned to the population. To this Bedford, of Delaware, as heatedly replied;

"We have been told with a dictatorial air that this is the last
moment for a fair trial in favour of good government. It will be the
last, indeed, if the propositions reported by the committee go forth
to the people. The large States dare not dissolve the convention. If
they do, the small ones will find some foreign ally of more honour
and good faith, who will take them by the hand and do them justice."

Finally, the smaller States gave their ultimatum to the larger States that unless representation in both branches of the proposed legislature should be on the basis of equality--each State, whether large or small, having one vote--they would forthwith leave the convention. An eye-witness says that, at that moment, Washington, who was in the chair, gave old Doctor Franklin a significant look. Franklin arose and moved an adjournment for forty-eight hours, with the understanding that the delegates should confer with those with whom they disagreed rather than with those with whom they agreed.

A recess was taken, and when the convention re-convened on July 2, a vote was taken as to equality of representation in the Senate and resulted in a tie vote. It was then decided to appoint a committee of eleven, one from each State, to consider the question, and this committee reported three days later, on July 5, in favour of proportionate representation in the House and equal representation in the Senate. This suggestion, which finally saved the situation, was due to that wise old utilitarian philosopher, Franklin. Again, a vehement and passionate debate followed. Vague references were made to the sword as the only method of solving the difference.

On July 9 the committee again reported, maintaining the principle of their recommendation, while modifying its details, and the debate then turned upon the question to what extent the negro slaves should count in estimating population for the purposes of proportionate representation in the lower House. Various suggestions were made to base representation upon wealth or taxation and not upon population. For several days the debate lasted during very heated weather, but on the night of July 12 the temperature dropped and with it the emotional temperature of the delegates.

Some days previous, namely, June 28, when the debates were becoming so bitter that it seemed unlikely that the convention could continue, Doctor Franklin, erroneously supposed by many to be an atheist, made the following solemn and beautiful appeal to their better natures. He said:

"The small progress we have made after four or five weeks' close
attendance and continual reasonings with each other--our different
sentiments on almost every question, several of the last producing
as many noes as ayes, is, methinks, a melancholy proof of the
imperfection of the human understanding. We indeed seem to feel our
own want of political wisdom, since we have been running about in
search of it. We have gone back to ancient history for models of
government, and examined the different forms of those Republics
which, having been formed with the seeds of their own dissolution,
now no longer exist. And we have viewed modern States all around
Europe, but find none of their constitutions suitable to our
circumstances.

"In this situation of this Assembly, groping as it were in the dark
to find political truth, and scarce able to distinguish it when
presented to us, how has it happened, sir, that we have not hitherto
once thought of humbly applying to the Father of Lights to
illuminate our understandings?... And have we now forgotten that
powerful Friend or do we imagine that we no longer need His
assistance? I have lived, sir, a long time, and the longer I live,
the more convincing proofs I see of this truth: That _God governs in
the affairs of men_. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground
without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without
His aid? We have been assured, sir, in the sacred writings, that
'except the Lord build the House they labour in vain that build it.'
I firmly believe this; and I also believe that without His
concurring aid we shall succeed in this political building no better
than the builders of Babel. We shall be divided by our little
partial local interests; our projects will be confounded, and we
ourselves shall become a reproach and byword down to future ages.
And what is worse, mankind may hereafter from this unfortunate
instance, despair of establishing governments by human wisdom and
leave it to chance, war, and conquest.

"I therefore beg leave to move that henceforth prayers imploring the
assistance of Heaven, and its blessings on our deliberations, be
held in this Assembly every morning before we proceed to business,
and that one or more of the clergy of this city be requested to
officiate in that service."

It may surprise my audience to know the sequel. The resolution was voted down, partly on the ground that if it became known to the public that the convention had finally resorted to prayers it might cause undue alarm, but also because the convention was by that time so low in funds that, as one of the members said, it did not have enough money to pay a clergyman his fees for the service. I suspect that their controlling reason was their indisposition to break their self-imposed rule of secrecy by contact with the outer world until their work was completed. Perhaps they thought that "God helps those who help themselves."

On July 16 the compromise was finally adopted of recognizing the claims of the larger States to proportionate representation in the House of Representatives, and recognizing the claims of the smaller States by according to them equal representation in the Senate. This great result was not effected without the first break in the convention, for the delegates from New York left in disgust and never returned, with the exception of Hamilton, who occasionally attended subsequent sessions. Such was the great concession that was made to secure the Constitution; and the only respect in which the Constitution to-day cannot be amended is that by express provision the equality of representation in the Senate shall never be disturbed. Thus it is that to-day some States, which have less population than some of the wards in the city of New York, have as many votes in the Senate as the great State of New York. It is unquestionably a palpable negation of majority rule, for as no measure can become a law without the concurrence of the Senate--now numbering ninety-six Senators--a combination of the little States, whoso aggregate population is not a fifth of the American people, can defeat the will of the remaining four-fifths. Pennsylvania and New York, with nearly one-sixth of the entire population of the United States, have only four votes in ninety-six votes in the Senate.

Fortunately, political alignments have rarely been between the greater and the smaller States exclusively. Their equality in the Senate was a big price to pay for the Union, but, as the event has shown, not too great.

The convention next turned its attention to the Executive and the manner of its selection, and upon this point there was the widest contrariety of view, but, fortunately, without the acute feeling that the relative power of the States had occasioned.

Then the judiciary article was taken up, and there was much earnest discussion as to whether the new Constitution should embody the French idea of giving to the judiciary, in conjunction with the Executive, a revisory power over legislation. Three times the convention voted upon this dangerous proposition, and on one occasion it was only defeated by a single vote. Fortunately, the good sense of the convention rejected a proposition, that had caused in France constant conflicts between the Executive and the Judiciary, by substituting the right of the President to veto congressional legislation, with the right of Congress, by a two-thirds vote of each House, to override the veto, and secondly by an implied power in the Judiciary to annul Congressional or State legislation, not on the grounds of policy, but on the sole ground of inconsistency with the paramount law of the Constitution. In this adjustment, the influence of Montesquieu was evident.

These and many practical details had resulted in an expansion of the fifteen proposals of the Virginia plan to twenty-three.

Having thus determined the general principles that should guide them in their labours, the convention, on July 26 appointed a Committee on Detail to embody these propositions in the formal draft of a Constitution and adjourned until August 6 to await its report. That report, when finally completed, covered seven folio pages, and was found to consist of a Preamble and twenty-three Articles, embodying forty-three sections. The draft did not slavishly follow the Virginia propositions, for the committee embodied some valuable suggestions which had occurred to them in their deliberations. Nevertheless, it substantially put the Virginia plan into a workable plan which proved to be the Constitution of the United States in embryo.

When the committee on detail had made its report on August 6, the convention proceeded for over a month to debate it with the most minute care. Every day for five weeks, for five hours each day, the members studied and debated with meticulous care every sentence of the proposed Constitution. Time does not suffice even for the barest statement of the many interesting questions which were thus discussed, but they nearly ran the whole gamut of constitutional government. Many fanciful ideas were suggested but with unvarying good sense they were rejected. Some of the results were, under the circumstances, curious. For example, although it was a convention of comparatively young men, and although the convention could have taken into account the many successful young men in public life in Europe--as, for example, William Pitt--they put a disqualification upon age by providing that a Representative must be twenty-five years of age, a Senator thirty years of age, and a President thirty-five years of age. When it was suggested that young men could learn by admission to public life, the sententious reply was made that, while they could, they ought not to have their education at the public expense.

The debates proceeded, however, in better temper, and almost the only question that again gave rise to passionate argument was that of slavery. The extreme Southern States declared that they would never accept the new plan "except the right to import slaves be untouched." This question was finally compromised by agreeing that the importation of slaves should end after the year 1808. It however left the slave population then existing in a state of bondage, and for this necessary compromise the nation seventy-five years later was to pay dearly by one of the most destructive civil wars in the annals of mankind.

August was now drawing to a close. The convention had been in session for more than three months. Of its work the public knew nothing, and this notwithstanding the acute interest which the American people, not merely facing the peril of anarchy, but actually suffering from it, must have taken in the convention. Its vital importance was not under-estimated. While its builders, like all master builders, did "build better than they knew," yet it cannot be said that they under-estimated the importance of their labours. As one of their number, Gouveneur Morris said: "The whole human race will be affected by the proceedings of this convention." After it adjourned one of its greatest participants, James Wilson, of Pennsylvania, said:

"After the lapse of six thousand years since the creation of the
world, America now presents the first instance of a people assembled
to say deliberately and calmly and to decide leisurely and peaceably
on the form of government by which they will bind themselves and
their posterity."

In the absence of any authentic information, the rumour spread through the colonies that the convention was about to reconstitute a monarchy by inviting the second son of George III, the Bishop of Osnaburg, to be King of the United States; and these rumours became so persistent as to evoke from the silent convention a semi-official denial. There is some reason to believe that a minority of the convention did see in the restoration of a constitutional monarchy the only solution of the problem.

On September 8 the committee had finally considered and, after modifications, approved the draft of the Committee on Detail, and a new committee was thereupon appointed "to revise the style of and arrange the articles that had been agreed to by the House." This committee was one of exceptional strength. There were Dr. William Samuel Johnson, a graduate of Oxford and a friend of his great namesake, Samuel Johnson; Alexander Hamilton, Gouveneur Morris, a brilliant mind with an unusual gift for lucid expression; James Madison, a true scholar in politics, and Rufus King, an orator who, in the inflated language of the day, "was ranked among the luminaries of the present age."

The convention then adjourned to await the final revision of the draft by the Committee on Style.

On September 12 the committee reported. While it is not certain, it is believed that its work was largely that of Gouveneur Morris.

September 13 the printed copies of the report of the Committee on Style were ready, and three more days were spent by the convention in carefully comparing each article and section of this final draft.

On September 15 the work of drafting the Constitution was regarded as ended, and it was adopted and ordered to be engrossed for signing.

It may be interesting at this point to give the result of their labours as measured in words, and if the framers of the Constitution deserve the plaudits of posterity in no other respect they do in the remarkable self-restraint which those results revealed.

The convention had been in session for 81 continuous days. Probably they had consumed over 300 hours in debate. If their debates had been fully reported, they would probably have filled at least fifty volumes, and yet the net result of their labours consisted of about 4,000 words, 89 sentences, and about 140 distinct provisions. As the late Lord Bryce, speaking in this age of unbridled expression, both oral and printed, so well has said:

"The Constitution of the United States, including the amendments,
may be read aloud in twenty-three minutes. It is about half as long
as Saint Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians, and one-fourth as long
as the Irish Land Act of 1881. History knows few instruments which
in so few words lay down equally momentous rules on a vast range of
matters of the highest importance and complexity."

Even including the nineteen amendments, the Constitution, after one hundred and thirty-five years of development, does not exceed 7,000 words. What admirable self-restraint! Possibly single opinions of the Supreme Court could be cited which are as long as the whole document of which they are interpreting a single phrase. This does not argue that the Constitution is an obscure document, for it would be difficult to cite any political document in the annals of mankind that was so simple and lucid in expression. There is nothing Johnsonese about its style. Every word is a word of plain speech, the ordinary meaning of which even the man in the street knows. No tautology is to be found and no attempt at ornate expression. It is a model of simplicity, and as it flows through the reaches of history it will always excite the admiration of those who love clarity and not rhetorical excesses. One can say of it as Horace said of his favourite Spring:

_O, fons Bandusiae, splendidior vitro.
Dulce digne mero, non sine floribus_.

If I be asked why, if this be true, it has required many lengthy opinions of the Supreme Court in the 256 volumes of its Reports to interpret its meaning, the answer is that, as with the simple sayings of the great Galilean, whose words have likewise been the subject of unending commentary, the question is not one of clarity but of adaptation of the meaning to the ever-changing conditions of human life. Moreover, as with the sayings of the Master or the unequalled verse of Shakespeare, questions of construction are more due to the commentators than to the text itself.

On September 17 the convention met for the last time. The document was engrossed and laid before the members for signature. Of the fifty-five members who had attended, only thirty-nine remained. Of those, a number were unwilling to sign as individuals. While the members had not been unconscious of the magnitude of their labours, they were quite insensible of the magnitude of their achievement. Few there were of the convention who were enthusiastic about this result. Indeed, as the document was ready for signature, it became a grave question whether the remnant which remained had sufficient faith in their own work to subscribe their names, and if they failed to do so its adoption by the people would have been impossible. It was then that Doctor Franklin rendered one of the last and greatest services of his life. With ingratiating wit and with all the impressiveness that his distinguished career inspired, Franklin thus spoke:

"I confess that there are several parts of this Constitution which I
do not at present approve, but I am not sure I shall never approve
them. For having lived long I have experienced many instances of
being obliged by better information or fuller consideration, to
change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought
right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I
grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment and to pay more
respect to the judgment of others. Most men indeed as well as most
sects in religion think themselves in possession of all truth, and
that wherever others differ from them it is so far error. Steele, a
Protestant, in a dedication tells the Pope that the only difference
between our Churches in their opinions of the certainty of their
doctrines is, the Church of Rome is infallible and the Church of
England is never in the wrong. But though many private persons think
almost as highly of their own infallibility as of that of their
sect, few express it so naturally as a certain French lady, who in a
dispute with her sister, said: 'I don't know how it happens, sister,
but I meet with nobody but myself that's always in the right.'--_Il
n'y a que moi qui a toujours raison_.

"In these sentiments, sir, I agree to this Constitution with all
its faults, if they are such; because I think a general government
necessary for us, and there is no form of government but what may be
a blessing to the people, if well administered, and I believe
further that this is likely to be well administered for a course of
years, and can only end in despotism as other forms have done before
it, when the people shall become so corrupted as to need despotic
government, being incapable of any other. I doubt, too, whether any
other convention we can obtain may be able to make a better
Constitution. For when you assemble a number of men to have the
advantage of their joint wisdom you inevitably assemble with those
men all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion,
their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an
assembly can a perfect production be expected? It therefore
astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to
perfection as it does.... Thus, I consent, sir, to this Constitution
because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that it is not
the best. The opinions I have had of its errors I sacrifice to the
public good, I have never whispered a syllable of them abroad.
Within these walls they were born and here they shall die. If every
one of us in returning to our constituents were to report the
objections he has had to it and endeavour to gain partisans in
support of them, we might prevent its being generally received, and
thereby lost all the salutary effects and great advantages resulting
naturally in our favour among foreign nations as well as among
ourselves from our real or apparent unanimity.

"On the whole, sir, I cannot help expressing a wish that every
member of the convention who may still have objections to it, would
with me, on this occasion doubt a little of his own
infallibility--and to make manifest our unanimity, put his name to
this instrument."

Truly this spirit of Doctor Franklin could be profitably invoked in this day and generation, when nations are so intolerant of the ideas of other nations.

As the members, moved by Franklin's humorous and yet moving appeal, came forward to subscribe their names, Franklin drew the attention of some of the members to the fact that on the back of the President's chair was the half disk of a sun, and, with his love of metaphor, he said that painters had often found it difficult to distinguish in their art a rising from a setting sun. He then prophetically added:

"I have often and often in the course of the sessions and the
vicissitudes of my hopes and fears in its issues, looked at that
behind the President without being able to tell whether it was
rising or setting. But now at length I have the happiness to know
that it is a rising and not a setting sun."