The convention’s initial move was to expunge the word national from the First Virginia Resolve. This word, said Oliver Ellsworth of Connecticut, would frighten the people. The states would never ratify any constitution unless it appeared merely as an amendment to the old Articles of Confederation. Instead of reading, “Resolved, that a national government ought to be established . . .” Ellsworth moved the resolution to read “that the Government of the United States ought to consist of . . . “ The motion was approved.
At this point John Lansing of New York rose with a long and heated protest against things in general, concluding that this new government was “utterly unattainable, too novel and complex.” George Mason of Virginia, too, spoke out against the extensive powers being granted to Congress. “Is it to be thought that the people of America, so watchful over their interests, so jealous of their liberties, will give up their all, will surrender both the sword and the purse to the same body, and that, too, not chosen immediately by themselves?” How were the proposed national taxes to be gathered in? “Will the militia march from one state to another in order to collect the arrears of taxes from the delinquent members of the Republic?” Fire and water were not more incompatible than this mixture of civil liberty and military execution. “Will not the citizens of the invaded state assist one another till they rise as one man and shake off the Union altogether?” George Mason confessed he was struck with horror at this prospect.
It was now that Luther Martin of Maryland stood up with the first of his intolerably long-winded speeches, which were to become a regular feature of the Convention until his angry – and merciful – departure in September, only thirteen days before the Constitution was signed. Martin was about forty years old, a careless dresser, with a rough voice and a convivial liking for the bottle which later was to lead him into insolvency and disgrace. He was impulsive, undisciplined, altogether the wild man of the Convention, a furious defender of state sovereignty. Delegates were often irked at his verbosity, which invariably chose to erupt on the hottest of Philadelphia days, when the Convention was in the most discomfort. What Mr. Martin had to say was that he saw no need for a Congress with two branches . . . To grant unnecessary powers to the general government might well defeat “the original end of the Union” . . . Congress was meant to represent the state legislatures in the Confederation, not the people . . . Also, he was against state conventions for the ratification of the Constitution. “This was the substance of a very long speech,” wrote James Madison in his journal – and then crossed out the sentence.
