Quilling illustration for Federalist Nos. 37-38
Federalist Nos. 37-38

The Difficulties the Constitutional Convention Had in Making this Plan

Generated summaryMadison defends the convention's work by showing how genuinely hard its task was, balancing energy against liberty and drawing lines that even language and nature blur, then turns to show that the plan's critics cannot agree among themselves or name a workable alternative.

Federalist 37

Generated summaryThe convention had a hard task: joining steady, energetic government to republican liberty, and drawing a line between federal and state power where neither nature nor language draws a sharp one. Some flaws were certain; the wonder is how much the delegates agreed on.
Key points
  • Candor demands we weigh the plan fairly, allowing for the extraordinary difficulties the convention faced.
  • Strong feelings warp judgment; a supporter’s bias may be excusable, a predetermined adversary’s culpable.
  • The undertaking was new: the old system rested on false principles, so foundation and structure alike had to change.
  • A chief difficulty was combining stability and energy with liberty and the republican form, which pull against one another.
  • No less arduous was marking the line between the general and state governments.
  • Every such line blurs from the object’s complexity, the mind’s limits, and language so inexact even the Almighty’s meaning dims.
  • Clashing claims of large and small states forced compromise, so theory bowed to circumstance.
  • That so many difficulties were surmounted, with such rare unanimity, the pious cannot but see an Almighty hand.

We showed the confederation’s defects cannot be cured by a weaker government than the one proposed. This Constitution’s merits must be weighed on every side; candor asks some remarks first. Public measures are rarely weighed calmly, least of all this one. Some read it bent on condemning; others show the opposite bias. Both opinions weigh little, though I do not say their intentions are equally pure. One settled for the plan may take his bias from our critical state, not only from sinister motives; one settled against it can have no excusable motive. These papers speak to neither, but to readers who want their country happy and judge fairly.

Such readers will not hunt for faults. No plan could be faultless, and, being men, they will not think their own judgment sure. Much allowance is due, too, for the task’s own hardness. The work was new. The confederation and the older confederacies rest on false principles, so base and structure alike must change. The convention could only avoid old errors and leave room to mend its own as experience shows them.

A chief difficulty was joining stability and energy to liberty and the republican form. Energy guards us from danger at home and abroad and carries out the laws promptly. Stability gives national character and confidence; the people will not rest till the states’ shifting laws are cured. Yet republican liberty asks power from the people, short terms, and trust in many hands. Stability asks the same hands for a long time; energy asks not only a fixed term of power, but its execution by one hand.

How well the convention did appears later; even this view shows the task was hard. No less hard was marking the line between federal and state power. Not even philosophers have bounded the mind’s own powers, where sense, judgment, memory, and imagination shade into one another. Naturalists have never traced where plant life ends and animal begins.

In nature only our eyes fail; in man’s works the object itself is obscure, so expect still less. No skill in government has yet fixed its three great parts: legislative, executive, and judiciary. Words add a third trouble: no language is exact enough for every complex idea. Even the Almighty’s meaning is dimmed when spoken to men. Three things, then, make a definition vague: a complex object, a weak mind, and words that fall short. The convention felt all three in marking the federal and state line.

We may suppose the large states pressed for a share matching their wealth, and the small clung to their present equality. Neither would wholly yield, so the struggle could end only in compromise. Once the ratio was fixed, that compromise very probably bred a fresh struggle, each side framing the government and its powers to raise the branch it swayed. The Constitution bears features warranting these suppositions; so far as they hold, the convention had to sacrifice theory to circumstance. Place and policy bred other combinations; the Union’s parts differ like each state’s districts and classes. Such variety may help a formed government; it hindered the forming.

No wonder the convention strayed from a theorist’s neat design. The wonder is that so many difficulties were overcome, and with a unanimity almost as unheard-of as it was unexpected. The pious cannot but see in it an Almighty hand. Like the failed Dutch reforms, councils called to settle rival interests mostly end in faction and disappointment. Two conclusions follow. The convention must have escaped, in rare degree, the party animosities that spoil such bodies. And every state’s delegation was either satisfied by the final act, or yielded from a conviction that private views must give way to the public good.

Federalist 38

Generated summaryAncient governments were framed by one wise citizen; this plan came from a convention. Its critics agree on nothing among themselves, and most of what they charge against the new Constitution weighs far heavier against the Confederation it would replace.
Key points
  • The Constitution need not be perfect, only less imperfect than the Confederation its critics would keep.
  • Every ancient founding by consent was one lawgiver’s work, from Solon to Lycurgus to Romulus, not an assembly’s; America improved on them.
  • Liberty-loving Greeks trusted a single reformer because they feared discord among many more than treachery in one.
  • The plan’s errors spring from inexperience, not carelessness, and surface only on trial, as the Articles’ unforeseen flaws did.
  • America is a sick patient whose chosen physicians agree on a cure, while objectors cry poison yet share no alternative.
  • The critics contradict one another on every point, agreeing neither on the fault nor on the fix.
  • Every capital objection weighs tenfold against the Confederation: unlimited money and troops, mingled powers, no bill of rights.
  • A government too weak for its objects faces a dreadful dilemma: dissolution or usurpation.

In ancient history, every government founded by deliberation and consent was framed by one wise citizen, not an assembly. Lycurgus was the lawgiver of Sparta, and Romulus laid the foundation of Rome. Confederacies too: Amphictyon founded the league that bore his name, and the Achaean sprang from Achaeus, then Aratus. In some cases their authority came formally from the people; Athens all but compelled Solon to remodel her constitution alone. Why did a people so jealous of liberty trust their fate to one citizen? They must have feared discord among many counselors more than treachery or incapacity in one.

These lessons let us admire America’s improvement on the ancient way of framing government. They also warn us of the hazards of such experiments, and of the imprudence of multiplying them without need. Whatever errors the plan holds likely come from want of experience, not want of care, and will not appear until an actual trial points them out. The Articles of Confederation make this likely.

When the Articles were submitted for ratification, no state objection touched the radical error that trial has since exposed. Except New Jersey’s, drawn from her situation rather than her foresight, it may be doubted whether a single suggestion justified revision. Slight as they were, some states would have clung to them with dangerous inflexibility, but for self-preservation.

A patient whose disorder worsens daily calls in the physicians he trusts. They agree his case is critical but not desperate, and unanimously prescribe a cure. Others break in and call the cure poison. Might he not ask them to agree on some other remedy first, and, finding them as divided as they are from his physicians, try what his physicians all advised? America is that patient, warned against the unanimous advice of the physicians she chose. Do these monitors deny her danger? No. The need of a speedy remedy? No. Are any two agreed on their objections, or on a substitute? Let them speak for themselves.

One rejects the plan as a government over individuals, not a confederation; another allows it, but not so far. A third objects only for want of a bill of rights. A fourth wants that bill for the states’ rights, not individuals’; a fifth thinks it superfluous, but dreads the power over elections. A large-state man decries the Senate’s equal vote; a small-state man, the unequal House. One dreads the expense of so many officers; another, a scanty representation. A state without trade resists direct taxation; a trading state fears the burden falling on consumption. One foresees monarchy, another aristocracy, a third cannot tell which, a fourth too little weight either way. Another class complains that the legislative, executive, and judiciary departments are intermixed, against every guard for liberty. Once explained, scarcely two agree: to one the vice is joining Senate and President in appointments; to another, excluding the House; to a third, admitting the President at all. To some, worst is impeachment by the Senate, a power belonging to the judiciary; others agree, yet would not move it to a department already too strong. Even friends of a council of state divide over its size and who appoints it.

Suppose these writers the ablest of the convention’s critics, formed into a second convention to remould its work. For all their enmity to the first, where would they differ from it more than in their own discord? And might this Constitution not prove immortal, if adopted now and in force until another, not a better, plan were agreed on?

Those who object to the new Constitution never call to mind the defects of the old. The new need not be perfect; enough that the old is more imperfect. Most capital objections lie with tenfold weight against the Confederation. Is an indefinite power to raise money dangerous? Congress may requisition any sum, and the states must furnish it. To raise troops? Congress has that power, and uses it. To mix all powers in one body? Congress alone holds every federal power, treasury and army together. Is a bill of rights essential to liberty? The Confederation has none. Too much treaty power in Senate and Executive? Congress now makes treaties unchecked, and calls them the supreme law. Slave importation for twenty years? By the old system, forever.

I shall be told the mixture is harmless, since Congress depends on the states to execute it. The Confederation is guilty of the greater folly: it declares certain powers necessary, then leaves them useless. If the Union lasts, Congress must be granted effective powers or assume them, and the objection returns. Worse, out of this lifeless mass an excrescent power has already grown. Congress has assumed the administration of the Western territory, a fund of vast wealth, and erected new states there without constitutional authority. No alarm is sounded, though that fund passes to a single body that can raise troops without limit. Yet the men who advocate this system press against the new one the objections we have heard. Would they not be more consistent to urge the new Constitution as a guard against such a body? I mean no censure on Congress; necessity forced them past their constitutional limits. But is this not alarming proof of the danger of a government whose powers do not match its objects? Dissolution or usurpation is its dreadful dilemma.