Community Leadership in Maryland, 1790-1840: A Comparative Analysis of Power in Society

By Whitman H. Ridgway

American democracy has fascinated generations of historians. They have probed its philosophical foundations and the structure of its institutions, but their studies reveal little about those who really wielded power in the formative years of the republic.

Employing a sophisticated research design, Whitman Ridgway examines the changing leadership patterns in four diverse communities in Maryland from 1790 to 1840. The results indicate clearly the need to study the American democratic process at the local level. Ridgway selected Baltimore City, Frederick, St. Marys, and Talbot counties -- representing the underlying economic and cultural diversity of one political culture, Maryland -- to evaluate who governed, how these patterns differed from one community to another, and how such patterns changed over time. The research design defines the scope of the study. Ridgway uses the decisional method of analysis, determining who actually made decisions, in order to identify the political leaders. His extensive research in manuscript and newspaper collections, tax and census data, and religious and geneological records gathered information on some 1,300 persons.

This study of community power illuminates facets of a democratic society which perplexed Alexis de Tocqueville over a century ago. Ridgway demonstrates that, despite the expansion of popular participation in political affairs, the influence of the wealthy continued to be significant. He shows also how leaders without benefit of wealth or social ties to the oligarchies were able to enter community decision making.

In a more modern context, this important book adds to the literature in several ways. Its greatest contribution is methological -- no longer can historians talk about power relationships without studying them directly. The work also compares two important periods, the first and second party eras, normally treated in isolation; and through this comparison it reveals much about democracy, egalitarianism, and power.

Originally published 1979.

A UNC Press Enduring Edition -- UNC Press Enduring Editions use the latest in digital technology to make available again books from our distinguished backlist that were previously out of print. These editions are published unaltered from the original, and are presented in affordable paperback formats, bringing readers both historical and cultural value.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
• Release date: Jul 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781469648040

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Community Leadership in Maryland, 1790–1840

Community Leadership in Maryland, 1790–1840

A Comparative Analysis of Power in Society

by

Whitman H. Ridgway

The University of North Carolina Press

Chapel Hill

Both the initial research and the publication of this work were made possible in part through grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities, a federal agency whose mission is to award grants to support education, scholarship, media programming, libraries, and museums, in order to bring the results of cultural activities to a broad, general public.

© 1979 The University of North Carolina Press

All rights reserved

Manufactured in the United States of America

ISBN 0-8078-1355-9

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 78-23713

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Ridgway, Whitman H1941–

Community leadership in Maryland, 1790–1840.

Bibliography: p.

Includes index.

1. Community leadership—Maryland—History.

2. Elite (Social sciences)—Maryland—Case studies.

3. Power (Social sciences) I. Title.

HN79.M3R5301.5’9278-23713

ISBN 0-8078-1355-9

For Sean and Siobhan

Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

1Whose Right to Rule?

An Unresolved Legacy of the Revolution

2The Seamless Web

Oligarchies in Rural Society

3Frederick County

The Transitional Area

4The Dynamics of Urban Leadership

5The Distribution of Community Power

6Paths to Power

7Power in a Changing Society

Appendix I

Methodological Procedures

Appendix II

Population Tables

Appendix III

Tabular Listing of Maryland Elites by County and Elite

Notes

Bibliography

Index

Tables

3.1Frederick County Leaders, 1827–1836

3.2Decisional Elite:

Leaders Who Were among the Hundred Wealthiest

4.1Baltimore City Leaders, 1827–1836

4.2Jackson Leadership Patterns

4.3Jackson Party Leadership and Occupations

4.4Anti-Jackson Leadership Patterns

4.5Anti-Jackson Party Leadership and Occupations

4.6Occupations of the Leaders

4.7Baltimore City Internal Improvement Leaders

4.8Baltimore City Reformers

4.9Wealth Characteristics, Baltimore City Decisional Leaders

4.10Occupations, Baltimore City Decisional Leaders

4.11Social Characteristics, Baltimore City Decisional Leaders

5.1Rural Occupations, St. Marys County

5.2Wealth, St. Marys County

5.3Slaveownership, St. Marys County

5.4Rural Occupations, Talbot County

5.5Wealth, Talbot County

5.6Slaveownership, Talbot County

5.7Rural Occupations, Frederick County

5.8Wealth, Frederick County

5.9Slaveownership, Frederick County

5.10Occupations, Baltimore City

5.11Wealth, Baltimore City

5.12Slaveownership, Baltimore City

5.13Rural Occupations, St. Marys County

5.14Rural Occupations, Talbot County

5.15Wealth, St. Marys County

5.16Slaveownership, St. Marys County

5.17Wealth, Talbot County

5.18Slaveownership, Talbot County

5.19Rural Occupations, Frederick County

5.20Wealth, Frederick County

5.21Slaveownership, Frederick County

5.22Birthplace, Baltimore City

5.23Urban Occupations, Baltimore City

5.24Wealth, Baltimore City

5.25Slaveownership, Baltimore City

Appendix I

A1.1Scoring

Appendix II

A2.1Population Distribution, 1790–1850

A2.2Population Distribution and Relative Growth, 1790–1850

Appendix III

A3.1Baltimore City, Commercial Elite, First Party Era

A3.2Baltimore City, Decisional Elite, First Party Era

A3.3Baltimore City, Positional Elite, First Party Era

A3.4Baltimore City, Propertied Elite, First Party Era

A3.5Baltimore City, Commercial Elite, Second Party Era

A3.6Baltimore City, Decisional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.7Baltimore City, Positional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.8Baltimore City, Propertied Elite, Second Party Era

A3.9Frederick County, Decisional Elite, First Party Era

A3.10Frederick County, Positional Elite, First Party Era

A3.11Frederick County, Propertied Elite, First Party Era

A3.12Frederick County, Commercial Elite, Second Party Era

A3.13Frederick County, Decisional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.14Frederick County, Positional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.15Frederick County, Propertied Elite, Second Party Era

A3.16St. Marys County, Positional Elite, First Party Era

A3.17St. Marys County, Propertied Elite, First Party Era

A3.18St. Marys County, Decisional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.19St. Marys County, Positional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.20St. Marys County, Propertied Elite, Second Party Era

A3.21Talbot County, Commercial Elite, First Party Era

A3.22Talbot County, Decisional Elite, First Party Era

A3.23Talbot County, Positional Elite, First Party Era

A3.24Talbot County, Propertied Elite, First Party Era

A3.25Talbot County, Commercial Elite, Second Party Era

A3.26Talbot County, Decisional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.27Talbot County, Positional Elite, Second Party Era

A3.28Talbot County, Propertied Elite, Second Party Era

Illustrations

Map of Maryland, 1824

Political Broadsides

Plan of the Town of Baltimore, 1792

Baltimore from the Northeast, ca. 1800

Map of Baltimore, 1838

Baltimore View, 1837

Baltimore Party Tickets, 1828

Baltimore View, ca. 1850

Acknowledgments

It is a pleasure to acknowledge the many people whose assistance contributed to the preparation of this book. Were it not for the stimulation from mentors, cooperation and direction from manuscript librarians and their staffs, challenges and insights from fellow researchers, monetary support, and generous assistance from friends who shared their time and skills to rectify my more egregious errors, this book would have fewer virtues and far greater flaws. I, of course, assume the responsibility for any remaining errors.

This project was conceived during my graduate training at the University of Pennsylvania, where I was privileged to study under Lee Benson. Anyone who knows his work will recognize the impact it has had on my own, just as they will discern the differences. Professor Benson was a constant source of help as this book progressed from one stage to another. Two other scholars at Penn, Murray G. Murphey and the late John L. Shover, deepened my appreciation for social science history.

The staffs of several repositories were especially helpful during the research phase. My thanks go to the many people who assisted me at the Maryland Hall of Records, the Maryland Historical Society, the Maryland Room in the University of Maryland’s McKeldin Library, the National Archives, and the Manuscript Room of the Library of Congress.

One of the joys of research is finding other people who share an interest in some facet of your topic. I learned a great deal from conversations with David A. Bohmer, Lois Green Carr, Richard Cox, and Bayly E. Marks, all of whom generously shared their research, insights, and writings with me.

A more traumatic joy is the criticism one actually solicits when writing and rewriting a manuscript. Although he begged not to be remembered, the best critic was my colleague, Ronald Hoffman. Paul Kleppner, Richard Jensen, and the many people associated with the Newberry Library’s Family and Community History Center challenged me to refine my ideas. Another friend and colleague, Keith Olson, took time from his own work to improve my prose; Sharon Fettus caught most of my idiosyncratic spellings; and Malcolm L. Call exuded the assurance as only an editor can that somehow this manuscript would become a book.

Money, support, and unobligated time are very important commodities for the success of any project. The University of Maryland’s Graduate Research Board, Computer Science Center, and Department of History provided unstinting support in many different ways. Special mention ought to go to the History Department’s secretarial staff, who typed and retyped drafts with a high level of professionalism. I was also the recipient of a summer stipend and a book subsidy award from the National Endowment for the Humanities. In addition, the Family and Community History Center and the Newberry Library awarded me fellowships at a critical moment in my career. As if a Chicago winter were not inducement enough to stay indoors and write, the Newberry Library provided a stimulating environment within which to spend a creative semester.

I have discussed the general themes of this work in several articles appearing in the following publications: McCulloch vs. the Jacksonians: Patronage and Politics in Maryland, Maryland Historical Magazine 70 (Winter 1975): 350–62; Community Leadership: Baltimore during the First and Second Party Systems, ibid., 71 (Fall 1976): 334–48; and The Search for Power: Community Leadership in the Jacksonian Era, pages 297–317 in Law, Society, and Politics in Early Maryland, eds. Aubrey C. Land, Lois G. Carr, and Edward C. Papenfuse (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1977). The copyright holders have graciously allowed me to use material from these articles.

Introduction

Generations of historians fascinated by the evolution of American democracy have generally viewed the important period between the Revolution and the eve of the Civil War from a national perspective. Their interpretations describe the formal government structure, dominant personalities, and events interacting over this period, as well as the subtle mutations associated with the expansion of the franchise or the development of competitive party politics.¹ This literature, however, reveals little of how a democratic society was actually governed. The prevailing national perspective is not, in fact, the most appropriate one from which to analyze this question. Rather than work from the assumption that national events defined local patterns, a more fruitful approach is to determine the structure of democratic leadership on the community level and then to perceive the ways it changed over time, if at all, in response to external pressures.

Before addressing the critical question of leadership, it is necessary to clarify two primary concepts, democracy and egalitarianism, used by historians writing about this period. Democracy refers to a political system, defined by an authoritative legal structure, with broad popular participation and relatively unrestrictive recruitment to formal government offices. Some historians have argued that a measure of American democracy was the relative openness of popular participation levels or recruitment patterns to formal officeholding. Egalitarianism refers to a situation in which barriers inhibiting equal social and economic opportunity were minimal, serving to reduce artificial restraints upon an individual’s capacity for self-realization. Historians would argue that such a society was more or less egalitarian in terms of basic inequalities, whether social, legal, or epitomized by an unequal distribution of wealth. Although they have been used as if they were interchangeable, democracy and egalitarianism are not synonymous terms.

Even if democracy and egalitarianism are given distinct meanings, the relationship between an egalitarian society and the distribution of power in a democracy is not well understood. Part of the problem is again conceptual. Intrigued by the rise and fall of party systems and political leaders, historians emphasize the implicit political egalitarianism associated with an expanding franchise, but they generally ignore the difficult question of power itself. The basic paradox inherent in an egalitarian democratic society is nicely stated by Robert A. Dahl: But if… there are great inequalities in the conditions of different citizens, must there not also be great inequalities in the capacities of different citizens to influence the decisions of their various governments? And if, because they are unequal in other conditions, citizens of a democracy are unequal to control their government, then who in fact does govern? How does a democratic system work amid inequality of resources?² The question is more easily asked than answered. The difficulty is compounded by a lack of consensus among researchers as to how to conceptualize and solve this problem. Democracy obviously functions as a political system, but how do we structure a systematic approach to the study of power in society for use in a historical context?

The literature developed by contemporary social scientists investigating community power offers several methods for historians to consider. The advantages and disadvantages of these methods are studied in detail in Appendix I. I have adopted the decisional approach, developed by Robert A. Dahl, to study community decision making in a historical context. This method ascribes leadership from an individual’s direct participation in decisional situations and then evaluates the quality of democracy by assessing the kinds of people who governed the community. I have gone beyond the original decisional framework in order to evaluate the distribution of power within a community by introducing the concept of strategic elites.³ I have identified strategic elites in an effort to isolate groups of individuals with a potential power resource, such as great wealth or political position, who have a vested interest in community affairs. A comparison of the overlap between membership in such strategic elites and those who actually made community decisions helps to clarify the distribution of community power.

This study is comparative in place and time so as to maximize the insight it gives into decision making and to reveal the interaction between egalitarianism and democracy. To reduce the risk of systemic variation, I have not selected communities for study randomly, but have purposefully chosen them from a single political culture. The larger political culture is that of one state, Maryland, whose constitution and traditions defined the structure of government and political participation within its boundaries. The four communities selected for comparative analysis are Baltimore City, Frederick, St. Marys, and Talbot counties.

Each of these communities, for which excellent local records survive, provides an example of Maryland’s underlying social, economic, and regional variety. Baltimore City was a dynamic urban and commercial oasis in a predominantly agricultural state. St. Marys and Talbot counties were agricultural areas dependent on nonwhite labor. St. Marys County, at the tip of southern Maryland, produced tobacco and became increasingly dependent upon a slave labor force. Talbot County, on Maryland’s Eastern Shore, abandoned the cultivation of tobacco for grain before the Revolution and utilized a mixed labor force of slaves and free blacks. Frederick County, on the far reaches of the Chesapeake Bay’s Western Shore, epitomized a much more heterogeneous rural area. Settled by diverse social groups, including large numbers of Germans, it produced a wide variety of agricultural goods with a minimal reliance on the slave labor system or its remnants. In addition to comparing decision making in four representative community contexts, this process is examined at two chronological periods—the first and second party eras—to investigate the ways patterns of community leadership may have changed over time.

The major conclusions of this study may be briefly summarized. During the first party era, traditional rural communities were led by groups of wealthy and socially interconnected men who constituted an oligarchy. Despite the generally acknowledged shift in political emphasis from the elite to the voter that occurred between the first and second party eras, members of an oligarchy continued to monopolize positions of community leadership in the second party period in these traditional communities. The iron grip of oligarchical control was relaxed in more heterogeneous communities. In these rural areas, characterized by greater ethnic and economic diversity, different groups competed with the oligarchy for community control. Divisions along urban-rural, ethnic, or property-holding lines undermined any one group’s ability to predominate in either time period. In this context, symbols of association, such as ethnicity or ruralness, or a leader’s capacity to use the evolving political structures to advantage, created alternative power bases from which new leaders challenged the oligarchy’s traditional decision-making role. Different community leadership patterns existed in a nontraditional, rapidly modernizing urban environment. To a greater degree than might be anticipated, a cosmopolitan oligarchy dominated urban decision making in the first party era. By the second party period, however, the remnants of this oligarchy shared power with leaders representing the diversity of the community.

This comparative community analysis demonstrates the contextual significance of party development. Parties have long been defined as if they were extensions of monolithic national or state organizations. Party activity and development, however, are far more subtle and varied when viewed from the community level. In the traditional rural communities, for instance, first-family rivalries monopolized and absorbed major leadership positions in each of the two parties in both periods. In the urban context, the relative disorganization of parties in the first party era facilitated domination by members of the oligarchy; leadership in the second party era slipped from their grasp and into the hands of non-traditional leaders, who served in various authoritative capacities as the parties became institutionalized. This transformation is all the more significant because first party leaders were the primary organizers in the embryonic years of the second party era. Furthermore, important and persisting intraparty competitions affected each party in both periods.

Similarly, a comparison of community decision makers and members of potentially powerful strategic elites leads to a better understanding of the relative distribution of community power. Strategic elites were defined as groups of men sharing a potentially powerful community resource—such as occupying formal government positions, being among the community’s most wealthy citizens, or directing local financial institutions. If members in the decisional and strategic elites were drawn from the same socioeconomic pool, then the distribution of power would be highly centralized. If, on the other hand, decisional and strategic elite members were recruited from different pools, then the dynamics of community leadership would be quite different. Oligarchical norms dominated overall elite recruitment in traditional communities during both the first and second party eras. In modernizing and transitional environments, there was far greater elite specialization, which enabled membership in the positional and decisional elites to serve as the vehicle for assimilation into the local leadership structure for individuals who lacked the advantages of wealth or extensive kinship associations.

This comprehensive evaluation of community leadership is important for several reasons. First, it focuses on the area of political life that has long been recognized by social scientists as the primary arena for the analysis of social, cultural, economic, and political rivalries. Drawing on modern community power literature, this study also attempts to analyze the significance and biases inherent in various approaches to the study of community power and to select the one that is most appropriate for identifying who wielded power. Furthermore, my findings suggest that community decision making was far more susceptible to local conditions than the political ramifications of egalitarianism might imply. Despite a widening political base associated with the expansion of the franchise, leaders were recruited primarily from traditional social groups. This pattern, of course, varied with the type of community being considered. In communities undergoing minimal economic or social change, leadership adhered to traditional norms; in those undergoing change, new leaders emerged from the complexity of the larger community, a trend that also indicated a general specialization of leadership. It is important, however, to stress that even in the most modern community, traditional leadership groups competed for community leadership positions and thus continued to participate in community decision making.

Community Leadership in Maryland, 1790–1840

1

Whose Right to Rule?

An Unresolved Legacy of the Revolution

The era of the Revolution was a time of instability in Maryland. Writing in 1775, the colony’s last proprietary governor described the social and political impact of the evolving crisis: All power is getting fast into the hands of the very lowest people. Those who first encouraged the opposition to government and set these on this licentious behavior will probably be amongs’t the first to repent thereof.¹ The lower classes did not gain power, however. Instead, an oligarchy, composed of men of wealth and social standing linked by an extensive kinship network, captured Maryland’s government during the revolutionary years and institutionalized itself as the governing class. The lower classes, meanwhile, continued to demand a larger share of political power. This demand, and the efforts of the elite to frustrate it, characterized politics during the revolutionary era and the six decades that followed.

Stress and Continuity: The Revolutionary Settlement

In colonial Maryland, discontent with British authority emanated from two sources: dissatisfaction with government policies under the proprietary system and opposition to parliamentary abuses beginning with the Stamp Act Crisis.² Empowered with virtually unrestricted authority by the Charter of 1632, the proprietor vested his power in a governor and various agents who ruled in his absence. In the mid-eighteenth century, colonists appealed in vain to the king for redress from proprietary policies, claiming traditional rights of Englishmen in matters of government and taxation. Because the king was unwilling to interfere and the charter precluded parliamentary involvement, dissatisfaction and opposition surfaced in the lower house of Maryland’s General Assembly. Antiproprietary leaders, such as the Carrolls and Dulanys, sought to restrict proprietary privilege and disputed policies regarding taxation, specie, and tobacco; in response, the governor used his powers of patronage and preference to protect the proprietor’s interests. Beginning in the 1750s, legislative politics divided the elite into court and country factions. Leaders on both sides of this political debate, however, came from the same social group: men with strong British cultural roots, affiliations primarily with the Anglican church, and membership in the landed slaveholding elite.

The Stamp Act Crisis of 1765 initiated a series of crises that pushed what had been only an upper-class dispute into a broader arena and mobilized a new set of leaders in Maryland. Angered by parliamentary policies, the urban merchants, artisans, and other elements of the population that had not participated openly in the proprietary controversies entered politics to show their support of other colonies against British abuses. When colonial control was challenged in Massachusetts, they formed extralegal associations, such as the Sons of Liberty and Committees of Observation, that grew in importance during the next decade as alternative governing institutions. Despite these developments, large segments of the population did not support the drift toward independence, either remaining apolitical or becoming Tories.

Confronted by a disintegrating political situation, the Patriot elite sought to consolidate their power in the mid-1770s. This faction consisted of a combination of old antiproprietary leaders, former proprietary supporters who had become dissatisfied with the old order, and merchants and others who opposed either parliament’s commercial policies or its actions in other colonies. A desire to gain political power and to prevent what began as a political dispute from becoming a social revolution united the Patriot elite. Their policy of authoritative control and the containment of dissent faced a challenge on three fronts: the British, local residents who either were indifferent or covertly opposed to the new government, and the citizens who demanded more radical government changes than the elite would allow.

In 1776, the elite recognized the extent and depth of opposition and made important gestures of apparent concession when they adopted a constitution.³ They mollified the citizen-soldier to a degree by allowing militia companies to elect their junior officers while the governor continued to appoint senior officers.⁴ Voting continued to be limited by freehold and property qualifications, but inflation made a mockery of these limitations during the war. Germans and Catholics were enfranchised under the new constitution, defusing another source of discontent. Although more men may have been able to participate in elections, officeholding was unambiguously restricted to the more affluent through a series of escalating property and personal qualifications. The constitution also adopted a system of direct and indirect election procedures that minimized the impact of the mass electorate. Most men could vote for the annually elected lower house. Fewer men were qualified to vote for the senatorial electors, who were selected every five years to meet as a college to choose a senate. A joint vote of the combined legislature annually elected the governor and a five-member Executive Council. The governor and the council annually appointed all important county officers except the sheriff, who was popularly elected every three years. Voters actually elected only members of the lower house and the sheriff; all other public officers were either elected indirectly or appointed.

Popular participation in government was further limited by the strong sense of localism permeating the Constitution of 1776. The basic unit of representation was the county, not the voter. Each county elected four representatives to the lower house; the cities of Annapolis and Baltimore, despite their unequal size, were each allowed two representatives. Thus, the smallest county was on a parity with the largest, and population change had no effect on representation. The senate consisted of fifteen members, nine from the Western Shore and six from the Eastern Shore, elected on an at-large basis. Each shore had its own state treasurer and meeting of the General Court.

With the adoption of the Maryland Constitution of 1776, the elite legitimized their control of the government. Through stipulations restricting officeholding to men like themselves and by adopting the public viva voce system of voting, which served to intimidate an overly independent voter, they created a system of government that provided large property holders with cumulative advantages. Members of first families, some of whom had served in the proprietary government in the 1770s, filled positions of authority in the new government. This oligarchy of wealth and social standing captured Maryland’s government and institutionalized itself as the governing class. Its power lasted far beyond the revolutionary era.

The adoption of the conservative Constitution of 1776 was only a partial victory for the elite; the real test lay in their attempt to expand their authority over a divided and discontented society. They gradually won the allegiance of much of Maryland’s population by enacting liberal currency laws and by exerting their political authority with restraint. The liberal currency laws, which allowed debtors to pay specie debts with depreciated paper money and permitted speculators to purchase confiscated property on generous terms, caused consternation and some despair among the elite’s more conservative members, but many recognized that a partial loss of property was a small but necessary price to pay for continued political control. The new government also followed an enlightened policy of exercising only nominal authority in disaffected areas where realistically it had no power to enforce greater compliance. As the British threat diminished, it was able to extend its control of these areas. In the face of wartime passions, policies of caution, concession, restraint, and accommodation encouraged the reassimilation of Tories and nonassociators and ultimately facilitated the reintroduction of government rule.⁵

At the end of the Revolution, the structure of authority in Maryland was in many ways similar to the colonial political system. The proprietor, his agents, and their favorites had been successfully displaced, and much of their property was in the hands of Patriot speculators. But the system had withstood the egalitarian impulses of the Revolution, and the basis for political recruitment and influence remained landed or commercial wealth. The elite, many of whom had resisted or fallen out with the proprietary government before the Revolution, possessed the mandate to rule in the 1780s.

Period of Consolidation

Maryland’s revolutionary elite consolidated their power in the years following the Peace of Paris. As a theoretical justification of their control of a nominally republican society, the elite idealized a hierarchical, deferential society. On a practical level, confronted by a socially and economically segmented society that was disorganized politically, they solidified their power through control of the political processes.

The organic society, organized along hierarchical and deferential lines, was glorified in the new nation in the immediate postrevolutionary years. Its components were suggested by Judge Robert Goldsborough’s charge to the Grand Jury in 1784: It is incumbent, by Precept and Example, to instil into the Minds of your Fellow Citizens, a sacred regard for Religion and Piety, Love to our Country, and an inviolable attachment to her Liberty and Laws.⁶ To Maryland’s revolutionary elite, society formed an organic whole, stratified into a natural hierarchical order, unified by a common value system predicated on an attachment to religion and law, unrent by the spirit of faction, and led from above.⁷ Proponents of this consensus ideal became the nucleus of the Federalist party as it emerged in the late 1780s.

The consolidation of power into the hands of the elite was encouraged by Maryland’s political system, which favored the monopolization of power by political organizers. Such men tended to define their responsibilities from the perspective of the elite rather than in terms of demands from the diverse elements within the society. As they had for decades before, wealthy and socially prominent men were able to dominate political recruitment because of their central position in community affairs.

The recruitment of public leaders was a significant component of what might be characterized as a cadre political system. Traditionally, prospective candidates, many of whom belonged to the oligarchy or enjoyed its patronage, would solicit support from members of the elite before deciding to enter the canvass.⁸ Others were not prevented from taking the field, but the promise of elite support during the election was a distinct advantage. As there was no autonomous agency to make authoritative nominations, aspirants to public office, or their friends, usually published notices in newspapers announcing their candidacy. These announcements emphasized the worth of the individual, his integrity, and his public standing, but rarely specified a particular program. Formal nominations by groups were the exception rather than the rule in these years.

Close to election time, candidates devoted more of their attention to the electorate. They addressed potential voters wherever possible—at militia musters, religious meetings, or civic events—and they often supplied food and liquor for popular enjoyment at the hustings or on polling days.⁹ In 1800, Fisher Ames, a New England Federalist, described the special relationship between the oligarchy and the people:

The character of Maryland is affected by the habits of slave owners. … The distinction between the rich and poor is too marked not to be felt by both classes. It has been an ancient usage of the aristocrats to pay respect to the sovereign people, by obsequious attentions whenever their suffrages have been requested. The candidates, on both sides, are now travelling through their districts, soliciting the favour of individuals with whom they will associate on no other occasion, and men of the first consideration condescend to collect dissolute and ignorant mobs of hundreds of individuals, to whom they make long speeches in the open air. You are a judge of the eloquence of the bar, and have heard that of the pulpit. That of election meetings allows a wider range for the exercise of genius, it being permitted to affirm anything which will advance the interest of the orator, in any manner likely to impress the imagination of the audience.¹⁰

The viva voce voting system also promoted elite influence. Citizens voted aloud at a central voting place, in full view of all interested persons.¹¹ The abuses inherent in this system were suggested by an observer: There are a few rich federalists here who have tenants and over these they exercise a more despotic sway than ever a Barbary Bashaw could preserve over his piratical subjects.¹² Because voters from the outlying areas had to travel long distances to reach the polling place, elections frequently lasted several days, with the result that political activists scoured their districts to stimulate increased voter participation when an election result was in question.¹³

Political divisions were based on temporary or regional alliances within the elite, and they never challenged the notion of organic political unity. Factionalism was consistent with a political system characterized by an amorphous and often indifferent electorate, the absence of formal party organizational structures, and the preponderance of local cliques of political leaders. During this period, after the Revolution but before the late 1790s when politics polarized into more formal party structures, two major issues dominated political activity. The first, sometimes mistakenly interpreted as a continuation of the debtor-creditor discord of the 1770s and 1780s, revolved around the adoption of the federal Constitution.¹⁴ The second factional division, between the Potowmack and the Chesapeake interests, involved competition between two geographical regions, each vying for dominance in the state legislature to protect or advance its economic position. Adherents of the Potowmack faction, drawn from the small counties in southern Maryland and on the Eastern Shore, wanted to preserve their status by containing the growing power and influence of Baltimore and the more populous counties and to ensure their own future economic viability by supporting the development of the federal city and a canal on the Potomac River. Members of the Chesapeake faction endorsed the growth of Baltimore. Their plans centered on the improvement of the Susquehanna River to route the rich western Maryland and Pennsylvania wheat trade through Baltimore. They also believed that political representation should be tied to patterns of population growth and not defined by county units. Improvement of the Potomac River, they thought, would reduce Baltimore’s prosperity by diverting trade to its commercial rivals: Georgetown, the proposed federal city, or Alexandria, Virginia.¹⁵

The existence of faction did not preclude general acceptance of a single-party political system as it evolved during the presidency of George Washington.¹⁶ The majesty and nonpartisanship of Washington epitomized consensus to Maryland’s elite. As the rejuvenated national government began to function and the economic and political strains of the early 1780s subsided, Maryland’s Federalist party emerged as the embodiment of order and prosperity. Not surprisingly, many members of the oligarchy were early and devoted party leaders, and outspoken Anti-Federalists such as Samuel Chase became Federalists. The party was further strengthened by judicious appointments to the new state-level federal offices.¹⁷ Thus, with no effective challenge to the existing political system, the oligarchy consolidated its rule through the institutions created by the Constitution of 1776. The new Federalist party, founded on the principles of the rights and obligations of property and reinforced by a strong religious consciousness, easily secured the allegiance of the elite. Not since the early years of the Revolution had there been such political unanimity as existed during Washington’s early presidential years.

Fall from Grace: The Erosion of the Revolutionary Ideal

Political unanimity proved short-lived. Divisions caused by national fiscal and foreign policies in the 1790s polarized members of the cabinet and Congress and overflowed into state politics. Maryland’s oligarchy was disturbed by the growing spirit of faction that seemed to jeopardize their ideal of an ordered society, unified by a common ethical purpose and led from above by a harmonious elite. Their sense of foreboding was epitomized in a private prayer offered by Reverend Joseph Jackson in 1796: "The present seems, happily in the general Persuasion, to be a critical moment in the United States. May He who guides the Planets in their Orbits, be pleased still to direct the common Interests of this our happy Nation calmly and evenly, without the Jarring of discordant Parts, along the Path of Time! May the cause, the immediate and natural cause, of Harmony and Good to us, be as perceptible and grateful (if possible) to Federal America, as it has been."¹⁸ Although some conservatives ascribed the fall from grace to the forces of the French Revolution, much of the turmoil surfacing in Maryland in the 1790s resulted from the attempt to impose a static mold on a pluralistic and changing society.

The apparently innocuous issue of religion illustrated this problem. Despite a general unwillingness to reinvest the Anglican church as the formally established church at the time of Maryland’s Constitutional Convention, mainly because of its recent history of religious abuses, Article 33 of the Declaration of Rights nonetheless pledged state support for religion.¹⁹ This pledge went unredeemed during the war, but for several decades following the peace the question of proper church-state relations disturbed the political consensus. At issue was Reverend William Smith’s effort to enlist the aid of the state to build the Episcopal church from the shattered remnants of its Anglican parent. Aided by Samuel Chase, an influential member of the Maryland House of Delegates and an Anglican minister’s son, Smith sought to reestablish the special relationship that existed between his church and the state in colonial times and to expand public support for various colleges that educated the children of the elite.²⁰

These repeated efforts to create a favored status for the Episcopal church opened fissures of dissent within the ranks of the elite. The most articulate opposition came from the Reverend Patrick Allison, minister of Baltimore’s First Presbyterian Church. Writing as Vindex, Allison questioned the integrity of any established church and the presumption that one faith deserved special treatment.²¹ Other elite church leaders, as well as Episcopalians who recalled the earlier abuses associated with the colonial church, adhered to a generalized belief in a religious society but opposed Smith’s plans. One reason for the repeated efforts to rejuvenate the Episcopal church was its inability to attract communicants in the postwar period. The church lost members both because of its association with the British cause and because of popular enthusiasm for the new Methodist movement.

Proponents of the organic social ideal considered Methodism a dangerous and pernicious movement. Its evangelical emphasis on personal religious experience, its reliance on an enthusiastic but generally unlettered clergy, and its implied threat to more structured and hierarchical churches were perceived as encouragement to the popular licentiousness that had been effectively contained by existing institutions. The Methodist Episcopal church was not only a threat in itself, but its practices and beliefs were being introduced into Episcopal services by overzealous younger clergy to the chagrin of church leaders.²² Accompanying the phenomenal growth of Methodism was the more gradual expansion