The United States of America, Part 1: 1783-1830

by Edwin Erle Sparks

Turning over the pages of Madison's "Notes," one may follow through committee and general session, the slow evolution of the Constitution of the United States. The eager hands of the experienced workers turned over the materials of old forms, rejecting parts hitherto tried and found wanting, welding together familiar pieces brought from monarchical or colonial precedent, and constructing a machine noted for practicability rather than for novelty. They were forced to use careful workmanship because of the great variety of opinions. They were hindered constantly from rash action by inherited prejudices and climatic differences. And they were conscious at the end of having wrought, not perfectly, but as well as conditions would permit.

Experience was the fountain from which the Constitution-makers drew their "inspiration." A novel creation, as a certain narrow provincialism in the United States is sometimes fond of claiming for the Constitution, would have been an assembling of theoretical machinery, of untried experiments, which could not have met the shock of being suddenly put into motion to replace a broken down system. It could not have won back, solely on its merits, the confidence of the discouraged people. If it had been "the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man," it could scarcely have withstood the vicissitudes of a growing people for over a century, with amendment in four particulars only. More experiments and less experience might have required the adoption of more of the fifteen hundred amendments which have been proposed to the Constitution in these hundred years. Experience is a safe ground upon which to build. Gouverneur Morris demolished a vast amount of eulogy when he wrote to a correspondent in France that some boasted the Constitution as a work from Heaven, while others gave it a less righteous origin. "I have many reasons to believe," said this matter-of-fact man, who bore such a large part in recasting the phraseology of the document, "that it was the work of plain, honest men."

As matter is not created in any of its forms, but simply assumes new combinations by its own laws or under the guidance of man, so apparently new models in statecraft may be resolved by analysis into old ideas in new combinations. The American Constitution is the English system of government adapted to American soil through the intervening colonial and state governments. The president is the king through the royal governor, but shorn of his prerogative, descent, and perpetuity in the transition. The Senate is the House of Lords, with its permanency changed into a long tenure of office by passing through the colonial council. To the same intermediate State is due the power of appointment to office and of treaty-making which the Senate shares with the executive, thus reviving the relation of the privy council, chosen from the House of Lords, to the King. The House of Representatives is copied directly from the popular assembly of the colonial government, which in turn was modelled after the British Commons. The right of originating bills of revenue, which the Representatives possess, was preserved in many a contest between colonial assemblies and royal governors. It is the birthright of Englishmen, dating from the Petition of Right granted by Charles I., which substituted fixed taxes for forced loans and gifts. The national supreme judiciary, the most novel of the three divisions of the National Government, embodies in its appellate principles the Privy Council of England, to which all colonists could appeal, and the later admiralty committees of the Continental Congress, to which all cases of prizes seized in the war might be referred. The theory of a state court of last resort had already found place in nine of the State constitutions and the convention simply placed the capstone of a national Supreme Court on the top of the column. Some parts of the colonial government were rejected as unfitted to the national frame. An advisory council for the President, such as nearly every colony gave to its governor, was desired by many but finally omitted. The present Cabinet really takes its place.

In like manner, it is possible to find British and colonial precedent, tried and proved, for almost every provision of the National Government. The ruling class at the time it was framed was composed of English and Scotch, trained in British forms of government. The Dutch in New York and the Germans of Pennsylvania took almost no part in the Philadelphia Convention. It is as useless to deny an English parentage for the American Constitution as to deny that there were English colonies in America. So did the heirs of the ages avoid the mistakes of the past by seeking the results of the law of the survival of the fittest. They form a strong contrast with another people, less fitted by inheritance for self-government, who were at about the same time entering upon the task of constitution-making. "It is somewhat singular that we should be engaged in the same project for the same purpose," Franklin wrote to Chastellux, referring to the Assembly of Notables in France and the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia. "I hope both assemblies will be blessed with success and that their deliberations and councils may promote the happiness of both nations."

It so chanced that the very day the convention in Philadelphia had a quorum, the Assembly in France, initiatory of the French Revolution, was dismissed. Both had met in the spirit of reform; but to what different ends did the two movements eventually come! The Americans had in no case attempted the impossible; had not hoped for the immediate dawn of the millennium; had not even attempted to put into practice the loftiest sentiments of the Declaration of Independence; and had carefully distinguished between the State as an agency for political and for social rights. Very similar moderate sentiments on government had been carried to France by Lafayette, the Lameths, Viscount de Noailles, the Prince de Broglie, and others who came to America to take part in the Revolutionary War. Their influence produced the moderate French constitution of 1791, which shows a marked resemblance to the American frame. That these principles were suited to the American people is demonstrated by the rapidity with which peace and order were established under them. That they were ill qualified for the French people was shown by the early overthrow of the constitution of 1791.

The French constitution of 1793 and those which followed bore little resemblance to the American frame. The influence which the American Revolution exerted upon the French Revolution had passed, and the two movements bore no further resemblance to each other. The Americans had been content with a rebellion against authority and a revolution which substituted old forms, or combinations of forms, with new officials. The French revolutionists were not satisfied until they had tried to change all existing forms and institutions. They would annihilate society, the church, Christianity, even Deity itself. Precedent became a crime. The accepted system of weights and measures, the calendar—nothing was too well tried to compete with innovation. In America, the rights of man were eventually tacked on to the tail of the American Constitution as an afterthought to conciliate the timorous, "a tub thrown to the whale," as the first ten amendments have been called. In France, the rights of man overshadowed the working part of the constitution, delaying essential details by their incorporation, and ultimately furnishing a pretext for interfering with other peoples. When once the Americans had secured a constitution, they desired nothing so much as to be left alone to work out their own destiny. When once the French had evolved a system, with true propagandist spirit they wished to foist it on others. "With cannon for treaties and millions of freemen as ambassadors," they demanded that the feet of all nations should keep step with the march of what they deemed liberty. Hamilton, as usual, had proven a seer when he wrote to Lafayette in France at the very beginning of the French movement, "I fear much the final success of the attempt, for the fate of those I esteem who are engaged in it, and for the danger in case of success, of innovations greater than will consist with the felicity of your nation."

The people of America seemed to wait with bated breath the conclusion of the deliberations of the wise men of the nation met in convention at Philadelphia. Rebellion stood with hesitating step, and warring factions tacitly declared a truce. The crisis was at hand.

"The names of the members will satisfy you that the states have been serious in this matter," wrote Madison to Jefferson from Philadelphia. "The attendance of General Washington is a proof of the light in which he regards it. The whole community is big with expectation and there can be no doubt that the result will in some way or other have a powerful effect on our destiny."

Even stronger conviction of the critical situation may be gleaned from the private correspondence of the other members, bound by the pledge of secrecy from describing the turbulent scenes attending the sessions. Daily had they seen the difficulty of reconciling the inherited animosity between the Puritan and the Cavalier transplanted to America; between the Established Church and the Dissenter; between commercial and agricultural interests; between a slave system and free labour; between an urban population, accustomed to abide by majority rule, and a rural people, bred to individual freedom and absolute home rule. They had to evolve a system satisfactory to people scattered through thirteen degrees of latitude, with climatic differences arising from a mean average temperature of forty degrees in the north and sixty degrees in the south. Such decentralising tendencies were met with nowhere in Europe save under the strong hand of a monarch in Russia. These climatic differences produced the frugal Northerner, who had to provide in advance for the winter season, and the hospitable planter of the South, in whom prodigality was induced by the very lavishness of nature about him. It was not strange that by contrast, and seen through the haze of distance, the frugality of the North should appear to be avarice to the South; while the hospitality upon which that section prided itself should seem to be prodigality in Northern eyes. These bask differences could be reconciled by compromise, and that only temporarily. Washington had summed up the situation when he declared that there must be reciprocity or no union; that the whole matter could be reduced to a single question—whether it was best for the States to unite.

Although Washington, as presiding officer, took no part in the debates, his influence in favour of effective government must have had weight in the convention. Madison and Gouverneur Morris bore the brunt of objections to a national system. Franklin, a victim of old age and ill health, was allowed to read his speeches from his seat. Hamilton pleaded for a more effective system early in the sessions, but his radical views undoubtedly militated against any plan he had to offer. Two of the most influential members from the Southern States, Randolph and Mason, of Virginia, refused to countenance the proceedings by their signatures to the document. Another member, Gerry, of Massachusetts, followed their example. Luther Martin, a prominent lawyer of Maryland, returned to his constituency to write a letter of protest against the assumption of power by the convention in framing a new government when called together solely for the purpose of correcting the old. Yates and Lansing, two of the three delegates from the prominent State of New York, went home for the same reason. The third, Alexander Hamilton, withdrew for a time in disgust because his efforts for an efficient central power produced apparently little results. The sessions had, for the most part, representatives from eleven States only, Rhode Island having failed to send delegates. Her refusal was caused by a conviction that the convention would recommend taking away from the States the power to issue money and to collect duties. Her fears proved true.