Patrick Henry’s broader intentions
notwithstanding – i.e. the stoking of regional suspicions for the purpose of
achieving a particular political end – it bears recalling that the specifics of
his argument against the imposition of a federal tax regime in the United
States of America were also largely moot. As aforementioned, the text of the
proposed constitution made no mention whatsoever of any federal office under
the name of “sheriff.” Indeed, the word itself does not appear once across the
entire length of the relevant text. Sheriffs, of course, were very common at
the state level, fulfilling a number of functions on a per-county basis from
law enforcement to electoral certification. The most sensitive of these duties was
undoubtedly the collection of taxes. Owing to the nature of the dispute which
ultimately gave way to the American Revolution, taxation was a concept which
most late 18th century Americans were apt to associate with tyranny,
particularly when non-payment was linked to severe punishment or when the
collection of the same was submitted to the arbitrary oversight of the assigned
collectors. As Henry pointedly affirmed, tax collection in Virginia rather
distressingly fitted this model. By the terms of the Old Dominion’s 1776
constitution, sheriffs were nominated by the relevant County Courts and
appointed by the Governor, nominally positioning them as agents of both the
judicial and executive branches of the state government. But the taxes which
they were responsible for collecting were exclusively levied by Virginia’s
General Assembly, and that same body was the only entity in the state capable
of making such laws as could limit the authority of the sheriffs within the
context of their tax collecting duties.
The result was that the assigned sheriffs operated in a kind of limbo
between the three branches of the state government, permitting them significant
autonomy of action and combining judicial, executive, and legislative directives.
Threatened with executive censure, a
Virginia sheriff might thus have claimed a legislative mandate for their
actions and described executive interference as a violation of the autonomy of
the most representative branch of government. Similarly pressured with
increased legislative oversight, this same sheriff might then have affirmed
their status as an officer of the courts whose activities fell well outside the
jurisdiction of the General Assembly. And in the event that the relevant County
Court attempted to reign in its nominal subordinate? The sheriff in question
might have changed tacks once again, claiming now to be an executive appointee
whose actions could only be checked by executive fiat. While the relevant
authorities worked to sort which of these claims, if any, were accurate, much
mischief could have been achieved by the aforementioned officers. In light of
the authority assigned to Congress by the proposed constitution to lay and
collect such taxes as the majority of its members deemed necessary, “To pay the
Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United
States [,]” Henry doubtless envisioned a similar situation taking shape on the
national level, with the overlapping jurisdictions of the various branches of
government providing cover for the exploitative behavior of a class of federal
sheriffs. Possessing judicial as well as financial authority, and armed with
the power granted them by text of Article VI – the second clause of which
declared that, “This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which
shall be made in Pursuance thereof […] shall be the supreme Law of the Land” –
these agents of United States government would be free to collect taxes
anywhere, apply penalties for non-compliance anywhere, and violate whatever
state laws or regulations threatened to obstruct them.
The only issue with this scenario was – it
once more bears repeating – that the proposed constitution established no such
office as a federal sheriff. The text of Article I, Section 8, as cited above,
did affirm that Congress would have the authority to both lay taxes and collect
them, thereby implying the creation of some kind of mechanism for the purpose
of physically transferring the claimed funds from private possession to public
possession. And the final clause of the aforementioned Section 8 did also grant
to Congress the authority, “To make all Laws which shall be necessary and
proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers and all other Powers
vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any
Department or Officer thereof [,]” thereby seeming to create substantial room
for interpretation in terms of how and by whom the levied taxes were collected.
But the proposed constitution went no further than this in describing the means
by which the government it outlined would seek to secure funding. Henry’s
previously-cited assertion that there would be a federal sheriff – and that
they would be a source of misery and oppression to the people of the United
States – therefore represented nothing more than conjecture on his part. It
would most definitely have been possible, upon the formal adoption of the
proposed constitution, for Congress to create an office which precisely
paralleled that which existed under the name of sheriff in states like
Virginia. It would also hardly have been a stretch to imagine that the
assembled Congressmen and Senators might seek to simply replicate the system of
tax collection with which they were familiar from their respective home states.
Notwithstanding the actual probability of such an outcome actually coming to
pass, however, it was most definitely not the fait accompli that Henry sought to describe.
Once again, the issue at hand was one of
rhetoric. As often as he seemed to be genuinely interested in discussing the
moral or philosophical implications of this or that aspect of the proposed
constitution with his fellow delegates to the Virginia Ratifying Convention,
Patrick Henry appeared especially intent on winning whatever argument he
believed he could successfully frame. While sometimes these arguments had
comparatively little to do with the subject at hand – as when he sought to
affirm that the contemporary British House of Commons, rotten boroughs and all,
was set to be a better guardian of liberty than the Congress described by the
proposed constitution – others did at least appear to address some of the
specific issues raised by the prospect of inaugurating a consolidated national
government in America. Henry’s exploration of the prospect of federal tax
collection was most definitely one of the latter, inasmuch as it sought to
raise the very valid point that the submission of the states to federal power –
and the implications of certain clauses of the proposed constitution – might conceivably
have certain uncomfortable, inconvenient, or even distressing consequences.
That being said, the manner in which Henry structured said argument was not
particularly conducive to transparent, nuanced discussion. He introduced the
subject of taxation, after all, by making a wholly unverifiable claim. Congress,
he declared, absolutely would create a class of federal sheriffs in parallel to
that which existed on the state level. However else he elaborated upon this
premise, whatever perfectly reasonable points he managed to raise, the foundation
of his argument was fundamentally impossible either to confirm or deny. Perhaps
Congress would enact such legislation – under the authority of the
aforementioned Necessary and Proper Clause – as would serve to create a corps
of federal sheriffs whose responsibility for collecting taxes would be joined
with the authority to lay charges and make arrests. And then again, perhaps
they wouldn’t, and the collection of federal taxes would be given over to the
recognizance of the governments of the various states. There was, truly, no way
of knowing.
Henry did not acknowledge this, of course,
because it would not have served his purpose to do so. Setting off a discussion
about the practical limitations of sovereignty, the relative value of stability
versus liberty, and the existence of a greater public good may very well have
proven exceptionally fruitful to all those in attendance at the Virginia
Ratifying Convention, but such was most definitely not what the Old Dominion’s
former Governor had in mind. Henry – most assuredly with the best intentions in
mind – wanted to win. He wanted to walk into the Richmond Theatre – where the
Convention was held from the 2nd to the 27th of June,
1788 – say whatever he needed to say to get his countrymen to agree with him,
and walk out knowing that he had succeeded in denying the proposed constitution
at least the affirmation of his home state of Virginia. Subtly did not form any
part of this plan; nor did complexity, or nuance, or a general willingness to
air out the relevant issues to the fullest. To succeed, as Henry wished to, one
rather needed to be bold, declarative, broad, and confrontational. And cunning,
of course – one also needed to be cunning, and manipulative, and blessed with
greater insight into the human heart than most people could ever aspire to
possess. Henry was all of these things, or he could be. Consider, once again,
the structure of the argument he deployed during his aforementioned discussion
of federal taxation.
By beginning with a false premise – i.e.
that Congress, in order to collect the taxes which the proposed constitution
gave it the power to lay, would create a class of federal sheriffs possessed of
the same powers and prone to the same abusive behaviors as their counterparts
in the states – and thereafter elaborating upon the nature and degree of his
objections, Henry effectively presented his potential opponents with a number
of mutually undesirable avenues of approach. To begin to argue the specifics of
Henry’s assertion – by claiming, say, that the state sheriffs were not nearly
as cruel and relentless as Henry described them, or that the courts would
indeed serve as an adequate constraint upon the actions of their federal
equivalents – would have been to tacitly grant the justice of his premise.
Having thus ceded the advantage, those who were of a tendency to vote in favor of
the proposed constitution would have accordingly been forced to argue over the
indefinites that Henry was comfortable with acknowledging – i.e. the relative
likelihood of Congress passing such laws as would adequately restrain the
federal sheriffs – rather than that which he desired to gloss over entirely. To
conversely deny the basic premise as offered, by asserting that there would
never be such thing as a federal sheriff in the United States of America, would
also almost certainly have played to Henry’s advantage. The issue, recall, was
not that there would or wouldn’t be the federal equivalent of state sheriffs,
but rather that no one could say for certain one way or the other. Faced with a
blanket denial, Henry might easily have turned the uncertainly he had initially
sought to obscure instantly to his advantage. “Are you sure they’re won’t be
federal sheriffs?” he might conceivably have asked. “How can you know? Can you
show me the clause of the proposed constitution that denies the possibility of their
existence?” Engaging with questions like these would likewise surely have
played to Henry’s advantage, just as a continued and absolute denial would have
given him free reign to spin such scenarios as would almost certainly have
further roused the anxieties of his otherwise undecided countrymen.
Even the most accurate response – that
which granted the possibility of a federal sheriff’s existence while denying
the probability of the same – would likely have fallen prey to Henry’s
rhetorical dexterity. Either the individual in question would have been made to
look as though they were not quite sure what it was they meant to say – perhaps
upon repeated badgering with the question, “Will there be federal sheriffs or
won’t there?” – or the conversation would have been made to devolve into one of
passion and volume rather than reason and fact. The possibility of Congress
creating a corps of federal sheriffs having been mutually agreed, it would have
been left to Henry and his opponent to debate whether they thought the thing
likely or unlikely. Since neither could count on being conclusively in the
right, he whose assertions were most convincing would doubtless have enjoyed
greater success. In this realm Henry would be at a distinct advantage, the man
having built a career on convincing others that his own opinions were worth
adopting. Not only was he especially adept at appealing to the fears and
desires, hopes and horrors of his audience, but as the present discussion has
sought to demonstrate, his ability to shape the assertions he put forward so as
to effectively foreclose on the possibility of a successful counter was truly
masterful.
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