onstrance would be quite useless. The Union was
little more than a name under the feeble bonds of the Confederation, and
each State was a law unto itself. Not that in this case there was much
reasonable ground for complaint; for what else could the States do?
Where there was no money there must be something to take its place; a
promise to pay must be accepted instead of payment. The paper answered a
temporary purpose, though it was plain that in the end it would be good
for nothing.

The evil, however, was manifestly so great that there was only the more
reason for trying to mitigate it, if it could not be cured. Madison,
like the rest, had his remedy. He proposed, in a letter to one of his
colleagues, that the demand for army supplies should be duly apportioned
among the people, their collection rigorously enforced, and payment made
in interest-bearing certificates, not transferable, but to be redeemed
at a specified time after the war was over. The plan would undoubtedly
have put a stop to the circulation of a vast volume of paper money if
the producers would have exchanged the products of their labor for
certificates, useless at the time of exchange, and having only a
possible prospective value in case of the successful termination of an
uncertain war. Patriotic as the people were, they neither would nor
could have submitted to such a law, nor had Congress the power to
enforce it. But Mr. Madison did not venture apparently to urge his plan
beyond its suggestion to his colleague.

Why the Assembly of Virginia should have proposed to elect an extra
delegate to Congress, early in 1781, is not clear, unless it be that one
of the number, Joseph Jones, being also a member of the Assembly, passed
much of his time in Richmond. It does not appear, however, that the
delegate extraordinary was ever sent, perhaps because it was known to
Mr. Madison's friends that it would be a mortification to him. There was
certainly no good reason for any distrust of either his ability or his
industry. One could hardly be otherwise than industrious who had it in
him--if the story be true--to take but three hours out of the
twenty-four for sleep during the last year of his college course, that
he might crowd the studies of two years into one. He seemed to love work
for its own sake, and he was a striking example of how much virtue there
is in steadiness of pursuit. Not that he had at this time any special
goal for his ambition. His aim seemed