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exploding cannons, and pealing church bells.
The people cherished their Revolutionary hero. Washington’s fame
was so broad and pure that his mere presence lent credibility and
authority to the proceedings. Convincing him to attend had not been
easy, but it was a crucial element of Madison’s scheme to replace
the Articles with a new type of government—one never before seen in
world history.
    Madison’s thoughts brought him back to the
issue they had been discussing. “Then we’re all agreed. Robert will
nominate the general for president of the convention?”
    “ This seems far too planned and
arranged for my taste,” Washington said. “Why not let the selection
take its own course?”
    Robert Morris took the assignment of
convincing his reluctant friend. “General, you resisted coming to
this convention in fear that it might be a debacle like last year
at Annapolis. You decided that the risk to the country exceeded the
risk to your reputation. Now that you’re here, you must assume the
position of leadership to avoid a disastrous outcome.”
    “ Mr. Morris, I do not like to be
manipulated.”
    “ General, sir, we have no
such  ”
    “ You do, sirs,” Washington broke in.
“My reputation is far too important to squander on
misadventures.”
    “ General, we remain mindful of your
reputation,” Robert Morris added weakly.
    “ Mr. Madison and Mr. Jefferson argued
for my attendance on the basis that the country was in dire
jeopardy, and the convention needed my stature to draw delegates.”
Washington gave them each a hard stare. “I fulfilled that
obligation. Now that you have me, you insist I assume the
presidency. What if the vote doesn’t go in my favor?”
    “ I’ve queried everyone who’s arrived,”
Madison interjected. “I can assure you that you’ll be elected
overwhelmingly, perhaps unanimously.”
    “ My dear general,” Gouverneur Morris
said, “your reputation is as safe as a homely maiden’s virtue. Do
not fear. Jemmy will ne’er squander his greatest asset.”
    Gouverneur Morris took more liberties with
Washington than others dared, but he had learned the limit. He had
once wagered that he could slap the general on the back in a hearty
greeting but had suffered such a glaring reproach that he never
mistook the bounds again.
    Washington brooded for a long moment.
Eventually, he said, “I agree, but on my terms. I’ll preside over
the deliberations but take no formal role in the debates. I want
strict compliance to parliamentary procedures, and the debates must
conform to gentleman’s precepts. I’ll make my views known, but only
to individuals outside the formal gatherings. Is that
acceptable?”
    “ Of course, General,” Robert Morris
responded for the group.
    Washington turned a hard gaze on Madison.
“Are you satisfied, Jemmy?”
    Madison had urged Jefferson—serving as
minister to France—to write letters beseeching Washington to attend
the convention. Madison had always intended to convince the general
to preside over the assemblage, once the general had committed.
    He knew that the people around this
table viewed him as their resident scholar, more theologian than
practical politician—Jefferson’s bright little friend who supplied
the rationalization for what they wanted to do. They
believed they were the
experienced national leaders with the stature and temperament to
win tough contests. Their attitude didn’t distress him. His years
in Congress and the Virginia Assembly taught him that his small
frame, soft speaking voice, and tendency to argue from history and
logic didn’t impress seasoned politicians—men more comfortable
bartering votes than changing minds. They failed to notice how
often he set the stage for their grand appearances.
    Madison ignored Washington’s rebuff and
responded to the general’s conditions. “After your election, the
convention will appoint a committee to prepare standing rules.
George Wythe has agreed to serve, and I’m sure