Madison and Jefferson (51 page)

Shouts in earnest, appeals to common sense, came at a time of increasing alienation. Each side claimed legitimacy when it branded the other a “faction.” Words carried weight. John Adams adopted the prevailing vocabulary in a perplexed letter to his wife, Abigail, in late 1792: “I am really astonished at the blind Spirit of Party which has Lived on the whole soul of
this Jefferson. There is not a Jacobin in France more devoted to Faction.” The New Yorker Washington Irving, who came of age in the 1790s and first came to prominence as a political satirist, fed the following line to the protagonist of one of his later, lesser-known tales: “The republic of letters is the most factious and discordant of all republics, ancient or modern.” The bookish men whom history chooses to remember as political geniuses were really gladiators, as frantic and fearful as they were inspired.
⁴²

Public discord was of more than rhetorical concern: it went against everything the leadership group had been taught growing up. Rational discourse was at the heart of the eighteenth century’s ideal of civil society. Enlightenment thinkers had imagined that the free exchange of ideas in public forums, whether set in type or voiced in small gatherings of educated citizens, created an environment conducive to intellectual and moral progress. Those who joined the democratic clubs drew upon this ideal. They defended themselves with appeals to open and transparent debate and freedom of speech—only to be labeled destructive to civil society. Who was right and who was wrong? Both sides could not be right.

This conundrum explains why Madison and Jefferson were so invested in public opinion. In their world, productive conversation took place on neutral terrain (beyond the control of government) where government abuses could be safely exposed. Faction, on the other hand, poisoned the body politic. It blinded and it inflamed the worst passions of the people. The American republic shook when vehicles of public opinion such as Freneau’s
National Gazette
, designed to advance debate, became virulent organs of factional rage. The dissemination of knowledge quickly turned into something else, as a new breed of journalist, influenced by the London tradition of slander and satire, took center stage. Refusing to adhere to the conventions of civil discourse, the partisan editor served up scandal to readers whose appetite for salacious news appeared insatiable. Faction, once ignited, stayed lit.

This was how the two political parties known as Federalist and Republican came to be. “In every political society, parties are unavoidable,” Madison had stated in January 1792. But when his statement proved true over the ensuing year, most did not like what they saw; the organized party was not greeted as a healthy means of managing political competition.

As two national tickets slowly but inexorably took form, a quiet war arose over whose definition would ultimately apply to quintessential political labels. Freneau’s
National Gazette
used the term
federalist
inclusively, taking
in every devotee of republican government; but John Fenno, editor of the pro-administration
Gazette of the United States
, would not cede the term to Freneau’s readers: “The federalists, as they call themselves, speak of the constitution as a thing full of dangerous principles.” Fenno then identified the opposition’s stand as “pretend federalism.”

Thomas Greenleaf’s
New-York Journal
, friendly to Madison and Jefferson, took the next step in party definition in the summer of 1793, by explaining the absorption of former antifederalists into the Madisonian position: “In the year 1788 every one knew how to define an anti-federalist … The constitution once adopted, the appellation should have ceased … A modern anti-federalist, then, is one who is sincerely attached to the constitution of his country, which proceeded from the people.” In contrast were former federalists who had made government the “servant” of “a host of speculators.” They were not to be called federalists, because Madison’s supporters had never abandoned the name. The
New-York Journal
offered an easy definition:
federal
was “an English word, strictly meaning a leagued confederacy, a compact.”
⁴³

But as the months went by, the word
republican
became the first choice of the widening anti-administration alliance, while those who supported the administration identified themselves with the “benign influences of the federal government” that extended to all states of the Union. They referred to themselves as “true friends of the constitution” and “friends to peace freedom and government” but saw no need to contrive any fancier name for their creed than
federal
or
federalist.
Initially some experimented with the more comprehensive
federal republican
, which did not stick at the time but would revive on conservative newspaper banners during Jefferson’s and Madison’s presidencies.

The banner of a newly established newspaper in Baltimore read
Federal Intelligencer
. Its editorial policy was to reveal the hypocrisy in its opponents’ naming practices and to expose the crankiness of those out of power: “It might seem, from the outs, or Antifederalists, as they were called, that they are the only friends of liberty and the constitution, while the federalists are become enemies to liberty and the government … Instead of Antifederalist you are to use the word republican, and in place of federalist you are to use the word aristocrat.” Lumping together all self-styled republicans as disorderly “democrats,” many of whom were recent arrivals to America (which, to most minds, meant quarrelsome Scots and Irishmen), the
Federal Intelligencer
insisted that no “democrat” had ever taken part in “one single act to
advance the independence of America”; yet these same troublemakers were trying to convince native-born citizens that “the old federalist cares nothing about the people, and wishes to destroy the government.”
⁴⁴

American newspapers were not great profit centers, but hard-working and increasingly contentious printer-editors believed that their aggressive efforts to earn the public’s trust were paying off for them in other ways. People paid attention. Politicians could not ignore them. During the next two years the editors’ role in electoral politics enlarged as they set the country’s Republicans and Federalists against one another. Accusing and satirizing at will, the partisan press moved from population centers into smaller and smaller communities.
⁴⁵

Party spirit had transformed the landscape. Fearless and full of life, the American newspaper of the 1790s merrily rejected long-established modes of public decorum and took a sledgehammer to the character and dignity of
homo politicus
.

James Madison (1751–1836), as a member of the House of Representatives. Painted by Charles Willson Peale, 1792.
Courtesy Gilcrease Museum

Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826), as secretary of state under George Washington. Painted by Charles Willson Peale, 1791.
Courtesy Independence National Historical Park

Edmund Pendleton (1721–1803), Virginia’s foremost politician at the time of the Revolution, was a crucial resource for both Madison and Jefferson. William Mercer miniature, ca. 1790.
Courtesy Virginia Historical Society

Edmund Randolph (1753–1813), a friend and ally to both Madison and Jefferson, held such positions as governor of Virginia and attorney general of the United States before succumbing to political assassination at the hands of highly placed Hamiltonians.

Patrick Henry (1736–1799), the most popular man in Virginia, was for many years the formidable opponent of Madison and Jefferson.

William Short (1759–1848), Virginia-born diplomat who studied the law under Jefferson, became his secretary in Paris, and transcended Virginia parochialism. Painted by Rembrandt Peale.
Courtesy Muscarelle Museum of Art at the College of William and Mary; gift of Mary Churchill Short, Fanny Short Butler, and William Short