“Mr. Madison’s War,” “Virginia Dynasty,” “No More Virginia,” “Mr. Madison and War! Mr. Clinton and Peace,” “Peace and Commerce,” the “Peace Party,” and “[Madison,] the Little Man in the Palace” were the quips, catchphrases, and slogans employed by the Federalists in their last credible challenge to regain the presidency, expressing attitudes that were also held by a minority of disillusioned Republicans. In addition to being the last real chance for the Federalist Party, the campaign and election of 1812 was the first in American history to occur during wartime. On June 18, 1812, just under five months before Election Day, Congress, at the recommendation of President Madison, declared war against the old nemesis, Great Britain, after a lengthy sequence of intolerable events. First, the British Royal Navy continued, with impunity and disregard for international protocol, its rogue practice of the impressment of American sailors, an ongoing insult to American sovereignty with a history running back to the Washington administration. Second, a long-standing dispute over the boundary between the United States and Canada remained unresolved, fueling border tension and fostering dangerous intrigues with Native American tribes that inhabited areas along or near the border. Third, a British embargo of French ports denied American ships access to lucrative French markets, a hindrance to the young nation’s otherwise promising commercial prospects. Finally, Americans still seethed over the attack of their frigate the USS Chesapeake by the HMS Leopard, an incident that occurred five years earlier but that still evoked considerable anger throughout the United States.
War drums rolled within certain vocal and influential segments of the Republican Party. One of the nation’s more promising young leaders, Congressman Henry Clay of Kentucky, who ascended to the position of Speaker of the House of Representatives in 1811, led a group of largely southern Republicans that soon came to be known as the “war hawks” (a term coined as a pejorative by antiwar congressman John Randolph of Virginia) for their bellicose attitude toward Great Britain. The war hawks were particularly troubled by Britain’s role in fomenting violence within the Native American tribes on the frontier, violence directed at American forward settlements. This, along with the lingering and seemingly irresolvable impressment issue, was enough to stir the war hawks’ ire; and intent on challenging Britain with armed force, they placed considerable and, in the end, effective pressure on the president to ask Congress for a declaration of war. Eventually the war hawks won the day, and with a majority in Congress and Madison’s cooperation, war was declared, the first of five congressional declarations of war in American history.
Even though the war hawks won the debate, the nation as a whole was not as receptive to the sobering prospect of hostilities against what at that time was the world’s greatest military power, and in particular against the unsurpassed reach and indomitable might of the Royal Navy. Madison’s war message was delivered to Congress on June 1, but the vote in the House was far from an unqualified endorsement, seventy-nine voting for war and forty-nine against. A protracted debate prevented the Senate from voting for sixteen days after Madison’s recommendation, and in the end the Senate’s vote was nineteen for and thirteen against. Thus, while the president and his war hawk allies won their declaration, it was evident that the nation as a whole was not entirely committed, particularly when compared to later declarations of war in American history, and this lack of solid support for the war was an early sign of trouble to come. Once begun, the war would deeply divide the nation. Federalist merchants and export farmers, most of whom were located in the Northeast, with some interlaced as a minority faction in small pockets within the South, vocally opposed the war, primarily because it would impede access to British and other foreign markets. Those critical of the war would come to be known as “peace doves.” War hawks and peace doves represented the polarized division throughout the country at the time, with the incumbent president Madison caught in the middle. In some regions where antiwar opinion was high, the Federalists clarified their position by explicitly referring to themselves as the “Peace Party,” while not hesitating to label their Republican opponents as the “War Party.” Thus, the main issue of the day drove the campaign for the White House.
In 1812, only New England retained a broad Federalist base and identity—but Republicans had made inroads into this region since the Jefferson administration, drawing support from the small farmers in the interior regions and among the newer merchants in the cities. The Federalists remained a force, but New England was no longer a guaranteed bloc for their party. New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania—the mid-Atlantic states—remained divided between the parties. Maryland was nearly dead even between the parties, the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac Valley largely Federalist at this time, the rest of the state Republican. Support for the Federalists in the northwestern state of Ohio, already slight, had attenuated still further. As mentioned above, the South was rapidly evolving into a Republican one-party region, with minority support active in scattered areas. The southern Federalists were strongest in the Potomac-Shenandoah watersheds of western Virginia, the eastern shore area of Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, and the Cape Fear Valley of North Carolina. The southernmost states were decidedly Republican and the most enthusiastic for the war, particularly in South Carolina. Yet the antiwar Federalists, in spite of their disadvantages when compared with the larger Republican base, retained influence and could be a strong and cohesive minority party given the right issue. At present, war against Britain was that issue; and in deciding for war, Madison’s incumbent advantage had been compromised.
The issue over the war was not the only development that Madison needed to understand to successfully achieve reelection. Less dramatic but more enduring changes were rapidly occurring, at least in terms of long-term influence on the political culture. In addition to the continuing evolution of early parties, politically charged fraternal organizations such as the Tammany Society (or “Sons of Tammany,” later to be known as “Tammany Hall”) and the Washington Benevolent Societies were formed, particularly in New York where they had originated, as well as in parts of New England and Ohio. Claiming historical roots antecedent to the Revolution, the Tammany group was folded into the Republican faction due largely to the efforts of the notorious Aaron Burr, former vice president during President Jefferson’s first term and the adversary who slew Alexander Hamilton on the dueling field. In 1812, the Sons of Tammany held considerable power in New York City and were emulated by other local groups throughout the Northeast and into Ohio. In reluctant response, Federalists operating out of New York City established the Washington Benevolent Societies, first brought into existence in 1809 on the occasion of the observance of Washington’s Birthday. These organizations acted as a bridge between political elites and the general public, developing a broader base of support through club activities, fund-raising events, public celebrations, political canvassing, and even secretive ritual. As mentioned in the entry on the Campaign of 1804 above, these organizations would soon come to be called political “machines,” or informal and tightly knit groups operating independently of public opinion or the discipline of formal parties and led by prominent individuals known as “bosses” who could effectually select candidates for elective office and control patronage appointments within nonelective administrative posts. A machine boss might or might not hold elective office himself, but in any event, the boss would become a dominant figure in the evolution of party politics in the nineteenth century and remain a force well into the twentieth.
Within the formal parties themselves, the Republican Party’s congressional caucus unanimously supported Madison, nominating him on May 18, two weeks before the president’s war message and a month before war was actually declared by Congress. Following the North-South precedent set by the Washington/Adams tandem in the first two presidential elections, the caucus nominated Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts to replace the late vice president George Clinton, who had recently passed away. Clinton would become one of two vice presidents to have served under two distinct presidents: Thomas Jefferson in his second term and James Madison in his first (John C. Calhoun, serving under presidents John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson, would become the only other vice president to serve under two different presidents). Clinton’s successor Gerry was a signer of the Declaration of Independence, one of the three diplomats in the famous XYZ trio, former governor of Massachusetts, and the namesake for the unfortunate political districting practice known as “gerrymandering.” In turning to Gerry, Madison sustained the North-South strategy while drawing upon the well-established prominence of Virginia and Massachusetts, the only states to produce presidents to this point.
As both the parties and the machines increased in importance, the old congressional caucus institution no longer held the firm influence on the nominating process that it had previously asserted. Several state legislatures introduced nominating procedures of their own, independent of the congressional practice. For the most part, Madison’s support was obtained throughout state legislatures—he received the formal endorsement of the legislatures within eight states shortly upon his nomination by the congressional caucus. But it was from a particularly nettlesome and familiar exception, the old “Clintonian” faction that had emerged in New York during the previous election, that Madison would be met with notable resistance. The New York legislature broke from the Republican majority in Congress and throughout other state legislatures and nominated native son DeWitt Clinton to replace Madison. DeWitt Clinton was currently the popular mayor of New York City and nephew of the late incumbent vice president. The younger Clinton sought to form a coalition between both pro-war and antiwar Republicans (the latter more common in the North than in the South) as well as those Federalists who were increasingly unhappy with Madison’s economic policies and troubled by the long-term financial implications of war with Britain. Moreover, there were still many who shared concerns over what appeared to be the expectation of a fixed Virginia dynasty (three of the first four presidents were from Virginia, and the only non-Virginian, John Adams of Massachusetts, served just one term; thus the presidency had been occupied by Virginians in twenty of the past twenty-four years, and in the one term in which the presidency was held by someone from another state, the vice president had been from Virginia), and the Clintonians made an appeal to those who shared this concern. DeWitt Clinton’s campaign, in contrast to Madison’s more traditional detachment, was energetic. It was also chameleon. Here, he was against the war; there, he was all for it. For his running mate, he turned to Pennsylvania attorney general and signer of the Constitution Jared Ingersoll, whose father had been tarred and feathered by a mob of patriots during the Revolution. Ingersoll was a quiet, conservative Federalist who had participated in events of considerable importance but who, for the most part, kept a lower profile when compared to his colleagues. He was a stern critic of Jeffersonian policies, at one point warning against the election of the subversive Jefferson.
Throughout the campaign, the Federalists continued to exhibit inconsistency. When addressing pro-war Republicans, the Clinton faction declared its support for action against Britain; but when addressing peace doves, Clinton’s advocates were known to vehemently criticize the president for the war. It was a Clintonian who, before a Federalist audience in New England, coined the phrase “Madison and War! Or Clinton and Peace!” and referred to Madison as that “base wretch” who sought to prosecute an unfair and “outrageous war.” Resorting to this kind of unabashed vote-grubbing was much easier in the days before mass communication and the twenty-four-hour news cycle that we now take for granted. And in part because such inconsistency was harder to catch in 1812 than today, this tactic of playing to the crowd posed the president a serious challenge. New York was now the most populous state, carrying twenty-nine Electoral College votes as a result of the reapportionment that followed the 1810 census, and was thus an increasingly important electoral prize. Meanwhile, the Federalist Party was finding it difficult to forward a reasonable challenger on its own behalf. Chief Justice John Marshall was frequently mentioned as the only available person of stature equal to the task, but his role on the Supreme Court was considered indispensable and too dear to the Federalists to risk a potentially losing campaign for chief executive. With Marshall on the Supreme Court, the minority Federalist Party was assured the kind of influence that it was unable to muster in the other two branches. Drawn by Clinton’s protean appearance as a dove/hawk and cognizant of his growing political base, the Federalists began to recruit the New York Republican to join their side. In September, the Federalists held a convention involving delegates from eleven states—a forerunner to the national nominating conventions of the late 1820s—but the results were inconclusive. Along with Marshall and John Jay, DeWitt Clinton was offered as a possible “fusion” candidate capable of mustering support against the war across party lines. Due to uncertainties about Clinton and hesitation regarding Marshall, a deadlocked convention was unable to produce a nominee, but Clinton emerged as the most visible choice and the only viable challenger.
Some Federalists took exception to the turncoat Republican. A Virginia state convention meeting (gathering shortly after the national meeting), held in the Shenandoah Valley town of Staunton, one of the few Federalist strongholds in the South, combated the Clintonian faction by endorsing its own candidate, Federalist stalwart Rufus King. But the Federalists in Virginia were a disaffected minority party within the incumbent president’s home state. Furthermore, the electors pledged to King may have still voted for Clinton if conditions were favorable. By and large in most states, Clinton was able to successfully cross party lines and capture the Federalist nomination to run against Madison in the general election. However, in New York, the new colossus of the Electoral College and the center of Clinton’s power, Republicans proved to be less organized and Federalists more resistant to crossing party lines in search of a fusion candidate. It was much easier for Clinton to secure support in Federalist-dominated New England but much harder to bring in his home state. In New York, the selection of presidential electors was still the province of the legislature, although the trend under way nationwide (including New England) was toward popular election of the members of the Electoral College. Republicans held a slight majority in the New York legislature, and the Clintonians were further compromised by the Federalists’ reticence to join Republicans in support of Clinton, deciding instead to select electors loyal to the party. This was a commitment that might not have threatened Clinton had it not been for a minority faction for Madison among New York Republicans who were splitting the state party’s loyalties and thus nearly destroying Clinton’s chance at a majority of New York’s electors.
To surmount these difficulties, Clinton allied himself with a youthful and politically savvy newcomer, Martin Van Buren, who, in spite of his age—twenty-nine at the time, but already well known for his acute political insight—deftly blunted the Madisonians and at the opportune moment secured the majority vote for Clinton. Interestingly, Van Buren was actually a supporter of Madison, but he was focused on party discipline and unity, and seeing that Clinton was the real choice of the New York Republicans, he applied his already considerable political skill against the candidate he preferred, for the sake of strengthening the party to which he was devoted. This and other examples of his political acumen earned him the nickname “the Little Magician,” would make him a major force in New York state politics in the years ahead, and would eventually propel him into the uppermost reaches of the national arena.
Following the model of Washington, Madison preferred to remain aloof in the campaign, a posture that was now unofficially expected of candidates for the highest office (particularly incumbents), relying instead on the advocacy of friendly newspapers and local politicians. Aside from playing a role in the selection of Gerry as his running mate, Madison preferred to focus on steering the ship of state rather than on his bid for reelection. His primary concern was the war, and political campaigning—or pandering for votes—was viewed as unseemly for a Virginia gentleman otherwise occupied in attending to his civic duty. To this point, the war had not gone well for the United States, and the president was simply not available to worry over the upcoming election. Thus Madison depended on Republican newspapers to present his case to the voters, remaining for the most part quiet during the campaign, with a few modest exceptions, such as two letters stating his case for reelection, one to the New Jersey state convention and another to South Carolina’s assembly. Madison’s hope was that the party, and eventually the nation as a whole, would recognize that the country’s honor was at stake and would come around to rally behind their president.
The election highlighted divisions within states and allowed the Federalists to reassert themselves in areas throughout the country that had traditionally supported them. The war and its unsteady prosecution was the main cause of Republican vulnerability. Ultimately, however, President Madison’s prediction proved correct and thus vindicated his low profile during the campaign. In spite of a more energetic Federalist challenge compared to the election of 1808, the Republicans managed to hold the presidency. The Madison-Gerry ticket won 128 Electoral College votes, the highest total in history to this point but a smaller percentage compared with his 1808 victory (58.7% in 1812 versus 69.7% in 1808). By modern standards, both elections were Electoral College landslides; but the gains by the Federalist Party were evident. The eighty-nine electoral votes won by DeWitt Clinton represented an addition to the Federalist cause of thirty-six votes, or an increase of around 40 percent, a significant improvement. President Madison held firm and won reelection impressively, but it was clear that the Republicans, who in both 1804 and 1808 were on the verge of controlling a one-party government, at least at the federal level, could not be complacent in their continued predominance. The Federalists had acquired some momentum, but they needed to sustain and increase it if they were going to offer themselves as a viable alternative in the near future. The Republicans protected their majority in Congress and their hold on the White House (now having won four consecutive presidential elections) but failed to deliver the fatal blow to their Federalist rivals. Notably, it was also a sectionally polarized election. Madison received only six electoral votes in the North (Vermont’s), while Clinton found support only in the nine Southern electoral votes cast by electors in the border states of Maryland and Delaware. The Deep South was even more solidly Republican than before, whereas New England and most of the Northeast and mid-Atlantic region (including New York) fell in behind the Federalists, but not as solidly as the South supported the Republicans. In terms of regional divisions, only the elections of 1860 (Abraham Lincoln) and 1964 (Lyndon Johnson) would surpass the election of 1812 in commanding such solid and sharply marked sectional loyalties.
Much was still in play after 1812. It would be left to the election of 1816 to produce the decisive moment in determining whether the Jeffersonian Republicans could gain a monopoly of power, or whether the Federalist Party could regain credible influence either as a strong minority party or possibly as a challenger to possibly regain the majority. The war, so divisive in 1812, would ultimately prove to be the critical issue in this decision.
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