Also contained in paragraph ten
of Federalist No. 2 is Jay’s insistence that the delegates at Philadelphia,
“passed many months in cool, uninterrupted, and daily consultations,” and that
these men were unawed by power or, “influenced by any passions except love for
their Country.” Two things are worth noting up front, I believe. One is that
because the proceedings of the constitutional convention were conducted in
secret the debates themselves were not a matter of public record, and thus were
not formally recorded or published. Most of what is known of the events of the
convention is owed to the efforts of James Madison, who carefully chronicled
the discussions as they took place for the sake of posterity, and whose records
were published decades after the fact. The second relevant fact is that while
Madison was one of the chief architects of the convention itself, attended it
as a delegate for the state of Virginia and was present at almost every session,
Jay was then serving as Minister of Foreign Affairs and is not recorded as
having been in attendance at all.
That being said, Madison’s
records contain evidence of numerous heated debates on a variety of subjects,
from apportionment, to the nature of the elections of the senate and president,
to protections of slavery and federal regulation of commerce. Far from being
“cool , uninterrupted,” consultations, the convention sessions saw delegates
from small states squaring off against those from large states, fault lines
form between pro and anti-slavery factions, accusations levelled of
seeking personal political advantage, and as deliberations wore on the shooting
down of key proposals by exhausted attendees who simply wanted to adjourn and
go home. It’s also worth considering that: only twelve states sent delegates to
begin with, Rhode Island having refused to participate; that two of New York’s
delegates, in disagreement with most of what transpired, left soon after the
convention got under-way and left their state’s business to Alexander Hamilton
alone; that of the delegates who were present at the conclusion of the
conference three refused to sign the finished document in protest of a Bill of
Rights being omitted. Far from being marked by unanimity, the Philadelphia
Convention was defined by vociferous debate, frequent disagreement, and
at-times dramatic gestures of defiance.
As to the passions that
influenced them, I don’t doubt that love of country was on the minds of many of
the delegates to the Philadelphia Convention. However it was not the only thing
that motivated those in attendance, and at times seemed to have been completely
overshadowed by the personal economic considerations of some of the delegates
themselves. The issue of slavery in particular, and the role of the proposed
federal government to regulate or even abolish it, brought to the surface a
great deal of partisan rancour that split the delegates along a previously
unseen North/South axis. Though, in 1787, African slaves made up nearly 1/5 of
the total population of the states and twenty-five of the convention’s
fifty-five delegates personally owned them, ninety percent of slaves lived in
the South. Indeed, in states like South Carolina and Virginia, between 1 in 3
and 1 in 2 families owned at least one slave, and the basis of the Southern
plantation economy was rooted in the wage-free labour that chattel-slaver
provided. As a result the debates surrounding its potential limitation or
elimination aroused fierce resistance from those whose livelihood depended on
its perpetuation.
Even after it became clear that
abolition was out of the question, once several Southern delegations refused to
continue their participation otherwise, the issue of regulation continued to be
a subject of tension and disagreement. On two separate occasions the convention
attendees agreed to postpone the discussion on limiting American participation
in the international slave trade because no compromise was forthcoming. So
attached were certain delegates to federal protection of slavery that, when
agreement finally arrived it saw them cede greater authority to the federal
government in the realm of taxation and trade regulation (which they had
strongly opposed previously) in exchange for a twenty-year moratorium on
government interference in the slave trade. Slavery was among the issues that
exerted the strongest effect on the convention delegates in Philadelphia, not
only because it touched on deeply held moral and philosophical principles but
because it was foundational to the economic reality of fully half of the
purported Union. Far from simply love of country, money also helped shape one
of the most influential debates of the entire convention and the United States
Constitution for generations to come.
It is at least possible that Jay
was not aware of the content or character of the convention debates any more
that most of the American public would have been in 1787/88. In such case, his
writings on the subject could be considered the product of simple ignorance.
Given only a partial impression, perhaps by friends or acquaintances that were
in attendance, he conceived of the Philadelphia Convention in the best possible
light, for want of evidence to the contrary. Having said that, I have little
doubt that John Jay was aware of what actually transpired. Though he had not
personally been in attendance at Philadelphia he was well-acquainted with many
who were, and the fact of his collaboration with Hamilton and Madison on the
Federalist Papers would seem to suggest that the trio were more or less on the
same page. More to the point he was well versed in the political conflicts of
the day that existed between the various states, or even within them. As a
state legislator he knew what divided New Yorkers; as a diplomat he knew the
foreign threats that America faced; as an officer of Congress he knew what the
states had to argue about; and as an anti-slavery activist he knew how volatile
an issue that could be. In a proposed gathering of delegates from twelve of
thirteen states, John Jay would not have need it explained what conflicts would
have arisen. Consequently his attempt to portray the convention in a
self-consciously optimistic light must be taken as a purposeful, if
well-intentioned, attempt to mislead.
This should hardly come as any
kind of surprise. Hamilton and Jefferson alike were not averse to taking
advantage of what they knew and their audience didn't in order to favourably
shift the terms of the debates they were engaged in. They omitted certain
details, glossed over others, exaggerated this element and downplayed that one;
all with the aim of more effectively getting their point across. Schooled in
the same kind of rhetoric as his more celebrated contemporaries, John Jay was
no different. He summarised the Philadelphia Convention in the most hopeful
sense, partially because the debates themselves were not the subject under discussion,
but mainly with the intent of fostering an environment among his readers more
conducive to compromise. If the men that had been chosen to represent the
various states in Philadelphia, considered among the best minds of their
generation, were portrayed as selfless, conciliatory and patient, perhaps their
countrymen could be persuaded to follow suit. As Jay pointed out in paragraphs
twelve and thirteen, in spite of their inexperience with national government
Americans had come to trust the Continental Congress and the men that comprised
it to direct the course of their affairs in war and in peace. That being the
case,
“Greater reason have they now to
respect the judgement and advice of the Convention, for it is well known that
some of the most distinguished members of that Congress, who have been since
tried and justly approved for patriotism and abilities, and who have grown old
in acquiring political information, were also members of this Convention, and
carried into it their accumulated knowledge and experience.”
The sum of these arguments is
something like an equation. The American people came to trust the members of
the Continental Congress to conduct the affairs of the nation; the delegates to
the Philadelphia Convention were principally former members of that Congress;
their trust and confidence should logically carry over to the second body of
men and the all-important document that they collectively drafted. That these
same erstwhile public servants could be said to have conducted themselves with
patience, even tempers and sound reasoning might too induce those whose respect
they enjoy to follow their example.
Of
course Jay knew that this was not a done thing. In paragraph eleven he admitted
at length that cooler heads do not always prevail, even when the matters under
consideration are of considerable gravity. The proposed plan of government was,
after all, a recommendation, and one whose legitimacy would ultimately derive
from neither, “blind approbation, nor […] blind reprobation,” but from, “that
sedate and candid consideration, which the magnitude and importance of the
subject demand.” This was, however, more to be hoped than expected. Even the
illustrious Congress of 1774, Jay remarked, was not immune from criticism or
capable of uniting all Americans behind a common sentiment. Though the
Revolution was ultimately successful and the leadership of Congress validated,
debate was an unavoidable part of the process. The ratification of the
Constitution was to be no different. While, as Jay pointed out, apparent
enemies of progress may be motivated by personal interests or simple
misunderstandings, their input should be welcomed so that they might approach
the truth on their own terms and thereby develop a more sincere appreciation of
their errors. These too are Enlightenment ideals; that debate is the soul of
reason, and that truth is great and will always prevail.
Jay
ended Federalist No. 2 with a warning of sorts. As stated previously, in spite
of what he perceived as the widespread validation of a union of the various
American states, there were those in the 1780s that argued in favour of a
division of said union into a number of smaller confederacies. “I am persuaded
in my own mind,” Jay wrote, “that the people have always thought right on this
subject, and that their universal and uniform attachment to the cause of the
Union rests on great and weighty reasons.” Allowing, however, that the
Constitution might be defeated Jay hoped, “it may be as clearly foreseen by
every good Citizen, that whenever the dissolution of the Union arrives, America
will have reason to exclaim in the words of the Poet, ‘Farewell! a long
Farewell to all my Greatness.’” This is a rather theatrical way of
characterizing the circumstances, but it’s not entirely without precedent.
Indeed, it rather calls upon the notion of American exceptionalism; that the
United States is destined for greatness, and that in 1787 it stood at a
crossroads between its rightful place of triumph and fame and an inglorious
exile to the sidelines of history.
In
the history of what would become the United States this kind of sentiment was
far from uncommon. The Puritans who first migrated to Massachusetts Bay in the
17th century did so with at least the partial understanding that
they would be forming a community in the New World that would not have been
possible in the Old. As noted Puritan leader John Winthrop preached, they were
setting about creating a “City on a Hill” that would serve as a moral and
social model for the rest of the world. The Quakers of Pennsylvania, though
lacking the millennial perspective of their colonial neighbours, seemed to
nurture a similar basic understanding of their purpose in America. John Penn
had intended to forge a more perfect society than existed in the England of his
birth; America, unspoiled and fertile, afforded him exactly that opportunity.
In Maryland too, and in Georgia, men of vision saw a land where the impossible
could be realized; where English Catholics could live and work without fear of
persecution, or where those sunk in debt could remake themselves as prosperous,
hard-working, moral individuals. While none of these visions were ever truly
realized, or in some cases even came close, the underlying sentiment, that
America was an exceptional place whose people were destined for more than the
average, proved highly influential. It would not have been unusual, then, for
John Jay to portray the ratification of the Constitution as being directly tied
to that distinctive sense of American destiny. But, as he conceived it,
greatness was not inevitable; a proponent of reasoned debate, free will, and
truth, Jay believed that his countrymen must choose for themselves, all or
nothing. Rhetoric it may be, but powerful all the same.
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