The country was so fractured, in fact, that Rhode Island refused to send delegates to the Philadelphia convention. The Rhode Islanders viewed the meeting as an illegal assembly that threatened to usurp their state’s sovereignty.6 They even threatened to use their veto power under the Articles of Confederation to quash anything the convention accomplished. In such a climate of dissention and suspicion, to say that the public was skeptical of the ability of even the nation’s “best and brightest” to create a sound and agreeable government was an understatement. Everyone knew that the situation was precarious and that the delegates needed to find a delicate balance in order for the public to accept their reforms.
Washington gathered with the first-arriving delegates at the Pennsylvania State House. This two-story hall was already historic: it was colloquially called “Independence Hall” because the Declaration of Independence had been signed there eleven years earlier. With that one daring stroke during the early part of the war, America dismembered the British Empire. And in the ensuing struggle, the hall remained a meeting place for the Continental Congress and the epicenter of the American war effort. The stately brick building had black shutters and white trim, with pale masonry and ornate windows lending decorative detail to an otherwise boxy facade. The small grounds included a square courtyard that was barren except for a few freshly planted elm trees. Guarding this yard was a seven-foot wall that afforded an air of solemn secrecy.7
Privacy was of the utmost importance in fostering frank discussion among the delegates. To this end, the building was shielded from curious onlookers by sentries posted at all doors. To protect further against distraction, the guards spread fresh dirt on the cobblestones outside to soften the blows of powerful hooves of passing horses. High above the dampened din of the street, this sanctuary’s gently slanted roof was dominated by a tall, churchlike bell tower that coaxed the delegates’ eyes heavenward as they approached. This was fitting, since they faced a lofty challenge and would need all the help they could get to prevent the country from disintegrating.
The May sun’s powerful rays poured through high windows as Washington entered the building. The obsessively punctual celebrity was cordially greeted by the few delegates already present.8 Also in attendance was perhaps the second most famous American: Benjamin Franklin. This world-renowned scientist and diplomat had not only greatly advanced human understanding of electricity, but also invented the lightning rod, the Franklin stove, the odometer, and a host of other contraptions. During the Revolution, the wily gentleman had used his guile to charm the French court—particularly the female contingent. Through parties and chess games, he wore down France’s resistance to involvement in the fight against the British. He masterfully persuaded the French to send aid to the American cause and eventually declare war on Britain, which proved decisive in the American victory. For these many achievements, he was internationally praised.
Now in his mid-eighties, Franklin suffered from gout, a painful form of arthritis caused by eating rich foods and imbibing large quantities of alcohol. So immobilized, he had to be carried to the hall from his nearby home.9 Even as his frail limbs hobbled beneath his round abdomen, his aged, balding head was ever filled with ingenious ideas, and he still inspired deep reverence. His star power combined with Washington’s to lend the convention an even greater air of importance.
As Washington and Franklin entered the hall’s cavernous meeting room, they were greeted by its familiar dark hardwood floors and white walls adorned with ornate molding. Before them was a grand fireplace topped with a white mantle beneath a large chandelier encircled by a decorative ceiling medallion. The room was a beautiful sight.
The gentlemen present were from all walks of life—farmers, lawyers, printers, merchants, financiers—but all were patriots and the vast majority had served their country during the Revolutionary War, politically or militarily, or both.10 These proud men took the opportunity to rekindle friendships and reestablish acquaintances with fellow alumni of the war effort. They could accomplish little else, since they had to wait for other states’ less punctual delegates to arrive.
At first, Washington and the other delegates were unconcerned about the paltry attendance. The journey from far-flung states such as New Hampshire and Georgia took up to three weeks and, with bad weather hitting parts of the eastern seaboard, it was possible that some of the other delegates were merely delayed. But as the nation’s leaders trickled into Philadelphia only slowly over the next two weeks, many feared that some delegates were boycotting the Constitutional Convention and that it would end before it started—they were keenly aware that many Americans opposed the convention and there was a real chance that a proper quorum of states would never be reached. And without a quorum, the convention’s recommendations would lack the political weight necessary for legitimacy.
With this elephant in the room, a palpable anxiety permeated the hall despite the cordial conversation. The delegates knew that without adequate attendance, their convention would fail, and possibly the nation along with it.
Finally, they arrived. With just twenty-nine delegates from nine states in attendance, they reached a quorum and the convention was officially convened. Over the next few days, twenty-six more delegates trickled in, better late than never. In all, fifty-five of the seventy delegates originally chosen actually showed up to represent the independent states. America had sent her finest and the convention proved to be quite an eclectic assemblage of minds.
Their ages ranged from an impetuous 26-year-old veteran named Jonathan Dayton to the sickly 81-year-old sage, Franklin.11 Like Dayton and Franklin, the vast majority of these men were held in high esteem for their contributions to the patriot cause during the war. Alexander Hamilton, for example, at only thirty years old, had already served as Washington’s shrewd right-hand man and closest confidant during the war. His sharp chin and pointed nose matched his cutting criticism of the Articles and ardent advocacy of a more centralized nation. While Washington, Hamilton, and Dayton were joined by other decorated war veterans, the room was actually dominated by politicians.
About three-quarters of the delegates had served in Congress, while others had served in their state legislatures. Each was lauded for steering the United States through the perilous Revolution. One such politician was James Madison, who at age thirty-six had already proven himself a masterful consensus builder as a member of Congress during the Revolution. He was a mere five feet tall and 120 pounds, but his intellect towered over the convention even if he did not. The young gentleman was praised for blending “the profound politician, with the Scholar”12 while adeptly “command[ing] the rich resources of his luminous and discriminating mind.”13 Such mental prowess and the “polish of his pen” were “united [with] a pure and spotless virtue.”14 The fine-featured Madison, with his white powdered hair and prominent widow’s peak, arrived to the convention in his usual fastidiously prepared fashion: he had already outlined a plan for a whole new government. With this trick up his sleeve, the slight young man quietly joined the assemblage as they took their seats.
Whether military or political veterans, these august men were the nation’s elite. They were property owners and professionals. In a time when few Americans attained any advanced education, 60 percent of these gentlemen had attended college, touting degrees from Yale, Harvard, Princeton, or Columbia.15 Whatever their credentials, they were quite a colorful—and rather portly—group.
From the upper crust of society, the majority of this well-fed contingent were rather overweight, a sign of wealth during this era since it signaled access to plentiful food and minimal manual labor.16 These men were certainly known more for their oratory than their aerobics. Because clothes were a signal of a gentleman’s station, each was fashionably dressed in a painstakingly tailored waistcoat that primly hugged his torso and flowed to mid-thigh.17 The rich greens, blues, browns, and reds of their jackets made them a more colorful group than the typical