The Lincoln Myth(41)

No one.

“Be ready to leave shortly.”

His man left.

He thought about the coming few hours and wondered if they might have been too bold, too clever, providing their enemy too much latitude. The idea of sending Kirk into their midst had made sense.

But it could have cost his friend’s life.

Perhaps one or both of the two Americans from yesterday would travel to Austria.

If so, he would learn Kirk’s fate and deal with them.

Heavenly Father might even smile upon him and send Cotton Malone.





TWENTY-FIVE





WASHINGTON, D.C.

11:00 A.M.


STEPHANIE RODE IN THE LIMOUSINE, EDWIN DAVIS BESIDE HER. True to his word, after her Delta shuttle from Atlanta landed he’d met her at Reagan National. He’d told her to pack a bag, as she might be here for a few days. Beyond that, she had no idea what to expect.

Morning traffic puttered along, stop and go, the syrupy congestion continuing even after they exited the expressway. Davis had been cordial with his greeting but beyond that he’d been quiet, staring out the window. She, too, had watched as the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol passed by. Though she’d lived and worked here off and on for over thirty years, the sights never failed to impress her.

“It’s interesting,” Davis said, his voice nearly a whisper. “All of this was started by a group of men holed up behind closed doors in the brutal heat of a Philadelphia summer.”

She agreed about the accomplishment. Fifty-five delegates from twelve states arrived in May and stayed until September 1787. Rhode Island never sent any representatives, refusing to participate, and two of the three New York delegates left early. But the men who remained managed a political miracle. Sixty percent of them had participated in the Revolution. Most had served in both the Confederation and Continental Congresses. Several had been governors. Over half were trained as lawyers, the rest a varied lot—merchants, manufacturers, shippers, bankers, doctors, a minister, and several farmers. Twenty-five owned slaves. Two, George Washington and Gouverneur Morris, were among the wealthiest men in the country.

“You know what happened at the convention’s end?” Davis asked. “When it came time to sign.”

She nodded. “Only 42 were there that day, and just 39 signed.”

“Washington went first, then the representatives marched up, north to south, one state at a time. Nobody was really happy. Nathaniel Gorham, from Massachusetts, said he doubted the new nation would last 150 years. Yet here we are. Still going.”

She wondered about the cynicism.

“What happened during those few months in Philadelphia,” he said, “has become more legend than fact. Watch some of the cable news shows and you’d think those men could do no wrong.” He finally faced her. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Edwin, I know the founders were flawed. I’ve read Madison’s notes.”

The definitive record of what happened in Philadelphia was James Madison’s Notes of Debates in the Federal Convention of 1787. Though not the convention’s official secretary, Madison kept a meticulous record, which he faithfully transcribed each evening. The delegates had first assembled to amend the impractical Articles of Confederation, but quickly decided to discard those articles entirely and draft a new constitution. Most states, if informed of that intent, would have recalled their delegates, ending the convention. So the proceedings were held in secret and, afterward, the working papers kept by the official secretary were destroyed. Only a tally of resolutions and votes survived. Other delegates kept notes, but Madison’s became the most authoritative account of day-to-day deliberations.

“The problem,” he said, “is that his record is not reliable.”

She knew that, too. “He didn’t publish them until 1840.”

And during those ensuing 53 years Madison admitted embellishing his remembrances, making countless emendations, deletions, and insertions. So many that it was now impossible to know what actually took place. Compounding things was Madison’s refusal to allow his record to be published until all of the convention members, including himself, were dead.

Which meant nobody was left alive to contradict his account.

“Those notes,” Davis said, “have formed the basis for many a landmark constitutional decision. They are cited by federal and state courts every day as the founders’ supposed intent. Our entire constitutional jurisprudence is, literally, based on them.”

She wondered if this related to what he’d said yesterday about the Supreme Court being wrong in Texas v. White, but knew Davis would tell her only when he was ready.