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stopped, but the
people of Philadelphia remained indoors. Water dripped everywhere,
so he moved to the center of the cobbled street, keeping his eyes
down to avoid stepping in splattered horse droppings. Sherman
marveled at the oil street lamps that threw a warm glow over the
wet surfaces. He had read that Philadelphia had imported these
globes from London, but he had not appreciated their utility until
tonight.
    Sherman took the long way back to Mrs.
Marshall’s house. His friends didn’t understand his solitary walks,
but he needed them to refresh his mood, test his convictions,
forecast opponents’ moves, and devise tactics. The muggy air
dampened his heavy wool clothing and made it difficult to breathe.
He didn’t notice.
    There was no doubt in his mind that the
government must be strengthened. The nation couldn’t defend itself
nor manage its commerce. He believed that these problems could be
rectified with a few simple changes to the Articles. Congress
merely lacked the power to enforce its decisions. The states
ignored national laws without penalty. He had proposed a set of
amendments years ago, but the timing had not been right, the nation
not ready. Sherman believed the timing of this convention matched
the county’s mood, but the Virginians were too ambitious. This plot
to gratuitously dispose of the Articles and demolish the country’s
legitimate government must be stopped.
    But he had misgivings. War loomed. Britain
and Spain prodded his country’s weaknesses. Barbary pirates preyed
on American ships in the Mediterranean. Shays’s Rebellion in
Massachusetts had scared everyone.
    Sherman felt heartsick as he watched the
states rush toward internecine conflict and possible
disintegration. The nation tottered on the brink of dissolution. A
fresh approach appealed to many, but another false start might doom
their republic. The brutal truth was that a government must
govern—and this one did not.
    Sherman arrived at his boardinghouse, still
puzzling the issues. His landlady, a small, sharp-witted woman, had
converted her home to a boardinghouse after the death of her
husband. Once a wealthy merchant’s home, the now threadbare house
was large and comfortable. Startled by the cost of these modest
quarters, Sherman had soon discovered that Philadelphia’s heady
commerce, rather than his landlady’s avarice, had dictated the
price.
    Entering the central hall, he tried to be
quiet so as to not disturb the other guests.
    “ I hope you had an enjoyable evening,
Mr. Sherman.”
    He stopped at the parlor door. “Yes, Mrs.
Marshall. Thank you.”
    She sat comfortably in the room’s best
chair, knitting something Sherman couldn’t identify. “You gentlemen
have some serious work ahead of you. How long before you
start?”
    “ A while yet. I think it’s safe for
you to plan on our boarding with you for many weeks, perhaps the
summer.”
    “ Thank you. I’d appreciate any notice
you can give about when you might depart. Please let me know if
there’s anything I can do to make your stay more
comfortable.”
    “ I’d appreciate an additional chair in
my room.”
    “ If I move the chair from the room
reserved for Mr. Ellsworth, would that suffice?” Oliver Ellsworth
was another Connecticut delegate, yet to arrive.
    “ That should be fine.” Sherman took
half a step into the room. “May I ask a question?”
    “ Certainly.”
    “ What do you hope will come from our
convention?”
    “ Why ask me?”
    “ I don’t like to decide weighty issues
without discussing them with an intelligent woman.”
    “ Do you discuss political matters with
your wife?”
    “ She is my sole confidant.”
    “ Then I suggest you write her a
letter. I don’t involve myself in politics nor in religion. Today,
my house is filled with Presbyterians, Cincinnati, and delegates.
Tomorrow will bring others with different affairs.”
    “ I understand.”
    “ There’s a Pennsylvania Journal on the table. It contains
an article on