Though virtually ignored by scholars in recent decades, John
Dickinson
was one of the most influential of the American Founders. When he
entered
the Pennsylvania State House in May 1787, as Delaware’s delegate to the
Constitutional Convention, he was one of the most knowledgeable and
experienced
statesmen to attend the Grand Convention. Colonial legislator, "Penman
of the Revolution," colonel in the state militia during the War of
Independence,
drafter of the Articles of Confederation, member of the Stamp Act,
Continental,
and Confederation Congresses, and chief executive of two states—few
other
men could boast of similar achievements. In his character sketches of
the
delegates, William Pierce observed that Dickinson "will ever be
considered
one of the most important characters in the United States."1
Although indisposed for much of the Convention as a result
of poor health,
Dickinson nevertheless made significant contributions to the work of
that
body. It was he who first proposed that the Senate be elected by the
state
legislatures; and he was also influential in determining the manner of
election of the president. Even more importantly, his was the voice of
moderation and prudence throughout the Convention. Historian Forrest
McDonald
has noted that, had it not been for the presence of Dickinson, and
about
seven other delegates, the extreme nationalists would have prevailed in
the Convention, and "the resulting constitution would not have been
ratified."
This has led one prominent political theorist to characterize Dickinson
as "definitive of the moderate Federalist position of 1787-1788 and a
key
to the meaning of what was achieved" in that remarkable document, the
Constitution
of the United States.2
It is fitting, therefore, that in attempting to understand
the meaning
of the American Constitution we should look to the writings of John
Dickinson.
While Dickinson’s political thought could easily fill two volumes, the
writings with which we are concerned here are those penned in defense
of
the work of the Constitutional Convention. These essays, entitled the Letters
of Fabius, were widely published throughout the nation beginning
in
April 1788 and had a powerful influence in tipping the scales in favor
of ratification of the new Constitution. While less extensive than the Federalist
Papers, the Fabius Letters may well have been as
persuasive
as the former, and the two series bear an interesting comparison with
one another.3
George Washington had high praise for the first four essays.
He wrote
to John Vaughan:
Sir: I have received your two letters of the 17th and 21st
inst. and
the papers containing the four numbers of Fabius which accompanied
them.
I must beg you to accept my best thanks for your polite
attention in
forwarding those papers to me. The writer of those pieces, signed
Fabius,
whoever he is, appears to be master of his subject; he treats it with
dignity,
and at the same time expresses himself in such manner as to render it
intelligible
to every capacity. I have no doubt but that an extensive republication
of those numbers would be of utility in removing the impressions which
have been made upon the Minds of many by an unfair or partial
representation
of the proposed constitution, and would afford desirable information
upon
the subject to those who sought for it.4
Dickinson’s choice of pseudonym sets the tone for his letters. For, as
Forrest McDonald has pointed out, Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator was
the Roman general who saved the republic through caution, prudence,
patience,
and persistence.5
Indeed, the Fabius Letters are a model of moderation and
prudence,
with their frequent appeals to history to justify the new Constitution
and to warn against the danger to the nation should it fail to be
ratified.
Dickinson begins his essays by dividing those who oppose the
Constitution
into two classes. To the first belong those who are enemies of the
United
States and those who seek to gain private advantage from the nation’s
current
problems. People such as these are unworthy of his attention, he says.
To the second group, however, belong those who are friends to the
United
States and whose friendship gives rise to legitimate concerns for its
future.
Those who belong to this second group "deserve the highest respect" and
should be encouraged to air their concerns. For, although they may be
mistaken
in their assessment of the proposed Constitution, they are acting from
the best of motives and do a service to their country:
What concerns all, should be considered by all;and
individuals may injure a whole society, by not declaring their
sentiments.
It is, therefore, not only their right, but their duty, to declare
them.
. . . Before this tribunal of the people, let every one freely
speak,
what he really thinks, but with so sincere a reverence for the cause he
ventures to discuss, as to use the utmost caution, lest he should lead
any into errors, upon a point of such sacred concern as the public happiness.6
Fabius cautions that the judgment of even good men can be unconsciously
impaired by local or personal interests. The best remedy for such an
impairment,
he suggests, is the example of history, particularly that of the
Greeks.
They too contended for union, yet were never able to "relinquish their
own interests and advancement, while they deliberated for the public."
The consequences for Greece led to their eventual destruction, and the
same fate could await America. Therefore, he urges, let us "cling
to
Union as the political Rock of our Salvation."7
In answer to those who fear that the Constitution would
eventually lead
to despotism, Fabius suggests that two features of the proposed system
make any such eventuality highly unlikely: "the power of the people
pervading
the proposed system, together with the strong confederation of
the states."8So
long as these features are reserved, he says, "the question . . . will
be—not what may be done, when the government shall be turned into a
tyranny;
but how the government can be so turned?"9
The efficacy of the first feature—that of the power of the
people—is
dependent upon the virtue and public spiritedness of the citizenry. And
he praises the proposed Constitution for minimizing the potential for
corruption
and promoting virtue and moderation both in the governors and in
the governed.10
Every precaution was taken by the Convention to ensure that the House
of
Representatives remains free from corruption, Fabius assures his
audience.
The large number of voters and their dispersion throughout an extensive
territory will make corruption in the election process as impracticable
as human institutions are capable of making them.11
Reflecting classical republican theory, he writes that the frequency of
elections will serve as a further barrier to corruption in that body:
"It
has been unanimously agreed by the friends of liberty, that frequent
elections of the representatives of the people, are the sovereign
remedy
of all grievances in a free government." The members of a House of
Representatives thus constituted will reflect the general interests,
feelings,
and sentiments of the people, he believes.
The "strong confederation of the states" is to be
secured through
the institution of the Senate, which Fabius sees as inevitably
comprising
the nation’s natural aristocracy of talent and virtue and as reflecting
the importance of the states as political communities. The Senate, he
says,
is "to be created by the sovereignties of the several states; that is,
by the persons, whom the people of each state shall judge to be most
worthy,
and who, surely, will be religiously attentive to making a selection,
in
which the interest and honour of their state will be so deeply
concerned."
The states being directly represented in the national councils, Fabius
expects that the residual sovereignty of the states will remain forever
inviolate and their interests promoted. In fact, he anticipates that
the
House and Senate together will act "not only [as] legislative but also
diplomatic bodies, perpetually engaged in the arduous talk of
reconciling,
in their determinations, the interests of several sovereign states."
Fabius points to the example of the Achaean League as a
model for the
American Union. The states constituting that league, he says, were
animated
by such noble and benevolent principles that no resolutions were passed
by their assembly unless they were equally advantageous to the whole
confederacy
and the interests of each state were protected. Surely, Fabius writes,
Americans "have wisdom and virtue enough, to manage their affairs, with
as much prudence and affection of one for another as these
ancients did."12
Nevertheless, because of the frailty of human nature,
wisdom, virtue,
and mutual affection are not sufficient, in and of themselves, to
guarantee
that the legitimate interests of the states will be protected. The
institutions
of government must, therefore, be so constructed that the likelihood of
oppression of one part of the nation by another is reduced to a
minimum.
The history of confederated republics had made that point amply clear.
Fabius, therefore, denies that the composition of the Senate was a mere
compromise among the delegates to the Convention. Rather, he says, it
was
"an original substantive proposition" based upon the principle that
a territory of such extent as that of United America,
could not be
safely and advantageously governed, but by a combination of republics,
each retaining all the rights of supreme sovereignty, excepting such as
ought to be contributed to the union; that for the securer preservation
of these sovereignties, they ought to be represented in a body by
themselves,
and with equal suffrage.13
Drawing an analogy between the Senate and the British House of Lords,
Dickinson
cites Blackstone's argument that the interests of the nobility could
not
be adequately protected unless they were represented in a separate
branch
of the legislature. Otherwise, according to Blackstone, "their
privileges
would soon be borne down and overwhelmed." So, in like manner, the
reader
is left to conclude, the interests of the states cannot be adequately
protected
unless they are equally represented in their own house of Congress.
In addition to representing and protecting the sovereignty
of the states
as distinct political communities, the Senate provides other advantages
as well. It provides sufficient permanence that the members might
obtain
the knowledge of foreign and domestic affairs necessary for promoting
the
nation’s interests. Yet, the senators’ tenure in office is sufficiently
limited that they will still be "responsible to, and controulable by
the
people."
Should these protections placed in the Constitution not be
sufficient,
however, there remains another security for the people’s liberty.
Fabius
recalls the balance achieved in the constitution of the Roman Republic
and sees the president as ensuring a similar balance: "We are to have a
president, to superintend, and if he thinks the public weal requires
it,
to controul any act of the representatives and senate." But the
president
"will be no dictator," he assures hi audience. He will be chosen by
electors
who are themselves chosen by the people, and shall therefore be
answerable
to no "standing body whatever.’’ He will thus be subject to no "undue
influence,"
thereby limiting the potential for corruption. The president will also
be subject to checks upon his power. Two-thirds of both houses of
Congress
can override his veto, and he is subject to impeachment if he abuses
his
office.
Fabius asks rhetorically:
How varied, balanced, concordant, and benign, is the
system proposed
to us? To secure the freedom, and promote the happiness of these and
future
states, by giving the will of the people a decisive influence
over
the whole, and over all the parts, with what a comprehensive
arrangement
does it embrace different modes of representation . . . ?
The Convention had accomplished all that could reasonably be achieved
to
maintain the people’s liberty while simultaneously promoting their
prosperity,
Fabius argues. Yet, human institutions, no matter how carefully and
wisely
crafted, are by nature imperfect. Despite the checks upon power built
into
the structure of the government, the ultimate check on the unjust or
illicit
use of power will necessarily be the people themselves. He writes:
All the foundations before mentioned, of the federal
government, are
by the proposed system to be established, in the most clear, strong,
positive,
unequivocal expressions, of which our language is capable. Magna
charta,
or any other law, never contained clauses more decisive and emphatic.
While
the people of these states have sense, they will understand them; and
while
they have spirit, they will make them to be observed.
It is the people’s duty to be ever vigilant and to ensure that the
Constitution
is preserved, Fabius warns. And lest the people become complaisant and
allow the government to undertake unconstitutional measures under some
false pretext, he reminds his readers of the consequences which may
ensue:
"worthy is it of deep consideration by every friend of freedom, that
abuses
that seem to be but _trifles,’ may be attended by fatal consequences."
While the people ought not reject the Constitution out of fear that the
powers granted to the government might be abused, likewise they ought
to
be watchful lest the Constitution itself be abused by those who are
entrusted
with its preservation. "It is [the people’s] duty to watch, and
their
right to take care, that the constitution be preserved," he writes.14
This duty imposes an awesome responsibility on the people
and should
never be abused, he cautions. For, although the will of the people is
the
ultimate foundation of the government, this will, to be exercised
rightly,
must be exercised reasonably:
By the superior will of the people, is meant a reasonable,
not a distracted
will. When frenzy seizes the mass, it would be equal madness to think
of
their happiness, that is, of their freedom. They will infallibly have a
Philip or a Caesar, to bleed them into soberness of mind."15
It is, therefore, the wisdom and virtue of the people rather than mere
self-interest that is to be the ultimate check upon the government.
Yet,
Fabius also recognizes the fallibility of human nature. For, history
shows
that "the liberty of single republics has generally been destroyed by
some
of the citizens, and of confederated republics, by some of the
associated
states." The solution is to be found in ensuring that the government is
sufficiently strong to protect "the worthy against the licentious."16
This leads to a discussion of the nature and purpose of political
society
as well as that of confederations of states:
As in forming a political society, each individual
contributes some
of his rights, in order that he may, from a common stock of
rights,
derive greater benefits, than he could from merely his own; so,
in forming a confederation, each political society should contribute
some
share of their rights, as will, from a common stock, of these
rights,
produce the largest quantity of benefits for them.17
The influence of Locke’s social compact theory of the foundations of
society
is evident here. Yet, Dickinson appeals beyond Locke to an idea of
community
far richer than Locke’s mere aggregate of atomized individuals. His
thought,
in fact, reflects both Aristotle’s idea of political society as based
on
friendship and the Christian doctrine of charity (love of neighbor). He
writes:
Humility and benevolence must take place of pride and
overweening
selfishness. Reason, rising above these mists, will then discover to
us,
that we cannot be true to ourselves, without being true to others—that
to love our neighbors as ourselves, is to love ourselves in the best
manner—that
to give, is to gain—and, that we never consult our own happiness more
effectually,
than when we most endeavour to correspond with the divine designs, by
communicating happiness, as much as we can, to our fellow-creatures.18
For Dickinson, political society has a moral as well as a practical
end.
He had always considered the United States as founded on "sacred
obligations"
of mutual support, and for him the work of the Convention had not been
a mere matter of political expediency or self-interest. As he told the
Convention,
We are not forming plans for a Day, Month, Year or Age,
but for Eternity.
Let us endeavour with united Councils to establish a Government that
not
only may render our Nation great, respectable, free, and happy, but
also
VIRTUOUS. Let us try to combine political Establishments with moral
Virtue,
that if possible the first may be equal with the Duration of this World
and an aid, or at least not a Hindrance, to the Enjoyment of another."19
Reflecting this sentiment, Fabius writes that, "We may with reverence
say,
that our Creator designed men for society, because otherwise
they
cannot be happy." And just as men cannot be happy without freedom, so
they
cannot be truly free without society. Fabius continues:
Each individual then must contribute such a share of his
rights, as
is necessary for attaining that security that is essential to
freedom;
and he is bound to make this contribution by the law of his nature,
which
prompts him to a participated happiness; that is, by the command of his
creator; therefore, he must submit his will, in what concerns all, to
the will of all, that is of the whole society. What does he lose by
this
submission; The power of doing injuries to others—and the dread of
suffering
injuries from them. What does he gain by it? The aid of those
associated
with him, for his relief from the incommodities of mental or bodily
weakness—the
pleasure for which his heart is formed—of doing good—protection against
injuries—a capacity of enjoying his undelegated rights to the best
advantage—a
repeal of his fears—and tranquility of mind.20
Like benefits, he says, are to be obtained in a confederation, with an
attendant surrender of some of the rights of the member states. For by
such a surrender, the individual citizens who compose those states will
achieve an even greater degree of happiness. Thus, he writes of
Americans
that, "As man, he becomes a citizen; as a citizen, he becomes
a
federalist. . . . He carries into society his naked rights: These
thereby
improved, he carries still forward into confederation."21
He makes it clear that this confederation is not to be
merely an aggregate
of self-interested individuals, each contending for their own ends. For
the people, he says, are "drawn together by religion, blood, language,
manners and customs," and he likens the proposed confederation to a
family,
in which each son rules his own household, and in other matters the
whole
family is directed by the common ancestor. Fabius describes the nation
that will result from such a confederation as a model of moderation,
justice,
and happiness. He writes:
Delightful are the prospects that will open to the view of
United
America—her sons well prepared to defend their own happiness, and ready
to relieve the misery of others—her fleets formidable, but only to the
unjust—her revenue sufficient, yet unoppressive—her commerce affluent,
but not debasing—peace and plenty within her borders—and the glory that
arises from a proper use of power, encircling them.22
Dickinson’s view of society is thus closer to that of Vattel and
Blackstone
than to that of Locke. Vattel declared that rights were "nothing more
than
the power of doing what is morally possible, that is to say, what is
proper
and consistent with duty."23
Russell Kirk has stated of Blackstone that,
The natural law described by Blackstone was rooted in
Christian ethics;
and it declared "the absolute rights of man"—the natural liberty of
mankind,
consisting of three articles, "the right of personal security, the
right
of personal liberty, and the right of private property." Yet, these
rights
were not absolute in the sense of having no limits: as Blackstone put
it,
"but every man, when he enters into society, gives up a part of his
natural
liberty, as the price of so valuable a purchase; and, in consideration
of receiving the advantages of mutual commerce, obliges himself to
conform
to these laws which the community has thought proper to establish."
There,
more clearly expressed than by Locke, is a fundamental doctrine of
Perhaps closest of all to Dickinson’s view of man and society, however,
is that of Edmund Burke. For, both viewed civil society as a
partnership
which includes man’s relationship to God and which is directed toward
the
development of man’s higher nature. As Burke would write in his Reflections
on the Revolution in France,
[T]he state ought not to be considered as nothing better
than a partnership
agreement in a trade of pepper and coffee, callico or tobacco, or some
other such low concern, to be taken up for a little temporary interest
and to be dissolved by the fancy of the parties. It is to be looked on
with other reverence; because it is not a partnership in things
subservient
only to the gross animal existence of a temporary and perishable
nature.
It is a partnership in all science; a partnership in all art; a
partnership
in every virtue, and in all perfection. . . . [Without] civil society
man
could not by any possibility arrive at the perfection of which his
nature
is capable, nor even make a remote and faint approach to it. . . . He
who
gave our nature to be perfected by our virtue, willed also the
necessary
means of its perfection—He willed therefore the state—He willed its
connexion
with the source and original archetype of all perfection. . . . [For]
His
will . . . is the law of laws and the sovereign of sovereigns.25
For Dickinson, as for Burke, civil society is the necessary means by
which
human beings are connected with the divine, by which human nature is
held
in its appointed place in conformity to the higher moral law.26
Dickinson’s view of society and of the ends of government
are derived
from his understanding of human nature—an understanding which reflects
his deeply held Christian beliefs. Because of original sin, man’s
fallen
nature is prone to evil, yet capable of virtue. Society exists to
fulfill
man’s higher nature by restraining his baser passions and promoting the
goodness of which he is capable. In a democracy, the government which
superintends
the society is dependent on the will of the people to a greater degree
than in any other form. Therefore, such a balance in the constitution
must
exist that the people’s higher will (i.e., a will governed by moral
virtue
and right reason) will superintend the government at the same time that
the government maintains the conditions necessary for the formation and
predominance of the higher will of society. Or, as Dickinson puts it,
the
purpose of government is to protect "the worthy against the licentious."27
It is this understanding of human nature, of society, and of
government
that constitutes the foundation upon which the elaborate structure of
the
Constitution is built, in Fabius’s view. Because of the dual nature of
human beings, the Constitution is designed so to limit and restrain
power
that bad men will be checked in their evil schemes, well-meaning but
mistaken
men will be prevented from bringing about ill-conceived and unjust
measures,
and the wisdom and virtue of the people will thereby prevail.
It is in this context that Dickinson sees the stronger
confederation
of the states under the new Constitution as providing a check against
the
spread of moral corruption and violence that consumed the entire
nation.
(He undoubtedly has in mind Shays’Rebellion, which had horrified the
members
of the Constitutional Convention, and the violence and corruption that
he had witnessed in his own state of Pennsylvania since independence.)
Using the analogy of the human body, he writes that,
It has . . . been justly observed, that if a mortification
takes place
in one or some of the limbs, and the rest of the body is sound,
remedies
may be applied, and not only the contagion prevented from spreading,
but
the diseased part or parts saved by the connection with the body, and
restored
to former usefulness. When general putrefaction prevails, death is to
be
expected. History sacred and profane tells us, that, corruption of
manners
sinks nations into slavery.28
Though a sine qua non for good government, according to
Fabius,
a strong confederation alone is insufficient to ensure that government
will live up to its "sacred trust." Sufficient controls must also exist
within the structure of the federal government itself to promote, if
not
to guarantee, justice. Central to this structure is the belief of
Montesquieu
and the classical republicans that "[t]he government must never be
lodged
in a single body." Fabius argues in Letter IV that, from such a
government,
"rash, partial, illegal, and when intoxicated with success, even cruel,
insolent and contemptible [edicts], may at times be expected." In
Letter
VI, he reaffirms that position when he writes that "when the fancy is
warmed,
and the judgment inclined, by the proximity or pressure of particular
objects,
very extraordinary declarations are not unfrequently made. Such are the
frailties of our nature, that genius and integrity sometimes afford no
protection against them."29Both
philosophy and experience show, he concludes, that the solution is to
be
found in the principle of the separation of powers. He writes:
The judgment of the most enlightened among mankind,
confirmed by multiplied
experiments, points out the propriety of government being committed to
such a number of great departments, as can be introduced without
confusion,
distinct in office, and yet connected in operation. . . .
Such a repartition appears well calculated to express the
sense of the
people, and to encrease the safety and repose of the governed, which
with
the advancement of their happiness in other respects, are the objects
of
government. . . . The departments so constititued, may therefore be
said
to be balanced.30
The government that will exist under the proposed Constitution, he
argues,
is well calculated to achieve these legitimate objects of government.
For,
it is "so diversified and attempered" as to ensure the people’s safety
while promoting their happiness:
Our government under the proposed confederation, will be
guarded by
a repetition of the cautions against excesses. In the senate the
sovereignties
of the several states will be equally represented; in the house of
representatives,
the people of the whole union will be equally represented; and, in the
president, and the federal independent judges, so much concerned in the
execution of the laws, and in the determination of their
constitutionality,
the sovereignties of the several states and the people of the whole
union,
may be considered as conjointly represented.31
In the first four letters, Fabius concerned himself primarily with the
domestic tranquility and prosperity that would result from adoption of
the proposed Constitution. In Letter V, he uses similar arguments to
show
that the Constitution is the necessary means of protecting the nation
against
invasion or domination by foreign powers. Such protection, he says, can
only be achieved by a government that is sufficiently powerful to bring
to bear the force of the whole nation. If weakened by internal discord,
America, like so many nations before it, will fall prey to the ambition
and lust for domination of other countries. "Hence it is evident," he
writes,
"that such establishments as tend most to protect the worthy against
the
licentious, tends [sic]most to protect all against
foreigners."
Interestingly, Fabius’s focus here shifts somewhat from his
previous
emphasis. Whereas before his description of "the worthy" had focused on
moral virtue, he now defines "the worthy" as "He who [serves] the
constitution,
liberties and laws of his country." Aristotle had drawn a distinction
between
the good man and the good citizen, but Fabius apparently sees no such
tension—at
least not in the context of the American republic. For by establishing
a government that is unlikely to be subject to "the undue influence of
passions either in the people or in their servants" the Consitution
will
promote a spirit of moderation, justice, charity, and respect for the
rule
of law. "Then," he says, "in a contest between citizens and citizens,
or
states and states, the standard of laws may be displayed, explained and
strengthened by the well-remembered sentiments and examples of our
forefathers,
which will give [the government] . . . sanctity."32
Fabius exhorts his audience to learn the lessons of history.
His praise
of history as a valuable field ofstudy for both statesmen and citizens
is worth quoting in full; for it summarizes Dickinson’s approach to
statesmanship
throughout his long career. He writes:
A knowledge of the distinguishing features of nations, the
principles
of their governments, the advantages and disadvantages of their
situations,
the methods employed to avail themselves of the first, and to alleviate
the last, their manners, customs, and institutions, the sources of
events,
their progresses, and determining causes, may be eminently useful, tho’
obscurity may rest upon a multitude of attending circumstances. Thus
one
nation may become prudent and happy, not only by the wisdom and
success,
but even by the errors and misfortunes of another.33
This leads to a brief account of the history of several nations,
ancient
and modern, including Rome, Carthage, Athens, the Achaean League, and
the
Florentine Republic. According to Fabius’s account, the history of
these
states provides two important lessons for America. First, an excess of
democracy destroys republics by allowing the people to encroach upon
the
legitimate authority of the government. Second, confederated republics
throughout history have fallen victim to internal dissent, foreign
intrigue,
or invasion because of a lack of sufficient authority in the central
government.
The lesson for America is clear: the greatest threat to liberty arises
not from a strong central authority based on a principle of
representative
government, but from a government which is overly influenced by the
whims
of the multitude or which lacks sufficient authority to protect the
interests
of the nation as a whole.34
It is clear from Dickinson’s account of history that, while
he advocates
a healthy respect for the "sentiments and examples of our forefathers,"
he does not advocate a slavish adherence to the customs and usages of
the
past. Rather, the statesman ought to learn from the successes and
failures
of those who came before and seek to build on their achievements while
avoiding their errors. This vicarious experience, combined with the
particular
experience of a people and a prudent adaptation of the lessons of the
past
to the unique circumstances of time and place, will make possible the
creation
of a novus ordo seclorum.
Thus, in answer to the critics of the Constitution, who
argued that
no territory as extensive as America had ever been ruled by a
republican
form of government and that it must inevitably fall into despotism,
Fabius
argues that the Framers had learned the lessons that history had
offered,
enabling them to create something unique in the history o the world. He
writes:
It is said—Such territory has never been governed by a
confederacy
of republics. Granted. But, where was there ever a confederacy of
republics,
in such territory, united, as these states are to be by the
proposed government?35
Fabius then articulates the particular features of that government—its
federal character, its system of checks and balances, its system of
representation
of both individuals and states, its ability to marshal the resources of
the nation when the public good requires it—and concludes:
So far is the assertion from being true, that "a very
extensive territory
cannot be ruled by a government of a republican form," that such a
territory
cannot be well-ruled by a government of any other form. . . . Can any
government
be devised that will be more suited to citizens who wish for equal
freedom
and common prosperity; better calculated for preventing corruption of
manners;
for advancing the improvements that endear or adorn life; or that can
be
more conformed to the understanding, to the best affections, to the
very
nature of man?36
Dickinson, then, does not depart from Aristotle’s teaching on the
nature
of man and citizen. Aristotle had argued that the distinction between
the
good man and the good citizen disappears in the best regime. While
Dickinson
always avoided discussions of abstract political theory (arguing
instead
from experience and history), he would appear to believe that the
American
republic, as constituted by the proposed Constitution, is the regime
which
most conforms with human nature (i.e., the best possible regime). This
is not to say that Dickinson believed that it was suitable to all
peoples,
at all times, in all circumstances. His prudence would never allow him
to make such a broad theoretical declaration. Nevertheless, he saw the
American Constitution as an improvement even upon that of Great
Britain—a
constitution which he had lavishly praised in the Convention and of
which
he writes that "no nation has existed that ever so perfectly united
those
distant extremes, private security of life, liberty, and property, with
exertion of public force . . . or so happily blended together arms,
arts,
science, commerce, and agriculture." He compares, for example, the
American
president with the British monarch, and asks,
Is there more danger to our liberty, from such a president
as we are
to have, than to that of Britons from an hereditary monarch with a vast
revenue—absolute in the erection and disposal of offces, and in the
exercise
of the whole executive power—in the command of the militia, fleets, and
armies, and the direction of their operations—in the establishments of
fairs and markets, the regulation of weights and measures, and coining
of money—who can call parliaments with a breath, and dissolve them with
a nod—who can, at his will, make war, peace, and treaties irrevocably
binding
the nation—and who can grant pardons and titles of nobility, as it
pleases him?37
This is not to say that the proposed Constitution is perfect. Yet, he
appeals
to a spirit of moderation in urging his countrymen to accept the good
which
it is possible to achieve rather than attempting a degree of
theoretical
perfection which is impossible to attain. "In political affairs," he
asks
rhetorically, "is it not more safe and advantageous, for all to agree
in
measures that may not be best, than to quarrel among themselves, what
are best?"38
While it may be that amendments to the document will be
necessary, Fabius
rejects attempts to make such amendments on the grounds of achieving a
theoretical perfection. "As to alterations," he writes, "a little experience
will
cast more light upon the subject, than a multitude of debates." For
this
reason, the Framers had provided for a process of amendment which would
be made "on the authority of the people, without shaking the
stability
of the government . . . . Thus, by a gradual progress, we may from time
to time introduce every improvement in our constitution, that
shall
be suitable to our situation." But, Fabius cautions against individual
officials’ engaging in such an important business on their own
authority.
It is, rather, the collective sense of the states, as political
communities,
combined with the deliberative sense of Congress, which ought to play
the
decisive role in such a momentous business. For in this manner "the
sentiments
of all United America" can be obtained and weighed "in the coolest
manner"
so that the "common welfare’’ and "the happiness of these states’’
might
be promoted.39
The Constitution described by the Letters of Fabius,
then, is
a model of prudence and moderation, based not primarily on theoretical
arguments, but on experience and an extensive knowledge of history. Nor
is the Constitution created by the Convention an invitation to the
pursuit
of some theoretical perfection by the government. It is, rather, a
government
of limited powers for limited ends. It seeks to preserve the nation
from
internal disorder, to promote commerce among the states and with other
nations, to protect the ntion from foreign invasion and foreign
intrigue,
and to promote the nation’s interests abroad. The Constitution sought
to
provide sufficient power in the federal government so that the states
could
not interfere in the exercise of these legitimate functions. Yet, in
all
other matters, the states are to retain their sovereignty and exclusive
jurisdiction over the rights and interests of their citizens. By this
balanced
and limited structure, the prosperity, liberty, and virtue of the
people
is thereby preserved and promoted, in Dickinson’s view. While the
framework
of the government so established is designed to provide the "checks and
balances" necessary to preserve this structure, Dickinson makes clear
that
the ultimate reponsibility for the preservation of the people’s liberty
rests with the people themselves. If they cease to be diligent, if they
allow the government to undertake unconstitutional measures under false
pretexts, or if they allow themselves to become morally corrupt so that
they no longer choose persons of wisdom and integrity to govern the
nation,
then they will lose their liberty, and "[the] loss of happiness then
follows
as a matter of course."40
In short, Dickinson’s view of the Constitution is that of a
moderate
Federalist, and he describes a document which both moderate Federalists
and Anti-Federalists could accept (which perhaps explains the
persuasive
power of his argument). But, is Dickinson’s view of the Convention’s
work,
as expressed in the Fabius Letters, at variance with the views
of
Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay (writing under the
pseudonym
"Publius"), as expressed in the Federalist Papers? Those
scholars
who tend toward a selective reading of the Federalist, to
justify
a strongly nationalist interpretation of that work, would argue that
it is.41
Yet such an argument is not justified by the Federalist Papers as
a whole. A close reading of the latter work reveals a remarkable
similarity
between the two documents in their interpretation of the intentions of
the Framers. Both the Fabius Letters and the Federalist
Papers, rightly
understood, present a modest view of the ends of government as
envisioned
by the Convention; and the authors of both documents believe that
wisdom,
virtue, and experience (rather than appeals to abstract rights or a
theoretical
perfection) form the basis of the American republic. In the political
system
for which they seek ratification, the sovereignty of the states is not
of secondary importance, but is one of the pillars of the
constitutional
edifice. The states, through their various subordinate communities,
provide
the source of the virtue and wisdom that are to guide the nation, and
they
act as a check on the potential abuse of power by those entrusted with
it at the national level. In this system, appeals to "arithmetical
principles"
or an abstract perfection are rejected in favor of the "lamp of
experience"
and the good sense of the people and their representatives. Both for
Publius
and for Fabius, only time and experience, and the prudent application
to
particular circumstances of the lessons which they offer, can achieve a
true and lasting good.42
And any such applications must be undertaken in the humble recognition
of the fallibility of human reason. Such a recognition will lead to a
spirit
of compromise and an understanding that perfect good is to be found
only
in the next world. To attempt to achieve perfection in this world will
lead not to perfection but to anarchy or tyranny. It is ultimately this
spirit—with its reliance on prudence, experience, moderation, and
compromise—that
can be called the animating spirit of the American Constitution.
* Gregory S. Ahern is a Fellow
in Constitutional
Theory at The Center for Constitutional Studies. [Back]
1 Max Farrand, ed., Records of the
Federal Convention
of 1787 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), III: Appendix A,
CXIX, 88. [Back]
2 Forrest McDonald and Ellen S. McDonald,
"John Dickinson,
Founding Father," Delaware History, 23, no. 1 (1988): 24-38;
and
M. E. Bradford, A Worthy Company: Brief Lives of the Framers of the
United States Constitution (Marlborough, NH: Plymouth Rock
Foundation,
1982), 103 and 107. [Back]
3 Clarence B. Carson, A Basic History of
the United
States, vol. 1, The Colonial Experience, 1607-1774 (Wadley,
Alabama: American Textbook Committee, 1983), 160; James M. Tunnell,
Jr.,
"John Dickinson and the Federal Constitution," Delaware History 6
(1955), 288-293; Milton E. Flower, John Dickinson: Conservative
Revolutionary (Charlottesville,
VA: University Press of Virginia, 1983), 250-53. [Back]
4 George Washington to John Vaughan, April
2, 1788,
in John C. Fitzpatrick, ed., The Writings of George Washington
(Washington,
D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1931-44), 29:468. [Back]
6 John Dickinson, The Letters of Fabius,
in Paul
L. Ford, ed., Pamphlets on the Constitution of the United States (New
York: DaCapo Press, 1968), 163-216. It should be noted that Dickinson’s
intentions in writing the Fabius Letters were different from
those
of the authors of the Federalist Papers. Dickinson observed
that
other writers had commented at length on particular aspects of the
Constitution.
What Dickinson wished to do, he said, was "to simplify the subject, so
as to facilitate the inquiries of his fellow citizens" (Letter I). [Back]
10 Dickinson’s concern with corruption
reflects classical
republican theory. See Zera S. Fink, Classical Republicans, and
Isaac Kramnick, Bolingbroke and His Circle: The Politics of
Nostalgia
in the Age of Walpole (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1968). [Back]
11 The widespread corruption that was
endemic to elections
in Great Britain was well known to his audience, and in fact, a
significant
element of "country party" Whig rhetoric. [Back]
16 Letters III and V. Forrest McDonald
argues that
Dickinson’s concerns about "licentiousness, vice, luxury, corruption,
and
tyranny" are merely a rhetorical strategy designed to appeal to the
"country
party" Whigs among the Anti-Federalist camp, by using the "emotionally
ladened catchwords" that were familiar to them—thereby turning their
own
arguments against them. My own view is that Dickinson genuinely shared
these concerns of the Anti-Federalists, but saw the Constitution as the
best means to confront these evils. (See McDonald, "John Dickinson,
Founding
Father," 38.) [Back]
22 Letter VIII. In his second series of Fabius
Letters, written
several years later, Dickinson would make clear the duties that
accompany
liberty and prosperity. He would write that,
Of all national powers, that which is chiefly derived from commercial
resources, seems to be the most precarious. . . . It must be exercised
not only with great wisdom, but also with great virtue; that is, it
must
be beneficial to others, as well as profitable to the people possessing
it, or it cannot be permanent. Our Creator never made individuals or
nations,
to be kind to themselves only. When attended with eminent success, it
is
apt to generate a spirit of pride, dissipation, insolence, rashness,
rapaciousness,
and cruelty. The eagerness for wealth, increases with amassment. It
rages.
It is a pestilence. Altered nations preserve scarcely a resemblence of
themselves. Hardly a feature of their promising youth, remains in their
debauched manhood. They, who were worthily diligent and decently
frugal,
become wickedly active and impudently avaricious: and they who nobly
defended
their own liberty, deem it glorious to destroy the liberty of others.
With
them, justice is a restraint: Benevolence a weakness. To use an
expression
of Thucydides, "Nothing is thought dishonorable that is
pleasing,
nothing iniquitous that is gainful" (The Letters of Fabius in 1797:
Containing Remarks on the Present Situation of Public Affairs [Wilmington,
1797], Letter VIII). [Back]
23 Forrest McDonald, The American
Presidency: An Intellectual
History (Lawrence, Kansas: The University Press of Kansas, 1985),
36. [Back]
24 Russell Kirk, The Roots of American
Order (Malibu,
California: Pepperdine University Press, 1978), 371. [Back]
25 Edmund Burke, Reflections on the
Revolution in
France, ed. Conor Cruise O’Brien (New York: Penguin Books, 1969),
194-96.
In Letter IV, Fabius writes that,
[Government] is intended for the benefit of the governed; of course
it can have no just powers but what conduce to that end: and the
awfulness
of the trust is demonstrated in this—that it is founded on the nature
of
man, that is, on the will of his Maker, and is therefore
sacred.
It is then an offense against Heaven, to violate that trust." [Back]
26 Peter Stanlis, "Burke, Babbitt, and
Rousseau: The Moral
Nature of Man," in George A. Panichas and Claes G. Ryn, eds., Irving
Babbitt in Our Time (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America
Press, 1986), 131. [Back]
28 Letter III. Compare Washington’s
statement that
"Arbitrary power is most easily established on the ruins of liberty
abused
to licentiousness," in Southern Partisan, XV (4th Quarter
1995):
25. [Back]
31 Letter IV. Although the construction of
the sentence
makes it somewhat difficult to interpret definitively, it appears that
both the president and the judiciary are to play a role in both the
execution
of the laws and in the determination of their constitutionality.
Dickinson’s
apparent characterization of the judiciary in this manner is somewhat
surprising.
Despite his own opposition in the Convention to the judiciary passing
judgment
on the constitutionality of laws, and the lack of any such specific
power
in the document itself, Dickinson apparently believed that the
judiciary
branch had that power under the Constitution. For a view different from
my own, see M. E. Bradford, "A Better Guide Than Reason: The Politics
of
John Dickinson," in A Better Guide Than Reason: Studies in the
American
Revolution (LaSalle, Illinois: Sherwood Sugden and Co., 1979), 92.
For a discussion of the controversy during the early years of the
republic
over which branch(es) of the government was (were) responsible for
determining
the constitutionality of laws, see McDonald, American Presidency, 267-71.
[Back]
32 Letter V; Aristotle, Politics, Bk.
III, ch.4. [Back]
34 For an account of the difference between
representative
democracy, as envisioned by the Framers, and the plebiscitary democracy
against which Fabius warns his readers, see Claes G. Ryn, The New
Jacobinism:
Can Democracy Survive? (Washington, D.C.: National Humanities
Institute,
1991) and his Democracy and the Ethical Life: A Philososphy of
Politics
and Community (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America
Press, 1990), ch. XI. [Back]
37 Letter IX. This enumeration of the
powers of the
British monarch and the overall tone of the passage are interesting
because
they indicate the Framers’ intent regarding the limits of presidential
authority. It should be noted that almost all of the powers listed here
as possessed by the British monarch are either specifically listed
among
the enumerated powers of Congress (Article I, Section 8) or, as in the
case of the granting of titles of nobility, specifically prohibited by
the Constitution. In particular, his statement that the British monarch
"can, at his will, make war" is worth noting. The tone of the passage
would
suggest that the president has no authority to commit the nation to war
‘‘at his will’’ without the express consent of Congress. This view is
supported
by Farrand’s account of the debate on whether or not to use the phrase
"make war" or "declare war" in Article I, Section 8, specifying the
powers
of Congress. Charles Pinckney opposed giving to Congress as a whole the
power to commit the nation to war, believing that it should be vested
in
the Senate alone. Pierce Butler objected and argued for vesting the
power
in the president, who, he said, "will have all the requisite qualities,
and will not make war but when the Nation will support it." Elbridge
Gerry
expressed disbelief, saying that he "never expected to hear in a
republic
a motion to empower the Executive alone to declare war." Both Gerry and
James Madison then moved to insert "declare," striking out "make" war,
leaving to the executive the power to repel sudden attacks. Roger
Sherman
agreed, arguing that the president should be able to repel attacks but
not to commence war, and the motion was adopted seven states to two,
with
one abstention (Max Farrand, Records of the Federal Convention, 11:318-19).
For a discussion of the respective roles of Congress and the
president
in committing the nation to war, see Forrest McDonald, Novus Ordo
Seclorum:
The Intellectual Origins of the Constitution (Lawrence, Kansas:
The
University Press of Kansas, 1985), 247-49. [Back]
40 Letters IV and IX. It is ironic that
James M. Tunnell,
Jr., in his essay "John Dickinson and the Federal Constitution," Delaware
History 6 (1955):288-93, cites as one of the great virtues of the
Constitution
its "quality of elasticity," since there appears to be little reason to
believe that Dickinson himself would have shared that view. Nor is it
accurate
to characterize Dickinson’s position as that of either a champion of
states’
rights and state sovereignty or an ardent nationalist (compare, for
example,
John Powell, "John Dickinson and the Constitution," Pennsylvania
Magazine
of History and Biography, LX [1936]:8-9, and James H. Hutson,
"John
Dickinson at the Federal Constitutional Convention," William and
Mary
Quarterly 40 [April 1983]:256-82). Neither of these views
adequately
reflects the subtlety of Dickinson’s thought. [Back]
41 See, for example, Thomas L. Pangle, The
Spirit
of Modern Republicanism: The Moral Vision of the American Founders and
the Philosophy of Locke (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1988);
Charles Kesler, "The Higher Law and ‘Original Intent’: The Challenge
for
Conservatism," The Intercollegiate Review 22, No. 2 (Spring
1987);
and Mortimer J. Adler, We Hold These Truths: Understanding the
Ideas
and Ideals of the Constitution (New York: Macmillan, 1987). These
scholars
tend to filter their reading of the Constitution through the second
paragraph
of the Declaration of Independence, particularly the "all men are
created
equal" clause, in order to interpret the Constitution as a document
designed
to secure the "Rights of Man."
Martin Diamond also tends toward a nationalist
interpretation of the Federalist
Papers, minimizing the importance of the states in the federal
system.
See, for example, Martin Diamond, "Democracy and The Federalist: A
Reconsideration of the Framers’ Intent," American Political Science
Review LIII [March 1959]: 52-68.
It must be admitted that there is a certain ambiguity in the
Federalist, and
some passages do appear to sanction an ever-expanding federal role. In
fact, Richard Morris has pointed out that some scholars have discovered
a "split personality" in the Federalist, due to the fact that
Madison’s
contributions are more "federalist" than those of Hamilton (which are
more
nationalistic and centralizing in tone) (Richard B. Morris, Witnesses
at the Creation: Hamilton, Madison, Jay and the Constitution [New
York:
New American Library, 1985], 94-95).
Similarly, Albert Furtwangler has noted the different
interpretations
to which passages in the Federalist could be subjected, even
by
their authors. Both Madison and Hamilton used them to refute the
other’s
position in an early controversy over the power of the president to
unilaterally
declare neutrality. Furtwangler argues, however, that, while there is
not
a perfect consistency in the arguments presented in the Federalist,
taken
as a whole the papers are remarkably consistent. For this reason, he
says,
the Federalist resists dismemberment and is not fairly
represented
by any one paper in isolation from those surrounding it (Albert
Furtwangler, The
Authority of Publius: A Reading of the Federalist Papers [Ithaca,
N.Y.:
Cornell University Press, 1984], esp. 17-44 and 146-48). While I
essentially
agree with Furtwangler’s position, it might be argued that because the Fabius
Letters come from the hand of a single author
(and one who
was influential in the drafting of the Constitution), these letters are
perhaps more consistent in their argument than the work of "Publius."
If
so, then the Letters of Fabius are far more deserving of the
attention
of constitutional scholars than they have received to date. [Back]
42 For a systematic analysis of the work of
Publius
which justifies this interpretation, see my "Virtue, Wisdom, and
Experience,
Not Abstract Rights, Form the Basis of the American Republic," Humanitas,
V,
no. 1 (Winter 1991), 1-8. [Back]