Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America: An Old Republican in King Andrew’s Court

By William S. Belko

William S. Belko’s Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America provides the first comprehensive biography of a pivotal yet nearly forgotten statesman who made numerous key contributions to a transformative period of early American history.
 
Barbour, a Virginia lawyer, participated in America’s transition from a mostly republican government to a truer majority democracy, notably while serving as the twelfth Speaker of the United States House of Representatives and later as an associate justice of the United States Supreme Court. After being elected to the US Congress during the War of 1812, Barbour also emerged as one of the foremost champions of states’ rights, consistently and energetically fighting against expansions of federal powers. He, along with other Jeffersonian Old Republicans, opposed federal plans for a national tariff and internal improvements. Later, Barbour became one of the first Jeffersonian politicians to join the Jacksonian Democrats in Jackson’s war against a national bank.
 
Barbour continued to make crucial strides in support of states’ rights after taking his seat on the United States Supreme Court in 1836 under Chief Justice Roger Taney. He contributed to the Charles River Bridge v. Warren Bridge and Briscoe v. Bank of Kentucky decisions, which bolstered states’ rights. He also delivered the opinion of the court in New York v. Miln, which provided the basis for the State Police Powers Doctrine.
 
Expertly interweaving biography, history, political science, and jurisprudence, Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America remembers the man whose personal life and career were emblematic of the decades in which the United States moved from the Age of Jefferson to the Age of Jackson, contributing to developments that continue to animate American politics today. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: University Alabama Press
• Release date: Apr 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9780817389598

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Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America

Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America

An Old Republican in King Andrew’s Court

WILLIAM S. BELKO

The University of Alabama Press

Tuscaloosa

The University of Alabama Press

Tuscaloosa, Alabama 35487-0380

uapress.ua.edu

Copyright © 2016 by the University of Alabama Press

All rights reserved.

Inquiries about reproducing material from this work should be addressed to the University of Alabama Press.

Typeface: Garamond

Manufactured in the United States of America

Cover photograph: Speaker of the House Philip Pendleton Barbour’s official congressional portrait by Kate Flournoy Edwards (1911), based on an earlier portrait by G. P. A. Healy (which was completed while Barbour was serving as a Supreme Court justice); courtesy of the United States House of Representatives

Cover design: Michele Myatt Quinn

∞

The paper on which this book is printed meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library

Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Belko, W. Stephen, 1967 author.

Title: Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America : an old Republican in King Andrew’s court / William S. Belko.

Description: Tuscaloosa, Alabama : University Alabama Press, 2016. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2015031978| ISBN 9780817319069 (hardback) | ISBN 9780817389598 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Barbour, Philip Pendleton, 1783–1841. | Judges—United States—Biography. | Politicians—Virginia—Biography. | United States. Supreme Court—Biography. | United States. Congress. House—Speakers—Biography. | BISAC: HISTORY / United States / 19th Century. | POLITICAL SCIENCE / History & Theory. | BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Political. | HISTORY / United States / State & Local / South (AL, AR, FL, GA, KY, LA, MS, NC, SC, TN, VA, WV).

Classification: LCC KF8745.B37 B45 2016 | DDC 347.73/2634—dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015031978

Contents

Figures

Acknowledgments

Introduction

PART I. VIRGINIAN (1783–1814)

1. Early Life

2. Law and Politics

3. Frascati

PART II. OLD REPUBLICAN CONGRESSMAN (1814–1830)

4. Protective Tariff

5. Internal Improvements

6. Barbour vs. Marshall

7. The Missouri Crisis

8. Speaker of the House

9. Frustration and Resignation

10. Rise of a Jacksonian

11. Triumph of Republicanism

PART III. JACKSONIAN JUDGE (1830–1841)

12. Patronage and Politics

13. Supreme Court

14. Last Days

Notes

Bibliography

Index

Figures

Frontispiece. Philip Pendleton Barbour

1. Frascati, ca. 1830

2. US Capitol Building, ca. 1828

3. Old Supreme Court Chamber, ca. 1810–1860

Acknowledgments

This book is long overdue. Not as it relates to the prominence of the historical figure it addresses, but because the idea for writing it originated long ago, back in the 1990s as I changed my research area from the politics of Texas annexation to a study of Duff Green, which subsequently became the subject of my first book. While pondering the change, my mentor at Mississippi State University, Dr. Charles Lowery, suggested a biography of Philip Pendleton Barbour. He had written a biography of Philip’s older and equally distinguished brother—James Barbour, A Jeffersonian Republican—and mentioned to me in passing that I should consider writing a biography of the younger Barbour. As in all things related to my education and subsequent professional development, he was correct. When the University of West Florida (UWF) hired me in the fall of 2005, I immediately embarked on researching Barbour, and, in that process, a number of corollary subjects captured my attention. Two books, six articles, and several historic preservation grant projects later, I finally determined to make Barbour my sole focus.

Of course, planning, researching, and writing a book is only part of the story. A number of pivotal individuals and organizations provided the means to carry out this project, which would have been considerably more difficult without their contribution and consideration. The Virginia Historical Society granted me two separate Mellon Research Fellowships, in the summers of 2007 and 2009. Nelson Lankford, Lee Shepard, and the society’s library and collections staff were instrumental in all phases of the research process. I enjoyed immensely the conversations and discussions we had, and I value their friendship above all. Brent Tarter, at the Library of Virginia, offered crucial guidance as well, and was as personable and affable as the distinguished staff at the VHS. The staff at the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library at the University of Virginia deserves equal praise. In short, Barbour’s fellow Virginians, albeit generations later, could not have been more instrumental in telling his story. I am, then, indebted to all of them.

As with all of my research and publications, the staff at the Pace Library at the University of West Florida warrants my utmost admiration. I would like to say that they excel in their work, but that would be an insult—excellence to them is as easy and common as breathing. They are the lifeblood of that university, and without them there would be no UWF. I will never be able to repay them for their help, never be able to relay to them how important they are to me professionally, and never be able to truly let them know how much I miss them as friends. Bob Dugan, Melissa Gonzalez, Caroline Thompson, Aric Daley, and the rest of the staff should have charged me rent for the amount of time I spent in their offices—but it always felt as if it were home. And if home is indeed where the heart is, then they will always have my heart.

After a very rewarding decade, I also thank my distinguished, beleaguered colleagues at UWF, those in the administration who supported me, and those who graciously granted me a sabbatical to complete this book. I miss them as well, as we were comrades in arms in some very troubling times. UWF has some great folks. It would take pages to list them all—but if you want to know who they are, just peruse the entire faculty and staff directory. Their commitment and dedication to higher education will be rewarded by Building 10, right, Martha? Speaking of UFF (United Faculty of Florida), no matter how many enemies Bill may have earned, he will always be my brother, and I would return to defend him without thinking twice. I most definitely owe a debt of gratitude to the Department of History (and to one unnamed member, my large office). Gabi, I miss your smile, your good-natured outlook, and your constant patience with my obstinate ways, my willful negligence, and my purposed ignorance of all things administrative and technological. Katie, I will not pester you again about moving to St. Louis—but I will never have a staff member who can rival your abilities, your personality, and your beautiful spirit; you will always have a job waiting for you here in Missouri. To the German and Czech speakers in the department, no one in my new office is screaming in either language down the halls. To Erin, I wish we had more time to be friends—I may miss that most of all. To Angie: Ha! I am back in St. Louis and you are not! Hopefully, though, I will see you here, and for good. To the students I recruited for the first class of the brand new graduate program in Early American Studies—and which I abandoned a semester later—I know you will give A. J. your best. Otherwise, I will have to come back, and neither of us will be happy. See you all at graduation. On that note, I thank academia overall, as I have left it for good, most likely. It has indeed given me everything. Without that noble profession, I would never have had the opportunity to embark on my last venture, promoting the humanities in my home state—and so I go from the College of Arts, Social Sciences, and Humanities to the Missouri Humanities Council. I would also like to thank the Missouri Humanities Council for its generous support in assisting with the cost of indexing this book.

Past books I have always dedicated to my wife, my son (named after Jackson), and my daughter (named after Taylor), and, in my customary manner, to Andrew Jackson and John Taylor of Caroline. The latter two are central players in this book, so they already get their due recognition. The former group—my family—never gets the recognition from me they constantly deserve, so I will continue to work on that, since I am done working on books. I therefore dedicate this volume, most likely my last, to my other family, Amy and Greg, Bill and Monica, Matt and Michelle—"Death shall never sever, distance shall never separate, humanity is our bond, but a tear I always shed."

Introduction

As you drive south on Virginia State Highway 231—the Blue Ridge Turnpike—along the five-mile stretch from Somerset to Gordonsville, there sits just off to the side of the road the home of a prominent statesman of the Age of Jackson (1815–1850), a pivotal figure of one of the more dynamic and transformative periods in American history, the decades from the end of the War of 1812 to the end of the War with Mexico. This once-great antebellum estate is named Frascati, after the rich wine-producing region not far from Rome. Although the structure itself appears much as it did when constructed in the early 1820s, the surrounding landscape has dramatically changed since its first owner resided there in the first half of the nineteenth century. Despite still standing stately amid the tranquil pastoral setting, the once extensive fields of grain and pastures of livestock, as well as all the accompanying hustle and bustle of agricultural activity defining Virginia’s rich antebellum plantations in the northern Piedmont region, are absent. Frascati’s architecture is definitely representative of the period in which it was designed and built, and the plantation’s vast operations were likewise typical of its day. The estate’s designer and first resident, Philip Pendleton Barbour, was also a quintessential symbol of the era, a prominent legislator and jurist who helped shape not only this particular landscape of Virginia but who likewise contributed directly to the larger political, economic, and social development of his nation as well.

Born in 1783, the year in which England officially recognized the independence of the United States in the Treaty of Paris, and passing away just days before the first Whig president, William Henry Harrison, took the oath of office, Philip Pendleton Barbour lived during two of the nation’s most pivotal periods, the Age of Jefferson and the Age of Jackson. In the former, Barbour represented the emergence of a new class of Virginia elite; in the latter, he participated directly in its development and definition. After a single term in the Virginia House of Delegates, the citizens of Virginia’s Eleventh Congressional District elected him to the US House of Representatives in 1814 as war raged with Great Britain. They returned him to Congress for the next decade—the Fourteenth through the Eighteenth Congresses—by large margins and often without any opposition. During the Seventeenth Congress, from 1821 to 1823, Barbour served as Speaker of the US House of Representatives, only to be unseated by his archenemy, the powerful Henry Clay. Disgusted with the state of politics and partisanship at the federal level, Barbour left Congress and returned to Orange County in 1825. The respite was brief, as his fellow citizens, concerned deeply with the policies and programs promoted by the administration of President John Quincy Adams, sent Barbour back to the House to combat what they considered to be the perpetuation of dangerous politics and corrupt practices at the national level. Barbour served two more terms in the House, in the Twentieth and Twenty-First Congresses, before permanently retiring from the legislative branch in 1830 when President Andrew Jackson appointed him as federal judge for the Eastern District of Virginia. When several vacancies arose on the Supreme Court in 1835, Old Hickory nominated Barbour to be an associate justice. Confirmed easily by the Senate, Barbour served on the court from 1836 until his sudden death in February 1841.

Throughout his legislative and judicial career, numerous other political and patronage positions came Barbour’s way, all of which he declined or avoided, yet all of which indicated his influence and reputation. Jackson asked Barbour to serve as US attorney general in the wake of his first cabinet shake-up in 1831, but Barbour preferred the bench to the bar. In 1832, a formidable and vocal group of Southern Democrats who were vehemently opposed to placing Martin Van Buren (who was known variously by the nicknames the Magician, the Little Magician, and Old Kinderhook) on the ticket with Jackson ardently pushed Barbour as a considerably more palatable candidate. Only weeks before the 1832 election, Barbour finally and publicly asked that his name be removed from consideration and for Democrats to support the Little Magician for the vice presidency. Some Democrats also deemed Barbour a suitable candidate for the vice presidency in 1836, a most comfortable fit on the ticket with Van Buren. Virginia Democrats also considered sending Barbour to the US Senate on several occasions during the 1820s and 1830s. Again, either Barbour indicated his displeasure with such a move or another candidate prevailed in the end. In 1829, Barbour represented his county in the celebrated Virginia Constitutional Convention, and he replaced the ailing James Monroe as president of that august body until its adjournment in early 1830. The following year, Barbour represented the Old Dominion at a national gathering of anti-tariff, free-trade men—the Philadelphia Free Trade Convention of 1831—and was chosen by acclamation to serve as president of the convention. Although he served as a judge of the Virginia General Court from 1825 to 1827, Barbour declined other offers of state judgeships during the 1820s, and, despite the persistent urging of former presidents Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, he even declined an appointment as a law professor at the University of Virginia.

As a congressman, Barbour was recognized widely for his ardent support of a policy of retrenchment at the federal level. He desired and pursued the dramatic reduction in both the size and the finances of the national government, hoping ultimately to rein in what he considered the harmful growth of national power undermining the proper balance of the federal system and threatening not only national harmony but even the existence of the republic itself. The embodiment of his cherished policy of retrenchment was his constant and determined struggle to stem the tide of Clay’s so-called American System—a protective tariff, federally sponsored internal improvements, and a national bank—an extensive program of unprecedented congressional power against which Barbour quickly emerged as the most visible and vocal opponent. His relentless war in Congress against the tariff and internal improvements earned him a recognized position among the ranks of the Radicals (the potent faction of Republican partisans supporting the presidential candidacy of William H. Crawford) and then, during the administration of John Quincy Adams, among the determined alliance of factions aligning behind Jackson’s candidacy. Upon his return to Congress in 1827, Barbour, with only a handful of supporters there and with absolutely no chance of victory, introduced legislation divorcing the federal government from national banking. By taking this momentous step, Barbour fired the first salvo of Jackson’s forthcoming war against the Bank of the United States and firmly ingratiated himself with Jackson and his most ardent supporters, especially anti-Bank Attorney General and acting Secretary of the Treasury Roger Brooke Taney. As reward for their unswerving dedication to the policies, programs, and principles of Jacksonianism, Old Hickory packaged Taney and Barbour together and sent their nominations to the US Senate in 1835 as chief justice and associate justice, respectively.

After his confirmation, Barbour was a primary contributor to the court’s pivotal 1837 term. Three prominent cases—Charles River Bridge v. Warren Bridge, Briscoe v. Bank of Kentucky, and New York v. Miln—signaled the commencement of the Taney era. Although not a judicial revolution as feared by staunch nationalists, the Taney court indeed marked a significant transition from the distinct nationalism of the Marshall court to the more moderate states’ rights preference of the new court, one more attuned to the needs and desires of a nation in the throes of a Market Revolution. In the last of the three transformative cases of that famous term, New York v. Miln, Barbour delivered the majority opinion in which he explicated one of the great doctrines of constitutional law, one that epitomized the general principles undergirding the Taney court and Jacksonian democracy and one that influenced the development of constitutional law throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth—the State Police Powers Doctrine.

Barbour shared with Taney, an equally ardent Jacksonian disciple, the basic Jacksonian premises underlying a very Jacksonian court. Both statesmen supported the legitimate exercise of a state’s sovereign powers for the benefit of the community, favoring less interference from the national government and allowing states more power and discretion over their own internal economic and social affairs. The two justices endorsed the power of the states to set their own financial and banking policies in order to meet the needs of a dynamic and developing country, opposed monopolies and exclusive privileges that stifled economic development and that prevented the people from utilizing the requisite means to promote their prosperity and happiness, and, ultimately, responded to a new climate where competition became the preferred channel for developing enterprises, releasing new energy for economic development.

Despite spending nearly his entire career serving in national councils, Barbour considered himself a Virginian first and foremost, and for as much as he contributed to the development of national politics, he also represented a new class of men dominating early nineteenth-century Virginia society, as lawyers replaced the great planting class in both wealth and prestige. Barbour embarked on a career in law shortly after the election of Thomas Jefferson in 1800 and quickly built an extensive and lucrative practice, earning all the while a deservedly distinguished reputation in the field. His clientele came from all walks of Virginia life, from commoner to the most prominent statesman, including Presidents Jefferson and Madison. Barbour’s skill in the courtroom, his coveted legal advice and counsel, and his celebrated oratorical prowess noted for its precision and logic all made him a much sought-after lawyer.

Although the law was his love and his chief source of income, Barbour also operated Frascati, one of the largest and more profitable plantations in the Piedmont region. Shortly after commencing his legal career, he acquired nearly two thousand acres of prime land in Orange and Madison Counties, on which he developed a diversified and profitable agricultural operation. Wheat was king, but numerous other crops, either destined for market or for self-consumption, covered Frascati’s fields as well. Barbour heeded the lessons of agricultural reform, dabbling in agricultural experimentation and employing the latest and most recommended measures to maximize production. Livestock, both draught and for slaughter, was a prominent feature on the plantation, and the finest horses, including one of the region’s renowned racehorses, also graced the landscape. Barbour also constructed, owned, and operated a number of mills, the largest being Liberty Mills, stretching across the Rapidan River, and thus turned a good portion of his lucrative wheat yields into equally profitable flour. He owned about fifty slaves over the course of his life, making him one of the largest slave owners in Orange County. Both law and land, therefore, made Barbour one of the wealthiest and, consequently, most recognized, distinguished, and influential men in the Old Dominion. His lengthy political and judicial career at the national level only augmented his prominence, both in Virginia and throughout the country.

My first objective in writing this biography is to tell the life story of a pivotal and prominent figure of his day, to raise Barbour’s career and contributions out of obscurity, and to demonstrate his impact on the nation’s development during the Age of Jackson. Unfortunately, the passage of time has been unkind to Barbour, and too often he is considered today a minor figure who vanished after a handful of years. Thus a secondary objective here is to correct common misperceptions about Barbour. A history of Orange County from the colonial period to the eve of disunion presumed, for example, that few great men resided in that county. Only James Madison and Alexander Spotswood, among local residents, merit inclusion in United States history textbooks, the author concluded. Even the local elite was not grand by national standards. Such a contention ignores, however, the lives and contributions of two of the county’s—and country’s—most prominent men, brothers James and Philip Barbour.¹

In 1984, the historian Charles D. Lowery published the only biography of James Barbour, with the purpose, as in this biography, to rescue his subject from what he believed to be an undeserved obscurity. The political resume of James Barbour rivaled that of his younger brother. The elder Barbour represented Orange County in the Virginia House of Delegates from 1796 to 1812, serving as its Speaker from 1809 to 1812, and then was governor of Virginia (1812–1814), US senator (1815–1825), secretary of war under President Adams (1825–1828), US minister to England (1828–1829), and chairman of the 1839 Whig National Convention. Raising James from obscurity and demonstrating his contributions to the same era in which his younger brother lived and contributed was certainly an appropriate endeavor for the historical record; a biography undertaking the same objective for Philip proves just as necessary and worthwhile. Actually, James seemed to overshadow Philip. As just one example, the noted poet Hiram Haines (1802–1841) published a book of poetry in 1825 titled Mountain Buds and Blossoms, Wove in Rustic Garland, and one of the poems, the Virginiad, extolled the lives and careers of some of the Old Dominion’s most famous men. Haines dedicated a stanza to James but not to Philip. In a recent account of Orange County history, another author mentioned James but relegated Philip to a solitary footnote. It is time, then, to give Philip the recognition assigned to James.²

While both Barbours achieved a stellar record in the annals of early American politics, they were, ironically, absolutely opposite in their political philosophy, positions, perspectives, and parties. James was an avowed economic nationalist, a devoted follower of Clay, Adams, and the American System; Philip was everything to the contrary. While the elder brother promoted the American System as president pro tempore of the US Senate, the younger brother fought at every juncture to prevent its implementation as Speaker of the US House of Representatives. James was a National Republican and then a Whig; Philip was an Old Republican and then a Jackson Democrat. Contemporaries recognized the contrast. We passed close by the two noble houses, of the two Mr. Barbours—the Secretary of [War] & the gentleman who is talked of as the opposition speaker next winter—the brothers being of different parties, Henry D. Gilpin wrote to his father during his 1827 tour of Virginia. Mr. P. P. Barbour is fervently with us & will go to all lengths, John Strode Barbour, a cousin and congressman, informed Vice President John C. Calhoun, also in 1827, signifying Philip’s complete collaboration with the Jackson men and opposition to the Adams administration, while the secty of War [James Barbour] & one of his clerks are active in the election canvass of Orange for his son & agt. his brother [Philip Pendleton Barbour].³

In his review of Lowery’s biography of James Barbour, the noted historian Robert Shalhope thus raised an important question: How do two brothers, sharing the same Virginia heritage, indeed, the same upbringing, come to diametrically opposed political and ideological positions? Shalhope assumed that Lowery’s biography failed to provide an answer to this quandary, but the answer is simple and obvious, and any study of both men’s lives and careers demonstrates beyond a doubt why they chose separate political paths. The Barbours pursued the same ends, but by way of entirely different means—the very same story of the Jeffersonian Republican Party in the decades after the War of 1812, as Republicans sought national glory and national development but through two divergent paths, one through economic and judicial nationalism, the other through states’ rights, strict construction, and state mercantilism.

Shalhope accurately assessed the theme of Lowery’s biography, that James Barbour changed with the times and outgrew the restrictive political doctrine of his early Jeffersonian years, that he was a man who recognized that the nation required a forceful and imaginative government to encourage national growth and expansion in commerce and manufacturing as well as agriculture, and who responded positively and constructively to the compelling needs of a dynamic and heterogeneous society. Philip Barbour also desired national growth and expansion, also desired to meet the needs of a changing and heterogeneous society, but he sought his objectives by loyally keeping to more conservative Jeffersonian principles and precepts that he felt endured in Jacksonian democracy. This biography thus tells the other side of the story. James may have prevailed in the two decades after the War of 1812, but Philip proved triumphant throughout the remainder of the Jacksonian era, as Jackson’s Democrats succeeded in dismantling economic nationalism and reigning in judicial nationalism, a struggle in which Philip, not James, played a leading role. In a bit of irony, James Barbour’s home, Barboursville, burnt to the ground, with only the pillars still visible, while Philip’s estate, Frascati, remains extant, much in its original construction. Philip’s Virginia more accurately represented the antebellum period than James’s, and Philip’s role in the national arena eventually proved more influential than his brother’s. A biography of Philip is indeed much warranted.⁴

Yet Shalhope assumed that there is simply a paucity of personal data upon which to reconstruct the lives of the Barbour family. The author of one of the few encyclopedic biographical summaries of Philip Barbour, Frank Otto Gatell, concurred with Shalhope: Philip Barbour awaits the appearance of a biographer, but the absence of a concentrated collection of personal papers will probably deter those interested in undertaking such a worthwhile project. Ample and abundant material exists about Philip Barbour, however. His numerous political speeches and judicial opinions can be accessed easily in the public record, in the Annals of Congress, the Register of Debates, and the US Supreme Court Reports, all available online. A plethora of primary resources on Barbour and his family are housed in the Library of Congress and also throughout Virginia, from the extensive Barbour Papers at the Virginia Historical Society and the University of Virginia to the dozens of other manuscript collections located in the Library of Virginia and several other state universities and historical societies. Combine these copious personal collections with newspaper accounts and there is no shortage of material for those interested in undertaking such a worthwhile project—recounting the life, career, and contributions of one of the more momentous figures in the Age of Jackson.⁵

A biography should always transcend a simple narrative of an individual’s life and do more than merely recount that person’s contributions to his day. It should be the microcosm contributing to the macrocosm. It should show how the course of one figure’s life helped shape the larger development of the world in which that person lived. Consequently, in telling Philip Barbour’s story, another, equally important objective arises. Barbour’s political and judicial career reveals the transition of an Old Republican to a Jacksonian Democrat, and this microcosm helps explain and elucidate the macrocosm of early American political developments, namely the division of the Jeffersonian Republicans into National Republicans and Democratic Republicans, and the consequent rise of the second American party system, of Whigs versus Democrats. The 1820s and the 1830s represented the incubation period for the second American party system, of the transition from Jeffersonian republicanism to Jacksonian democracy, and of dramatic alterations to the political, social, and constitutional landscape of the United States. Barbour’s political career spans these two decades, bridges the generative years denoting the transition of a republic to a democracy, and thus his story and contributions help to illuminate the larger one.

Barbour arrived in Congress an Old Republican, continued to serve as one of the most devout followers of that creed, and, unwittingly, drifted comfortably into Jackson’s ranks by the end of his legislative service. No single statement defined Old Republicanism more accurately than the Virginia Doctrine, or the Virginia Principle, more widely known then and now as the Principles of ’98—the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions of 1798. These documents became the ideological foundation upon which Jeffersonian Republicans—Old Republicans most purely and consistently, and then Jacksonian Democrats—rested their political policies, programs, and partisanship. The foundation of the Principles of ’98 was the limitation of congressional power, especially when acts of Congress violated the cherished Tenth Amendment and thus infringed upon the rightful powers of the states. The Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions espoused and ensconced the prevailing constitutional perspective of the day, that the Union was a confederation, a compact of states in which each retained its sovereignty, and that each granted limited and specific powers to the central government. According to Barbour, the plain elementary principles of republican government was a limited construction of the Constitution of the U. States, that is, a forbearance on the part of the Federal Government from the exercise of all powers of whose existence there is but doubt. Such statements regularly and consistently defined his political positions and his partisan predilections. Barbour religiously defended the primacy of the Tenth Amendment, espoused a strict construction of the Constitution, promoted the compact view of the Union, and maintained the ultimate sovereignty of the states—all quintessential components of the Virginia Doctrine, the Principles of ’98.⁶

Some of the greatest statesmen of the age recognized Barbour as the classic, most consistent expositor of the Virginia Doctrine. After recounting the import of President Monroe’s 1817 veto of internal improvements legislation, particularly the political ideology underlying the veto, Van Buren, then the attorney general of the state of New York, referred his readers not to Jefferson or John Taylor or John Randolph for a concise definition of the Virginia Doctrine. Those who wish to read a felicitous exposition of this doctrine, declared the New Yorker, will find it in Mr. Philip P. Barbour’s speech in the great discussion of 1818. In 1824, the editors of Niles’ Weekly Register dubbed the able and amiable, Mr. P. P. Barbour as the head of the ‘Virginia School’ in congress, and during the tumultuous presidential election of 1828 a Kentucky congressman considered Barbour a leading republican of the Jefferson school, whose devotion to State rights, and the pure primitive principles of republicanism, is well known. The years 1818, 1824, and 1828 were pivotal for the transition from Jeffersonian republicanism to Jacksonian democracy. It was the gestation decade for the second American party system.⁷

For Barbour, the election of Old Hickory had signaled the revival of those cherished pure primitive principles of republicanism. It was a return to Revolutionary original principles, the Principles of ’98. For Barbour, republicanism had become synonymous with Jacksonianism, which to the Virginian symbolized the triumph of liberty over the expansion of power and corruption. The Jackson movement was gaining steam and solidity during the John Quincy Adams administration, developments that clearly appealed to Barbour and others espousing the Old Republican creed. Jackson himself attributed his political upbringing to Old Republicanism, specifically the influence of the Virginians Henry Tazewell and John Randolph and the North Carolinian Nathaniel Macon. My political creed, Old Hickory once reflected, was formed in the old republican school. Indeed, Jackson’s 1828 campaign slogan was Old Republican to the core: reform retrenchment and economy, principles Barbour found familiar and fundamental.⁸

Jackson’s two administrations were noted first and foremost for the destruction of the American System, which Barbour had long fought during the previous decade and a half, a bitter yet triumphant struggle that Barbour helped lead and which he passed on to the Jacksonians. Barbour also detested the moneyed aristocracy that Old Hickory despised; both men feared and warned against exclusive privileges, monopolies, and institutions (namely the Bank of the United States) that only enriched and empowered the wealthy at the expense of the common man. Throughout his congressional career and during his leadership of various state and national gatherings, Barbour always sought national harmony and the perpetuation of the Union. Jackson, too, placed national harmony and the perpetuation of the Union above all other considerations. Like Jackson, Barbour vehemently opposed nullification and paid for this position in some Southern circles. Most of all, both men believed in balanced federalism, that the states and the national government must remain in their proper orbits, neither infringing, invading, nor aggrandizing the rightful authority of the other. Barbour’s definition of the State Police Powers Doctrine in the Miln case, furthermore, was a perfect presentation of the Jacksonian precept that the will of the majority shall prevail, that the welfare of the community outweighed the vested interests of the few, and that the power to regulate the economy and society of a state rested with the people of that state, speaking through their state legislatures. Barbour’s career on the national stage enlightens, therefore, a crucial facet of early American political history, that is, the transformation of American partisanship from Jefferson to Jackson, the ideological development of the second American party system, and the particular ideological foundation defining these political alignments and the policies and programs adopted by each competing faction.

In the transition from Old Republican to Jackson Democrat, Barbour had to reconcile the Old Republicanism of the pre–War of 1812 years with the evolving nature of republicanism in the wake of the Market Revolution consuming the Age of Jackson; he had to adapt the first generation of republicanism with that of the second, of which he was a pivotal player. Barbour made that shift without compromising his basic Old Republican values. The Principles of ’98, he confidently believed, could meet the needs and set healthy parameters for the Market Revolution. He opposed the American System only insofar as it was an abuse of power on the part of the central government, a gross misreading of the constitutional powers; the states, however, could follow the will of their people and develop their economies according to their unique geography, climate, population, and desire. Free trade, state direction over an infrastructure, state banking, and competition rather than monopoly were more appropriate for national expansion and economic growth, and better ensured a balanced constitutional system where liberty prevailed over power. Barbour’s endorsement of the State Police Powers Doctrine epitomized this evolution in Old Republicanism, at least for Barbour. Old Republicans had also opposed extension of the franchise to the propertyless and political empowerment to

Reviews for Philip Pendleton Barbour in Jacksonian America

[macdad-236140 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Philip Pendelton Barbour is hardly a household name today, but he was a leading figure in the politics of antebellum America. A successful lawyer, he won election to the House of Representatives in 1814 and rose to become its Speaker in less than a decade. Though much of his limited government agenda was out of step with the postwar embrace of James Madison's "American System," his positions became dominant in American politics with the rise of Andrew Jackson to the presidency. For his support of the Jacksonian program, he was rewarded with appointment to the federal bench, then nomination and confirmation as a Supreme Court justice in 1835, a position he enjoyed for only six years before dying at the age of 56 in 1841.

For all of Barbour's importance in the politics of his era, there has been until now no full-length biography of him. William Belko endeavors to fill the void with this book, which provides an overview of his life and political career. Belko's focus is on Barbour's ideology and the historical context of his life, as he charts Barbour's ideological evolution from the staunch defender of the "Principles of '98" articulated in the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions to the preeminent exponent of Jacksonian democracy. This is the strongest part of the book, and rewards reading by itself. Close behind it in value is Belko's description of Barbour's national political career, as he makes a good case for arguing that Barbour's importance has often been overlooked by scholars.

Yet considerable flaws balance against these accomplishments. In contrast to his extensive (and, too frequently, laudatory) coverage of Barbour's political beliefs Belko's discussion of Barbour's family life is virtually nonexistent and his analysis of Barbour's legal career even less so. This is especially disappointing given Barbour's subsequent career on the bench, and even there Belko provides next to nothing about his handling of his job or the major cases over which he presided. Belko's penultimate chapter, which covers Barbour tenure on the Court, rectifies this somewhat by detailing the major cases before the Court and Barbour's role in the decisions, yet even here his coverage is not as extensive as I would have hoped. Because of these flaws the book is not quite the full biography that Barbour needs and deserves, yet is likely to remain the final word on him for some time to come thanks in no small measure to the quality of Belko's analysis of Barbour's politics.