Washington - A Life Part 13

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

A House on Fire IN LATE 1786 George Washington's life was again thrown into turmoil when Madison informed him that the Virginia legislature planned to name him head of the state's seven-man delegation at the forthcoming convention in Philadelphia. Having made no effort to join the group, Washington was cast into a terrible state of indecision. "Never was my embarra.s.sment or hesitation more extreme or distressing," he wrote.1 Deep questioning was typical of Washington's political style. Holding himself aloof, he had learned to set a high price on his partic.i.p.ation, yielding only with reluctance. Whenever his reputation was at stake, he studied every side of a decision, a.n.a.lyzing how his actions would be perceived. Having learned to acc.u.mulate power by withholding his a.s.sent, he understood the influence of his mystique and kept people in suspense. Deep questioning was typical of Washington's political style. Holding himself aloof, he had learned to set a high price on his partic.i.p.ation, yielding only with reluctance. Whenever his reputation was at stake, he studied every side of a decision, a.n.a.lyzing how his actions would be perceived. Having learned to acc.u.mulate power by withholding his a.s.sent, he understood the influence of his mystique and kept people in suspense.

Complicating his attendance in Philadelphia was that he had already declined to attend the triennial meeting of the Society of the Cincinnati, which by an extraordinary coincidence was also slated for May 1787 in Philadelphia. He had just sent out a mailing to members, explaining that he would neither attend nor stand for reelection as president. It irked him that many state chapters had voted down his proposed reforms, especially the one banning the hereditary provision. He had wanted to remain with the organization long enough to dispel any speculation that he had repudiated its principles. Now that the dissent had died down, he thought it an opportune moment to extricate himself. In declining the invitation, he also cited the press of private business and "the present imbecility of my health, occasioned by a violent attack of the fever and ague, succeeded by rheumatic pains (to which till of late I have been an entire stranger)."2 If Washington used his health problems as an excuse, he didn't conjure them from thin air. In late August 1786 he had contracted a "fever and ague" that lasted for two weeks. Since Dr. Craik prescribed the bark of the cinchona tree, a natural source of quinine, one suspects a recurrence of the malaria that had pestered him as a young soldier. Despite early illnesses, the younger Washington had been mostly a picture of ruddy health. Now as aches and pains invaded his body, he was losing his youthful grace, and he complained to Madison of feeling his rheumatic pains "very sensibly."3 These pains became so debilitating that he couldn't "raise my hand to my head or turn myself in bed." These pains became so debilitating that he couldn't "raise my hand to my head or turn myself in bed."4 By April 1787, to counter this sharp pain, he had to immobilize his arm in a sling. He went from having a boundless sense of health to feeling his age abruptly-what he called "descending the hill"-and may have wondered whether he possessed the necessary fund of energy for the momentous political challenges ahead. By April 1787, to counter this sharp pain, he had to immobilize his arm in a sling. He went from having a boundless sense of health to feeling his age abruptly-what he called "descending the hill"-and may have wondered whether he possessed the necessary fund of energy for the momentous political challenges ahead.5 Washington may also have worried anew about his poor genetic endowment after his favorite brother, John Augustine, yet another short-lived Washington male, died suddenly in early January from what Washington called "a fit of gout in the head." Washington may also have worried anew about his poor genetic endowment after his favorite brother, John Augustine, yet another short-lived Washington male, died suddenly in early January from what Washington called "a fit of gout in the head." 6 6 On November 18 Washington explained to Madison that, having spurned the Cincinnati meeting, he couldn't attend the Const.i.tutional Convention without being caught in an embarra.s.sing lie, "giving offense to a very respectable and deserving part of the community-the late officers of the American Army."7 Were it not for this dilemma, he said, he would certainly attend an event so vital to the national welfare. He wanted to be true to the principles of the Revolution, but he also wanted to be faithful to his colleagues, a sacred trust for him. In his 1783 circular letter to the states, he had solemnly pledged that he would not reenter politics, a public vow that the honorable Washington took seriously. The mythology that he could not tell a lie had some basis in fact. He may also have hesitated to attend the Const.i.tutional Convention from a premonition that it would initiate a sequence of events that would pull him away indefinitely from Mount Vernon. After all, the last time he heeded his country's call in a crisis, it had embroiled him in more than eight years of war. Were it not for this dilemma, he said, he would certainly attend an event so vital to the national welfare. He wanted to be true to the principles of the Revolution, but he also wanted to be faithful to his colleagues, a sacred trust for him. In his 1783 circular letter to the states, he had solemnly pledged that he would not reenter politics, a public vow that the honorable Washington took seriously. The mythology that he could not tell a lie had some basis in fact. He may also have hesitated to attend the Const.i.tutional Convention from a premonition that it would initiate a sequence of events that would pull him away indefinitely from Mount Vernon. After all, the last time he heeded his country's call in a crisis, it had embroiled him in more than eight years of war.

Refusing to let Washington off the hook, Madison argued that his presence in Philadelphia would enhance the convention's credibility and attract "select characters" from every state.8 In reply, Washington laid out his deeply conflicted feelings about the Cincinnati. He reviewed the organization's history, telling how it had started as a charitable fund for widows and saying that he never dreamed it would give birth to "jealousies" and "dangers" that threatened republican principles. In reply, Washington laid out his deeply conflicted feelings about the Cincinnati. He reviewed the organization's history, telling how it had started as a charitable fund for widows and saying that he never dreamed it would give birth to "jealousies" and "dangers" that threatened republican principles. 9 9 Washington stood in an acute bind: he didn't wish to insult his fellow officers, but he also refused to support measures he deemed incompatible with republican principles. His response to the predicament shows how delicately he could weigh conflicting claims and cloak the real reason behind an apparent one. Washington stood in an acute bind: he didn't wish to insult his fellow officers, but he also refused to support measures he deemed incompatible with republican principles. His response to the predicament shows how delicately he could weigh conflicting claims and cloak the real reason behind an apparent one.

Writing to Governor Edmund Randolph on December 21, Washington formally declined appointment to the convention, secretly hoping his Virginia a.s.sociates would drop the matter. But when Madison learned of Washington's decision, he requested that he keep the door ajar "in case the gathering clouds should become so dark and menacing as to supersede every consideration but that of our national existence or safety."10 All winter long, Washington rested in a curious limbo vis-a-vis the convention. "My name is in the delegation to this convention," he told Jay, "but it was put there contrary to my desire and remains there contrary to my request." All winter long, Washington rested in a curious limbo vis-a-vis the convention. "My name is in the delegation to this convention," he told Jay, "but it was put there contrary to my desire and remains there contrary to my request."11 Washington was frankly baffled and, in his time-honored executive style, canva.s.sed friends about how to resolve his dilemma, enlisting Madison, Humphreys, Knox, and Jay. Each exchange disclosed another layer of doubt on his part. To Humphreys, Washington confessed his fear that the Const.i.tutional Convention might fail, much as he had been haunted by fear of failure when named commander in chief in 1775. Failure "would be a disagreeable predicament for any of them [the delegates] to be in, but more particularly so for a person in my situation," he wrote.12 Since he personified the country, he stood to lose the most from accusations of partisanship. On the other hand, this might be a last opportunity to salvage a deteriorating nation. Any failure, he said, could be construed "as an unequivocal proof that the states are not likely to agree in any general measure . . . and consequently that there is an end put to federal government." Since he personified the country, he stood to lose the most from accusations of partisanship. On the other hand, this might be a last opportunity to salvage a deteriorating nation. Any failure, he said, could be construed "as an unequivocal proof that the states are not likely to agree in any general measure . . . and consequently that there is an end put to federal government."13 In soliciting opinions, he again preferred to give a pa.s.sive appearance to active decisions, making it seem that he was being reluctantly borne along by fate, friends, or historical necessity, when he was actually shaping as well as reacting to events. This technique allowed him to cast himself into the modest role of someone answering the summons of history. It also permitted him to wait until a consensus had emerged on his course of action. If Washington could never entirely resist the allure of fame, neither could he openly welcome it. In soliciting opinions, he again preferred to give a pa.s.sive appearance to active decisions, making it seem that he was being reluctantly borne along by fate, friends, or historical necessity, when he was actually shaping as well as reacting to events. This technique allowed him to cast himself into the modest role of someone answering the summons of history. It also permitted him to wait until a consensus had emerged on his course of action. If Washington could never entirely resist the allure of fame, neither could he openly welcome it.

Not all of Washington's advisers thought he should attend. Humphreys reminded him of the potentially illegal nature of the gathering and, consequently, the huge reputational risk. "I concur fully in sentiment with you concerning the inexpediency of your attending the convention," he wrote.14 Knox favored Washington's going but felt obliged to point out that the Philadelphia convention might be "an irregular a.s.sembly," even an illegal one, since it would operate outside the amendment process spelled out in the Articles of Confederation. It might even expose delegates to conspiracy charges. On the other hand, Washington's presence would draw New England states that had boycotted the Annapolis conference, converting it into a truly national gathering. To pique Washington's interest, Jay sent him a clairvoyant sketch of a new government divided into legislative, executive, and judicial branches. "Let Congress legislate," he told Washington. "Let others execute. Let others judge." Knox favored Washington's going but felt obliged to point out that the Philadelphia convention might be "an irregular a.s.sembly," even an illegal one, since it would operate outside the amendment process spelled out in the Articles of Confederation. It might even expose delegates to conspiracy charges. On the other hand, Washington's presence would draw New England states that had boycotted the Annapolis conference, converting it into a truly national gathering. To pique Washington's interest, Jay sent him a clairvoyant sketch of a new government divided into legislative, executive, and judicial branches. "Let Congress legislate," he told Washington. "Let others execute. Let others judge."15 The letter foreshadowed the exact shape of the future government. The letter foreshadowed the exact shape of the future government.

During February and March 1787 Washington alternated between pa.s.sionate concern for saving the union and an insistence that he couldn't go to Philadelphia. He likened the confederacy to a "house on fire," saying that unless emergency measures were taken, the building would be "reduced to ashes"; but somebody else would apparently have to extinguish the blaze.16 Washington's internal deliberations began to shift on February 21, when Congress approved a convention "for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation." Washington's internal deliberations began to shift on February 21, when Congress approved a convention "for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation."17 While the convention ended up exceeding this mandate, the decision momentarily retired the legality issue. With the country "approaching to some awful crisis," he told Knox, he began to fret about a public outcry if he While the convention ended up exceeding this mandate, the decision momentarily retired the legality issue. With the country "approaching to some awful crisis," he told Knox, he began to fret about a public outcry if he didn't didn't go to Philadelphia. go to Philadelphia.18 Suddenly he seemed to lean in the other direction. "A thought, however, has lately run through my mind, which is attended with embarra.s.sment," he confided to Knox in early March. "It is, whether my non-attendance in this convention will not be considered as a dereliction to republicanism." Suddenly he seemed to lean in the other direction. "A thought, however, has lately run through my mind, which is attended with embarra.s.sment," he confided to Knox in early March. "It is, whether my non-attendance in this convention will not be considered as a dereliction to republicanism."19 Wisely, Washington had allowed the issue to percolate for months, encouraging the perception that he was following rather than leading events. On March 19 Knox sent him a letter that may have clinched his decision. He said that he took it for granted that Washington would be elected president of the convention. If the convention still faltered and produced only a "patchwork to the present defective confederation, your reputation would in a degree suffer." But if the convention forged a vigorous new federal government, "it would be a circ.u.mstance highly honorable to your fame . . . and doubly ent.i.tle you to the glorious republican epithet 'The Father of Your Country.'"20 This was the perfect double-barreled appeal to Washington's vanity and patriotism. Because of the high caliber of the delegates selected, Knox wagered that the convention would sp.a.w.n a superior new system, and "therefore the balance of my opinion preponderates greatly in favor of your attendance." This was the perfect double-barreled appeal to Washington's vanity and patriotism. Because of the high caliber of the delegates selected, Knox wagered that the convention would sp.a.w.n a superior new system, and "therefore the balance of my opinion preponderates greatly in favor of your attendance."21 In retrospect, it seems foreordained that Washington, with his unerring sense of duty, would go to Philadelphia. He was a casualty of his own greatness, which dictated a path in life from which he couldn't deviate. Had he turned down the call to duty, he would have felt something incomplete in his grand mission to found the country, but he patently had to convince himself and the world of his purely disinterested motives. Now he could proceed as if summoned from self-imposed retirement by popular acclaim.

On March 28 Washington wrote to Governor Randolph and submitted to his fate: he would indeed attend the convention. He made it clear that he was doing so involuntarily and only submitting to the entreaties of friends. In Washington's life, however, one commitment led ineluctably to the next, and he acknowledged that his attendance would have "a tendency to sweep me back into the tide of public affairs." 22 22 To solve his dilemma with the Cincinnati, he planned to go to Philadelphia a week early and address the group, so they would not attribute his attending the Const.i.tutional Convention instead "to a disrespectful inattention to the Society." To solve his dilemma with the Cincinnati, he planned to go to Philadelphia a week early and address the group, so they would not attribute his attending the Const.i.tutional Convention instead "to a disrespectful inattention to the Society."23 Henry Knox was bowled over by Washington's decision. "Secure as he was in his fame," he wrote to Lafayette, "he has again committed it to the mercy of events. Nothing but the critical situation of his country would have induced him to so hazardous a conduct." Henry Knox was bowled over by Washington's decision. "Secure as he was in his fame," he wrote to Lafayette, "he has again committed it to the mercy of events. Nothing but the critical situation of his country would have induced him to so hazardous a conduct."24 Having made his decision, Washington gave unstinting support to a convention that would do far more than just tinker with the Articles of Confederation: like Madison, he wanted root-and-branch reform. He told Knox that the convention should "probe the defects" of the Articles of Confederation "to the bottom," and he worried that some states might not send delegates or would hobble them with "cramped powers," fostering an impa.s.se. Having made his decision, Washington gave unstinting support to a convention that would do far more than just tinker with the Articles of Confederation: like Madison, he wanted root-and-branch reform. He told Knox that the convention should "probe the defects" of the Articles of Confederation "to the bottom," and he worried that some states might not send delegates or would hobble them with "cramped powers," fostering an impa.s.se.25 By this point, Washington was clearly primed for decisive action in Philadelphia. By this point, Washington was clearly primed for decisive action in Philadelphia.

BEFORE TAKING ON THE BURDEN OF AMERICA, Washington had to deal with a piece of unfinished family business: the chronic discontent of his mother. Mary Washington, with her flinty independence, was still stewing with grievances. Right before John Augustine died in early January, she had written to him to complain of an absence of corn at her four-hundred-acre farm in the Little Falls quarter of the Rappahannock River. "I never lived soe pore in my life," she insisted.26 Had it not been for succor from a neighbor and her daughter, Betty, she contended, "I should be almost starvd, b.u.t.t I am like an old almanack, quit out of date." Had it not been for succor from a neighbor and her daughter, Betty, she contended, "I should be almost starvd, b.u.t.t I am like an old almanack, quit out of date."27 After Mary's wartime pet.i.tion to the Virginia legislature, John Augustine, at George's behest, had taken charge of her mismanaged property. This letter about her supposed poverty shows that she did not restrict her whining to her famous son. She had mixed feelings about allowing others to govern her business. When her late son-in-law, Fielding Lewis, volunteered to take over her business affairs, Mary Washington had shot back, "Do you, Fielding, keep my books in order, for your eyesight is better than mine, but leave the executive management to me." After Mary's wartime pet.i.tion to the Virginia legislature, John Augustine, at George's behest, had taken charge of her mismanaged property. This letter about her supposed poverty shows that she did not restrict her whining to her famous son. She had mixed feelings about allowing others to govern her business. When her late son-in-law, Fielding Lewis, volunteered to take over her business affairs, Mary Washington had shot back, "Do you, Fielding, keep my books in order, for your eyesight is better than mine, but leave the executive management to me."28 News that Mary was again denigrating him drifted back to George, who wrote to her in mid-February and enclosed another fifteen guineas. In this stilted letter, Washington revealed that his relations with her had grown so frosty that the two hadn't even communicated after Jack's death. Indignant at his mother's accusation that he was being stingy, he poured out his grievances, explaining in brutal detail the miserable state of his finances: I have now demands upon me for more than 500, three hundred and forty odd which is due for the tax of 1786; and I know not where, or when, I shall receive one shilling with which to pay. In the last two years, I made no crops. In the first I was obliged to buy corn and this year have none to sell and my wheat is so bad that I cannot neither eat it myself nor sell it to others, and tobacco I make none. Those who owe me money cannot or will not pay it without [law]suits . . . whilst my expenses . . . for the absolute support of my family and the visitors who are constantly here are exceedingly high; higher indeed than I can support, without selling part of my estate, which I am disposed to do rather than run in debt . . . This is really and truly my situation.29 Washington went on to protest that, despite their business agreement, he had received not a penny from his mother's farm, even though he had paid 122 pounds in annual rent for her plantation and slaves; either Mary or her overseer had skimmed off the profits and forwarded nothing to him. Beyond that, he had given her more than 300 pounds in unpaid loans over a dozen years-all carefully doc.u.mented in his ledgers. As a result of her accusations, he told her, "I am viewed as a delinquent and considered perhaps by the world as [an] unjust and undutiful son."30 Once again Washington was preoccupied with a world that might sit in disapproving judgment upon him. To relieve his mother's distress, he suggested that she hire out her servants and live with one of her children. In fact, shortly before his death, John Augustine had volunteered to take her in. Once again Washington was preoccupied with a world that might sit in disapproving judgment upon him. To relieve his mother's distress, he suggested that she hire out her servants and live with one of her children. In fact, shortly before his death, John Augustine had volunteered to take her in.

Antic.i.p.ating her next request, Washington said that she was welcome to live at Mount Vernon, but he warned her that "in truth it may be compared to a well-resorted tavern, as scarcely any strangers who are going from north to south, or from south to north, do not spend a day or two at it. This would, were you to be an inhabitant of it, oblige you to do one of 3 things, 1st to be always dressing to appear in company, 2d to come into [it] in a dishabille or 3d to be, as it were, a prisoner in your own chamber."31 This image of Mount Vernon as a crowded, noisy inn, swarming with strangers, was not exactly an inviting one, and Mary never came to live there. The letter is conspicuously devoid of warmth or family affection: Washington and his mother were simply locked in an unhappy business relationship. Washington's reasons for dissuading his mother from living at Mount Vernon confirm that he perceived her as a coa.r.s.e countrywoman who would be ill at ease in more polished society. This image of Mount Vernon as a crowded, noisy inn, swarming with strangers, was not exactly an inviting one, and Mary never came to live there. The letter is conspicuously devoid of warmth or family affection: Washington and his mother were simply locked in an unhappy business relationship. Washington's reasons for dissuading his mother from living at Mount Vernon confirm that he perceived her as a coa.r.s.e countrywoman who would be ill at ease in more polished society.

On March 7 Washington returned to Fredericksburg for what he imagined would be the "last act of personal duty"-that is, the last time he might see his aged mother.32 Then in late April, as he prepared to leave for Philadelphia, he was summoned to Fredericksburg by news that both Mary, who was apparently suffering from breast cancer, and his sister, Betty, were gravely ill. Even though his arm now rested in a sling from rheumatic pain, Washington made the urgent trip to Fredericksburg, telling Henry Knox that he was "hastening to obey this melancholy call, after having just bid an eternal farewell to a much loved brother." Then in late April, as he prepared to leave for Philadelphia, he was summoned to Fredericksburg by news that both Mary, who was apparently suffering from breast cancer, and his sister, Betty, were gravely ill. Even though his arm now rested in a sling from rheumatic pain, Washington made the urgent trip to Fredericksburg, telling Henry Knox that he was "hastening to obey this melancholy call, after having just bid an eternal farewell to a much loved brother."33 In correspondence, Washington always sounded like the conscientious son, telling Robert Morris that he had been called to Fredericksburg for "the last adieu to an honored parent and an affectionate sister." In correspondence, Washington always sounded like the conscientious son, telling Robert Morris that he had been called to Fredericksburg for "the last adieu to an honored parent and an affectionate sister."34 Although the trip proved a false alarm, Washington found his mother vastly changed, her illness having "reduced her to a skeleton, tho[ugh] she is somewhat amended."35 Oddly, Washington had made no previous reference to her medical situation, which made her complaining far more comprehensible. Betty had improved as well and was now out of danger. One Fredericksburg resident was shocked by the transformation in Washington's own appearance: "Gen[era]l Washington has been here to see his mother, who has been ill . . . The Gen[era]l is much altered in his person, one arm swung with rheumatism." Oddly, Washington had made no previous reference to her medical situation, which made her complaining far more comprehensible. Betty had improved as well and was now out of danger. One Fredericksburg resident was shocked by the transformation in Washington's own appearance: "Gen[era]l Washington has been here to see his mother, who has been ill . . . The Gen[era]l is much altered in his person, one arm swung with rheumatism."36 After a few days Washington returned to Mount Vernon, but the trip must have formed a sobering backdrop to his journey to the Const.i.tutional Convention. After a few days Washington returned to Mount Vernon, but the trip must have formed a sobering backdrop to his journey to the Const.i.tutional Convention.

On May 9, 1787, shortly after sunrise, George Washington set off for Philadelphia. While his rheumatic misery had abated, he was beset by other complaints, including a violent headache and an upset stomach-perhaps the somatic expression of his dread about the convention. Until this time Martha Washington had been the loyal, submissive wife in dealing with her husband's career. Now, as she saw George sentenced to life imprisonment in American politics, she began to rebel and decided to skip the Const.i.tutional Convention. "Mrs. Washington is become too domestic, and too attentive to two little grandchildren to leave home," Washington explained to Robert Morris, "and I can a.s.sure you, sir, that it was not until after a long struggle [that] I could obtain my own consent to appear again in a public theater."37 This was a more independent Martha than the one who had rushed off to her husband's winter camps despite her fears of travel and gunfire. This was a more independent Martha than the one who had rushed off to her husband's winter camps despite her fears of travel and gunfire.

On Sunday, May 13, Washington arrived at Chester, Pennsylvania, and was escorted into Philadelphia by a long procession of dignitaries and a troop of light horse. Greeted by booming artillery and saluting officers, Washington must have been reminded of the worshipful attention he had generated during the war. Despite inclement weather, the sidewalks were densely packed with enthusiastic throngs. Noted the Pennsylvania Packet, Pennsylvania Packet, "The joy of the people on the coming of this great and good man was shown by their acclamation and the ringing of bells." "The joy of the people on the coming of this great and good man was shown by their acclamation and the ringing of bells."38 Washington having shed his arm sling, the newspaper expressed joy in finding "our old and faithful commander in the full enjoyment of his health and fame." Washington having shed his arm sling, the newspaper expressed joy in finding "our old and faithful commander in the full enjoyment of his health and fame."39 Washington saw nothing incongruous about arriving in Philadelphia flanked by three of his slaves, Giles, Paris, and the durable Billy Lee; the fate of such slaves would form a contentious issue at the convention. Although James Madison hoped that the entire Virginia delegation would stay at the same lodging house, hard by the Pennsylvania State House, Washington succ.u.mbed to the entreaties of Robert Morris and stayed with him and his wife, Mary. Washington saw nothing incongruous about arriving in Philadelphia flanked by three of his slaves, Giles, Paris, and the durable Billy Lee; the fate of such slaves would form a contentious issue at the convention. Although James Madison hoped that the entire Virginia delegation would stay at the same lodging house, hard by the Pennsylvania State House, Washington succ.u.mbed to the entreaties of Robert Morris and stayed with him and his wife, Mary.

Guided by a fine sense of decorum, Washington made his first courtesy call on the venerable Benjamin Franklin, whom he had not seen since 1776, and his elderly host broke open a cask of dark beer to receive him. Washington had long revered Franklin as a "wise, a great and virtuous man."40 Throughout the war he had addressed the older man with exquisite respect, extending to him the t.i.tle "Your Excellency" that the rest of the world also applied to him. After the war Franklin had tried to woo Washington into a joint tour of Europe, which would have made a sensation by uniting the two most famous Americans. Now, as president of the Executive Council of Pennsylvania, Franklin was Washington's only serious rival for the convention presidency. His medical situation, however, militated against his selection: he was tormented by gout and kidney stones, even though he tossed off witticisms about the latter. "You may judge that my disease is not grievous," he said, "since I am more afraid of the medicines than of the malady." Throughout the war he had addressed the older man with exquisite respect, extending to him the t.i.tle "Your Excellency" that the rest of the world also applied to him. After the war Franklin had tried to woo Washington into a joint tour of Europe, which would have made a sensation by uniting the two most famous Americans. Now, as president of the Executive Council of Pennsylvania, Franklin was Washington's only serious rival for the convention presidency. His medical situation, however, militated against his selection: he was tormented by gout and kidney stones, even though he tossed off witticisms about the latter. "You may judge that my disease is not grievous," he said, "since I am more afraid of the medicines than of the malady." 41 41 The a.s.sembly of demiG.o.ds got off to a rather sluggish start. Although the convention was supposed to begin on May 14, only the Virginia and Pennsylvania delegations arrived on time, forcing a delay. A punctual man, Washington was irritated by the absence of a quorum of seven states and groused to George Augustine that the deferrals were "highly vexatious to those who are idly and expensively spending their time here."42 Throughout his time in Philadelphia, Washington plied George Augustine with detailed advice about Mount Vernon, just as he had with Lund Washington during the war. Two days after the convention opened, he asked his nephew if he had "tried both fresh and salt fish as a manure" and recommended that he plant buckwheat. Throughout his time in Philadelphia, Washington plied George Augustine with detailed advice about Mount Vernon, just as he had with Lund Washington during the war. Two days after the convention opened, he asked his nephew if he had "tried both fresh and salt fish as a manure" and recommended that he plant buckwheat.43 As a farmer, it frustrated him that Philadelphia was being drenched with rain while drought prevailed in Virginia. As a farmer, it frustrated him that Philadelphia was being drenched with rain while drought prevailed in Virginia.

The delay thrust Washington into a knotty predicament vis-a-vis the Society of the Cincinnati, for it suddenly gave him time to attend their meetings. Reluctant to become more deeply involved, he came up with a clever alternative. Instead of attending meetings, he dined on May 15 with twenty members of the society, thus preserving a self-protective distance. Because he didn't wish to affront old comrades, he accepted reelection as president on May 18, making clear that the actual duties would devolve on the vice president. That he steered clear of the Cincinnati was fine with the more diehard members, one saying, "I could almost wish for the absence of the ill.u.s.trious chief, whose extreme prudence and circ.u.mspection . . . may cool our laudable and necessary ebullition with a few drops, if not a torrent, of cold water."44 While awaiting the convention's start, Washington hobn.o.bbed with tony members of Philadelphia society, starting with Robert and Mary White Morris. Among his other hosts were the wealthy William Bingham and his beautiful wife, Anne Willing Bingham, whose splendid house on Third Street formed the centerpiece of Philadelphia society. There was nothing surprising in Washington's seeking out such rich company: their social milieu was the same as his at home. Very receptive, as always, to the ladies, he noted in his diary any feminine company he shared. He attended a charity event with Mary White Morris "and some other ladies" to hear a Mrs. O'Connell deliver a discourse on eloquence.45 Later in the week he attended a wedding for the daughter of Benjamin Chew, whose stone house in Germantown had presented such a costly obstacle to the Continental Army. He evidently enjoyed it: "Drank tea there in a very large circle of ladies." Later in the week he attended a wedding for the daughter of Benjamin Chew, whose stone house in Germantown had presented such a costly obstacle to the Continental Army. He evidently enjoyed it: "Drank tea there in a very large circle of ladies."46 One wonders whether Washington enjoyed this brief vacation from Martha's company. One wonders whether Washington enjoyed this brief vacation from Martha's company.

Washington renewed an important friendship, formed during the First Continental Congress, with the wealthy, laconic Samuel Powel, a former mayor of Philadelphia, and his sophisticated, entrancing wife, Elizabeth (or Eliza). The Powels inhabited a three-story rococo mansion on Third Street that was so tastefully opulent that the Chevalier de Chastellux had praised this "handsome house . . . adorned with fine prints and some very good copies of the best Italian paintings."47 But during the First Continental Congress, the puritanical John Adams had recoiled from the "sinful feast" he attended there, which had everything that "could delight the eye or allure the taste." But during the First Continental Congress, the puritanical John Adams had recoiled from the "sinful feast" he attended there, which had everything that "could delight the eye or allure the taste."48 George Washington had no such trouble with the regal atmosphere at the Powels' and was a frequent guest at their soirees. George Washington had no such trouble with the regal atmosphere at the Powels' and was a frequent guest at their soirees.

An immensely charming, erudite, and witty woman, who wrote with literary flair and elegance, Elizabeth Willing Powel eclipsed her stolid husband and could have held her own in the spirited repartee of any European salon. The daughter as well as the wife of a mayor, this socially proficient and politically opinionated hostess loved to flirt with powerful men, and George Washington fell under her spell. A portrait by Matthew Pratt shows an extremely handsome older woman whose low-cut yellow dress and purple sash amply display her voluptuous figure. She looks calm and poised, with a penetrating eye and a slightly melancholy air after the death of her two sons. Elizabeth Powel provided virtually the only instance in his later years when Washington befriended a couple but was much closer with the wife. She revered Washington, whom she saw on a par with the loftiest heroes of antiquity. As with George William and Sally Fairfax, Washington was careful to stay on good terms with Samuel Powel and equally careful to include Martha Washington in the friendship. Nevertheless, his friendship with Elizabeth Powel was his only deep, direct one with a woman who qualified as an intellectual peer and treated him as such. In this relationship Washington escaped the narrow bounds of marriage, met Powel alone for teas, and corresponded with her. We have no evidence that their closeness ever progressed beyond that, but if George Washington ever contemplated romance with another woman, it surely must have been Elizabeth Powel.

One of Samuel Powel's hobbies was making silhouettes, and he got Washington to sit for one. It was a measure of Washington's regard for his image that he faulted the silhouette for a small wattle sagging from his chin and asked Powel to redo the portrait. The drooping chin was duly excised from the finished product.

For all his mixing in high society, Washington was an extremely hardworking delegate at the convention. At some point before it started, he took the ideas for const.i.tutional reform presented to him by Jay, Knox, and Madison and boiled them down into a handy digest. Back in 1776 he had delivered a comment on Virginia's new const.i.tution that shows how studiously he approached such work: "To form a new government requires infinite care and unbounded attention, for if the foundation is badly laid, the superstructure must be bad."49 Because the entire Virginia delegation arrived on time, its members developed a powerful early cohesion. Headed by Governor Edmund Randolph, the distinguished group included Madison and George Mason; the latter informed his son that the hardworking Virginians met "two or three hours every day in order to form a proper correspondence of sentiments."50 Their deliberations yielded the so-called Virginia Plan, spearheaded by Madison, which proposed for a tripart.i.te government and proportional representation in both houses of Congress. Madison and Washington, who favored a vigorous central government, carried the day against objections from Randolph and Mason, making their strongly nationalist views the official opening position of the Virginia delegation. Their deliberations yielded the so-called Virginia Plan, spearheaded by Madison, which proposed for a tripart.i.te government and proportional representation in both houses of Congress. Madison and Washington, who favored a vigorous central government, carried the day against objections from Randolph and Mason, making their strongly nationalist views the official opening position of the Virginia delegation.

On a rainy Friday, May 25, the convention obtained its seven-state quorum and began to meet officially. It had been decided that Franklin would nominate Washington as president. When the ailing Franklin was grounded by heavy rain, he asked Robert Morris to nominate Washington in his stead. (When Franklin finally did arrive at the sessions, he had to be carried aloft in a sedan chair, hoisted by four convicts from the Walnut Street jail.) The delegates appreciated Franklin's magnanimous gesture, and Madison wrote that "the nomination came with particular grace from Pennsylvania, as Dr. Franklin alone could have been thought of as a compet.i.tor." 51 51 After being seconded by John Rutledge, Washington was unanimously elected the convention president, while Major William Jackson, who had been on General Lincoln's wartime staff, became its secretary. After being seconded by John Rutledge, Washington was unanimously elected the convention president, while Major William Jackson, who had been on General Lincoln's wartime staff, became its secretary.

After Washington was chosen, Morris and Rutledge accompanied him to a tall wooden chair in front, placed on an elevated platform and adorned with a rising sun on its carved back. Perhaps to conjure up the spirit of 1776 or remind delegates of his military garb at the Second Continental Congress, Washington appeared in his old uniform. He made a short acceptance speech, full of vintage touches, including confessions of inadequacy and a plea for understanding if he failed-pretty much the same speech he made after every major appointment in his life. As recorded by Madison, Washington "reminded them of the novelty of the scene of business in which he was to act, lamented his want of [better qualifications], and claimed the indulgence of the house towards the involuntary errors which his inexperience might occasion."52 The post of president raised Washington to a nonpartisan, nonspeaking role-ideal for his discreet nature. The Const.i.tutional Convention was yet another situation where the need for national unity imposed a congenial silence upon him. It spared him the need to voice opinions or make speeches, enabling him to bridge divisions and restricting his lobbying to the social hours. He followed the debates closely and later said he "attentively heard and read every oral and printed information on both sides of the question that could be procured."53 Occasionally he cast a vote, descending briefly from his Olympian perch, then resumed his high place. Most of the time he stood forth as a neutral arbiter and honest broker. Occasionally he cast a vote, descending briefly from his Olympian perch, then resumed his high place. Most of the time he stood forth as a neutral arbiter and honest broker.

Although highly intelligent, Washington lacked a philosophical mind that could originate const.i.tutional ideas. John Adams once observed that the founding generation had "been sent into life at a time when the greatest lawgivers of antiquity would have wished to live," but this particular brand of greatness eluded George Washington.54 It is hard to picture him springing to his feet in debate or remonstrating over an issue. He was doubtless content to be consigned to the sidelines and contributed little during the debates. At the same time he lent the proceedings his tacit blessing, allowing others to act as architects of the new order. He embodied the public excluded from the secret proceedings, and his mere presence rea.s.sured Americans that the delegates were striving for the public good instead of hatching a secret cabal behind closed doors. It is hard to picture him springing to his feet in debate or remonstrating over an issue. He was doubtless content to be consigned to the sidelines and contributed little during the debates. At the same time he lent the proceedings his tacit blessing, allowing others to act as architects of the new order. He embodied the public excluded from the secret proceedings, and his mere presence rea.s.sured Americans that the delegates were striving for the public good instead of hatching a secret cabal behind closed doors.

As convention president, Washington a.s.sumed a dignified and sometimes severe air. William Pierce of Georgia recounted how one day a delegate dropped a copy of some proposed resolutions. This paper was brought to Washington, who was appalled that someone had so carelessly threatened the secrecy of the deliberations. He promptly rose to chastise the delegates and, as always, had a knack for projecting suppressed wrath: "Gentlemen, I am sorry to find that some one member of this body has been so neglectful of the secrets of the convention as to drop in the State House a copy of their proceedings, which by accident was picked up and delivered to me this morning. I must entreat [the] gentlemen to be more careful, lest our transactions get into the newspapers and disturb the public repose by premature speculations." He tossed the paper onto the table before him. "I do not know whose paper it is, but there it is-let him who owns it take it."55 Washington donned his hat and strode angrily from the room. Momentarily unable to find his own copy, Pierce crept to the rostrum with some trepidation and was relieved to see someone else's handwriting on the paper. In the end, n.o.body had the nerve to claim it and confront Washington. The vignette shows how Washington functioned as the conscience of the convention and could make this room full of dignitaries feel like guilty schoolboys, summoned to the headmaster's office for a reprimand. Washington donned his hat and strode angrily from the room. Momentarily unable to find his own copy, Pierce crept to the rostrum with some trepidation and was relieved to see someone else's handwriting on the paper. In the end, n.o.body had the nerve to claim it and confront Washington. The vignette shows how Washington functioned as the conscience of the convention and could make this room full of dignitaries feel like guilty schoolboys, summoned to the headmaster's office for a reprimand.

Washington paid such strict heed to the convention's secrecy rule that, even in his diary, he refrained from recording developments, limiting himself to saying, "Attended convention as usual." Otherwise he drew a discreet veil across the proceedings, dwelling on his social activities. In correspondence, however, he drummed up support for the convention's work, telling Jefferson that the central government had virtually ceased to function and that "unless a remedy is soon applied, anarchy and confusion will inevitably ensue."56 A story told of Washington at Philadelphia that may be apocryphal highlights several truths about his relations with his colleagues. One evening some Continental Army veterans were discussing the general's aloofness and the way he communicated to people that he didn't like to be touched or treated familiarly. Gouverneur Morris, dismissing this as nonsense, said he could be as familiar with Washington as with anyone else. Alexander Hamilton proposed a wager: he would buy dinner for a dozen delegates if Morris strode up to Washington, gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder, and said, "My dear General, how happy I am to see you look so well."57 Morris tried the experiment-and Washington turned and fixed him with an icy glare that made Morris regret his error. Morris tried the experiment-and Washington turned and fixed him with an icy glare that made Morris regret his error.

The convention sessions, which ran from ten A.M. to four P.M. daily, left considerable time for delegates to tour the city. Wherever Washington went, he was treated as a head of state, and people flocked after him. "In 1775, we beheld him at the head of the armies of America, arresting the progress of British tyranny," intoned the Pennsylvania Gazette Pennsylvania Gazette. "In the year 1787, we behold him at the head of a chosen band of patriots and heroes, arresting the progress of American anarchy."58 When a local resident, Jacob Hiltzheimer, tried to sneak a peek at the hero at close range, he found him swallowed up in large crowds. "In the evening [of June 4]," he wrote, "my wife and I went to Market Street gate to see that great and good man, General Washington. We had a full view of him and Major [William] Jackson, who walked with him, but the number of people who followed him on all sides was astonishing." When a local resident, Jacob Hiltzheimer, tried to sneak a peek at the hero at close range, he found him swallowed up in large crowds. "In the evening [of June 4]," he wrote, "my wife and I went to Market Street gate to see that great and good man, General Washington. We had a full view of him and Major [William] Jackson, who walked with him, but the number of people who followed him on all sides was astonishing."59 Perhaps hoping to flee the crowds, Washington rose early in the morning and took brisk rides with his slave and coachman Giles. Spotted all over Philadelphia with his slaves, Washington made sure they were suitably dressed for the national stage, especially Billy Lee. Two days after arriving, Washington went on a special shopping expedition to get soap powder, a puff, and a black silk handkerchief for Lee; a month later he bought him two pairs of stockings and a pair of breeches. The chief consideration was surely that Lee should reflect credit on his master, but one wonders whether Washington felt any extra grat.i.tude for the services Lee had rendered in the Continental Army. It would also be intriguing to know whether Lee, Paris, and Giles lingered outside the State House as Washington and the other delegates debated inside the meaning of freedom and the fate of slavery in America.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR.

Rising Sun FOR MOST OF THE CONVENTION, Washington sat in splendid isolation at the front. On May 29, when Edmund Randolph presented the Virginia Plan, the convention reverted to a committee of the whole, and Nathaniel Gorham temporarily supplanted Washington in the presidential chair. After June 19 Washington resumed his place in the high seat that previewed his future status in the federal government. In the early days in Philadelphia he was heartened by the seeming harmony among the delegates, telling George Augustine that "the sentiments of the different members seem to accord more than I expected they would, as far as we have yet gone."1 The general contours of the system that Jay and Madison had sketched out for him-a tripart.i.te government, with a bicameral legislature-enlisted general support. Nonetheless, sharp clashes soon emerged, especially on the explosive issue of representation. On June 6 James Madison spoke in favor of direct election to the House of Representatives, based on proportional representation-a position supported by the populous states-and conjured up a vision of a broad, pluralistic republic. In mid-June William Paterson of New Jersey, champion of the smaller states, countered with a plan that foresaw states represented equally in Congress. Though mute on the podium, Washington supported Madison's view. The general contours of the system that Jay and Madison had sketched out for him-a tripart.i.te government, with a bicameral legislature-enlisted general support. Nonetheless, sharp clashes soon emerged, especially on the explosive issue of representation. On June 6 James Madison spoke in favor of direct election to the House of Representatives, based on proportional representation-a position supported by the populous states-and conjured up a vision of a broad, pluralistic republic. In mid-June William Paterson of New Jersey, champion of the smaller states, countered with a plan that foresaw states represented equally in Congress. Though mute on the podium, Washington supported Madison's view.

Fueled by the apprehensions of smaller states, the amity celebrated by Washington in early June had crumbled by the end of the month. On June 30, the weather having grown sweltering, Gunning Bedford of Delaware delivered a hot-tempered tirade, aimed at the larger states, demonstrating just how bruising the discourse had become. "I do not, gentlemen, trust you," he told them. He even hinted at secession, saying apropos of the smaller states that "sooner than be ruined, there are foreign powers who will take us by the hand."2 Washington and Madison gazed in dismay as their worst fears of disunion threatened to materialize before their eyes. In early July a disappointed Alexander Hamilton returned temporarily to New York on business and dropped a pessimistic note to Washington, saying how "seriously and deeply distressed" he was by the convention's divisive sniping: "I fear that we shall let slip the golden opportunity of rescuing the American empire from disunion, anarchy, and misery." Washington and Madison gazed in dismay as their worst fears of disunion threatened to materialize before their eyes. In early July a disappointed Alexander Hamilton returned temporarily to New York on business and dropped a pessimistic note to Washington, saying how "seriously and deeply distressed" he was by the convention's divisive sniping: "I fear that we shall let slip the golden opportunity of rescuing the American empire from disunion, anarchy, and misery."3 Hostile to new federal powers, the two other New York delegates, Robert Yates and John Lansing, Jr., left the convention by July 5, never to return. Hostile to new federal powers, the two other New York delegates, Robert Yates and John Lansing, Jr., left the convention by July 5, never to return.

Although he held his tongue during the debates, Washington was never a neutral party, and the interminable squabbling only reinforced his view that the country needed a potent central government to override the selfish ambitions of local politicians. The man a.s.sociated with so many triumphs shuddered at the prospect of being a.s.sociated with public failure. "I almost almost despair of seeing a favorable issue to . . . the convention and do therefore repent having had any agency in the business," he informed Hamilton on July 10, chastising "narrow-minded politicians . . . under the influence of local views." despair of seeing a favorable issue to . . . the convention and do therefore repent having had any agency in the business," he informed Hamilton on July 10, chastising "narrow-minded politicians . . . under the influence of local views."4 In a gentle, almost fatherly way, he begged Hamilton, the prodigal son, to return to the fold. "I am sorry you went away," he said. "I wish you were back. The crisis is equally important and alarming and no opposition under such circ.u.mstances should discourage exertions till the signature is fixed." In a gentle, almost fatherly way, he begged Hamilton, the prodigal son, to return to the fold. "I am sorry you went away," he said. "I wish you were back. The crisis is equally important and alarming and no opposition under such circ.u.mstances should discourage exertions till the signature is fixed."5 While the convention dragged on, Washington drank enormous quant.i.ties of tea at the City Tavern and the Indian Queen, two haunts frequented by delegates. In his social life, he exhibited expert political instincts and embraced a wide spectrum of citizens, as if he already saw the presidency looming dimly on the horizon. On one of his first Sundays, he attended a Roman Catholic ma.s.s and also dined with Mark Prager, Sr., a Jewish merchant. On several occasions he joined fraternal dinners hosted by the Irish American Sons of St. Patrick. In early June he yielded to the importunate General Mifflin and reviewed the infantry, cavalry, and artillery of Philadelphia, as if he were already more than merely president of the convention.

Washington's Philadelphia itineraries reflected his far-ranging interests. Surgeon Abraham Chovet gave him a private tour of his Anatomical Museum, with its ingenious displays of human figures. Washington also gratified his abiding love of theater by catching plays at the Southwark Theater, which lay beyond Philadelphia's borders because of a law banning theater performances in the city proper. He evinced continuing solicitude for artists, sitting for an engraving by Charles Willson Peale and a portrait by Robert Edge Pine, who needed to touch up work begun at Mount Vernon two years earlier. In his wanderings, he visited a gristmill on the Schuylkill River and exhausted the proprietor with questions. "This day, Gen. Washington, Gen. Mifflin and four others of the convention did us the honor of paying us a visit in order to see our vineyard and bee houses," said Peter Legaux, a French immigrant. "In this they found great delight, asked a number of questions, and testified their highest approbation with my manner of managing bees."6 At Franklin's house, Washington revealed a sharp interest in mechanical inventions, marveling at a mangle used for pressing items after they were washed. At Franklin's house, Washington revealed a sharp interest in mechanical inventions, marveling at a mangle used for pressing items after they were washed.

As always, Washington's silences were as eloquent at his p.r.o.nouncements. In late July he accompanied Robert Morris on a trout-fishing expedition to a creek near Valley Forge, prompting him to ride over to his old army cantonment. In his diary, Washington mentioned having "visited all the works, which were in ruins, and the encampments in woods, where the ground had not been cultivated."7 When he last saw Valley Forge, it had been cold and gloomy, bare of all foliage. Now it was a balmy place, lush with summer greenery. The sight undoubtedly stirred deep-seated memories in Washington, but his diary entry for that day is curiously reticent; even by Washingtonian standards, it is a gem of emotional evasion. After a one-sentence allusion to Valley Forge, he continued, "On my return back to Mrs. Moore's, observing some farmers at work and entering into conversation with them, I received the following information with respect to the mode of cultivating buckwheat and the application of the grain." When he last saw Valley Forge, it had been cold and gloomy, bare of all foliage. Now it was a balmy place, lush with summer greenery. The sight undoubtedly stirred deep-seated memories in Washington, but his diary entry for that day is curiously reticent; even by Washingtonian standards, it is a gem of emotional evasion. After a one-sentence allusion to Valley Forge, he continued, "On my return back to Mrs. Moore's, observing some farmers at work and entering into conversation with them, I received the following information with respect to the mode of cultivating buckwheat and the application of the grain."8 He then listed various ways to sow, plow, and harrow buckwheat, as if that were the day's major occurrence. On some level, Washington felt the powerful lure of the past yet could never articulate it. He proved only a touch more expansive after visiting the site of the Germantown battle, stating that he had "contemplated on the dangers which threatened the American Army at that place." He then listed various ways to sow, plow, and harrow buckwheat, as if that were the day's major occurrence. On some level, Washington felt the powerful lure of the past yet could never articulate it. He proved only a touch more expansive after visiting the site of the Germantown battle, stating that he had "contemplated on the dangers which threatened the American Army at that place."9 That was his total commentary. Active and forward-looking, Washington did not amble very often down memory lane, though some dinner guests at Mount Vernon recalled him reminiscing about the war. That was his total commentary. Active and forward-looking, Washington did not amble very often down memory lane, though some dinner guests at Mount Vernon recalled him reminiscing about the war.

In the absence of Martha's company, Washington continued to gravitate toward alluring female society. When he dined at a club composed of the city's leading gentlemen, he noted that they invited female family members on alternate Sat.u.r.days. Not surprisingly, Washington chose that day to attend, specifying, "This was the ladies day."10 Several times he called upon Elizabeth Powel and dusted off a musty streak of gallantry. As he wrote to her on July 23, "Gen[era]l Washington presents his respectful compliments to Mrs. Powel and will do himself the honor of calling upon her at or before 5 o'clock (in his carriage) in hopes of the pleasure of conducting her to Lansdown this evening." Several times he called upon Elizabeth Powel and dusted off a musty streak of gallantry. As he wrote to her on July 23, "Gen[era]l Washington presents his respectful compliments to Mrs. Powel and will do himself the honor of calling upon her at or before 5 o'clock (in his carriage) in hopes of the pleasure of conducting her to Lansdown this evening."11 From the chivalrous tone of these messages, one senses that Washington could sometimes enjoy flirtatious banter. A week later, noting his trout-fishing trip to the Valley Forge area, he declined an invitation to escort Mrs. Powel to a performance of Sheridan's From the chivalrous tone of these messages, one senses that Washington could sometimes enjoy flirtatious banter. A week later, noting his trout-fishing trip to the Valley Forge area, he declined an invitation to escort Mrs. Powel to a performance of Sheridan's School for Scandal: School for Scandal: "The Gen[era] l can but regret that matters have turned out so unluckily after waiting so long to receive a lesson in the School for Scandal." "The Gen[era] l can but regret that matters have turned out so unluckily after waiting so long to receive a lesson in the School for Scandal."12 Washington seldom allowed himself the liberty of jesting with a married lady in this manner. His lighthearted tone with Elizabeth Powel makes one wonder anew about the role of repressed s.e.xuality in George Washington's life. We have no evidence that he ever talked to Martha in this coy manner, nor is it easy to imagine. For all the happiness of their marriage, Martha had become his life's standard prose while Elizabeth Powel, like Sally Fairfax, may have introduced some forbidden spice of poetry. It was as if, during his extended sojourn in Philadelphia, the footloose Washington permitted himself to explore sides of his personality that he kept firmly under wraps at home. Washington seldom allowed himself the liberty of jesting with a married lady in this manner. His lighthearted tone with Elizabeth Powel makes one wonder anew about the role of repressed s.e.xuality in George Washington's life. We have no evidence that he ever talked to Martha in this coy manner, nor is it easy to imagine. For all the happiness of their marriage, Martha had become his life's standard prose while Elizabeth Powel, like Sally Fairfax, may have introduced some forbidden spice of poetry. It was as if, during his extended sojourn in Philadelphia, the footloose Washington permitted himself to explore sides of his personality that he kept firmly under wraps at home.

NOT LONG AFTER Washington wrote so gloomily to Hamilton, the Const.i.tutional Convention experienced a spectacular breakthrough. In mid-July it was agreed that the small states would be represented equally in the Senate, while the House would have proportional representation based on population. For Washington and other Virginia delegates, it was a bitter pill to swallow, threatening to weaken the federal government critically. Nonetheless, an eminently pragmatic man, Washington accepted the need for painful compromises to form a union, a.s.suring Henry Knox that the government being shaped by the delegates was "the best that can be obtained at the present moment, under such diversity of ideas as prevail."13 Perhaps the most uncomfortable debate hinged on the slavery issue. The abolitionist movement had made considerable headway in New England but was losing ground in the South after a brief flurry of postwar interest. Slavery was the most vexing topic at the convention. As Pierce Butler of South Carolina commented, "The security the southern states want is that their negroes may not be taken from them, which some gentlemen within or without doors have a very good mind to do."14 Employing thinly disguised blackmail, some southern delegates vowed to quit the convention if anyone interfered with their peculiar inst.i.tution. "The true question at present is whether the southern states shall, or shall not, be parties to the union," said John Rutledge of South Carolina. Employing thinly disguised blackmail, some southern delegates vowed to quit the convention if anyone interfered with their peculiar inst.i.tution. "The true question at present is whether the southern states shall, or shall not, be parties to the union," said John Rutledge of South Carolina.15 The delegates agreed that slavery wouldn't be mentioned by name in the Const.i.tution, giving way to