Still, the political troubles of England gave rise to many theoretical discussions of natural right, and of the origin and structure of society. As soon as Charles the First was executed, this discussion arose abroad, from his friends, who wrote, or influenced others to write, in defence of the divine right of kings. Hobbes and Filmer followed, in England, on the same side, and Milton, Locke, and Algernon Sidney vindicated the natural and inalienable rights of the subject and the citizen. In the works of these great writers, the foundations of society are examined with an acuteness which has left little to be done in the merely speculative part of political inquiry. But the practical effect of their theories never went farther than the promotion, to a greater or less extent, of the particular views which they desired to inculcate concerning the existing constitution, or the particular events out of which the discussions arose.
Nor should we forget what had been done in France, by the wise and cautious Montesquieu, or by the vehement and passionate Rousseau, and the writers of his school. The former, drawing all his views from history and experience, undertook to show, from the antecedents of each state, the character of its constitution, to explain and develop its peculiar properties, and thence to determine the principles on which its legislation should proceed. The latter, starting from an entirely opposite point, and designing to write a treatise on Politics in the widest sense of the term, became a mere theorist, and produced only certain brilliant speculations upon the social compact, of a purely democratic character, as fragments of a work which he never finished. The crowd of writers, too, who preceded, and in part created the French Revolution, which was just commencing its destructive activity as our Constitution was formed, really contributed nothing of practical value to the solution of such great questions as the mode of forming, vesting, and distributing the various branches of sovereign power.
Thus there was little for American statesmen of that day to look to, in the way of theories which had been practically proved to be sound and useful. The constitution of England, it is true, presented to them certain great maxims, the application of which was not unsuited to the circumstances and habits of a people whose laws and institutions had been derived from their English ancestors and their English blood. But the constitution of England, embracing the three estates of King, Lords, and Commons, had become what it was, only by the extortion from the crown of the rights and privileges of the two orders of the people. The American Revolution, on the other hand, had settled, as the fundamental principle of American society, that all sovereignty resides originally in the people; that they derive no rights by way of grant from any other source; and consequently, that no powers or privileges can exist in any portion of the people as distinct from the whole. The English constitution could, therefore, furnish only occasional analogies for particular details in the structure of departments, which might after all really require to be founded on different fundamental principles. But the great problem to be solved—for which English experience was of no value—was, so to parcel out those portions of original sovereignty, which the people of the States might be willing to withdraw from their State institutions, as to constitute an efficient federal republic, which yet would not control and absorb the powers that might be reserved. But to comprehend the results that were accomplished, and to understand the true nature of the system bequeathed to us, it is indispensable to examine in detail the means and processes by which it was formed. Before we turn, however, to this great subject, the characters of the principal framers of the Constitution demand our attention.
CHAPTER VII.
The Framers of the Constitution.—Washington, President of the Convention.
The narrative to which the reader has thus far attended must now be interrupted for a while, that he may pause upon the threshold of an assembly which had been summoned to the grave task of remodelling the constitution of this country, and here consider the names and characters of the men to whom its responsible labors had been intrusted. The civil deeds of statesmen and lawgivers, in establishing and forming institutions, incorporating principles into the forms of public administration, and setting up the defences of public security and prosperity, are far less apt to attract and hold the attention of mankind, than the achievements of military life. The name, indeed, may be for ever associated with the work of the hand; but the mass of mankind do not study, admire, or repeat the deeds of the lawgiver, as they do those of the hero. Yet he who has framed a law, or fashioned an institution in which some great idea is made practical to the conditions of human existence, has exercised the highest attributes of human reason, and is to be counted among the benefactors of his race.
The framers of the Constitution of the United States assembled for their work amidst difficulties and embarrassments of an extraordinary nature. No general concert of opinion had taken place as to what was best, or even as to what was possible to be done. Whether it were wise to hold a convention, whether it were even legal to hold it, and whether, if held, it would be likely to result in any thing useful to the country, were points upon which the most opposite opinions prevailed in every State of the Union. But it was among the really fortunate, although apparently unhappy, circumstances under which they were assembled, that the country had experienced much trial, suffering, distress, and failure. It has been a disagreeable duty to describe the disasters and errors of a period during which the national character was subjected to the discipline of adversity. We now come to the period of compensation which such discipline inevitably brings.
There is a law of the moral government of the universe, which ordains that all that is great and valuable and permanent in character must be the result, not of theoretical teaching, or natural aspiration,—of spontaneous resolve, or uninterrupted success,—but of trial, of suffering, of the fiery furnace of temptation, of the dark hours of disappointment and defeat. The character of the man is distinguishable from the character of the child that he once was, chiefly by the effects of this universal law. There are the same natural impulses, the same mental, moral, and physical constitution, with which he was born into the world. What is it that has given him the strength, the fortitude, the unchanging principle, and the moral and intellectual power, which he exhibits in after years? It has not been constant pleasure and success, nor unmingled joy. It has been the hard discipline of pain and sorrow, the stern teachings of experience, the struggle against the consequences of his own errors, and the chastisement inflicted by his own faults.
This law pertains to all human things. It is as clearly traceable in its application to the character of a people, as to that of an individual; and as the institutions of a people, when voluntarily formed by them out of the circumstances of their condition, are necessarily the result of the previous discipline and the past teachings of their career, we can trace this law also in the creation and growth of what is most valuable in their institutions. When we have so traced it, the unalterable relations of the moral universe entitle us to look for the elements of greatness and strength in whatever has been the product of such teachings, such discipline, and such trials.
The Constitution of the United States was eminently the creature of circumstances;—not of circumstances blindly leading the blind to an unconscious submission to an accident, but of circumstances which offered an intelligent choice of the means of happiness, and opened, from the experience of the past, the plain path of duty and success, stretching onward to the future. All that has been said in the previous chapters tends to illustrate this fact. We have seen the American people,—divided into separate and isolated communities, without nationality, except such as resulted from a general community of origin,—undertaking together the work of throwing off the domination of their parent state. We have seen them enter upon this undertaking without forming any political bond of a national character, and without instituting any proper national agency. We have seen, that the first government which they created was, practically, a mere general council for the recommendation of measures to be adopted and executed by the several constituencies represented. We have seen no machinery instituted for the accomplishment, by the combined authority of these separate communities, of the great objects at which they were aiming; and although in theory the Revolutionary Congress would have been entitled to assume and exercise the powers necessary to accomplish the objects for which it was assembled, we have seen that the people of the country, from a jealous and unreasonable fear of all power, would not permit this to be done.
The consequences of this want of power were inevitable. An army could not be kept in the field, on a permanent footing, capable of holding the enemy in check. The city of New York fell into the hands of that enemy, the intermediate country between that city and the city of Philadelphia was overrun, and from the latter capital, the seat of the general government, the Congress was obliged to fly before the invading foe.
Taught by these events that a more effective union was necessary to the deliverance of the country from a foreign yoke, the States at length united in the establishment of a government, the leading purpose of which was mutual defence against external attacks, and called it a Confederation. But its powers were so restricted, and its operations so clogged and impeded by State jealousies and State reservations of power, that it lacked entirely the means of providing the sinews of war out of the resources of the country, and was driven to foreign loans and foreign arms for the means of bringing that war to a close. A vast load of debt was thus accumulated upon the country; and, as soon as peace was established, it became apparent, that, while the Confederation was a government with the power of contracting debts, it was without the power of paying them. This incapacity revealed the existence of great objects of government, without which the people of the several States could never prosper, and which, in their separate capacities, the States themselves could never accomplish.
Now it is as certain as history can make any thing, that the whole period, from the commencement of the war to the end of the Confederation, was a period of great suffering to the people of the United States. The trials and hardships of war were succeeded by the greater trials and hardships of a time of peace, in which the whole nation experienced that greatest of all social evils, the want of an efficient and competent government. There was a gloom upon the minds of men,—a sense of insecurity,—a consciousness that American society was not fulfilling the ends of its being by the development of its resources and the discharge of its obligations,—which constituted altogether a discipline and a chastisement of the whole nation, and which we are not at liberty to regard as the mere accidents of a world ungoverned by an overruling Power.
It was from the midst of that discipline that the American people came to the high undertaking of forming for themselves a constitution, by which to work out the destiny of social life in this Western World. Had they essayed their task after years of prosperity, and after old institutions and old forms of government had, upon the whole, yielded a fair amount of success and happiness, they would have wanted that power which comes only from failure and disappointment,—the power to adapt the best remedy to the deepest social defects, and to lay hold on the future with the strength given by the hard teachings of the past.
Civil liberty,—American liberty,—that liberty which resides in law, which is protected by great institutions and upheld by the machinery of a popular government,—is not simply the product of a desire, or a determination, to be free. Such liberty comes, if it comes at all, only after serious mistakes,—after frightful deficiencies have taught men that power must be lodged somewhere. It comes when a people have learned, by adversity and disappointment, that a total negation of all authority, and a jealousy of all restraint, can end only in leaving society without the defences and securities which nothing but law can raise for it. It comes when the passions are exhausted, and the rivalries of opposing interests have worn themselves out, in the vain endeavor to reach what reason and justice and self-sacrifice alone can procure. Then, and then only, is the intellect of a nation sure to operate with the fidelity and energy of its native power. Then only does it grasp the principles of freedom with the ability to incorporate them into the practical forms of a public administration whose strength and energy shall give them vitality, and prevent their diffusion into the vagueness of mere abstractions, which return to society the cold and mocking gift of a stone for its craving demand of bread.
The Convention was a body of great and disinterested men, competent, both morally and intellectually to the work assigned them. High qualities of character are requisite to the formation of a system of government for a wide country with different interests. Mere talent will not do it. Intellectual power and ingenuity alone cannot compass it.
There must be a moral completeness in the characters of those who are to achieve such a work; for it does not consist solely in devising schemes, or creating offices, or parcelling out jurisdictions and powers. There must be adaptation, adjustment of conflicting interests, reconciliation of conflicting claims. There must be the recognition and admission of great expedients, and the sacrifice, often, of darling objects of ambition, or of local policy, to the vast central purpose of the greatest happiness of the greatest number. Hence it is, that, wherever this mighty work is to be successfully accomplished, there must be a high sense of justice; a power of concession; the qualities of magnanimity and patriotism; and that broad moral sanity of the intellect, which is farthest removed from fanaticism, intolerance, or selfish adhesion either to interest or to opinion.
These qualities were preëminently displayed by many of the framers of the Constitution. There was certainly a remarkable amount of talent and intellectual power in that body. There were men in that assembly, whom, for genius in statesmanship, and for profound speculation in all that relates to the science of government, the world has never seen overmatched.
But the same men, who were most conspicuous for these brilliant gifts and acquirements, for their profound theories and their acute perception of principles, were happily the most marked, in that assembly, for their comprehensive patriotism, their justice, their unselfishness and magnanimity. Take, for instance, Hamilton. Where, among all the speculative philosophers in political science whom the world has seen, shall we find a man of greater acuteness of intellect, or more capable of devising a scheme of government which should appear theoretically perfect? Yet Hamilton's unquestionable genius for political disquisition and construction was directed and restrained by a noble generosity, and an unerring perception of the practicable and the expedient, which enabled him to serve mankind without attempting to force them to his own plans, and without compelling them into his own views. Take Washington, whose peculiar greatness was a moral elevation, which secured the wisest and best use of all his powers in either civil or military life. Take Madison, who certainly lacked neither ability nor inclination for speculative inquiries, and who had a mind capable of enforcing the application of whatever principles he espoused. Yet his calm good sense, and the tact with which he could adapt theory to practice, were no less among his prominent characteristics. Take Franklin, who sometimes held extreme opinions, and occasionally pushed his peculiar fancies, springing from an excess of worldly wisdom, to the utmost verge of truth, but whose intellect was tempered, and whose whole character was softened, by the wide and varied experience of a life that had been commenced in obscurity, and was now closing with the honors of a reputation that filled the Eastern as well as the Western hemisphere. Take Gouverneur Morris, who was ardent, impulsive, and not disinclined to tenacity of opinion; but he rose above all local and narrow objects, and embraced, in the scope of his clear and penetrating vision, the happiness and welfare of this whole continent.
It was a most fortunate thing for America, that the Revolutionary age, with its hardships, its trials, and its mistakes, had formed a body of statesmen capable of framing for it a durable constitution. The leading persons in the Convention which formed the Constitution had been actors, either in civil or military life, in the scenes of the Revolution. In those scenes their characters as American statesmen had been formed. When the condition of the country had fully revealed the incapacity of its government to provide for its wants, these men were naturally looked to, to construct a system which should save it from anarchy. And their great capacities, their high, disinterested purposes, their freedom from all fanaticism and illiberality, and their earnest, unconquerable faith in the destiny of their country, enabled them to found that government, which now upholds and protects the whole fabric of liberty in the States of this Union.
Of course no such assembly, in that or in any other age, in this or in any other country, could be called together for such a purpose, without exhibiting a great diversity of opinions, wishes, and views. The very object for which they were assembled was of a nature to develop, to the fullest extent, the most conflicting opinions and the most opposite theories. That object was to devise a system which should best secure the permanent liberty and happiness of a vast country. What subject, in the whole range of human thought and human endeavor, could be more complex than this? What occasion, among all the diversities of human affairs, could present a wider field for honest differences of opinion, and for severe conflicts of mind with mind? Yet it should never be forgotten, as the merit of this assembly, that, collectively and individually, they were animated by the most pure and exclusive devotion to the object for which they were called together. It was this high patriotism, this deep and never-ceasing consciousness that the great experiment of republican liberty turned on the result of their labors, as on the hazard of a die, that brought at last all conflicts of interest, all diversities of opinion and feeling, into a focus of conciliation and unanimity. More than once the reader will find them on the point of separating without having accomplished any thing; and more than once he will see them recalled to their mighty task by the eloquence of some master-spirit, who knew how to touch the key-note of that patriotic feeling, which was never wholly lost in the jarring discords of debate and intellectual strife. For four months the laborious effort went on. The serene and unchanging presence of Washington presided over all. The chivalrous sincerity and disinterestedness of Hamilton pervaded the assembly with all the power of his fascinating manners. The flashing eloquence of Gouverneur Morris recalled the dangers of anarchy, which must be accepted as the alternative of an abortive experiment. The calm, clear, statesmanlike views of Madison, the searching and profound expositions of King, the prudent influence of Franklin, at length ruled the hour.
In examining their work, and in reading all that is left to us of their discussions, we are to consider the materials out of which they had to frame a system of republican liberty, and the point of view, in reference to the whole subject, at which they stood. We are to remember how little the world had then seen of real liberty united with personal safety and public security; and how entirely novel the undertaking was, to form a complete system of government, wholly independent on tradition, exactly defined in a written constitution, to be created at once, and at once set in motion, for the accomplishment of the great objects of human liberty and social progress. The examples of Greece and Rome, the modern republics of Italy, the federal relations of the Swiss Cantons, and the distant approach to republicanism that had been seen in Holland, might be resorted to for occasional and meagre illustrations of a few general principles. But, unquestionably, the country which, up to that moment, had exhibited, by the working of its government, the greatest amount of liberty combined with the greatest public security, was England. England, however, was a monarchy; and monarchy was the system which they both desired, and were obliged, to avoid. If it was within the range of human possibility to establish a system of republican government, which would fulfil its appropriate duties, over this vast and rapidly extending country, that they felt, one and all, to be their great task. On the other hand, they knew that, if to that form they could not succeed in giving due stability and wisdom, it would be, in the words of Hamilton, "disgraced and lost among ourselves, disgraced and lost to mankind for ever."[389] Here was their trial,—the difficulty of all their difficulties; and it was here that they exhibited a wisdom, a courage, and a capacity, which have been surpassed by no other body of lawgivers ever assembled in the world.
Their country had, a few years before, passed through a long and distressing war with its parent state. The yoke of her domination had been thrown off, and its removal was naturally followed by a loosening of the bands of all authority, and an indisposition to all new restraints. The American Colonies had become independent States; and as the spirit of liberty which pervaded them made individuals impatient of control in their political relations, so the States reflected the same spirit in their corporate conduct, and looked with jealousy and distrust upon all powers which were not to be exercised by themselves. Yet it was clear that there were powers and functions of government, which, for the absolute safety of the country, must be withdrawn from the States, and vested in some national head, which should hold and exercise them in the name of the whole, for the good of the whole. The great question was, what that national head was to be; and the great service performed by the framers of the Constitution consisted in devising a system by which a national sovereignty might be endowed with energy, dignity, and power, and the forms and substance of popular liberty still be preserved; a system by which a supreme authority in all the matters which it touched might be created, resting directly on the popular will, and to be exercised, in all coming time, through forms and institutions under which that will should have a direct and perpetual and perpetually renewed expression. This they accomplished. They accomplished it, too, without abolishing the State governments, and without impairing a single personal right which existed before they began their work. They accomplished it without violence; without the disruption of a single fibre in that whole delicate tissue of which society is made up. No drop of blood was shed to establish this government, the work of their hands; and no moment of interruption occurred to the calm, even tenor of the pursuits of men,—the daily on-goings of society, in which the stream of human life and happiness and progress flows on in beneficence and peace.
First upon the list of those who had been called together for this great purpose, we are to mention him, without whose presence and countenance all men felt that no attempt to meliorate the political condition of the country could succeed.
I have already given an account of the proceedings which led directly to the calling of the Convention; and have mentioned the interesting fact, that the impulse to those proceedings was given at Mount Vernon. Thither General Washington had retired, at the close of the war, with no thought of ever engaging again in public affairs. He supposed that for him the scene was closed. "The noontide of life," said he, in a letter to the Marchioness de Lafayette, "is now past, with Mrs. Washington and myself; and all we have to do is to glide gently down a stream which no human effort can ascend."[390]
But wise and far-seeing as he was, he did not foresee how soon he was to be called from that grave and sweet tranquillity. He was busy with the concerns of his farm; he was tasting the happiness of home, from which he had been absent nine long years; he was "cultivating the affections of good men, and practising the domestic virtues." But it was not in his nature to be inattentive to the concerns of that country for whose welfare he had labored and suffered so much. He maintained an active correspondence with several of the most eminent and virtuous of his compatriots in different parts of the Union; and in that correspondence, running through the years 1784, 1785, and 1786, there exists the most ample evidence of the downward tendency of things, and of the fears it excited.
It had become evident to him that we never should establish a national character, nor be justly considered and respected by the nations of Europe, without enlarging the powers of the federal government for the regulation of commerce. The objection which had been hitherto urged, that some States might be more benefited than others by a commercial regulation, seemed to him to apply to every matter of general utility. "We are," said he, writing in the summer of 1785, "either a united people under one head, and for federal purposes, or we are thirteen independent sovereignties eternally counteracting each other. If the former, whatever such a majority of the States as the constitution points out conceives to be for the benefit of the whole, should, in my humble opinion, be submitted to by the minority. Let the Southern States always be represented; let them act more in union; let them declare freely and boldly what is for the interest of, and what is prejudicial to, their constituents; and there will, there must be, an accommodating spirit. In the establishment of a navigation act, this, in a particular manner, ought and will doubtless be attended to. If the assent of nine States, or, as some propose, of eleven, is necessary to give validity to a commercial system, it insures this measure, or it cannot be obtained.
"Wherein, then, lies the danger? But if your fears are in danger of being realized, cannot certain provisos in the ordinance guard against the evil? I see no difficulty in this, if the Southern delegates would give their attendance in Congress, and follow the example, if it should be set them, of adhering together to counteract combination. I confess to you candidly, that I can foresee no evil greater than disunion; than those unreasonable jealousies (I say unreasonable, because I would have a proper jealousy always awake, and the United States on the watch to prevent individual States from infracting the constitution with impunity) which are continually poisoning our minds and filling them with imaginary evils for the prevention of real ones."[391]
But, while he desired to see the ninth article of the Confederation so amended and extended as to give adequate commercial powers, he feared that it would be of little avail to give them to the existing Congress. The members of that body seemed to him to be so much afraid of exerting the powers which they already possessed, that they lost no opportunity of surrendering them, or of referring their exercise to the individual States. The speculative question, whether foreign commerce is of any real advantage to a country, he regarded as of no importance, convinced that the spirit of trade which pervaded these States was not to be restrained. It behooved us, therefore, to establish just principles of commercial regulation, and this could not, any more than other matters of national concern, be done by thirteen heads differently constructed and organized. The necessity, in fact, of a controlling power was obvious, and why it should be withheld was, he declared, beyond his comprehension. With these views, he looked to the Convention at Annapolis as likely to result in a plan which would give to the federal government efficient powers for all commercial purposes, although he regretted that more objects had not been embraced in the project for the meeting.
The failure of this attempt to enlarge the commercial powers of Congress, and the recommendation of a general convention made by the Annapolis commissioners, placed the country in an extremely delicate situation. Washington thought, when this recommendation was announced, that the people were not then sufficiently misled to retract their error, and entertained some doubt as to the consequences of an attempt to revise and amend the Articles of Confederation. Something, however, must be done, he said, or the fabric which was certainly tottering, would inevitably fall. "I think," said he, "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 really mortifying; but virtue, I fear, has in a great degree taken its departure from our land, and the want of a disposition to do justice is the source of the national embarrassments; for, whatever guise or color is given to them, this I apprehend is the origin of the evils we now feel, and probably shall labor under for some time yet."[392]
At this time the legislature of Virginia were acting upon the subject of a delegation to the Federal Convention, and a general wish was felt to place Washington at the head of it. No opposition had been made in that body to the bill introduced for the purpose of organizing and instructing such a delegation, and it was thought advisable to give the proceeding all the weight which could be derived from a single State. To a private intimation of this desire of the legislature he returned a decided refusal. Several obstacles appeared to him to put his attendance out of the question. The principal reason that he assigned was, that he had already declined a re-election as President of the Society of the Cincinnati, and had signified that he should not attend their triennial general meeting, to be held in Philadelphia in the same month with the Convention.[393] He felt a great reluctance to do any thing which might give offence to those patriotic men, the officers of the army who had shared with him the labors and dangers of the war. He had declined to act longer with that Society, because the motives and objects of its founders had been misconceived and misrepresented. Originally a charitable institution, it had come to be regarded as anti-republican in its spirit and tendencies. Desiring, on the one hand, to avoid the charge of deserting the officers who had nobly supported him, and had always treated him with the greatest attention and attachment; and wishing, on the other hand, not to be thought willing to give his support to an institution generally believed incompatible with republican principles,—he had excused his attendance upon the ground of the necessity of attending to his private concerns. He had, in truth, a great reluctance to appear again upon any public theatre. His health was far from being firm; he felt the need and coveted the blessing of retirement for the remainder of his days; and although some modifications of the Society whose first President he had been, were then allaying the jealousies it had excited, he withdrew from this, the last relation which had kept him in a conspicuous public position.
But Washington at Mount Vernon, cultivating his estate, and rarely leaving his own farms, was as conspicuous to the country as if he were still placed in the most active and important public stations. All eyes were turned to him in this emergency; all thoughts were employed in considering whether his countenance and his influence would be given to this attempt to create a national government for the States whose liberties he had won. And his friends represented to him, that the posture of public affairs would prevent any criticism on the situation in which the contemporary meeting of the Cincinnati would place him, if he were to accept a seat in the Convention. Still, when the official notice of his appointment came, in December, he formally declined, but was requested by the Governor of the State to reserve his decision.[394] At this moment, the insurrection in Massachusetts broke upon him like a thunderbolt. "What, gracious God!" he exclaimed, "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,—constitutions of our own choice and making,—and now we are unsheathing the sword 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 the illusion of a dream."[395]
It was clear that, in case of civil discord and open confusion extending through any considerable part of the country, he would be obliged to take part on one side or the other, or to withdraw from the continent; and he, as well as other reflecting men, were not without fears that the disturbances in the Eastern States might extend throughout the Union. He consulted with his friends in distant parts of the country, and requested their advice, but still, as late as February, hesitated whether he should attend the Convention. In that month, he heard of the suppression of the rebellion in Massachusetts; but the developments which it had made of the state of society, the necessity which it had revealed for more coercive power in the institutions of the country, and the fear which it had excited that this want might lead men's minds to entertain the idea of monarchical government, finally decided him to accept the appointment. The possibility that his absence at such a juncture might be construed into what he called "a dereliction of republicanism," seems to have influenced his decision more than all other reasons. Congress, it is true, had now sanctioned the Convention, and this had removed one obstacle which had weighed with him and with others. He entertained great doubts as to the result of the experiment, but was entirely satisfied that it ought to be tried.[396]
He left Mount Vernon in the latter part of April. Public honors attended him everywhere on his route. At Chester, fifteen miles from the city of Philadelphia, he was met by the Speaker of the Assembly of Pennsylvania and several officers and gentlemen of distinction, who accompanied him to Gray's Ferry, where a military escort was in waiting to receive him and conduct him into the city. On his arrival, he immediately paid a visit to Dr. Franklin, at that time President of the State of Pennsylvania.[397]
On the assembling of the Convention, Robert Morris, by the instruction and in behalf of the deputation of Pennsylvania, proposed that General Washington should be elected President. John Rutledge of South Carolina seconded this suggestion, observing that the presence of General Washington forbade any observations on the occasion which might otherwise be proper.[398] His opinions, at the time when he took the chair of the Convention, as to what was proper to be done, and what was practicable, can only be gathered from his correspondence. He had formed some general views of the principles on which a national government should be framed, but he had not proceeded at all to the consideration of details. The first and most important object he held to be, to establish such a constitution as would secure and perpetuate the republican form of government, by satisfying the wants of the country and the time, and thus checking all tendency to monarchical ideas. He had come to the Convention, as we have seen, in order that the great experiment of self-government, on which this country had entered at the Revolution, might have a further trial beyond the hazards of the hour. He knew—he had had occasion to know—that the thought of a monarchy, as being necessary to the safety of the country, had been to some extent entertained. There had been those in a former day, in the darkest period of the war, who had proposed to him to assume a crown,—men who could possibly have bestowed it upon him, or have assisted him to acquire it,—but who met a rebuke which the nature of their proposition and his character should have taught them to expect. There were those in that day who sincerely despaired of republican liberty, and who had allowed themselves to think that some of the royal families of Europe might possibly furnish a sovereign fitted to govern and control the turbulent elements of our political condition. Washington understood the genius and character of the people of this country so well, that he held it to be impossible ever to establish that form of government over them without the deepest social convulsions. It was the form of the government against which they had waged a seven years' war; and it was certain that, apart from all questions of theoretical fitness or value, nothing but the most frightful civil disorders, menacing the very existence of society itself, could ever bring them again under its sway.
He was also satisfied, that, whatever particular system was to be adopted, it must be one that would create a national sovereignty and give it the means of coercion. What the nature of that coercion ought to be, he had not considered; but that obedience to the ordinances of a general government could not be expected, unless it was clothed with the power of enforcing them, all his experience during the war, and all his observation since, had fully satisfied him. He was convinced, also, that powers of a more extensive nature, and which would comprehend other objects, ought to be given to the general government; that Congress should be so placed as to enable and compel them to exert their constitutional authority with a firm and steady hand, instead of referring it back to the States. He proposed to adopt no temporizing expedients, but to have the defects of the Confederation thoroughly examined and displayed, and a radical cure provided, whether it were accepted or not. A course of this kind, he said, would stamp wisdom and dignity on their proceedings, and hold up a light which sooner or later would have its influence.[399]
Persuaded that the primary cause of all the public disorders lay in the different State governments, and in the tenacity with which they adhered to their State powers, he saw that incompatibility in the laws of different States and disrespect to the authority of the Union must continue to render the situation of the country weak, inefficient, and disgraceful. The principle with which he entered the Convention, and on which he acted throughout to the end, was, "with a due consideration of circumstances and habits, to form such a government as will bear the scrutinizing eye of criticism, and trust it to the good sense and patriotism of the people to carry it into effect."[400]
The character of Washington as a statesman has, perhaps, been somewhat undervalued, from two causes; one of them being his military greatness, and the other, the extraordinary balance of his mind, which presented no brilliant and few salient qualities. Undoubtedly, as a statesman he was not constructive, like Hamilton, nor did he possess the same abundant and ever-ready resources. He was eminently cautious, but he was also eminently sagacious. He had had a wide field of observation during the war, the theatre of which, commencing in New England, had extended through the Middle and into the Southern States. He had, of course, been brought in contact with the men and the institutions of all the States, and had been concerned in their conflicts with the federal authority, to a greater extent than any other public man of the time. This experience had not prepared him—as the character of his mind had not prepared him—to suggest plans or frame institutions fitted to remedy the evils he had observed, and to apply the principles which he had discovered. But it had revealed to him the dangers and difficulties of our situation, and had made him a national statesman, as incapable of confining his politics to the narrow scale of local interests and attachments, as he had been of confining his exertions to the object of achieving the liberties of a single state.
He would have been fitly placed in the chair of any deliberative assembly into which he might have been called at any period of his life; but it was preëminently suitable that he should occupy that of the Convention for forming the Constitution. He had no talent for debate, and upon the floor of this body he would have exerted less influence, and have been far less the central object towards which the opinions and views of the members were directed, than he was in the high and becoming position to which he was now called.
CHAPTER VIII.
Hamilton.
Next to the august name of the President should be mentioned that great man who, as a statesman, towered above all his compeers, even in that assembly of great men,—Alexander Hamilton.
This eminent person is probably less well known to the nation at the present day, than most of the leading statesmen of the Revolution. There are causes for this in his history. He never attained to that high office which has conferred celebrity on inferior men. The political party of which he was one of the founders and one of the chief leaders became unpopular with the great body of his countrymen before it was extinct. His death, too, at the early age of forty-seven, while it did not leave an unfinished character, left an unfinished career, for the contemplation of posterity. In this respect, his fate was unlike that of nearly all his most distinguished contemporaries. Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Jay, and in fact almost all the prominent statesmen of the Revolution, died in old age or in advanced life, and after the circle of their public honors and usefulness had been completed. Hamilton was cut off at a period of life when he may be said to have had above a third of its best activity yet before him: and this is doubtless one cause why so little is popularly known, by the present generation, of him who was by far the greatest statesman of the Revolutionary age.
It is known, indeed, traditionally, what a thrill of horror—what a sharp, terrible pang—ran through the nation, proving the comprehension by the entire people of what was lost, when Aaron Burr took from his country and the world that important life. In the most distant extremities of the Union, men felt that one of the first intellects of the age had been extinguished. From the utmost activity and public consideration, in the fulness of his strength and usefulness, the bullet of a duellist had taken the first statesman in America;—a man who, while he had not been without errors, and while his life had not been without mistakes, had served his country, from his boyhood to that hour of her bitter bereavement, with an elevation of purpose and a force of intellect never exceeded in her history, and which had caused Washington to lean upon him and to trust him, as he trusted and leaned upon no other man, from first to last. The death of such a man, under such circumstances, cast a deep gloom over the face of society; and Hamilton was mourned by his contemporaries with a sorrow founded on a just appreciation of his greatness, and of what they owed to his intellect and character. But by the generations that have succeeded he has been less intimately known than many of his compatriots, who lived longer, and reached stations which he never occupied.
He was born in the island of St. Christopher's, in the year 1757; his mother being a native of that island, and his father being a Scotchman. At the age of fifteen, after having been for three years in the counting-house of a merchant at Santa Cruz, he was sent to New York to complete his education, and was entered as a private student in King's (now Columbia) College. At the age of seventeen, his political life was already begun; for at that age, and while still at college, he wrote and published a series of essays on the Rights of the Colonies, which attracted the attention of the whole country. These essays appeared in 1774, in answer to certain pamphlets on the Tory side of the controversy; and in them Hamilton reviewed and vindicated the whole of the proceedings of the first Continental Congress. There are displayed in these papers a power of reasoning and sarcasm, a knowledge of the principles of government and of the English Constitution, and a grasp of the merits of the whole controversy, that would have done honor to any man at any age, and in a youth of seventeen are wonderful. To say that they evince precocity of intellect, gives no idea of their main characteristics. They show great maturity;—a more remarkable maturity than has ever been exhibited by any other person, at so early an age, in the same department of thought. They produced, too, a great effect. Their influence in bringing the public mind to the point of resistance to the mother country, was important and extensive.
Before he was nineteen years old, Hamilton entered the army as a captain of artillery; and when only twenty, in 1777, he was selected by Washington to be one of his aides-de-camp, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. In this capacity he served until 1782, when he was elected a member of Congress from the State of New York, and took his seat. In 1786, he was chosen a member of the legislature of New York. In 1787, he was appointed as a delegate to the Convention which framed the Constitution. In the following year, when only thirty years old, he published, with Madison and Jay, the celebrated essays called "The Federalist," in favor of the form of government proposed by the Convention. In 1788, he became a member of the State Convention of New York, called to ratify the Constitution, and it was chiefly through his influence that it was adopted in that State. In 1789, he took office in Washington's administration, as Secretary of the Treasury. In 1795, he retired to the practice of the law in the city of New York. In 1798, at Washington's absolute demand, he was appointed second in command of the provisional army, raised under the elder Adams's administration, to repel an apprehended invasion of the French. On the death of Washington, in 1799, he succeeded to the chief command. When the army was disbanded, he again returned to the bar, and practised with great reputation until the year 1804, when his life was terminated in a duel with Colonel Burr, concerning which the sole blame that has ever been imputed to Hamilton is, that he felt constrained to accept the challenge.
His great characteristic was his profound insight into the principles of government. The sagacity with which he comprehended all systems, and the thorough knowledge he possessed of the working of all the freer institutions of ancient and modern times, united with a singular capacity to make the experience of the past bear on the actual state of society, rendered him one of the most useful statesmen that America has known. Whatever in the science of government had already been ascertained; whatever the civil condition of mankind in any age had made practicable or proved abortive; whatever experience had demonstrated; whatever the passions, the interests, or the wants of men had made inevitable,—he seemed to know intuitively. But he was no theorist. His powers were all eminently practical. He detected the vice of a theory instantly, and shattered it with a single blow.
His knowledge, too, of the existing state of his own and of other countries was not less remarkable than his knowledge of the past. He understood America as thoroughly as the wisest of his contemporaries, and he comprehended Europe more completely than any other man of that age upon this continent.[401]
To these characteristics he added a clear logical power in statement, a vigorous reasoning, a perfect frankness and moral courage, and a lofty disdain of all the arts of a demagogue. His eloquence was distinguished for correctness of language and distinctness of utterance, as well as for grace and dignity.
In theory, he leaned decidedly to the constitution of England, as the best form of civil polity for the attainment of the great objects of government. But he was not, on that account, less a lover of liberty than those who favored more popular and democratic institutions. His writings will be searched in vain for any disregard of the natural rights of mankind, or any insensibility to the blessings of freedom. It was because he believed that those blessings can be best secured by governments in which a change of rulers is not of frequent occurrence, that he had so high an estimate of the English Constitution. At the period of the Convention, he held that the chief want of this country was a government into which the element of a permanent tenure of office could be largely infused; and he read in the Convention—as an illustration of his views, but without pressing it—a plan by which the Executive and the Senate could hold their offices during good behavior. But the idea, which has sometimes been promulgated, that he desired the establishment of a monarchical government in this country, is without foundation. At no period of his life did he regard that experiment as either practicable or desirable.
Hamilton's relation to the Constitution is peculiar. He had less direct agency in framing its chief provisions than many of the other principal persons who sat in the Convention; and some of its provisions were not wholly acceptable to him when framed. But the history, which has been detailed in the previous chapters of this work, of the progress of federal ideas, and of the efforts to introduce and establish principles tending to consolidate the Union, has been largely occupied with the recital of his opinions, exertions, and prevalent influence. Beginning with the year 1780, when he was only three-and-twenty years of age, and when he sketched the outline of a national government strongly resembling the one which the Constitution long afterwards established; passing through the term of his service in Congress, when his admirable expositions of the revenue system, the commercial power, and the ratio of contribution, may justly be said to have saved the Union from dissolution; and coming down to the time when he did so much to bring about, first, the meeting at Annapolis, and then the general and final Convention of all the States;—the whole period is marked by his wisdom and filled with his power. He did more than any other public man of the time to lessen the force of State attachments, to create a national feeling, and to lead the public mind to a comprehension of the necessity for an efficient national sovereignty.
Indeed, he was the first to perceive and to develop the idea of a real union of the people of the United States. To him, more than to any one else, is to be attributed the conviction that the people of the different States were competent to establish a general government by their own direct action; and that this mode of proceeding ought to be considered within the contemplation of the State legislatures, when they appointed delegates to a convention for the revision and amendment of the existing system.[402]
The age in which he lived, and the very extraordinary early maturity of his character, naturally remind us of that remarkable person who was two years his junior, and who became prime-minister of England at the age of twenty-four. The younger Pitt entered public life with almost every possible advantage. Inheriting "a great and celebrated name,"[403] educated expressly for the career of a statesman, and introduced into the House of Commons at a moment when power was just ready to drop into the hands of any man capable of wielding it, he had only to prove himself a brilliant and powerful debater, in order to become the ruler of an empire, whose constitution had been settled for ages, and was necessarily administered by the successful leaders of regular parties in its legislative body. That he was a most eminent parliamentary orator, a consummate tactician and leader of party, a minister of singular energy, and a statesman of a very high order of mind and character, at an age when most men are scarcely beginning to give proofs of what they may become,—all this History has deliberately and finally recorded. What place it may assign to him among the statesmen by whose lives and actions England and the world have been materially and permanently benefited is not yet settled, and it is not to the present purpose to consider.
The theatre in which Hamilton appeared, lived, and acted, was one of a character so totally different, that the comparison necessarily ends with the contrast which it immediately suggests. Like Pitt, indeed, he seems to have been born a statesman, and to have had no such youth as ordinarily precedes the manhood of the mind. But, in the American colonies, no political system of things existed that was fitted to train him for a career of usefulness and honor; and yet, when the years of his boyhood were hardly ended, he sprang forth into the troubled affairs of the time, with the full stature of a matured and well-furnished statesman. He, in truth, showed himself to be already the man that was wanted. Every thing was in an unsettled and anxious state;—a state of change and transition. There was no regular, efficient government. It was all but a state of civil war, and the more clear-sighted saw that this great disaster was coming. He was compelled, therefore, to mark out for himself, step by step, beginning in 1774, a system of political principles which should serve, not to administer existing institutions with wisdom and beneficence, but to create institutions able to unite a people divided into thirteen independent sovereignties; to give them the attitude and capacity of an independent nation; and then to carry them on, with constantly increasing prosperity and power, to their just place in the affairs of the world. It was a great work, but Mr. Hamilton was equal to it. He was by nature, by careful study, and by still more careful, anxious, and earnest thought, eminently fitted to detect and develop those resources of power and progress, which, in the dark condition of society that attends and follows an exhausting period of revolution, lie hidden, like generous seeds, until some strong hand disencumbers them of the soil with which they had been oppressed, and gives them opportunity to germinate and bear golden fruit. At the age of three-and-twenty he had already formed well-defined, profound, and comprehensive opinions on the situation and wants of these States. He had clearly discerned the practicability of forming a confederated government, and adapting it to their peculiar condition, resources, and exigencies. He had wrought out for himself a political system, far in advance of the conceptions of his contemporaries, and one which, in the hands of those who most opposed him in life, became, when he was laid in a premature grave, the basis on which this government was consolidated; on which, to the present day, it has been administered; and on which alone it can safely rest in that future, which seems so to stretch out its unending glories before us.
Mr. Hamilton, therefore, I conceive, proved himself early to be a statesman of greater talent and power than the celebrated English minister whose youthful success was in the eyes of the world so much more brilliant, and whose early death was no less disheartening; for none can doubt, that to build up a free and firm state out of a condition of political chaos, and to give it a government capable of developing the resources of its soil and people, and of insuring to it prosperity, power, and permanence, is a greater work than to administer with energy and success—even in periods of severe trial—the constitution of an empire whose principles and modes of action have been settled for centuries.
Hamilton was one of those statesmen who trust to the efficacy of the press for the advancement and inculcation of correct principles of public policy, and who desire to accomplish important results mainly through the action of an enlightened public opinion. That he had faith in the intelligence and honesty of his countrymen, is proved by the numerous writings which he constantly addressed to their reason and good sense, in the shape of essays or letters, from the beginning to the end of his career, upon subjects on which it was important that they should act with wisdom and principle.
His own opinions, although held with great firmness, were also held in subordination to what was practicable. It was the rare felicity of his temperament, to be able to accept a less good than his principles might have led him to insist upon, and to labor for it, when nothing better could be obtained, with as much patriotic energy and zeal as if it had been the best result of his own views. The Constitution itself remains, in this particular, a monument of the disinterestedness of his character. He thought it had great defects. But he accepted it, as the best government that the wisdom of the Convention could frame, and the best that the nation would adopt. In this spirit, as soon as it was promulgated for the acceptance of the country, he came forward and placed himself in the foremost rank of its advocates, making himself, for all future time, one of the chief of its authoritative expounders. He was very ably assisted in the Federalist by Madison and Jay; but it was from him that the Federalist derived the weight and the power which commanded the careful attention of the country, and carried conviction to the great body of intelligent men in all parts of the Union. The extraordinary forecast with which its luminous discussions anticipated the operation of the new institutions, and its profound elucidation of their principles, gave birth to American constitutional law, which was thus placed at once above the field of arbitrary constructions and in the domain of legal truth. They made it a science; and so long as the Constitution shall exist, they will continue to be resorted to as the most important source of contemporaneous interpretation which the annals of the country afford.[404]
In the two paramount characters of statesman and jurist, in the comprehensive nature of his patriotism, in his freedom from sectional prejudices, in his services to the Union, and in the kind and magnitude of his intellect, posterity will recognize a resemblance to him whom America still mourns with the freshness of a recent grief, and who has been to the Constitution, in the age that has succeeded, what Hamilton was in the age that witnessed its formation and establishment. Without the one of these illustrious men, the Constitution probably would never have existed; without the other, it might have become a mere record of past institutions, whose history had been glorious until faction and civil discord had turned it into a record of mournful recollections.
The following sentences, written by Hamilton soon after the adjournment of the Convention, contain a clew to all his conduct in support of the plan of government which that body recommended:—"It may be in me a defect of political fortitude, but I acknowledge that I cannot feel an equal tranquillity with those who affect to treat the dangers of a longer continuance in our present situation as imaginary. A nation without a national government is an awful spectacle. The establishment of a constitution, in a time of profound peace, by the voluntary consent of a whole people, is a prodigy, to the completion of which I look forward with trembling anxiety."
CHAPTER IX.
Madison.
From Hamilton we naturally turn to his associate in the Federalist,—James Madison, afterwards fourth President of the United States,—whose faithful and laborious record has preserved to us the debates of the Convention.
Mr. Madison was thirty-six years old when he entered that assembly. His previous life had fitted him to play a conspicuous and important part in its proceedings. He was born in 1751, of a good family, in Orange County, Virginia, and was educated at Princeton College in New Jersey, where he took the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1772. He returned to Virginia in the spring of 1773, and commenced the usual studies preparatory to an admission to the bar; but the disputes between the Colonies and the mother country soon drew him into public life. In 1776, he became a member of the State Convention which formed the first Constitution of Virginia. He was afterwards a member of the legislature and of the Council of the State, until he was appointed one of its delegates in Congress, where he took his seat in March, 1780.[405]
From this time to the assembling of the Federal Convention in 1787, his services to the Union were of the most important character. He entered Congress without a national reputation, but with national views. Indeed, it may be said of him, that he came from his native Commonwealth,—"mother of great men,"—grown to the full proportions of a continental statesman. At the moment when he appeared upon the larger theatre of the national interests, the Articles of Confederation had not been finally ratified by all the States. Maryland had insisted, as a necessary condition of her accession to the new Confederacy, that the great States should surrender to the Union their immense claims to the unoccupied territories of the West; Virginia had remonstrated against this demand; and the whole scheme of the Confederation had thus been long encountered by an apparently insurmountable obstacle.[406] The generous example of New York, whose Western claims were ceded to the United States in the month preceding Mr. Madison's entry into Congress, had furnished to the advocates of the Union the means for a powerful appeal to both sides of this critical and delicate controversy; but it required great tact, discretion, and address to make that appeal effectual, by inducing Maryland to trust to the influence of this example upon Virginia, and by inducing Virginia to make a cession that would be satisfactory to Maryland. In this high effort of statesmanship—a domestic diplomacy full of difficulties—Mr. Madison took part. He did not prepare the very skilful report which, while it aimed to produce cessions of their territorial claims by the larger States, appealed to Maryland to anticipate the result;[407] but the vast concession by which Virginia yielded the Northwestern Territory to the Union was afterwards brought about mainly by his exertions.
In 1782, he united with Hamilton in the celebrated report prepared by the latter upon the refusal of the State of Rhode Island to comply with the recommendations of Congress for a duty on imports.[408]
In 1783, he was named first upon a committee with Ellsworth and Hamilton, to prepare an Address to the States, urging the adoption of the revenue system which has been described in a previous chapter, and the Address was written by him.[409] The great ability and high tone of this paper gave it a striking effect. The object of this plan of revenue was, as we have seen, to fund the national debts, and to make a sufficient provision for their discharge. I have already assigned to it the merit of having preserved the Union from the premature decay that had begun to destroy its vitality;[410] and it may here be added, that the statesman whose pen could produce the comprehensive and powerful appeal by which it was pressed upon the States, was certain to become one of the chief founders of the Constitution of which the plan itself was the forerunner. It settled the fact, that a national unity in dealing with the debts of the Revolution was "necessary to render its fruits a full reward for the blood, the toils, the cares, and the calamities which had purchased them."
Such were Mr. Madison's most important services in the Congress of the Confederation; but they are of course not the whole. A member so able and of such broad and national views must have had a large agency in every important transaction; and accordingly the Journals, during the whole period of his service, bear ample testimony to his activity, his influence, and his zeal.
At the close of the war, he retired to Virginia, and during the three following years was a member of the legislature, still occupied, however, with the interests of the Union. His attention was specially directed to the subject of enlarging the powers of Congress over the foreign trade of the country. It is a striking fact, and a proof of the comprehensive character of Mr. Madison's statesmanship, that Virginia, a State not largely commercial, should have taken so prominent a part in the efforts to give the control of commerce to the general government;—an object which has justly been regarded as the corner-stone of the Constitution. It arose partly from the accident of her geographical position, which made it necessary for her to aim at something like uniformity of regulation with the other States which bordered upon her contiguous waters; but it is also to be attributed to the enlightened liberality and forecast of her great men, who saw in the immediate necessities of their own State the occasion for a measure of general advantage to the country.
Mr. Madison's first effort was, to procure a declaration by the legislature of Virginia of the necessity for a uniform regulation of the commerce of the States by the federal authority. For this purpose, he introduced into the legislature a series of propositions, intended to instruct the delegates of the State in Congress to propose a recommendation to the States to confer upon Congress power to regulate their trade and to collect a revenue from such regulation. This measure, as we have seen, encountered the opposition of those who preferred a temporary to a perpetual and irrevocable grant of such power; and the propositions were so much changed in the Committee of the Whole, that they were no longer acceptable to their original friends. The steps which finally led the legislature of Virginia to recommend a general convention of all the States have been detailed in a previous chapter of this work; but it is due to Mr. Madison's connection with this movement, that they should here be recapitulated with reference to his personal agency in the various transactions.
A conflict of jurisdiction between the two States of Virginia and Maryland over the waters which separated them had, in the spring of 1785, led to the appointment of commissioners on the part of each State, who met at Alexandria in March. These commissioners, of whom Mr. Madison was one, made a visit to General Washington at Mount Vernon, and it was there proposed that the two States, whose conflicting regulations, ever since the peace, had produced great inconvenience to their merchants, and had been a constant source of irritation, should be recommended by the commissioners to make a compact for the regulation of their impost and foreign trade. Mr. Madison has left no written claim, that I am aware of, to the authorship of this suggestion, but there exists evidence of his having claimed it in conversation.[411] The recommendation was made by the commissioners, and their report was adopted by both States;—by Virginia unconditionally, and by Maryland with the qualification that the States of Delaware and Pennsylvania should be invited to unite in the plan.
After the commercial propositions introduced by Mr. Madison had lain on the table for some time as a report from the Committee of the Whole, the report of the Alexandria commissioners was received and ratified by the legislature of Virginia. Although the friends of those propositions were gradually increasing, Mr. Madison had no expectation that a majority could be obtained in favor of a grant of commercial powers to Congress for a longer term than twenty-five years. The idea of a general convention of delegates from all the States, which had been for some time familiar to Mr. Madison's mind, then suggested itself to him, and he prepared and caused to be introduced the resolution which led to the meeting that afterwards took place at Annapolis, for the purpose of digesting and reporting the requisite augmentation of the powers of Congress over trade.[412] His resolution, he says, being, on the last day of the session, "the alternative of adjourning without any effort for the crisis in the affairs of the Union, obtained a general vote; less, however, with some of its friends, from a confidence in the success of the experiment, than from a hope that it might prove a step to a more comprehensive and adequate provision for the wants of the Confederacy."[413]