Signing Their Rights Away (26 page)

That this is a consolidated Government is demonstrably clear, and the danger of such a Government, is, to my mind, very striking. I have the highest veneration of those Gentlemen, —but, Sir, give me leave to demand, what right had they to say, ‘We the People’? My political curiosity, exclusive of my anxious solicitude for the public welfare, leads me to ask who authorised them to speak the language of, ‘We the People,’ instead of ‘We the States’? States are the characteristics, and the soul of a confederation. If the States be not the agents of this compact, it must be one great consolidated National Government of the people of all the States.

But by this time, the Constitution was already in effect, thanks to New Hampshire’s ratification, and none of Henry’s bluster could halt the momentum. Virginia became the tenth state to ratify, with a vote of 89 to 79.

Soon afterward, Washington appointed Blair an associate justice of the Supreme Court, but his role in the high court was short-lived. He resigned in 1796 because of illness. In his final years, he suffered a great pain, describing what sounds much like a stroke: “All at once a torpid numbness seized my whole face and I found my intellectual powers much weakened and all was confusion.”

Blair died in 1800. His hometown of Williamsburg is a must-see for historians of all backgrounds. To commune with his spirit, you can visit the John Blair House and Kitchen within Historic Williamsburg, stop by Raleigh Tavern (rebuilt in 1932 after an 1859 fire), or visit Blair’s grave, located in Bruton Parish Churchyard.

The Father of the Constitution

BORN
: March 16, 1751

DIED
: June 28, 1836

AGE AT SIGNING
: 36

PROFESSION
: Lawyer

BURIED
: Montpelier Estate, Orange, Virginia

A little man with big ideas—standing between five-foot-two and five-foot-six and weighing maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet—James Madison has the distinction of being the shortest president in U.S. history. But what he lacked in stature and even in personality (the guy was dry as toast), he made up for in ideas and conviction.

Madison grew up on his father’s plantation, Montpelier, in Orange County, Virginia, and enjoyed every advantage offered to children of the planter aristocracy. Boarding school and tutors led to study at the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University), where, after completing his degree, he stayed on a year to study theology. He had the added benefit of studying under John Witherspoon, then president of the college, who went on to be the only practicing clergyman to sign the Declaration of Independence. Madison didn’t have the lungs for preaching, and though he had studied
law—the profession of choice for well-bred sons of planters—that avenue didn’t appeal to him, either. He never needed to work or hold down a job and was not interested in following in his father’s footsteps in the planter world. What did appeal to him were books and government. Throughout his education and his life, he learned everything there was to know about political theory, governments past and present, plus some ancient philosophy, for good measure.

Madison is often described by historians as “frail” and “sickly,” but modern assessments of his health suggest the illnesses from which he suffered were both real and imagined. He was a prematurely bald young man who utilized a comb-over to conceal a shiny pate. Shy and soft-spoken, he was incessantly referred to as “modest” by anyone who knew him (these are not the usual traits that spring to mind when one thinks of a career politician). He joined the revolutionary cause early on but did not serve actively in the militia. Instead, he joined Orange County’s Committee of Safety in 1775 and, the next year, attended the Virginia Convention, where he helped write that state’s first constitution. He later entered the legislature and served on the Council of State.

Madison also served on the advisory committees to two famed Virginia governors, Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson; the latter would become a lifelong friend. When Madison finally went to Congress the year was 1780, and he was the youngest man there. This was the era of the Articles of Confederation—the precursor to the Constitution—and during this period Madison played a role in structuring the government. He soon cultivated a friendship with fellow nationalist Alexander Hamilton.

Upon returning to the Virginia legislature in 1784, Madison began writing in various capacities about the limits of the Articles of Confederation; one of his most famous works is a document titled “Vices of the Political System of the United States” (otherwise known as “Madison’s Vices”). When he attended the Mount Vernon Conference (which was convened to help settle disputes between Virginia and Maryland over the navigation of the Potomac River),
Madison became even more convinced that the articles were not cutting the colonial mustard. He knew that more disagreements between states would be inevitable—and that a strong national legislature was needed to keep things in check. The conference, held at George Washington’s plantation, was a precursor to the Annapolis Convention, where Madison connected once more with Hamilton; the pair helped convince everyone that Congress should put out a call to the states to send delegates to Philadelphia and iron out a new system of government.

Madison arrived in Philadelphia with a vast knowledge of governments and their shortcomings. Indeed, he had spent most of his thirty-six years preparing for this moment. He arrived early, checked into a boarding house, and began taking notes, many of which would form the basis for the Virginia Plan, which, in turn, would help shape the Constitution.

Madison had some very real concerns about power and human frailty. He believed that “human beings are generally governed by rather base and selfish motives, by suspicion, jealousy, desire for self-aggrandizement, and disinclination to do more than is required by convenience or self-interest, or exacted of them by force.” This was a not-too-subtle jab at human nature by a guy who rarely raised his voice. He was also wary of interest groups and, like many of the framers, feared mob mentality. He felt the need to keep power in check and once observed, “You must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place, oblige it to control itself.”

Madison had a number of other concrete ideas: The national government should tax citizens directly. Representation should be proportional to population. The national government should be able to veto state legislation. The chief executive of this national government should not have as much power as the legislative body. Yet, for all his fears, he took comfort in the fact that the aforementioned interest groups would have a tough time gaining momentum strong enough to disrupt government, because the country was so large and
everyone was so spread out and—don’t forget—it took weeks for a letter to get from one place to another. (His frail little body would have collapsed into a quivering heap at the thought of what today’s special-interest groups can accomplish on the Internet.)

On the very first day of the convention, Madison requested permission from Washington to sit at the front of the room, with his back to the general, so he could take notes. Washington obliged. Despite his low, virtually-impossible-to-hear voice, Madison spoke at least 150 times at the convention, bested in speech count only by James Wilson and Gouverneur Morris. He also served on the important Committee of Style and that of Postponed Matters.

In the end, the Virginia Plan was modified by the Great Compromise, which pleased Madison not at all. He signed the document with his tiny signature, adding a “Jr” after his name. All in all, the convention did not go the way he had hoped. But the copious, detailed notes that he took, along with the outline for government that he helped shape into the Virginia Plan and his tireless urging to hold the Constitutional Convention in the first place, helped establish him as a primary—if not
the
primary—force behind the modern U.S. government.

But the convention was only half the battle.

Back home in Virginia, Madison had to confront antinationalists and political power players, such as George Mason, Patrick “I smelt a rat” Henry, and Richard Henry Lee, all of whom were against ratifying the Constitution. Madison fought hard at home and, with Alexander Hamilton and John Jay, helped author the “Federalist Papers,” a series of essays published in New York newspapers and beyond that explained and defended the concepts inherent in the Constitution. Virginia became the tenth state to ratify, squeaking by with a vote of 89 to 79.

Madison was eager to serve as a senator in the new government, but Patrick Henry would have none of it. After Henry publicly criticized him as “unworthy of the confidence of the people,” Madison fell short in votes.

Madison then turned his attention to the House of
Representatives, where once again Henry tried to thwart him, but this time Madison prevailed; he beat James Monroe and served in the new government from 1789 to 1797. While there, he worked to fulfill the promise he had made during Virginia’s ratification battle: to get cracking on a Bill of Rights. He served as chair of the committee that drafted that document. He helped organize the executive branch of government and the federal taxation system. He began to sour on Alexander Hamilton’s policies and found himself increasingly sympathetic to those of his friend and Virginia neighbor, Thomas Jefferson. (Monticello and Montpelier are less than thirty miles apart.) The pair united, and together they created the Democratic-Republican Party.

All of this studying, writing, and politicking hadn’t left Madison with much time for socializing, and it’s doubtful that many women found his quiet, almost skittish behavior very appealing. Nevertheless, he had the spectacular good sense to marry Dolley Payne, a woman who had lost her first husband to yellow fever. The two were the ultimate odd couple—she was vivacious and outgoing; he was, well, not. But theirs appears to have been a true love.

When Jefferson took office as president in 1801, he appointed Madison his secretary of state. It was a tricky time for diplomacy. There were still troubles with theft and piracy on the high seas, diplomacy and sanctions seemed to be doing little good, and folks feared another war was brewing—this time involving the North African Barbary States. During this time, Dolley often played hostess at the White House, since Jefferson had lost his wife, Martha. It turned out to be good practice for Dolley; when Madison became the country’s fourth president, serving from 1809 to 1817, she took on the role as one of the most celebrated first ladies (and, as every schoolkid knows, the first to serve ice cream in the White House).