A character-driven affair

A flash banner.

David Hall sketches in the historical background to We the People, Eric Schlosser’s play dramatising the origins of the American constitution.

The origins of great phrases are often surprising, sometimes dismaying, occasionally disillusioning, but we’ll come to that. Firstly, let us view the world as it seems in 1787 to some of the central characters of Eric Schlosser’s new play, We The People.

Six years after the French-assisted military triumph in the American War of Independence, George Washington and other heroes of the struggle believe that their fledgling Republic is on the verge of self-destruction. They also fear that the ultimate price of others’ folly may be America’s re-incorporation into the British Empire. Indeed, the British have retained what strategic posts they can on the continent, confident of a political collapse. ‘What a triumph for the advocates of despotism’, writes Washington, ‘to find that we are incapable of governing ourselves’.

American government during the War of Independence (and in its immediate aftermath) is based on the Articles of Confederation, which deny Congress the power to raise taxes and troops and to regulate trade. There is no executive, and legal matters are decided exclusively at state level. During the economic depression of 1786, the government’s weaknesses seem gravely exposed, when war veteran Daniel Shays leads a rebellion in Massachusetts against mortgage foreclosures and debt-imprisonment. Shays has credibility, having fought against the British in key battles, like Lexington, Bunker Hill and Saratoga. He has even received a sword in recognition of this from the Marquis de Lafayette, Washington’s favourite French military aide. That Shays’ rebellion is crushed not by the army (which barely exists) but by a hastily improvised local militia seems to confirm that the country is in crisis. Representatives of several states had met that year to resolve trade disputes. Shays’ Rebellion prompts representatives from every state (except Rhode Island) to meet the following year, in Philadelphia. This time, their canvas is blank and their brief much wider: to revise the Articles of Confederation; in effect, to devise a new system of government.

‘The event is in the hand of God’, writes Washington. But it isn’t. In fact, it isn’t even in the hands of ‘demigods’, as Jefferson soon dubs the delegates to the Constitutional Convention. Responsibility for the Republic’s future lies with flesh-and-blood men, who bring with them to Philadelphia’s intense summer heat their hopes, fears, suspicions, virtues and all-too-human frailties: the canvas, of course, is never truly blank. The debating, drafting and ratification of the Constitution are character-driven affairs; this is what gives Eric Schlosser’s material its universality. Who, then, are these characters?

All fifty-five are men of property: merchants, planters and lawyers. Each is highly educated, schooled in Enlightenment philosophy, yet each has practical experience of politics, to bolster his understanding of the political theories of Montesquieu and Locke. Each fears monarchy (the tyranny of the one), and democracy (the tyranny of the many). Most have served in the Revolutionary War. Absent are some very famous names, like Thomas Jefferson and John Adams (both serving as ambassadors, in France and Britain respectively). But Washington is there, as is the aged Benjamin Franklin. Notable among the younger men are Alexander Hamilton and James Madison. Once a quorum of delegates arrives, Washington is elected Presiding Officer, and the work begins. Madison, with his sense of history, serves as recorder. His notes (unpublished until 1840, four years after his death) are our principal source.

To the lasting delight of left-wingers and conspiracy theorists, the delegates vote to deliberate in secret; hence later ironic references to ‘framers’; hence the Simpsons episode in which a long-lost copy of the Constitution is found in a basement; hitherto shrouded in darkness, the sacred parchment is identical to the version we know today, but for one word, later deleted: SUCKERS. In truth, the delegates are genuinely concerned about the counter-productive effects of press coverage. Besides, the absence of a press gallery reduces (though it does not eliminate) the temptation to play to it.

Reflecting on the later American Civil War, Shelby Foote, chief talking head on the celebrated PBS television series, observes that its outbreak in 1861 illustrates the failure of the American genius for compromise; the Constitution is itself a series of compromises. But genius is rarely genial. Each one of these compromises is hammered out, day by day, word by word, in a Convention that sometimes threatens to break up. On what basis are states’ representatives to be sent to Congress – size or equality? Who should rule – Congress or President? Should slaves count as men for purposes of taxation and representation? Should Congress or individual states have greater power? These are the great questions. Concerning them, there is mutual suspicion between North and South, small and large, populous and non-populous, urban and rural, slave-owner and non-slave-owner. The process of compromise takes almost 16 weeks. Then, the departing delegates turn to the next immense task: persuading those whom they represent to ratify their labours.

We The People is the phrase deployed to solve the problem that the supposed sources of the Constitution’s authority – the states themselves – cannot be listed on a document that they may refuse to ratify. Jefferson, writing from Paris, is not alone in deploring the lack of a Bill of Rights. The attachment of the first ten amendments to the Constitution secures its final acceptance in 1791.

The success of the US Constitution is confirmed partly by the small number of amendments enacted since, partly by continued demonstrations of its flexibility, and partly by the fact that its full significance is still emerging in the courts, in cases conducted centuries later. Eric Schlosser’s new play telescopes nearly four months of historic debate into a few hours of compelling open-air theatre, stripping its central characters of centuries of quasi-religious awe and idolatry. If the men seeking to strike a “more perfect” balance between Power and Liberty are reactionaries, they are revolutionary reactionaries. Like the Constitution they created, we must make of them what we will.

David Hall has taught English, History, Philosophy, Latin, Greek and Classical Studies at schools in Britain and abroad. He us currently Head of Classical Studies at Dollar Academy.

We the People, directed by Charlotte Westenra and designed by Paul Willis, opens at the Globe on 2 September.

This article is published in the magazine of Shakespeare's Globe 'Around the Globe', issue 36, Summer 2007. Subscription details

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