Quilling illustration for Federalist Nos. 39-40
Federalist Nos. 39-40

The Conformity of the Constitutional Plan to Republican Principles

Generated summaryMadison first sets the test for a genuine republic and shows the new plan passes it, then defends the convention's right to go beyond a mere patch-up and blend federal and national elements into a single design.

Federalist 39

Generated summaryA republic draws all its powers from the people, and its officials hold office for a set term or during good behavior. By that test the plan is republican. It is neither wholly national nor wholly federal, but a mix of both.
Key points
  • The proposed government is strictly republican, the only form suited to America and the Revolution’s principles.
  • A republic derives all its powers from the whole body of the people, its officers holding for limited terms or during good behavior.
  • By that test the Constitution conforms exactly: the House elected directly, the Senate, President, and judges indirectly, and titles of nobility banned.
  • Critics object that republican form is not enough; the convention should have kept a confederacy of sovereigns, not consolidated a nation.
  • In its very foundation it is federal: ratified by the people not as one nation but as members of distinct, sovereign states.
  • It is national where it acts on individual citizens, but federal where its powers reach only enumerated objects, the states keeping a residuary sovereignty.
  • On balance neither wholly national nor federal, but a composite: federal in foundation, mixed in sources, national in operation, federal in extent, neither in amendment.

The first question is whether the new government is strictly republican. No other form suits the American people or the principles of the Revolution. Every friend of freedom is resolved to rest all our political experiments on the power of people to govern themselves. If the plan departs from that character, its defenders must give it up.

What marks a republic? Usage settles nothing: Holland is called one, though none of its authority comes from the people. A republic draws all its powers, directly or indirectly, from the great body of the people. Its officials hold office at pleasure, for a limited period, or during good behavior. It must rest on the whole society, not a favored class; indirect appointment is enough, or every state government would lose the name.

By that standard we find the Constitution conforms exactly. The people elect the House of Representatives directly, and the Senate, President, and judges at further removes. Terms fit too: two years for the House, six for the Senate, four for the President. Unlike several state magistrates, the President is impeachable at any time in office; judges hold by good behavior. It also bans titles of nobility and guarantees each state a republican form.

The republican form was not enough, the Constitution’s opponents answer. The convention should have kept the federal form with equal care. That form treats the Union as a confederacy of sovereign states. Instead it framed a national government and merged the states into one. By what authority, they ask, was this bold and radical change made?

To judge its force we must settle three things. What is the government’s real character? How far was the convention authorized to propose it? How far could duty to their country supply any defect of regular authority? Its character shows in five relations: its foundation, the sources of its powers, their operation, their extent, and the mode of amendment.

The Constitution rests on the assent of the people of America, given through deputies they elect. But they assent as members of their distinct and independent states, not as one nation. It takes the unanimous assent of every state that joins, not a majority of people or states. Each state acts as a sovereign body, bound only by its own act. Its foundation is federal, not national.

The House draws its powers from the people, so far national. The Senate draws its from the states as coequal societies, equally represented, so far federal. The executive springs from a compound source: the states choose the President in their political characters. Their votes count them partly as coequal, partly as unequal societies. Here the government appears mixed, with at least as many federal as national features.

In their operation, federal powers act on the states as political bodies; national powers act on citizens one by one. By that test the government is national, though not wholly so. Where states are parties to a suit, they are treated as political bodies. But its usual and most vital work reaches citizens, so on the whole its operation is national.

In their extent the aspect changes again. A national government holds supremacy over every lawful object without limit. Where states unite for set purposes, that supremacy is split, and neither side answers to the other inside its own sphere. Here the government is not national: its powers reach only the objects listed. The states keep a sovereignty over the rest that cannot be invaded.

In the mode of amendment it is neither wholly national nor wholly federal. Were it wholly national, a majority of the Union’s people could change or end it at will. Were it wholly federal, every state would have to agree to any change. The plan asks more than a majority, and counts by states, not citizens. So far it leans federal; asking fewer than all the states, it leans national. In strictness the Constitution is neither national nor federal, but a mix of both.

Federalist 40

Generated summaryThe Convention’s real charge was an adequate government for the Union; the Articles were only a means to it. Going past the letter of its instructions was justified. The result was a proposal only, which Americans may accept or reject.
Key points
  • The charge that the convention exceeded its authority is largely groundless, and where it overstepped, the crisis and its duty justified it.
  • Its commission, drawn from the Annapolis and congressional acts, was to frame a national government adequate to the Union’s needs by reforming the Articles.
  • Where a text’s parts conflict, the means yield to the end: keeping the Articles was only a means to save the Union, not the end itself.
  • The convention was empowered to alter old articles and add new ones; critics cannot mark the line between authorized reform and forbidden usurpation.
  • The plan’s principles are not new but an enlargement of those already in the Articles, whose feebleness required a change that looks like transformation.
  • Its one real departure, letting nine states ratify rather than all thirteen, critics scarcely press, since one-sixtieth could not block the rest.
  • The convention’s powers were merely advisory; in great changes forms yield to substance, and the people’s approval blots out every irregularity.
  • Reject good advice because of its source? The question is not who proposes the plan, but whether it serves the people’s happiness.

The second point: was the Convention authorized to frame and propose this mixed Constitution? Its authority rests on two acts, cited in every delegate’s commission. Annapolis in 1786 asked for whatever further provisions would make the federal government adequate to the Union’s needs. Congress in 1787 cited proven defects, and the states’ call for a firm national government. It resolved that delegates meet for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles.

From these two acts four things appear. (1) The object was a firm national government. (2) It was to be adequate to the needs of government and the preservation of the Union. (3) The means were alterations in the Articles, or whatever further provisions seemed necessary. (4) The result went to Congress and the states for assent. That was the Convention’s authority: to frame such a government, recasting the Articles.

Two rules of interpretation apply. Every part of a text should, if possible, be given meaning toward a common end. Where the parts cannot agree, the less important yields: means to end, not end to means. Suppose no amendment of the Articles could yield an adequate national government. Which matters more to the American people’s happiness: keeping the Articles, or a government adequate to preserve the Union?

But must the two ideas conflict? Alterations and new provisions were expressly authorized: the Convention could change the title, insert new articles, and alter old ones. The states would not have called so solemn a Convention unless substantial reform was meant. What, then, are the fundamental principles said to be untouchable? Must the states remain distinct sovereigns? The Constitution so regards them. Must members come from the legislatures? One branch does. Must power act on states, not individuals? The Confederation already reaches individuals; its courts-martial may inflict death without a jury or even a civil magistrate. Must taxes pass through the states? Trade duties as federal revenue were an acknowledged object, and every state but one, New York included, had recognized the principle. Must federal power be limited? Both limit it, leaving the states sovereign in all cases not enumerated.

The Constitution’s principles are not entirely new; they expand principles already in the Articles. There they are so feeble that they justify every charge of inefficiency, and need an enlargement that looks like a transformation. In one instance the Convention did depart: the people ratify the plan, not every state legislature, and nine states suffice. This most plausible objection has been least urged: critics see the absurdity of leaving twelve states’ fate to a thirteenth. Since they waive it, I dismiss it.

The third point: how far could duty in the case itself supply a defect of authority? I have judged the Convention so far as if its powers were final, and they bore the trial. But they were merely advisory, as the states intended and the Convention understood. The plan has no force unless those it addresses approve it.

The delegates felt the crisis that drove the country, almost with one voice, to correct the system that produced it. They were as sure that only the reform they proposed could fulfill their appointment. In great changes of government, forms ought to give way to substance. Rigid adherence would empty the people’s right to alter their governments, for a whole people cannot move in concert. Changes must begin in informal, unauthorized proposals from patriotic citizens; by such irregular steps the states first united against Britain and framed their constitutions. The plan went to the people themselves: disapproval would destroy it, approval blot out every irregularity.

Suppose the Convention had dashed the country’s hopes, sacrificing substance to forms. How would the virtuous citizen have judged so timid an assembly? And what sentence has the determined objector for the twelve states that sent deputies to a body their constitutions did not know? Grant, though, that the Convention was neither authorized by its commission nor justified by circumstances. Does the Constitution fall for that alone? If good advice may be taken from an enemy, shall we refuse it from friends? The question is not who gives the advice, but whether it is good.

In sum: the charge that the Convention exceeded its powers has no ground, save one point objectors little urge. Had it exceeded them, the circumstances required that liberty of the country’s trusted servants. And had it violated both its powers and its duties, the Constitution should still be embraced if it serves the happiness of the American people.