History That Doesn't Suck - 15 (Second Edition): “We the People:” Constitution Making in Philly

Episode Date: September 7, 2026

“What even is the Virginia Plan but democracy checked by democracy, or pork with a little change of the sauce?” This is the story of 55 men from 12 of the 13 sovereign states gathered at the Pennsylvania State House during the miserably hot Philadelphian summer of 1787. They are here to discuss the failing Articles of Confederation. Foreign debts are past due. Rebellions are rising. The states are fighting. Can they fix all of this? Or will the disagreeing, arguing, threatening, theorizing, brainstorming, (mostly) sober-speech making, and compromising all be for naught?Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com andpreorder Prof. Jackson’s new bookgo deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendationsjoin discussions in our Facebook communityget news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette come see a live showget HTDS merchor become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks.HTDS is part of Audacy media network.Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Contact Audacyinc.com

It's about four o'clock in the freezing afternoon, January 25th, 1787, and 40-year-old farmer Daniel Shays is doing something that a few years ago he never would have imagined. He's leading a force of well over 1,000 farmers through four-foot-deep snow in western Massachusetts out to arm themselves in their ongoing struggle against their own state government. This isn't what he wanted. Daniel believed in the promise of a king-free Massachusetts and America. A militiaman turned continental captain. He fought bravely at Bunker Hill, at Saratoga, at Stony Point. General George Washington personally selected him to guard Major John Andre in the final moments before the British officers hanging.

But Congress, which, as we know from episodes 11 and 14, has no power to tax under the current Articles of Confederation, never properly paid him for his years of service. All Daniel received were nearly worthless IOU certificates. And now, under the influence of coastal merchants, the likewise strapped for cash Massachusetts state government has raised taxes and demanded payment not in farm goods or congressional IOUs, but in coin. And the courts are foreclosing on farmers who can't pay.

In short, Massachusetts is facing a cascading cash crisis, and the state's western farmers, many of whom bled and risked their lives for the state's liberty, are being forced to bear the brunt. But these farmers, who've tried to play nice, some have sold their IOUs for pennies on the dollar. Daniel even sold the sword given to him by the Marquis de Lafayette, have hit the breaking point.

And it's not like soldiering against an oppressive, tax-happy government is unfamiliar to them. So, here they go again. That is how former Confirmary. continental Captain Daniel Shays came to lead this farmer army, now trudging through the snow, to reach the federal arsenal in Springfield, where they plan to arm themselves with its 7,000 brand new muskets and bayonets, 1,300 barrels of black powder, a few pieces of artillery, and of course, all the shot they need, to continue fighting against the state. There's just one

problem. The state militia is here, too, guarding the armory. In front of the Springfield Army stands Massachusetts Militia General William Shepard. This is a federal armory, but with Congress too broke and too short on troops to send a force, and Massachusetts wary of Congress meddling in its affairs, it's the state militia, not the U.S. Army. That's here today. Now, William is watching his messengers. Major Lyman and Captain Buffington parlay with Daniel Shays and his aides, about 250 yards in the distance. What a mess.

To William and other state, or even congressional leaders, this is exactly the kind of mob that too much democracy can bring. All these farmers have to do is pay their taxes and they can vote. Their grievances are nothing like those of the revolution. Moreover, word has it, these farmers are anarchists who want to get rid of all personal property. Well, if true, that's crazy, and definitely not what William, a former continent, colonel fought to create. Hence, his messengers are telling Daniel Shays and his men to disperse. Or else. Ah, and here comes Major Lyman and Captain Buffington now, returning from their parlay.

They deliver Daniel's reply. The farmers will not disperse. And off in the distance, yes, these rebels are advancing in columns. Turning to Major William Stevens of the artillery, General William Shepard orders a warning shot. They cannon fire rips through the freezing afternoon air. But the farmers remain resolute. They continue marching forward. The major tries a second time, again firing well over the farmer's heads, hoping to dissuade them. No dice.

Their advance continues. If anything, the warning shot only seems to have invigorated the 400 old soldiers at the front of the charge, led by yet another revolutionary vet. Captain James White, moving in eight-man-deep formations. The farmers quicken their march to a trot. This fight is on. Williams done what he can to avoid blood. If they want to throw down, it's so beat.

The militia general has the cannon's trajectory lowered to waistband height. The cannonballs fly right at the column of farmers. As they do, an out-of-sight halitzer unleashes deadly grape shop. Three farmers are dead on the spot. Of his riding pain as they grab out their torn flesh and feel hot blood pouring through their fingers, right into the ice cold, four-foot deep snow, as the rest of their forces break and retreat. One of them will yet die, bringing the total fatalities to four. Welcome to history that doesn't suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Named after the former continental captain leading it, Shays Rebellion ran through the winter of 7, 1886 to 87. Fully broken shortly after this January showdown we just witnessed, this rebellion left the state's elites hungry to make examples of its leaders. But John Hancock would have none of it. Recently returned to the governor's office. The 50-year-old Bostonian wisely eased tensions by securing pardons for the chief instigators, even for Daniel Shea's.

But the impact of Shea's rebellion was far from over. Americans across the 13 sovereign states were terrified. Those farmers attacked a federal arsenal. Yet, Massachusetts dealt with it, proving just how weak Congress is. That has Americans thinking. As much as each state likes its sovereignty and independence, and we'll get to that. Maybe it's time to give Congress, that is, the United States, enough power to actually do its job, like regulate interstate trade and put down armed rebellions.

As Mercy Otis Warren puts it, Though the late disturbances were quelled, it awakened all to a full view of the necessity of concert and union in measures that might preserve their internal peace. In other words, Shea's rebellion is the straw breaking the camel's back. So it's time to fix the articles of Confederation, maybe even replace the articles. And we're going to Philadelphia to do it.

That's right. Today's story is the Constitutional Convention. We'll bear witness as 55 men, particularly driven by our shortest founding father, James Little Jemmy Madison, deliberate, persuade, coax, and even threaten, but ultimately compromise on a new form of government that they hope will preserve the failing union and peace between them. But to better understand this unfolding drama, let's first back up, build on some knowledge from past episodes, and review the articles of Confederation, so that we really grasp what's brought these states to the brink. Ready? Rewind.

Though calling themselves the United States since 1776, there's little united about these American states as the Revolutionary War comes to its official end in 1783. And that is in no small part due to this union's governing compact. The Articles of Confederation. In the works as of 1776, completed in 1778 and officially in effect once the 13th state, Maryland, ratified in 1781, the Articles of Confederation did not create a national government. The 13 states are still very independent. As Article 2 tells us, quote,

each state retains its sovereignty, freedom, and independence, and every power jurisdiction and right, which is not by this Confederation expressly delegated to the United States in Congress assembled, close quote. And just what is delegated to Congress? foreign affairs like diplomacy and war, some economic matters like coining and borrowing money, and settling tiffs between the states. But there's no power to tax, no executive leading, and big decisions require nine states

in agreement. That's pretty much it. So again, this isn't a nation. It's closer to an alliance of 13 separate sovereign states, nations, basically an 18th-century version of NATO, or, as the third of these articles puts it, and I quote, a league of friendship. Yeah, it's friends with benefits. But we know that, don't we? In episode 11, we saw how Congress's power to coin money, but not really manage it, created an all but worthless colonial dollar. In episode 14, we saw Congress's ability to raise an army, but not taxed to pay for it,

had continental officers ready to foment rebellion. If that lack of power to tax sounds crazy, remember, these guys just fought a war to break away from a king and a parliament that they saw as tyrannical and taxation from above, not the local colonial level, was central to that tyranny. Thus, they've kept the power to tax with the states for fear that they'll recreate the very thing they just tore down. Understandable, but it isn't.

Working. Congress's IOUs to soldiers and officers, and delinquent debts to France and Spain, are strangling the young union's neck. Nor is this Congress of the Confederation proving strong enough to settle disputes between the states. I mean, blood isn't being drawn in Vermont anymore, but that's no thanks to Congress. And besides, what is Vermont? New Yorkers claim the region, while it calls itself an independent republic and is threatening to join British Canada. Now, what about Maryland and Virginia, and their conflicting claims to navigation, fisheries, and other water rights on the Potomac. Where are you, Congress of the Confederation? Well, forget Congress. Delegates from Maryland and Virginia gather in 1785 to figure things out. Meeting at the home of the former continental commander

turned private citizen, George Washington, the Marylanders and Virginians cook up a 13-point agreement, the Mount Vernon Compact. Huh, impressive. So impressive, in fact, that one particularly short Virginian, whom I'll introduce properly later, James Madison, is keen to hold another gathering. One where all of the 13 bickering states can talk through their messy interstate trade situation. With his pushing, Virginia officially calls for a convention to gather in Annapolis, Maryland. Okay, convention is a strong word. Only 12 guys from five states show up.

Only three of those states, Virginia, Delaware, and New Jersey, have enough to form a proper delegation. Among the 12, we have our new friend, James Madison, and the Continental Colonel-turned-New York lawyer, Alexander Hamilton. But despite poor attendance, this September 1786 convention proves important. The attendees talk about far more than commerce, under the influence of Alex, who has long worried that the in-admiral. articles of Confederation will be the death of America. Indeed, in 1782, he wrote to a colleague, God grant, the union may last, but it is too frail now to be relied on. The 12 men realize the articles themselves are the real problem,

that Friends with Benefits isn't working. So Alex prepares a letter calling for another convention to overhaul the union. Oh, Alex, brilliant yet brash as ever. I see. Virginians Edmund Randolph and James Madison soften it. And between that, softening. James' tireless lobbying in the months ahead. And, as established earlier, Shea's rebellion that winter,

the Congress of the Confederation concedes resolving on February 21, 1787, that, quote, it is expedient that on the second Monday in May, next, a convention of delegates who shall have been appointed by the several states be held at Philadelphia for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation. Close quote. On that second Monday, May 14th, 1787, James Madison, who's so eager for this revising convention that he came to Philadelphia 11 days early, walks into the Philadelphia State

House Assembly room all ready to go. But alas, James finds, what he calls, a small man. number only of delegates. His fellow, though far more famous Virginia, George Washington, is here. The Pennsylvanians are here, but otherwise the room's chairs remain empty with far too few to open the convention. The next day, May 15th, Virginia Governor Edmund Randolph arrives. That's it. Look, delegates are coming. Shoddy interstate roads and bad weather are making everybody tardy. But the delay isn't all bad. He gives the Virginians and the Pennsylvanians time to bond,

which will have huge ramifications. And that bonding starts at the home of Philly's most celebrated resident. It's Wednesday evening, May 16, 1787. And right now, half a dozen Virginians, some local Pennsylvanians, and maybe Delaware's George Reed, are riding or walking along Market Street between 3rd and 4th streets. These are the thus far in Philly Convention Delegance, and from Market Street, they're turning down an alley to reach a handsome three-story red brick home,

the home of Benjamin Franklin. That's right. Ben's back from France. He returned to Philly in 1785, and since then, he's added a three-story wing to his Philadelphia home. And get this, the entire second floor of his home is his library. The whole floor. It holds 4,276 books, and Ben being Ben, he's invented a mechanical arm to reach those on the highest shelves. And does Ben show off his two-headed snake?

A believer in single-chamber legislatures, he's invoked the two-headed circuit before to argue against bicameral legislative bodies. Either way, the delegates soon gather in his newly remodeled dining room on the ground floor, in which the philosophical Philadelphia will proudly tell you, he can wine and dine up to 24 people at once. Two days from now, Ben will write to Thomas Jordan about this dinner. Thomas had previously sent Ben a cask of Porter, and this thank you letter will describe the dining delegates' delight in drinking it. To quote Ben,

The cask was broached, and its contents meant with the most cordial reception and universal approbation. In short, the company agreed unanimous. that it was the best porter they had ever tasted. Subin detailed the drink, not the discussion. Yet, we can hardly overstate the importance of this dinner conversation. As the mostly, if not exclusively, Virginians and Pennsylvanians, break bread with the two greatest icons of the revolution,

55-year-old George Washington and 81-year-old Benjamin Franklin. Both are likely, as constitutional scholar Richard Beam and special, speculates preaching the importance of the union to the preservation of American independence. As commander of the Continental Army, George saw how a Congress capable of raising but incapable of funding an army nearly cost them the war. As America's foremost diplomat, Ben knows just how cutthroat and realpolitik international diplomacy is, that the 13 states need each other to navigate relations with Britain, France, and Spain now just as much as they did back in 17, 54 when he first printed his sliced up serpent, join-or-die political cartoon.

And as the delegates listen, their buzzed minds, all the more open thanks to an excellent cask of Porter. They're uniting on the realization that they're not here to revise the Articles of Confederation. They're here to kill the articles and replace them with an altogether better form of union. To that end, the Virginia and Pennsylvania delegates spend the the next week talking. They start each day at the State House meeting new arrivals, like New York's Alexander Hamilton, who shows up May 18th. But once it's clear they still lack the numbers to convene the convention, it's down to the city tavern, a favorite haunt of revolutionaries during the war, or Indian Queen Tavern. With pints in hand, the small click

continues crafting a plan for a stronger union, or rather they continue finessing a plan already well in the works, cooked up in the mind of James Madison. All right, time for that proper introduction. A son of the slave-reliant planter class, James hails from the Montpelier Plantation in Orange County, Virginia. Finishing his studies at Princeton in 1772, he returned home to serve the revolution, first on the Orange County Committee of Safety, then in the Virginia legislature, on Governor Thomas Jefferson's counsel, where the two definitely bonded, and finally, in Congress as the Articles of Confederation took effect, where he saw firsthand the need for a better union.

Hence his passion for it. And, as already established, James played a bigger role in organizing this convention in Philly than anyone, save possibly Alexander Hamilton, a matter that their respective fans will debate forever. Now James is in Philadelphia, and he's done his homework. Influenced by French Philosophé, Bernd de Montesquieu, he arrived with well-developed ideas on the separation of powers and a vision for a robust

two-house national legislature where population and wealth would determine a state's representation rather than the current system of one vote per state. And as much as he hates the convention's delayed start, it's really becoming a blessing in disguise. A sickly hypochondriac, one who mumbles when speaking publicly, a 36-year-old man who's balding, shy, and face. famously short. In fact, the 5'4 Virginian is known as Little Gemmy. James likely couldn't sell his ideas on the convention floor. But seated with the Pennsylvanians and his fellow Virginians, first at Ben's house, then daily in an intimate tavern setting, that's doable for the reserved introvert. In short, yes, pun intended, the Virginians and Pennsylvanians are talking,

but really they're refining James Little Jimmy Madison's ideas. He is the architect of what they plan to pitch as the Virginia plan. The pre-gaming ends after 11 days of delay on May 25, 1787, as 27 delegates representing seven states form a sufficient quorum. This is day one, but the Virginia plan doesn't come out just yet. Today is about getting the convention in order. They unanimously elect George Washington as convention president and former continental officer William Jackson is named secretary.

But William won't be our lone note-taker. Scholarly-minded James Madison and joins him at the table just to the right of Georges at the front of the room to take his own copious notes. And thank you, James. While William does the basics of his job, his notes are Spartan. Future Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams,

will have strong words about Williams' inadequacies. It's little jemmy who will give us the juicy details. Following the only full weekend, the convention will ever take. They'll only break on Sundays from here on out. Benjamin Franklin arrives on May 28th. Kidney Stones detained him last Friday, but despite his ill health, the aging Philadelphia manages to get to the convention and in style.

Four convicts carry him on a sedan chair. And incredibly, he'll make it to all convention sessions from here on out. But enough warm up. The Virginians and Pennsylvanians are ready to pitch the Virginia plan. No one knows it better than a little jemmy. Of course, but again, the man is shy. Sales aren't his strong suit. So they turn to one of the most suave, eloquent, and influential of delegates to do it.

It's Tuesday morning, May 29, 1787. We're in the Pennsylvania State House Assembly Room, the very room in which the Second Continental Congress approved the Declaration of Independence a little over a decade ago. It's elegant but not ostentatious. Approximately 40 feet square, it has wide plank pine floors and two massive marble fireplaces set in a stone-gray east wall dressed in molding, colonnades, and a freeze. Seated in a high-backed chair on a raised dais between those fireplaces is convention President George Washington.

Before him are perhaps three dozen delegates, now representing nine of the 13 states. They sit in Windsor chairs, behind tables draped in a green just a few shades darker than those of the curtains, and are discussing a rule imposing strict secrecy on the convention's proceedings, a move to encourage free discussion and brainstorming. As they approve it, in the back corner, at Virginia's table, sits one who's about to make this convention far more interesting. Governor Edmund Randolph. With the rules set, the handsome, husky Virginia governor rises. and he starts with what appears to be in the spirit of the Congress of the Confederation's call from last February.

Resolved that the Articles of Confederation ought to be so corrected and enlarged as to accomplish the objects proposed by their institution. Namely, common defense, security of liberty, and general welfare. Okay, so far so good. That's what this convention is about. Then the dark-haired governor continues. He calls for a national legislature, but not one where every state gets one equal vote, like the current Congress. He suggests one based on quotas of contribution or to the number of free inhabitants.

In other words, by state population minus enslaved Americans. And this national legislature should have two branches. He's also calling for a national executive, a national judiciary. He then doubles back to the national legislature, specifying it should legislate, in all cases to which the separate states are incompetent, or in which the harmony of the United States may be interrupted by the exercise of individual legislation. To negative all laws passed by the several states, contravening in the opinion of the national legislature.

Hold up. Negative all laws passed by the several states? In other words, it could overpower the states. Meanwhile, a council of revision will have power to veto all national laws and where a state law crosses national interests, even state laws. Edmund speaks for hours. He's eloquent and respectful. But by the time he's done with this 15.

point proposal, this Virginia plan. It's clear that he's proposing far more than correcting or enlarging the articles. He's proposing completely replacing them with a national government. Some not along, his admin elaborates, but not William Patterson. He will not see his state's independence gobbled up by these nationalists seated at New Jersey. table along the back wall, the longtime patriot and lawyer scratches out a note. Objection. Sovereignty is an integral thing. As the morning of May 29th, 1787 gives way to afternoon with Governor Edmund Randolph elaborating, let's pause and absorb the tension coursing through the Pennsylvania State House Assembly Room, a tension between needing to save this union

and the distrust that could kill the attempt. First, everyone, here knows the articles have failed. No one has forgotten Shea's rebellion, and they get that a union too weak to enforce itself is too weak to regulate relations between the states, to put down rebellions, or worse, to stave off territory-hungary European powers. Even William Patterson knows something must be done. But cutting against that is the second truth. These states are sovereign. I can't overstate this. In 1787, the 13 states are three. 13 independent American nations, and this convention is, quote, for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation.

Close quote. Nothing more. Nothing that smacks of the British-style big government tyranny they just ditched. Yet, that's exactly what surrendering state sovereignty feels like, especially to the small states. That's why Tiny Delaware forbade its delegates from even giving up one vote. state in Congress, and why an even more suspicious Rhode Island simply refused to come? That's right. This is really a convention of 12 states. So when the governor proposes killing

the articles outright to institute a national government with an executive, judiciary, and powerful legislature on day three, it lands as common sense to some, a nightmare to others, and for more than a few, probably both at once. It takes hours for Edmund to detail the whole Virginia plan, but by the time he's done, the delegates are ready to call it a day. Then South Carolina's Charles Pinckney pipes up, saying he has a plan to share before they adjourn. Charles will later claim that what he pitches is the real basis of the future constitution, that he is its true father, not James Madison.

But in truth, his ill-recorded plan is as good as dead already. The next day, May 30th, as the convention meets as a committee of the whole, Edmund Randolph proposes they consider three resolutions before diving into the nitty-gritty of the Virginia plan. The idea is to get the convention to agree on broad strokes first. A brilliant move. One dreamed up by Pennsylvania's Gouverner Morris. Now, Gouverner is quite a character.

Most importantly, he was one of the revolution's financial saviors. The very man who coined America's use of dollars. and sense. But this towering, handsome, large in statue of Philadelphia is also a playboy in Bon Vivon. Not even the loss of his left leg in a carriage accident in 1780 has slowed his love life with single or married ladies. Indeed, John Jay was referencing Goviner's amorous exploits when he wrote to their mutual friend, Robert Morris, no relation, that, I am almost tempted to wish he had lost something else. In that fateful accident, In 1784, Alexander Hamilton dared Gouverner to give George Washington a friendly slap on the back.

He actually did it. The dead silence that followed was super awkward, but that all gives you a sense of the kind of daring and swab that Gouverner has, which comes to bear in this peg-legged Pennsylvania's suggested resolutions delivered via the Virginia governor. These resolutions are, first, that a union of states merely. federal isn't doing it. I know we'll later call the U.S. government the federal government. But two things. One, federal doesn't have the meaning you and I will know it by yet. In 1780s America, the words federal and confederal are often used interchangeably to express the same loose alliance idea. Both words come from the Latin, foetus, meaning a league, truce, pact, or

alliance. Two, the Virginia plan is the launching pad, not the actual outcome. It is proposing a strong national government, as in state sovereignty dies. Hence, the plan's advocates are nationalists at this point, even if we'll later call many of these guys federalists very soon. So don't let what American federalism will later become throw you off now. Moving to the second resolution, it reads in part, quote, that no treaty among individual sovereignties would be sufficient. Close quote. Building on the Latin root, I'll remind you of my NATO comparison. In short, he wants to establish that a mere alliance of 13 nations isn't hacking it. They need a nation, and the articles have to go.

The third resolution reads, that a national government ought to be established consisting of a supreme legislative, executive, and judiciary. If all three of these resolutions are agreed to, the Virginia plan will be on strong footing. Charles Peekney pushes Edmund, asking if he means, to abolish the state governments altogether. The governor says no, while another South Carolina and Pinkney, General Pinkney, and Massachusetts's Elbridge Gary, questioned the convention's authority to entertain nationalism. There's an attempt to delay, an attempt to soften. Both fail, and as the convention considers

this third resolution, six states vote aye, Connecticut votes no, while New York splits between Alexander Hamilton's assent and Robert Yates' disapproval. Oh, wow. They just opened the Pandora's box of exploring a national and supreme. government. And now, the Virginia plan will drive deliberations for the next two weeks. By mid-June, the delegates are envisioning a two-house legislature with proportional representation, a single-person executive serving a seven-year term, a national judiciary with the Supreme judiciary at its head, and they've cut the Council of Revision. But the small states are not pleased. They won't let Virginia, with its nearly 750,000 inhabitants, or Pennsylvania, and its over 400,000 inhabitants, push them around.

Not if William Patterson can help it. It's Saturday, June 9, 1787, gathered as usual in the Pennsylvania State House Assembly Room, with the window shut to guard against Eve's dropping. The convention has welcomed Maryland's newly arrived Luther Martin and is now listening to Elbridge Gary, argue that state governors should elect the national executive. The lithe Massachusetts man also believes each governor's vote should be weighted, that governors from bigger states should have more voting power than those from smaller states. Governor Edmund Randolph rises. Though a Virginia, he strongly disagrees arguing that this would ensure the small states never held the executive office and would have no say. They vote. Save for divided Delaware. Every state

says no. New Jersey's William Patterson now takes the floor. This Irish American, Princeton grad, and former New Jersey Attorney General is tired of these proportional representation arguments, which he sees as nothing less than an attack on small states and state sovereignty. William declares, We have no power to go beyond the federal scheme. A Confederacy supposes sovereignty in the members composing it, and sovereignty supposes equality. If we are to be considered as a nation, all state distinctions must be abolished. He also challenges the veiled threat made by the brilliant but less tactful Pennsylvania, James Wilson, who implies the large states might form a union without the small states

if they don't get on board with congressional representation by population, instead of one vote per state, says William. Let them unite if they please, but let them remember that they have no authority to compel the others to unite. New Jersey will never confederate on the plan before the committee. She would be swallowed up. I would rather submit to a monarch, to a despot, than to such a fate. James Wilson counters. We have been told that each state being sovereign, all are equal.

So each man is naturally a sovereign over himself. and all men are therefore naturally equal. Can he retain this equality when he becomes a member of civil government? He cannot. As little can a sovereign state when it becomes a member of a federal government. If New Jersey will not part with her sovereignty, it is in vain to talk of government. A vote is called in support of proportional representation. William urges that it might be best to wait.

A hushed silence fills the room. Yes, a good idea. No vote today. A week later, on Friday, June 15th, William Patterson takes the convention in an entirely new direction by introducing his New Jersey plan. It opens, resolved that the Articles of Confederation ought to be revised, corrected, and enlarged. Sound familiar? Yeah, with the addition of revised, it's word for word the same as the Virginia plan's first resolution. I like to imagine James Madison's balding head turning bright red as he hears this. What can I say? I like Williams' right sense of humor. The New Jersey plan does call for an enlarged government. It too is a three-branched system and empowers Congress to tax.

But it's also closer to the articles, keeping Congress a unicameral legislature and maintaining the one vote per state. Ah, state sovereignty reasserted. The small states are going to dig this plan. The big states won't. Go figure. Debate continues the next day, June 16th. Pennsylvania's James Wilson goes on the attack against this New Jersey plan. James argues that its proposed one house or unicameral Congress is, quote-unquote, legislative despotism.

He explains, if the legislative authority be not restrained, there can be neither liberty nor stability. and it can only be restrained by dividing it within itself into distinct and independent branches. In a single house, there is no check, but the inadequate one of the virtue and good sense of those who compose it. Charles Pintney claims that William Patterson's complaint is less about sovereignty and more about power in the legislature. According to the South Carolinian,

give New Jersey an equal vote, and she will dismiss her scruples and concur in the national system. The delegates continue to lock horns over the New Jersey plan and the question of population versus state votes for the next few days. Some, like Connecticut's Roger Sherman, are moling something more creative than a win-lose proposition. But as if debating the Virginia and New Jersey plans isn't enough, there's still one more delegate who just can't help but put his ideas out there. It's Monday, June 18, 1787. As usual, delegates are gathered in the sweltering assembly room inside the Pennsylvania State House.

John Dickinson moves to postpone a vote on William Patterson's New Jersey plan, which carries. That done, a violet, blue-eyed, reddish-brown-haired, and handsome early 30s New Yorker takes the floor. It's Alexander Hamilton. Declaring himself unfriendly to both the Virginia and New Jersey plans, Alex lists his essential principles of government, which includes this. Men love power. Indeed, between his youth in the Caribbean and life as a continental officer, Alex has a profoundly negative view of human nature,

and it informs his views on government. In brief, Alex proposes a plan to get the best of both republicanism and, brace yourself, the old British monarchy. His legislature's lower house sounds familiar enough. Representatives elected to three-year terms by universal male suffrage. But he wants the Senate and National Executive, the latter called a governor, elected for life, though impeachable if they behave badly. He also wants the national government appointing state governors.

Alex is riffing hard off of the British crown and House of Lords. According to James Madison's notes, the New Yorker even says that, the British government is the best in the world. Clearly, this is not robust democracy. And Alex knows it. His fellow New Yorker Robert Yates will later recall Alex ending on a complaint about both the Virginia and New Jersey plans and an over-reliance on democracy saying that

the people begin to tire of an excess of democracy. And what even is the Virginia plan but pork still with a little change of the sauce? A lot to unpack. Let's start with Alex's beef with democracy, or more accurately, with unbridled democracy. And with that caveat, he's far from alone. Back on May 31st, Massachusetts's Elbridge Gary said, The evils we experience flow from the excess of democracy.

The people do not want virtue, but are the dupes of pretended patriots. Others echo this. Between hard experiences and their study of history, These guys know how badly direct democracy can end. They fear tyranny at both ends, from kings above and mobs below. But did Alex go too far? Is he a closeted monarchist? No. In his mind, an executive who remains both elected and impeachable is not a king.

Alex explains that, quote, By making the executive subject to impeachment, the term monarchy cannot apply. close quote. Frankly, the brash New Yorker may not have shared his idea for a British-flavored republic, if not emboldened by the secrecy rule, but alas, word will leak. And one day, political foes will brand this war hero and arguably greatest advocate of the Constitution's ratification, a closeted monarchist. This six-hour speech will prove one of his costliest mistakes.

As for its reception in the room, it's exactly what you. you'd expect for a genius who doesn't know when to shut up. Connecticut's Dr. William Johnson puts it best, to quote him, though he, Alexander Hamilton, had been praised by everybody, he has been supported by none. With Alex's plan now is dead as Charles Pinkney's. The convention also adds the New Jersey plan to its idea's graveyard the following day, June 19th. James Madison lands the final blow. In a long speech, he methodically demolishes the New Jersey plan. Reminding all that they must not only preserve the union but fix what's broken, he questions, then illustrates how this plan would fail to stop foreign entanglements, manage affairs between the states, or put down rebellions,

like shays. Then he turns the small states' own fears against them, pointing out that a government too weak to act can't protect them from the larger states. As he so vividly puts it, it is the cobweb which could entangle the weak, but would it be the sport of the strong. Hey, looks like shy little Jimmy has found his voice. And indeed, he'll end up speaking more than the vast majority here before this convention is through.

Following James' speech, Rufus King of Massachusetts asks if the delegates would prefer to continue with the New Jersey plan or circle back to the Virginia plan. Delaware, New York, and New Jersey vote for the New Jersey plan. All others besides divided Maryland vote for the Virginia plan. And with that, William Patterson's plan is laid to rest.

James Madison's is resurrected. And that means renewed debate over the Virginia plan's proposed population-based representation in the legislature. Connecticut Roger Sherman has this. Back on June 11th, he suggested a compromise. To quote him, The first branch should be according to the respective numbers of free inhabitants,

and that, in the second branch or Senate, each state should have one vote and no more. Smart. He reiterates this on June 20th, but the delegates aren't ready to heed such rational thought yet. A week later, Maryland's Luther Martin gives a terrible, rambling two-day speech against proportional representation. Given that Luther is what we in the 21st century will call a high-functioning alcoholic, the delegates and future historians will forever wonder if he's utterly plastered. Alas, we'll never know. With the deadlock feeling hopeless, Benjamin Franklin suggests the

convention turned to God in prayer. How has it happened, sir, that we have not hitherto once thought of humbly applying to the father of lights to eliminate our understandings? In the beginning of the contest, with Britain, when we were sensible of danger, we had daily prayer in this room for the divine protection. According to one account, Alexander Hamilton answers, I do not see the necessity of calling in for an aid. Now, that account comes 38 years after the fact, and even James Madison will say it isn't true.

But knowing Alex's sense of humor, well, there's a reason the legend will take hold. But regardless of what Alex does or doesn't say in this moment, the truth is this. The convention is at an impasse. The union is in danger. And the delegates can even agree on whether to call on God for help. On June 29, 1787, Alexander Hamilton leaves the convention temporarily to attend to personal affairs back home in New York.

But as two fellow New Yorkers, Robert Yates and John Lansing Jr., leave permanently on July 10th, utterly disgusted by the Virginia plan's proposed national government. Two Maryland delegates, including high-functioning alcoholic Luther Martin, will eventually leave for the same reason. This means the Empire State is currently unrepresented, and with Rhode Island's boycott and New Hampshire's delegates yet to arrive, only 10 states are now represented. Finally, an upswing. On July 16th, the two-week-old Grand Committee established to find compromise between the Virginia Plan's proposed population-based representation in the legislation. legislature, and the old state sovereignty protecting one vote per state model, turns to what committee member Roger Sherman suggested almost a month ago,

population for the lower house and state equality in the upper. Eureka! Details remain, but this leads to the system you and I are familiar with, the population-based House of Representatives and two senators per state. The deal is known as the Connecticut, or Sherman compromise, to honor the Connecticut are most behind it. Another representation question is also resolved mid-July. Should enslaved African-Americans count

court a state's representation in the lower house? The northern states, where the institution of slavery is mostly dead or dying, Massachusetts has ended slavery and most others, save New York and New Jersey, both of which will soon follow, have gradual emancipation laws phasing it out, don't want slaves count it at all. They have nothing to gain from it. But southern states absolutely want them counted. There's a big difference in Virginia's number of House representatives

if they count the state's almost 450,000 free citizens only, and not the Old Dominion's further 300,000 enslaved. According to the not-too-distant 1790 census, 43% of South Carolinians are enslaved. Counting enslaved Americans would significantly increase southern representation and therefore power in Congress. Back in 1783, when the Congress of the Confederation passed a toothless revenue measure,

requesting funds from the states based on population, they kicked around compromises by counting some fraction of enslaved Americans. Half, three-fourths. They landed on three-fifths. That precedent returns here as the three-fifths compromise, which will count three out of five enslaved Americans in a state. state for both representation and taxation purposes. To quote from what will become the Constitution's Article 1, Section 2, Representatives and direct taxes shall be apportioned among the several states

by adding to the whole number of free persons, including those bound to service for a term of years, excluding Indians not taxed, three-fifths of all other persons, close quote. Yes, persons is the euphemism the convention uses for slaves. The word slave will not appear in the U.S. Constitution, a fact that John Dickinson, the very same pamphlet writing, penmen of the revolution whom we saw initially oppose independence in the Second Continental Congress back in episode 8, finds appalling.

A former slaveholder who has unconditionally freed the dozens he once owned out of a devotion to Quaker beliefs and American liberty, he privately writes this of the three-fifths compromise. acting before the world, what will be said of this new principle of founding a right to govern free men on a power derived from slaves? The omitting of the word will be regarded as an endeavor to conceal a principle of which we are ashamed. Well put, John. Now, why would anti-slavery delegates, like John, go along? First, let's not overstate their numbers. They're in the minority. But primarily they are making, in the context of this 18th century world, what constitutional historian

Richard Beeman calls, quote, a bargain that recognize the hard, unchangeable facts of political life. Close quote. He's referring to the fact that the South would truly walk otherwise. Indeed, even as they avoid the word, slavery is lurking in the shadows as the real division in the room. So much so that even after all the real friction we've seen between the big and small states, James Madison says, to quote him, the great division did not lie between the large and small states. It lay between the northern and southern. He goes on to identify the sticking point as being,

to quote once more, principally, from the effects of their having or not having slaves. With this compromise made and New Hampshire's delegates finally present, the convention takes a 10-day recess from July 27th through August 5th, during which the Committee of Detail crafts a first draft of the Constitution. Chaired by South Carolina's John Rutledge, the committee adds a few good ideas, like an amendment process. This draft consists of 23 articles. As revision continues on August 13th, returned and lone New York delegate, Alexander Hancock. Hamilton, pushes against a plan to require members of Congress to be native-born, arguing, persons in Europe of moderate fortunes are we fond of coming here, where they will be on a level

with the first citizens. As a Caribbean-born immigrant himself, it's not surprising Alex is the one to fight this battle. Ultimately, the native-born idea only sticks with the office of president. Toward the end of the month, slavery again rears its ugly head. This time, on the question of importing slaves. The situation is this. Northerners worry about the southern states continuing to bring Africans across the Atlantic against their will to boost their representation in Congress.

Meanwhile, Southerners, whose economy is reliant on slavery and agricultural exports, want a two-thirds majority requirement to pass navigation acts for fear that the North's ship-controlled merchants will take advantage of them. As before, South Carolina and Georgia are particularly unbending, saying that giving any real ground would kill any prospect of ratification. South Carolina's General Pinckney assures the convention that it would be of no avail toward

obtaining the assents of our constituents. South Carolina and Georgia cannot do without slaves. They compromise in late August. Congress will only need a simple majority to pass navigation acts, and in exchange, Congress cannot regulate the Atlantic slave trade for another 20 years until 1808. As a conflicted slavery-reliant Southerner himself, James Mason seized the evil in this second Faustian bargain. He laments, 20 years will produce all the mischief that can be apprehended from the liberty to import slaves. So long a term will be more dishonorable to the national character than to say nothing about it in the Constitution. The slave states win a final victory three days later on August 28th with the fugitive slave clause.

This makes it a constitutional statement of fact that enslaved Americans who run away and make it to a free state are not free in the eyes of the government and can be returned to slavery. Once again, the word slave is avoided, but everyone knows what the clause means. One cannot help but wonder, what do George Washington's enslaved men here in Philadelphia? His horse tending and carriage driving duo, Giles and Paris. Or the longtime valet we met back in the revolutionary episodes, William Billy Lee. Think of all of this.

Does George share any of the three slavery compromises with Billy, to whom he feels so very close? Do these three ever speculate on what this convention might mean to them during those quiet moments? not spent attending to our beloved Virginia general's transportation, attire, and comfort. We'll never know. In early September, another sticky question is put to rest. Presidential elections. Here's where they're coming from.

The delegates don't want to give more power to the legislature by allowing it to choose the powerful single-person executive. But as we saw when talking about Alexander's plan, they also fear too much direct democracy. Further, direct elections would make the small states meaningless. And since most Americans barely know anyone in other states, how could they judge a candidate from beyond their borders? The delegate's answer is the electoral college. Each state gets as many electors as they have members in Congress, that is, congressional reps and senators combined.

Side note, this means the three-fifths compromise gives the South a boost here, too. Each state decides how to choose its electors, who, in turn, do the presidential voting. The electors do so in their respective states, never meeting nationally, to avoid possible intrigue. Each votes for two people, the person with the majority becoming president, the runner-up vice president. If no one gets a majority, the House of Representatives chooses from the top five candidates. This will get modified years from now by the 12th Amendment and evolve dramatically. But that's a story for another day. On September 8th, a community, a community Committee of Style is appointed to write the final draft of the Constitution, even as the

Convention continues to make changes. The committee includes the wit and eloquence of James Madison and Alexander Hamilton, and yet, Gouverner Morris is the one responsible for much of the wording. And fair enough, no one spoke more at this convention than him. So you can thank this one-legged Don Juan for the eloquence of the preamble that begins, We the People. The draft is finished around September 11th. September 12th, only days away from finishing this four-month convention. Virginia's George Mason raises a point. What about a declaration or bill of rights?

A natural question from the author of Virginia's Declaration of Rights, but this is shot down fast. Many states have their own such declarations, so wouldn't adding one be redundant? Well, right or wrong, guided by that logic, the convention quickly moves forward without one. September 15th, one of the longest days at the convention as they fine-tune the document with small but meaningful edits. For instance, anti-slavery delegates feel a win as the Fugitive Slave Clause in Article 4, Section 2, changes from person legally held to service or labor to person held to service or labor.

Removing the word legally removes an implication of morality or justification for slavery. They now have a seven article document. The first three explain, respectively, the lawmaking powers of the two-house legislature, Congress. The executive office or president, which, chosen by the electoral college, will serve for four years. The particularly vaguely described judiciary and how the three branches hold their separate powers and check imbalance power. Article four defines the relationship between the states. Article 5 provides an amendment process, while Article 6 states that federal laws will be supreme. Article 7 explains the ratification process, which requires each state to hold a ratifying convention.

If nine of the 13 states give their blessing, then this constitution will become the law of the land. All in all, they've produced a constitution that is, as James Mason will later argue in Federalist 39, a hybrid of national government and confederate. Despite confederalsism or federalism being used as synonyms in the 18th century, this hybrid comes to be the new meaning of federalism, or more specifically, of American federalism. And as September 15th comes to a close, they vote on whether to accept this constitution as amended. The outcome, as James Madison tells us, all the states, aye. But remember, even with unanimous state approval, the people of the states must ratify it. And on that point, each man in this room will carry immense influence. So a question lingers over the next two days.

Will the individual delegates put their names to it? It's Monday, September 17, 1787. And this convention has been hard. Locked in Philadelphia's hot, sweltering state house, six days a week for four months, the delegates' disagreements have been sharp. Of the total 55 delegates who have attended, four have full-on rage, quit, and only a little more than 40 are currently present. Alexander Hamilton is the only New Yorker left, and Rhode Island never even sent a delegation.

So, at this point, every remaining man's choice to sign or not could be this Constitution's making or undoing. In this moment, elderly Benjamin Franklin wishes to say a word. It's been 33 years since he published that join-or-die cartoon, published in response to the military challenges then faced in the Ohio Valley by this convention's president, George Washington. He's too old and ill to speak at length. But Ben Hans, a written speech to his colleague, James Wilson,

who proceeds to read the old Renaissance man's prepared words. I confess that there are several parts of this Constitution, which I do not at present approve, but I am not sure I shall never approve them. For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information or fuller consideration to change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. You assemble a number of men to have the advantage of their joint wisdom.

You inevitably assemble with those men all their prejudices, their passions, their errors of opinion, their local interests, and their selfish views. From such an assembly, can a perfect production be expected? It therefore astonishes me, sir, to find this system approaching so near to perfection as it does. On the whole, sir, I cannot help expressing a wish that every member of the convention who may still have objections to it would, with me, on this occasion, doubt a little of his own infallibility. And to make manifest our unanimity put his name to this instrument. The Constitution isn't perfect, and many criticisms are for opposite reasons. William Harrison thinks the federal government is too strong. Alexander Hamilton thinks it's too weak.

Meanwhile, Ben Franklin undoubtedly sees this bicameral Congress as a two-headed snake. But as Ben's words delivered by James so eloquently observed, it's closer to perfection than the articles. It's a more perfect union. Thus, with the humility to a humility to a... acknowledge their own shortcomings. Faith in the amendment process. And more to the point, faith in the people. Nearly all remaining delegates. All save George Mason who wants a bill of rights. Elbridge Gary, who has a list of concerns. And ironically, a deeply pained and conflicted Governor

Edmund Randolph who fears they've created too strong a Congress sign the Constitution. That's how 39 men from 12 states came to put their names to this instrument. And naturally, Ben has the last word. As the last delegate signs on this fateful September 17th, this ancient Philadelphian looks to George Washington's presidential chair, to the highly decorative sun carved into its top rail and commons. Painters have found it difficult to distinguish in their art, A rising from a setting sun?

I have often, in the course of the session and the vicissitudes of my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked at that behind the president without being able to tell whether it was rising or setting. But now at length I have the happiness to know that it is a rising and not a setting sun. And so, with a total of 39 signatures, The convention closes, and the delegates make their way to City Tavern, one last time for drinks. We have no meaningful record of this evening of merriment at City Tavern, but we do have a fantastic record of a dinner party here just three nights before. Friday, September 14th. This dinner included George Washington, veterans who bravely crossed the Delaware under his command on Christmas Day 1776, the light horse of Philadelphia, Calvian.

record, and some historians speculate, though we can't prove, a fair number of convention delegates. According to the bill, Friday night's group of 55 men drank, 60 bottles of cleric, 54 bottles of Madeira wine, 22 bottles of porter, 12 bottles of beer, 8 bottles of cider, and 7 bowls of punch, and given that it's 1787, that punch truly punches. Add to that food, live music, cigars, and the cost of broken decanters and wine glasses, well, the total comes to 89 pounds, four shillings, and two pence. To put that in early 21st century terms, more than $15,000. While George Washington undoubtedly enjoys his drink in moderation, being the self-restrained and well-mannered icon that he is,

wow, those soldiers and the likely delegates can drink. So, do tonight's drinks at this final delegate bash match up to Fridays? We'll never know for sure, but regardless of the unknowable details. Cheers, gents, or if I may offer a toast reminiscent of the era, God save our American states. And that sentiment isn't just my toast. It's a real read on the ground. On the final day of the convention,

an inquisitive woman, Elizabeth Willing Powell, asked Ben Franklin as he left the statehouse just what the delegates had made. A monarchy or a republic? Ben answered. A republic, madam. If you can keep it. If you can keep it. Yeah, because that's what a republic is.

The burden, the work of governance rests in the hands of the people. It's up to them to decide what to do with it. And so, will the people keep it? Or will they kill this proposed constitutional republic before it even gets a chance to breathe? This union's troubles are far from over as the debate over the Constitution's ratification seizes the capitals of all the American states. It will mean a bare-knuckled fight, sometimes literally, between this Constitution's supporters, the Federalists, and its own.

ardent foes, the anti-federalists. History that Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson. Executive editor Riley Newbauer. Benjamin Franklin read by Benjamin Franklin interpreter, Mitchell Kramer. Learn more at B-Franklin.org. Mercy Otis Warren, read by Lila Jackson. Production by Airship.

audio editing by Muhammad Shazade, sound design by Molly Bach, theme music composed by Greg Jackson, arrangement and additional composition by Lindsay Graham Bership. For bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit htDSpodcast.com. HTS is supported by fans at htdspodcast.com slash membership. My gratitude to kind souls providing funding to help us keep the Thank you. And it's special thanks to our patrons, whose monthly gift puts them at producer status.

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