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Other documents randomly have
different content
attack, of which they were not slow to avail
themselves. The powerful opposition, which at the
time of that occurrence controlled the proceedings of
the Senate, was led by Mr. Clay, who was the
defeated Whig candidate for the Presidency at the
election of 1832. Swaying his party in the Senate
with an imperious will, and enforcing his
determinations by a fascinating eloquence, Mr. Clay,
on the 28th of March, 1834, carried a resolution,
which was inscribed on the journal of the Senate in
the following words: “That the President, in the late
executive proceedings, in relation to the public
revenue, has assumed upon himself authority and
power not conferred by the Constitution and laws,
but in derogation of both.” On the 3d of March, 1835,
a resolution introduced by Col. Benton, of Missouri,
ordering Mr. Clay’s resolution to be “expunged” from
the journal, came up for consideration. The word
“expunged” was stricken out by a vote in which the
mover and other friends of the administration
concurred, so that some other less objectionable
phrase might be substituted. But as soon as this
word was stricken out, Mr. Webster moved to lay the
resolution on the table, giving notice that he would
not withdraw his motion “for friend or foe.” The
motion was not debatable, and as the Whigs still had
a majority, it was carried by a party vote. The
Democratic Senators then determined that the word
“expunged” should never be again surrendered. At
the next session they had a majority; and Col.
Benton’s resolution then came up, in a form which
directed that Mr. Clay’s resolution of 1834 be
expunged from the journal of the Senate, by drawing
black lines around it, and writing across its face the
words, “Expunged by order of the Senate, this ——
day of —— in the year of our Lord 1837.” It was
upon this proposal, in reply to an impassioned
speech by Mr. Clay, that Mr. Buchanan, on the 16th
of January, 1837, addressed the Senate.
There is one praise to be accorded to this speech,
which, considering the party character of the
struggle, is not a small one. Mr. Buchanan separated
what was personal and partisan in this controversy
from the serious questions involved; and covering
the whole field of argument upon the really
important topics in a temperate and courteous but
firm discussion, he placed his side of the debate
upon its true merits. He began by contending that
the censure, which the Senate had in 1834 passed
upon the President, was unjust, because he had
violated no law in ordering the Secretary of the
Treasury to remove the public deposits from the
Bank. He then argued that the Senate had
committed an infraction of the Constitution, by
recording upon its journal an accusation that the
President had been guilty of an offence for which he
might be impeached, and for which it would be the
duty of the Senate to try him on articles of
impeachment, if the House of Representatives should
ever proceed against him in that manner. In thus
prejudging the case, by a resolution of mere naked
censure, adopted in its legislative capacity, the
Senate had rendered itself incompetent to perform
its high judicial function. He concluded his argument
by a very ingenious and elaborate criticism of the
word “expunge,” arguing that there was a real and
solid distinction between a physical obliteration of a
record, making it impossible thereafter to be read,
and such an annulment of its legal existence as was
now proposed, and which, by leaving it in a condition
to be read, would nevertheless deprive it of all force.
It must be confessed that this was a very finely
drawn distinction; but it was supported by no
inconsiderable acuteness and force, and with great
fairness of reasoning. Col. Benton’s resolution was
adopted by a party vote, and was immediately
[53]
carried out.
The following is a full report of Mr. Buchanan’s
speech in support of the Expunging Resolution:
Mr. President:—After the able and eloquent display of the Senator
from Kentucky, (Mr. Clay) who has just resumed his seat, after
having so long enchained the attention of his audience, it might be
the dictate of prudence for me to remain silent. But I feel too deeply
my responsibility as an American Senator, not to make the attempt
to place before the Senate and the country the reasons which, in my
opinion, will justify the vote which I intend to give this day.
A more grave and solemn question has rarely, if ever, been
submitted to the Senate of the United States, than the one now
under discussion. This Senate is now called upon to review its own
decision, to rejudge its own justice, and to annihilate its own
sentence, pronounced against the co-ordinate executive branch of
this Government. On the 28th of March, 1834, the American Senate,
in the face of the American people, in the face of the whole world,
by a solemn resolution, pronounced the President of the United
States to be a violator of the Constitution of his country—of that
Constitution which he had solemnly sworn “to preserve, protect, and
defend.” Whether we consider the exalted character of the tribunal
which pronounced this condemnation, or the illustrious object
against which it was directed, we ought to feel deeply impressed
with the high and lasting importance of the present proceeding. It is
in fact, if not in form, the trial of the Senate, for having unjustly and
unconstitutionally tried and condemned the President; and their
accusers are the American people. In this cause I am one of the
judges. In some respects, it is a painful position for me to occupy. It
is vain, however, to express unavailing regrets. I must, and shall,
firmly and sternly, do my duty; although in the performance of it I
may wound the feelings of gentlemen whom I respect and esteem. I
shall proceed no farther than the occasion demands, and will,
therefore, justify.
Who was the President of the United States, against whom this
sentence has been pronounced? Andrew Jackson—a name which
every American mother, after the party strife which agitates us for
the present moment shall have passed away, will, during all the
generations which this Republic is destined to endure, teach her
infant to lisp with that of the venerated name of Washington. The
one was the founder, the other the preserver, of the liberties of his
country.
 If President Jackson has been guilty of violating the Constitution of
the United States, let impartial justice take its course. I admit that it
is no justification for such a crime, that his long life has been more
distinguished by acts of disinterested patriotism than that of any
American citizen now living. It is no justification that the honesty of
his heart and the purity of his intentions have become proverbial,
even amongst his political enemies. It is no justification that in the
hour of danger, and in the day of battle, he has been his country’s
shield. If he has been guilty, let his name be “damned to everlasting
fame,” with those of Cæsar and of Napoleon.
If, on the other hand, he is pure and immaculate from the charge,
let us be swift to do him justice, and to blot out the foul stigma
which the Senate has placed upon his character. If we are not, he
may go down to the grave in doubt as to what may be the final
judgment of his country. In any event, he must soon retire to the
shades of private life. Shall we, then, suffer his official term to
expire, without first doing him justice? It may be said of me, as it
has already been said of other Senators, that I am one of the gross
adulators of the President. But, sir, I have never said thus much of
him whilst he was in the meridian of his power. Now that his political
sun is nearly set, I feel myself at liberty to pour forth my grateful
feelings, as an American citizen, to a man who has done so much for
his country. I have never, for myself, either directly or indirectly,
solicited office at his hands; and my character must greatly change,
if I should ever do so from any of his successors. If I should bestow
upon him the meed of my poor praise, it springs from an impulse far
different from that which has been attributed to the majority on this
floor. I speak as an independent freeman and American Senator; and
I feel proud now to have the opportunity of raising my voice in his
defence.
On the 28th day of March, 1834, the Senate of the United States
resolved, “that the President, in the late executive proceedings, in
relation to the public revenue, has assumed upon himself authority
and power not conferred by the Constitution and laws, but in
derogation of both.”
 In discussing this subject, I shall undertake to prove, first, that
this resolution is unjust; secondly, that it is unconstitutional; and in
the last place, that it ought to be expunged from our journals, in the
manner proposed by the Senator from Missouri (Mr. Benton).
First, then, it is unjust. On this branch of the subject I had
intended to confine myself to a bare expression of my own decided
opinion. This point has been so often and so ably discussed, that it is
impossible for me to cast any new light upon it. But as it is my
intention to follow the footsteps of the Senator from Kentucky (Mr.
Clay) wherever they may lead, I must again tread the ground which
has been so often trodden. As the Senator, however, has confined
himself to a mere passing reference to the topics which this head
presents, I shall, in this particular, follow his example.
Although the resolution condemning the President is vague and
general in its terms, yet we all know that it was founded upon his
removal of the public deposits from the Bank of the United States.
The Senator from Kentucky has contended that this act was a
violation of law. And why? Because, says he, it is well known that
the public money was secure in that institution; and by its charter
the public deposits could not be removed from it, unless under a just
apprehension that they were in danger. Now, sir, I admit that if the
President had no right to remove these deposits, except for the sole
reason that their safety was in danger, the Senator has established
his position. But what is the fact? Was the Government thus
restricted by the terms of the bank charter? I answer, no. Such a
limitation is nowhere to be found in it. Let me read the sixteenth
section, which is the only one relating to the subject. It enacts, “that
the deposits of the money of the United States, in places in which
the said bank and branches thereof may be established, shall be
made in said bank or branches thereof, unless the Secretary of the
Treasury shall at any other time otherwise order and direct; in which
case the Secretary of the Treasury shall immediately lay before
Congress, if in session, and, if not, immediately after the
commencement of the next session, the reasons of such order or
direction.”
 Is not the authority thus conferred upon the Secretary of the
Treasury as broad and as ample as the English language will admit?
Where is the limitation, where the restriction? One might have
supposed from the argument of the Senator from Kentucky, that the
charter restricted the Secretary of the Treasury from removing the
deposits, unless he believed them to be insecure in the Bank of the
United States; but the language of the law itself completely refutes
his argument. They were to remain in the Bank of the United States,
“unless the Secretary of the Treasury shall at any time otherwise
order and direct.”
The sole limitation upon the discretion of that officer was his
immediate and direct responsibility to Congress. To us he was bound
to render his reasons for removing the deposits. We, and we alone,
are constituted the judges as to the sufficiency of these reasons.
It would be an easy task to prove that the authors of the bank
charter acted wisely in not limiting the discretion of the Secretary of
the Treasury over the deposits to the single case of their
apprehended insecurity. We may imagine many other reasons which
would have rendered their removal both wise and expedient. But I
forbear; especially as the case now before the Senate presents as
striking an illustration of this proposition as I could possibly imagine.
Upon what principle, then, do I justify the removal of the deposits?
The Bank of the United States had determined to apply for a
recharter at the session of Congress immediately preceding the last
Presidential election. Preparatory to this application, and whilst it
was pending, in the short space of sixteen months, it had increased
its loans more than twenty-eight million dollars. They rose from
forty-two millions to seventy millions between the last of December,
1830, and the first of May, 1832. Whilst this boasted regulator of the
currency was thus expanding its discounts, all the local banks
followed the example. The impulse of self-interest urged them to
pursue this course. A delusive prosperity was thus spread over the
land. Money everywhere became plenty. The bank was regarded as
the beneficent parent, who was pouring her money out into the laps
of her children. She thought herself wise and provident in thus
rendering herself popular. The recharter passed both Houses of
Congress by triumphant majorities. But then came “the frost, the
killing frost.” It was not so easy to propitiate “the Old Roman.”
Although he well knew the power and influence which the bank
could exert against him at the then approaching Presidential
election, he cast such considerations to the winds. He vetoed the
bill, and in the most solemn manner placed himself for trial upon this
question before the American people.
From that moment the faith of many of his former friends began
to grow cold. The bank openly took the field against his re-election.
It expended large sums in subsidizing editors, and in circulating
pamphlets, and papers, and speeches, throughout the Union,
calculated to inflame the public mind against the President. I merely
glance at these things.
Let us pause for a single moment to consider the consequences of
such conduct. What right had the bank, as a corporation, to enter
the arena of politics for the purpose of defending itself, and
attacking the President? Whilst I freely admit that each individual
stockholder possessed the same rights, in this respect, as every
other American citizen, I pray you to consider what a dangerous
precedent the bank has thus established. Our banks now number
nearly a thousand, and our other chartered institutions are almost
innumerable. If all these corporations are to be justified in using
their corporate funds for the purpose of influencing elections; of
elevating their political friends, and crushing their political foes, our
condition is truly deplorable. We shall thus introduce into the State a
new, a dangerous, and an alarming power, the effects of which no
man can anticipate. Watchful jealousy is the price which a free
people must ever pay for their liberties; and this jealousy should be
Argus-eyed in watching the political movements of corporations.
After the bank had been defeated in the Presidential election, it
adopted a new course of policy. What it had been unable to
accomplish by making money plenty, it determined it would wrest
from the sufferings of the people by making money scarce. Pressure
and panic then became its weapons; and with these it was
determined, if possible, to extort a recharter from the American
people. It commenced this warfare upon the interests of the country
about the first of August, 1833. In two short months it decreased its
loans more than four millions of dollars, whilst the deposits of the
Government with it had increased, during the same period, two
millions and a quarter. I speak in round numbers. It was then in the
act of reducing its discounts at the rate of two millions of dollars per
month.
The State banks had expanded their loans with the former
expansion of the Bank of the United States. It now became
necessary to contract them. The severest pressure began to be felt
everywhere. Had the Bank of the United States been permitted a
short time longer to proceed in this course, fortified as it was with
the millions of the Government which it held on deposit, a scene of
almost universal bankruptcy and insolvency must have been
presented in our commercial cities. It thus became absolutely
necessary for the President either to deprive the bank of the public
deposits, as the only means of protecting the State banks, and
through them the people, from these impending evils, or calmly to
look on and see it spreading ruin throughout the land. It was
necessary for him to adopt this policy for the purpose of preventing
a universal derangement of the currency, a general sacrifice of
property, and, as an inevitable consequence, the recharter of this
institution.
By the removal of the deposits, he struck a blow against the bank
from which it has never since recovered. This was the club of
Hercules with which he slew the hydra. This was the master-stroke
by which he prostrated what a large majority of the American people
believe to have been a corrupt and a corrupting institution. For this
he is not only justified, but deserves the eternal gratitude of his
country. For this the Senate have condemned him; but the people of
the United States have hailed him as a deliverer.
It has been said by the Senator from Kentucky, that the President,
by removing the deposits from the Bank of the United States, united
in his own hands the power of the purse of the nation with that of
the sword. I think it is not difficult to answer this argument. What
was to become of the public money, in case it had been removed
from the Bank of the United States, under its charter, for the cause
which the Senator himself deems justifiable? Why, sir, it would then
have been immediately remitted to the guardianship of those laws
under which it had been protected before the Bank of the United
States was called into existence. Such was the present case. In
regard to this point, no matter whether the cause of removal were
sufficient or not, the moment the deposits were actually removed
they became subject to the pre-existing laws, and not to the
arbitrary will of the President.
The Senator from Kentucky has contended that the President
violated the Constitution and the laws, by dismissing Mr. Duane from
office because he would not remove the deposits, and by appointing
Mr. Taney to accomplish this purpose. I shall not discuss at any
length the power of removal. It is now too late in the day to
question it. That the executive possesses this power was decided by
the first Congress. It has often since been discussed and decided in
the same manner, and it has been exercised by every President of
the United States. The President is bound by the Constitution to
“take care that the laws be faithfully executed.” If he cannot remove
his executive officers, it is impossible that he can perform this duty.
Every inferior officer might set up for himself; might violate the laws
of the country, and put him at defiance, whilst he would remain
perfectly powerless. He could not arrest their career. A foreign
minister might be betraying and disgracing the nation abroad,
without any power to recall him until the next meeting of the
Senate. This construction of the Constitution involves so many
dangers and so many absurdities, that it could not be maintained for
a moment, even if there had not been a constant practice against it
of almost half a century.
But it is contended by the Senator that the Secretary of the
Treasury is a sort of independent power in the State, and is released
from the control of the executive. And why? Simply because he is
directed by law to make his annual report to Congress and not to the
President. If this position be correct, then it necessarily follows that
the executive is released from the obligation of taking care that the
numerous and important acts of Congress regulating the fiscal
concerns of the country shall be faithfully executed. The Secretary of
the Treasury is thus made independent of his control. What would be
the position of this officer under such a construction of the
Constitution and laws, it would be very difficult to decide. And this
wonderful transformation of his character has arisen from the mere
circumstance that Congress have by law directed him to make an
annual report to them! No, sir; the executive is responsible to
Congress for the faithful execution of all the laws; and if the present
or any other President should prove faithless to his high trust, the
present Senate, notwithstanding all which has been said, would be
as ready as their predecessors to inflict condign punishment upon
him, in the mode pointed out by the Constitution.
I have now arrived at the great question of the constitutional
power of the Senate to adopt the resolution of March, 1834. It is my
firm conviction that the Senate possesses no such power; and it is
now my purpose to establish this position. The decision on this point
must depend upon a true answer to the question: Does this
resolution contain any impeachable charge against the President? If
it does, I trust I shall demonstrate that the Senate violated its
constitutional duty in proceeding to condemn him in this manner. I
shall again read the resolution:
“Resolved, That the President, in the late executive proceedings in
relation to the public revenue, has assumed upon himself authority
and power not conferred by the Constitution and laws, but in
derogation of both.”
This language is brief and comprehensive. It comes at once to the
point. It bears a striking impress of the character of the Senator
from Kentucky. Does it charge an impeachable offence against the
President?
The fourth section of the second article of the Constitution
declares that the “President, Vice-President, and all civil officers of
the United States shall be removed from office on impeachment for,
and conviction of, treason, bribery, or other high crimes and
misdemeanors.”
It has been contended that this condemnatory resolution contains
no impeachable offence, because it charges no criminal intention
against the President; and I admit that it does not attribute to him
any corrupt motive in express words. Is this sufficient to convince
the judgment of any impartial man that none was intended? Let us,
for a few moments, examine this proposition. If it be well founded,
the Senate may for ever hereafter usurp the power of trying,
condemning, and destroying any officer of the Government, without
affording him the slightest opportunity of being heard in his defence.
They may abuse their power, and prostrate any object of their
vengeance. It seems we have now made the discovery, that the
Senate are authorized to exert this tremendous power—that they
may thus assume to themselves the office both of accuser and of
judge, provided the indictment contains no express allegation of a
criminal intention. The President, or any officer of the Government,
may be denounced by the Senate as a violator of the Constitution of
his country,—as derelict in the performance of his public duties,
provided there is no express imputation of an improper motive. The
characters of men whose reputation is dearer to them than their
lives may thus be destroyed. They may be held up to public
execration by the omission of a few formal words. The
condemnation of the Senate carries with it such a moral power, that
perhaps there is no man in the United States, except Andrew
Jackson, who could have resisted its force. No, sir; such an
argument can never command conviction. That which we have no
power to do directly, we can never accomplish by indirect means. We
cannot by resolution convict a man of an impeachable offence,
merely because we may omit the formal words of an impeachment.
We must regard the substance of things, and not the mere form.
But again. Although a criminal intention be not charged, in so
many words, by this resolution, yet its language, even without the
attendant circumstances, clearly conveys this meaning. The
President is charged with having “assumed upon himself authority
and power not conferred by the Constitution and laws, but in
derogation of both.” “Assumed upon himself.” What is the plain
palpable meaning of this phrase connected with what precedes and
follows? Is it not “to arrogate,” “to claim or seize unjustly.” These are
two of the first meanings of the word assume, according to the
lexicographers. To assume upon one’s self is a mode of expression
which is rarely taken in a good sense. As it is used here, I ask if any
man of plain common understanding, after reading this resolution,
would ever arrive at the conclusion that any Senator voted for it
under the impression that the President was innocent of any
improper intention, and that he violated the Constitution from mere
mistake and from pure motives? The common sense of mankind
revolts at the idea. How can it be contended, for a single moment,
that you can denounce the President as a man who had “assumed
upon himself” the power of violating the laws and the Constitution of
his country, and in the same breath declare that you had not the
least intention to criminate him, and that your language was
altogether inoffensive. The two propositions are manifestly
inconsistent.
But I go one step further. If we were sitting as a court of
impeachment, and the bare proposition were established to our
satisfaction that the President had, in violation of the Constitution
and the laws, withdrawn the public revenue of the country from the
depository to whose charge Congress had committed it, and
assumed the control over it himself, we would be bound to convict
him of a high official misdemeanor. Under such circumstances, we
should be bound to infer a criminal intention from this illegal and
unconstitutional act. Criminal justice could never be administered,—
society could not exist, if the tribunals of the country should not
attribute evil motives to illegal and unconstitutional conduct.
Omniscience alone can examine the heart. When poor frail man is
placed in the judgment-seat, he must infer the intentions of the
accused from his actions. That “the tree is known by its fruits” is an
axiom which we have derived from the fountain of all truth. Does a
poor, naked, hungry wretch, at this inclement season of the year,
take from my pocket a single dollar; the law infers a criminal intent,
and he must be convicted and punished as a thief, though he may
have been actuated by no other motive than that of saving his wife
and his children from starvation. And shall a different rule be applied
to the President of the United States? Shall it be said of a man
elevated to the highest station on earth, for his wisdom, his integrity,
and his virtues, with all his constitutional advisers around him, when
he violates the Constitution of his country and usurps the control
over its entire revenue, that he may successfully defend himself by
declaring he had done this deed without any criminal intention? No,
sir; in such a case, above all others, the criminal intention must be
inferred from the unconstitutional exercise of high and dangerous
powers. The safety of the Republic demands that the President of
the United States should never shield himself behind such flimsy
pretexts. This resolution, therefore, although it may not have
assumed the form of an article of impeachment, possesses all the
substance.
It was my fate some years ago to have assisted as a manager, in
behalf of the House of Representatives, in the trial of an
impeachment before this body. It then became my duty to examine
all the precedents in such cases which had occurred under our
Government, since the adoption of the Federal Constitution. On that
occasion, I found one which has a strong bearing upon this question.
I refer to the case of Judge Pickering. He was tried and condemned
by the Senate upon all the four articles exhibited against him;
although the first three contained no other charge than that of
making decisions contrary to law, in a cause involving a mere
question of property, and then refusing to grant the party injured an
appeal from his decision, to which he was entitled. From the clear
violation of law in this case, the Senate must have inferred an
impure and improper motive.
If any thing further were wanting to prove that the resolution of
the Senate contained a criminal and impeachable charge against the
President, it might be demonstrated from all the circumstances
attending the transaction. Whilst this resolution was in progress
through the Senate, the Bank of the United States was employed in
producing panic and pressure throughout the land. Much actual
suffering was experienced by the people; and where that did not
exist, they dreaded unknown and awful calamities. Confidence
between man and man was at an end. There was a fearful pause in
the business of the country. We were then engaged in the most
violent party conflict recorded in our annals. To use the language of
the Senator from Kentucky, we were in the midst of a revolution. On
the one side it was contended that the power over the purse of the
nation had been usurped by the President; that in his own person he
had united this power with that of the sword, and that the liberties
of the people were gone, unless he could be arrested in his mad
career. On the other hand, the friends of the President maintained
that the removal of the deposits from the Bank of the United States
was an act of stern justice to the people; that it was strictly legal
and constitutional; that he was impelled to it by the highest and
purest principles of patriotism; and that it was the only means of
prostrating an institution which threatened the destruction of our
dearest rights and liberties. During this terrific conflict public
indignation was aroused to such a degree, that the President
received a great number of anonymous letters, threatening him with
assassination unless he should restore the deposits.
It was during the pendency of this conflict throughout the country,
that the Senator from Kentucky thought proper, on the 26th
December, 1833, to present his condemnatory resolution to the
Senate. And here, sir, permit me to say that I do not believe there
was any corrupt connection between any Senator upon this floor and
the Bank of the United States. But it was at this inauspicious
moment that the resolution was introduced. How was it supported
by the Senator from Kentucky? He told us that a revolution had
already commenced. He told us that by the 3d of March, 1837, if the
progress of innovation should continue, there would be scarcely a
vestige remaining of the Government and policy as they had existed
prior to the 3d March, 1829. That in a term of years a little more
than that which was required to establish our liberties, the
Government would be transformed into an elective monarchy—the
worst of all forms of government. He compared the measure
adopted by General Jackson with the conduct of the usurping Cæsar,
who, after he had overrun Italy in sixty days, and conquered the
liberties of his native country, terrified the Tribune Metellus, who
guarded the treasury of the Roman people, and seized it by open
force. He declared that the President had proclaimed an open,
palpable, and daring usurpation. He concluded by asserting that the
premonitory symptoms of despotism were upon us; and if Congress
did not apply an instantaneous and effective remedy, the fatal
collapse would soon come on, and we should die—ignobly die! base,
mean, and abject slaves, the scorn and contempt of mankind,
unpitied, unwept, and unmourned. What a spectacle was then
presented in this Chamber! We are told, in the reports of the day,
that, when he took his seat, there was repeated and loud applause
in the galleries. This, it will be remembered, was the introductory
speech of the Senator. In my opinion, it was one of the ablest and
most eloquent of all his able and eloquent speeches. He was then
riding upon the whirlwind and directing the storm. At the time I read
it, for I was not then in the Senate, it reminded me of the able, the
vindictive, and the eloquent appeal of Mr. Burke before the House of
Lords, on the impeachment of Warren Hastings, in which he
denounced that governor-general as the ravager and oppressor of
India, and the scourge of the millions who had been placed under
his authority.
And yet, we are now told that this resolution did not intend to
impute any criminal motive to the President. That he was a good old
man, though not a good constitutional lawyer: and that he knew
better how to wield the sword than to construe the Constitution.
[Mr. Clay here rose to explain. He said, “I never have said and
never will say, that personally I acquitted the President of any
improper intention. I lament that I cannot say it. But what I did say,
was that the act of the Senate of 1834 is free from the imputation of
any criminal motives.”]
Sir, said Mr. B., this avowal is in character with the frank and manly
nature of the Senator from Kentucky. It is no more than what I
expected from him. The imputation of any improper motive to the
President has been again and again disclaimed by other Senators
upon this floor. The Senator from Kentucky has now boldly come out
in his true colors, and avows the principles which he held at the
time. He acknowledges that he did not acquit the President from
improper intentions, when charging him with a violation of the
Constitution of his country.
This trial of the President before the Senate, continued for three
months. During this whole period, instead of the evidence which a
judicial tribunal ought to receive, exciting memorials, signed by vast
numbers of the people, and well calculated to inflame the passions
of his judges, were daily pouring in upon the Senate. He was
denounced upon this floor by every odious epithet which belongs to
tyrants. Finally, the obnoxious resolution was adopted by the vote of
the Senate, on the 28th day of March, 1834. After the exposition
which I have made, can any impartial mind doubt but that this
resolution intended to charge against the President a wilful and
daring violation of the Constitution and the laws? I think not.
The Senator from Kentucky has argued, with his usual power, that
the functions of the Senate, acting in a legislative capacity, are not
to be restricted, because it is possible that the same question, in
another form, may come before us judicially. I concur in the truth
and justice of this position. We must perform our legislative duties;
and if, in the investigation of facts, having legislation distinctly in
view, we should incidentally be led to the investigation of criminal
charges, it is a necessity imposed upon us by our condition, from
which we cannot escape. It results from the varying nature of our
duties, and not from our own will. I admit that it would be difficult to
mark the precise line which separates our legislative from our judicial
functions. I shall not attempt it. In many cases, from necessity, they
are in some degree intermingled. The present resolution, however,
stands far in advance of this line. It is placed in bold relief, and is
clear of all such difficulties. It is a mere naked resolution of censure.
It refers solely to the past conduct of the President, and condemns it
in the strongest terms, without even proposing any act of legislation
by which the evil may be remedied hereafter. It was judgment upon
the past alone; not prevention for the future. Nay, more: the
resolution is so vague and general in its terms that it is impossible to
ascertain from its face the cause of the President’s condemnation.
The Senate have resolved that the executive “has assumed upon
himself authority and power not conferred by the Constitution and
laws, but in derogation of both.” What is the specification under this
charge? Why, that he has acted thus, “in the late executive
proceedings in relation to the public revenue?” What executive
proceedings? The resolution leaves us entirely in the dark upon this
subject. How could any legislation spring from such a resolution? It
is impossible. None such was ever attempted.
If the resolution had preserved its original phraseology—if it had
condemned the President for dismissing one Secretary of the
Treasury because he would not remove the deposits, and for
appointing his successor to effect this purpose, the Senator might
then have contended that the evil was distinctly pointed out; and,
although no legislation was proposed, the remedy might be applied
hereafter. But he has deprived himself even of this feeble argument.
He has left us upon an ocean of uncertainty, without chart or
compass. “The late executive proceedings in relation to the
revenue,” is a phrase of the most general and indefinite character.
Every Senator who voted in favor of this resolution may have acted
upon different principles. To procure its passage, nothing more was
necessary than that a majority should unite in the conclusion that
the President had violated the Constitution and the laws in some one
or other of his numerous acts in relation to the public revenue. The
views of Senators constituting the majority may have varied from
each other to any conceivable extent; and yet they may have united
in the final vote. That this was the fact to a considerable extent, I
have always understood. It is utterly impossible, either that such a
proceeding could ever have been intended to become the basis of
legislation, or that legislative action could have ever sprung from
such a source.
I flatter myself, then, I have succeeded in proving that this
resolution charged the President with a high official misdemeanor,
wholly disconnected from legislation, which, if true, ought to have
subjected him to impeachment.
This brings me directly to the question, had the Senate any power,
under the Constitution, to adopt such a resolution? In other words,
can the Senate condemn a public officer by a simple resolution, for
an offence which would subject him to an impeachment? To state
the proposition, is to answer this question in the negative. Dreadful
would be the consequences if we possess and should exercise such
a power.
 This body is invested with high and responsible powers of a
legislative, an executive, and a judicial character. No person can
enter it until he has attained a mature age. Our term of service is
longer than that of any other elective functionary. If Senators will
have it so, it is the most aristocratic branch of our Government. For
what purpose did the framers of the Constitution confer upon it
these varied and important powers, and this long tenure of office?
The answer is plain. It was placed in this secure and elevated
position that it might be above the storms of faction which so often
inflame the passions of men. It never was intended to be an arena
for political gladiators. Until the second session of the third
Congress, the Senate always sat with closed doors, except in the
single instance when the eligibility of Mr. Gallatin to a seat in the
body was the subject of discussion. Of this particular practice,
however, I cannot approve. I merely state it, to show the intention
of those who formed the Constitution. I was informed by one of the
most eminent statesmen and Senators which this country has ever
produced, now no more (the late Mr. King), that for some years after
the Federal Government commenced its operation, the debates of
the Senate resembled conversations rather than speeches, and that
it originated but few legislative measures. Senators were then critics
rather than authors in legislation. Whether its gain in eloquence,
since it has become a popular assembly, and since the sound of
thundering applause has been heard in our galleries at the
denunciation of the President, has been an equivalent for its loss in
true dignity, may well be doubted. To give this body its just influence
with the people, it ought to preserve itself as free as possible from
angry political discussions. In the performance of our executive
duties, in the ratification of treaties, and in the confirmation of
nominations, the Constitution has connected us with the executive.
The efficient and successful administration of the Government
therefore requires that we should move on together in as much
harmony as may be consistent with the independent exercise of our
respective functions.
But above all, we should be the most cautious in guarding our
judicial character from suspicion. We constitute the high court of
impeachment of this nation, before which every officer of the
Government may be arraigned. To this tribunal is committed the
character of men whose character is far dearer to them than their
lives. We should be the rock standing in the midst of the ocean, for
the purpose of affording a shelter to the faithful officer from unjust
persecution, against which the billows might dash themselves in
vain. Whilst we are a terror to evil doers, we should be a praise to
those who do well. We should never voluntarily perform any act
which might prejudice our judgment, or render us suspected as a
judicial tribunal. More especially, when the President of the United
States is arraigned at the bar of public opinion for offences which
might subject him to an impeachment, we should remain not only
chaste but unsuspected. Better, infinitely better, would it be for us
not to manifest our feeling, even in a case in which we were morally
certain the House of Representatives would not prefer before us
articles of impeachment, than to reach the object of our
disapprobation by a usurpation of their rights. It is true that when
the Senate passed the resolution condemning the President, a
majority in the House were of a different opinion. But the next
elections might have changed that majority into a minority. The
House might then have voted articles of impeachment against the
President. Under such circumstances, I pray you to consider in what
a condition the Senate would have been placed. They had already
prejudged the case. They had already convicted the President, and
denounced him to the world as a violator of the Constitution. In
criminal prosecutions, even against the greatest malefactor, if a juror
has prejudged the cause, he cannot enter the jury box. The Senate
had rendered itself wholly incompetent in this case to perform its
highest judicial functions. The trial of the President, had articles of
impeachment been preferred against him, would have been but a
solemn mockery of justice.
The Constitution of the United States has carefully provided
against such an enormous evil, by declaring that “the House of
Representatives shall have the sole power of impeachment,” and
“the Senate shall have the sole power to try all impeachments.” Until
the accused is brought before us by the House, it is a manifest
violation of our solemn duty to condemn him by a resolution.
If a court of criminal jurisdiction, without any indictment having
been found by a grand jury, without having given the defendant
notice to appear, without having afforded him an opportunity of
cross-examining the witnesses against him, and making his defence,
should resolve that he was guilty of a high crime, and place this
conviction upon their records, all mankind would exclaim against the
injustice and unconstitutionality of the act. Wherein consists the
difference between this case and the condemnation of the
President? In nothing, except that such a conviction by the Senate,
on account of its exalted character, would fall with tenfold force upon
its object. I have often been astonished, notwithstanding the
extended and well deserved popularity of General Jackson, that the
moral influence of this condemnation by the Senate had not crushed
him. With what tremendous effect might this assumed power of the
Senate be used to blast the reputation of any man who might fall
under its displeasure! The precedent is extremely dangerous; and
the American people have wisely determined to blot it out forever.
It is painful to reflect what might have been the condition of the
country, if at the inauspicious moment of the passage of the
resolution against the President, its interests and its honor had
rendered it necessary to engage in a foreign war. The fearful
consequences of such a condition, at such a moment, must strike
every mind. Would the Senate then have confided to the President
the necessary power to defend the country? Where could the sinews
of war have been found? In what condition was this body, at that
moment, to act upon an important treaty negotiated by the
President, or upon any of his nominations? But I forbear to enlarge
upon this topic.
I have now arrived at the last point in this discussion. Do the
Senate possess the power, under the Constitution, of expunging the
resolution of March, 1834, from their journals, in the manner
proposed by the Senator from Missouri? (Mr. Benton.) I cheerfully
admit we must show that this is not contrary to the Constitution; for
we can never redress one violation of that instrument by committing
another. Before I proceed to this branch of the subject, I shall put
myself right, by a brief historical reminiscence. I entered the Senate
in December, 1834, fresh from the ranks of the people, without the
slightest feeling of hostility against any Senator on this floor. I then
thought that the resolution of the Senator from Missouri was too
severe in proposing to expunge. Although I was anxious to record, in
strong terms, my entire disapprobation of the resolution of March,
1834, yet I was willing to accomplish this object without doing more
violence to the feelings of my associates on this floor, than was
absolutely necessary to justify the President. Actuated by these
friendly motives, I exerted all my little influence with the Senator
from Missouri, to induce him to abandon the word expunge, and
substitute some others in its place. I knew that this word was
exceedingly obnoxious to the Senators who had voted for the former
resolution. Other friends of his also exerted their influence; and at
length his kindly feelings prevailed, and he consented to abandon
that word, although it was peculiarly dear to him. I speak from my
own knowledge. “All which I saw and part of which I was.”
The resolution of the Senator from Missouri came before the
Senate on the 3d of March, 1835. Under it the resolution of March,
1834, was “ordered to be expunged from the journal,” for reasons
appearing on its face, which I need not enumerate. The Senator
from Tennessee (Mr. White) moved to amend the resolution of the
Senator from Missouri, by striking out the order to expunge, with the
reasons for it, and inserting in their stead the words, “rescinded,
reversed, repealed, and declared to be null and void.” Some
difference of opinion then arose among the friends of the
Administration as to the words which should be substituted in place
of the order to expunge. For the purpose of leaving this question
perfectly open, you, sir, (Mr. King, of Alabama, was in the chair,) then
moved to amend the original motion of Mr. Benton, by striking out
the words, “ordered to be expunged from the journal of the Senate.”
This motion prevailed, on the ayes and noes, by a vote of 39 to 7;
and amongst the ayes, the name of the Senator from Missouri is
recorded. The resolution was thus left a blank, in its most essential
features, ready to be filled up as the Senate might direct. The era of
good feeling, in regard to this subject had commenced. It was
nipped in the bud, however, by the Senator from Massachusetts (Mr.
Webster). Whilst the resolution was still in blank, he rose in his
place, and proclaimed the triumph of the Constitution, by the vote to
strike out the word expunge, and then moved to lay the resolution
on the table, declaring that he would neither withdraw his motion for
friend nor foe. This motion precluded all amendment and all debate.
It prevailed by a party vote; and thus we were left with our
resolution a blank. Such was the manner in which the Senators in
opposition received our advances of courtesy and kindness, in the
moment of their strength and our weakness. Had the Senator from
Massachusetts suffered us to proceed but for five minutes, we
should have filled up the blank in the resolution. It would then have
assumed a distinct form, and they would never afterwards have
heard of the word expunge. We should have been content with the
words “rescinded, reversed, repealed, and declared to be null and
void.” But the conduct of the Senator from Massachusetts on that
occasion, and that of the party with which he acted, roused the
indignation of every friend of the Administration on this floor. We
then determined that the word expunge should never again be
surrendered.
The Senator from Kentucky has introduced a precedent from the
proceedings of the House of Representatives of Pennsylvania, for the
purpose of proving that we have no right to adopt this resolution. To
this I can have no possible objection. But I can tell the Senator, if I
were convinced that I had voted wrong, when comparatively a boy,
more than twenty years ago, the fear of being termed inconsistent
would not now deter me from voting right upon the same question. I
do not, however, repent of my vote upon that occasion. I would now
vote in the same manner, under similar circumstances. I should not
vote to expunge, under any circumstances, any proceeding from the
journals by obliterating the record. If I do not prove before I take my
seat, that the case in the Legislature of Pennsylvania was essentially
different from that now before the Senate, I shall agree to be
proclaimed inconsistent and time-serving.
 It was my settled conviction at the commencement of the last
session of Congress, that the Senate had no power to obliterate their
journal. This was shaken, but not removed, by the argument of the
Senator from Louisiana, (Mr. Porter), who confessedly made the
ablest speech on the other side of the question. The Constitution
declares that “each House shall keep a journal of its proceedings,
and from time to time publish the same, excepting such parts as
may in their judgment require secrecy.” What was the position which
that Senator then attempted to maintain? In order to prove that we
had no power to obliterate or destroy our journals, he thought it
necessary to contend that the word “keep” as used in the
Constitution, means both to record and to preserve. This appeared
to me to be a mere begging of the question.
I shall attempt no definition of the word “keep.” At least since the
days of Plato, we know that definitions have been dangerous. Yet I
think that the meaning of this word, as applied to the subject matter,
is so plain that he who runs may read. If I direct my agent to keep a
journal of his proceedings, and publish the same, my palpable
meaning is, that he shall write these proceedings down, from day to
day, and publish what he has written for general information. After
he has obeyed my commands, after he has kept his journal, and
published it to the world, he has executed the essential part of the
trust confided to him. What becomes of this original manuscript
journal afterwards, is a matter of total indifference. So in regard to
the manuscript journals of either House of Congress: after more
than a thousand copies have been printed, and published, and
distributed over the Union, it is a matter of not the least importance
what disposition may be made of them. They have answered their
purpose, and, in any practical view, become useless. If they were
burnt, or otherwise destroyed, it would not be an event of the
slightest public consequence. Such indifference has prevailed upon
this subject, that these journals have been considered, in the House
of Representatives, as so much waste paper, and, during a period of
thirty-four years after the organization of the Government, they were
actually destroyed. From this circumstance, no public or private
inconvenience has been or ever can be sustained; because our
printed journals are received in evidence in all courts of justice in the
same manner as if the originals were produced.
The Senator from Louisiana has discovered that to “keep” means
both “to record” and “to preserve.” But can you give this, or any
other word in the English language, two distinct and independent
meanings at the same time, as applied to the same subject? I think
not. From the imperfection of human language, from the
impossibility of having appropriate words to express every idea, the
same word, as applied to different subjects, has a variety of
significations. As applied to any one subject, it cannot, at the same
time, convey two distinct meanings. In the Constitution it must mean
either “to write down,” or “to preserve.” It cannot have both
significations. Let Senators, then, take their choice. If it signifies “to
write down,” as it unquestionably does, what becomes of the
constitutional injunction to preserve? The truth is, that the
Constitution has not provided what shall be done with the
manuscript journal, after it has served the purposes for which it was
called into existence. When it has been published to the people of
the United States, for whose use it was ordered to be kept; after it
has thus been perpetuated, and they have been furnished with the
means of judging of the public conduct of their public servants, it
ceases to be an object of the least importance. Whether it be thrown
into the garret of the Capitol with other useless lumber, or be
destroyed, is a matter of no public interest. It has probably never
once been referred to in the history of our Government. If it should
ever be determined to be a violation of the Constitution to obliterate
or destroy this manuscript journal, it must be upon different
principles from those which have been urged in this debate. My own
impression is, that as the framers of the Constitution have directed
us to keep a journal, a constructive duty may be implied from this
command, which would forbid us to obliterate or destroy it. Under
this impression, I should vote, as I did twenty years ago, in the
Legislature of Pennsylvania, against any proposition actually to
expunge any part of the journal. But waiving this unprofitable
discussion, let us proceed to the real point in controversy.
 Is any such proceeding as that of actually expunging the journal,
proposed by the resolution of the Senator from Missouri? I answer,
no such thing. If the Constitution had, in express terms, directed us
to record and to preserve a journal of our proceedings, there is
nothing in the resolution now before us which would be inconsistent
with such a provision.
Is the drawing of a black line around the resolution of the Senate,
of March, 1834, to obliterate or deface it? On the contrary, is it not
to render it more conspicuous,—to place it in bold relief,—to give it a
prominence in the public view, beyond any other proceeding of this
body, in past, and I trust, in all future time. If the argument of
Senators were, not that we have no power to obliterate; but that the
Senate possessed no power to render one portion of the journal
more conspicuous than another, it would have had much greater
force. Why, sir, by means of this very proceeding, that portion of our
journal upon which it operates will be rescued from a slumber which
would otherwise have been eternal, and, fac-similes of the original
resolution, without a word or a letter defaced, will be circulated over
the whole Union.
But, sir, this resolution also directs that across the face of the
condemnatory resolution there shall be written by the Secretary,
“Expunged by the order of the Senate this —— day of ——, in the
year of our Lord 1837.”
Will this obliterate any part of the original resolution? If it does,
the duty of the Secretary will be performed in a very bungling
manner. No such thing is intended. It would be easy to remove every
scruple from every mind upon this subject, by amending the
resolution of the Senator from Missouri, so as to direct the Secretary
to perform his duty in such a manner as not to obliterate any part of
the condemnatory resolution. Such a direction, however, appears to
me to be wholly unnecessary. The nature of the whole proceeding is
very plain. We now adopt a resolution, expressing our strong
reprobation of the original resolution; and for this purpose we use
the word “expunged,” as the strongest term which we can apply. We
then direct our Secretary to draw black lines around it, and place
such a reference to our proceedings of this day upon its face, that in
all time to come, whoever may inspect this portion of our journal,
will be pointed at once to the record of its condemnation. What
lawyer has not observed upon the margin of the judgment docket, if
the original judgment has been removed to a superior court, and
there reversed, a minute of such reversal? In our editions of the
statutes, have we not all noted the repeal of any of them, which
may have taken place at a subsequent period? Who ever heard, in
the one case or the other, that this was obliterating or destroying the
record, or the book? So in this case, we make a mere reference to
our future proceeding upon the face of the resolution, instead of the
margin. Suppose we should only repeal the obnoxious resolution,
and direct such a reference to be made upon its face? Would any
Senator contend that this would be an obliteration of the journal?
But it has been contended that the word expunge is not the
appropriate word; and we have wrested it from its true signification,
in applying it to the present case. Even if this allegation were
correct, the answer would be at hand. You might then convict us of
bad taste, but not of a violation of the Constitution. On the face of
the resolution we have stated distinctly what we mean. We have
directed the Secretary in what manner he shall understand it, and
we have excluded the idea that it is our intention to obliterate or to
destroy the journal.
But I shall contend that the word expunge is the appropriate
word, and that there is not another in the English language so
precisely adapted to convey our meaning. I shall show, from the
highest literary and parliamentary authorities, that the word has
acquired a signification entirely distinct from that of actual
obliteration. Let me proceed immediately to this task. After citing my
authorities, I shall proceed with the argument. First, then, for those
of a literary character. I read from Crabbe’s Synonymes, page 140;
and every Senator will admit that this is a work of established
reputation. In speaking of the use of the word expunge, the author
says: “When the contents of a book are in part rejected, they are
aptly described as being expunged; in this manner the free-thinking
sects expunge everything from the Bible which does not suit their
purpose, or they expunge from their creed what does not humor
their passions.” The idea that an actual obliteration was intended in
these cases would be manifestly absurd. In the same page there is a
quotation from Mr. Burke to illustrate the meaning of this word. “I
believe,” says he, “that any person who was of age to take a part in
public concerns forty years ago (if the intermediate space were
expunged from his memory), could hardly credit his senses when he
should hear that an army of two hundred thousand men was kept up
in this island.” I shall now cite Mr. Jefferson as a literary authority. He
has often been referred to on this floor as a standard in politics. For
this high authority, I am indebted to my friend from Louisiana (Mr.
Nicholas). In the original draft of the declaration of independence,
he uses the word expunge in the following manner: “Such has been
the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the
necessity which constrains them to expunge their former systems of
government.” Although the word alter was substituted for expunge, I
presume upon the ground that this was too strong a term, yet the
change does not detract from the literary authority of the precedent.
—Jefferson’s Correspondence, &c., 1st volume, page 17.
I presume that I have shown that the word expunge has acquired
a distinct metaphorical meaning in our literature, which excludes the
idea of actual obliteration. If I should proceed one step further, and
prove that in legislative proceedings it has acquired the very same
signification, I shall then have fully established my position. For this
purpose I cite, first, “the Secret Proceedings and Debates of the
Federal Convention.” In page 118, we find the following entries: “On
motion to expunge the clause of the qualification as to age, it was
carried—ten States against one.” Again: “On the clause respecting
the ineligibility to any other office, it was moved that the words ‘by
any particular State,’ be expunged—four States for, five against, and
two divided.” So page 119: “The last blank was filled up with one
year, and carried—eight ayes, two noes, one divided.”
“Mr. Pinckney moved to expunge the clause—agreed to, nem.
con.” Again: “Mr. Butler moved to expunge the clause of the stipends
—lost, seven against, three for, one divided.” Again, in page 157:
“Mr. Pinckney moved that that part of the clause which disqualifies a
person from holding an office in the State be expunged, because the
first and best characters in a State may thereby be deprived of a
seat in the national council.”
“Question put to strike out the words moved for and carried—eight
ayes, three noes.”
It will thus be perceived that in the proceedings of the very
convention which formed the Constitution under which we are now
governed, the word expunge was often used in its figurative sense.
It will certainly not be asserted, or even intimated, by any Senator
here, that when these motions to expunge prevailed, the words of
the original draft of the Constitution were actually obliterated or
defaced. The meaning is palpable. These provisions were merely
rejected; not actually blotted out.
But I shall now produce a precedent precisely in point. It presents
itself in the proceedings of the Senate of Massachusetts, and refers
to the famous resolution of that body adopted on the 15th day of
June, 1813, in relation to the capture of the British vessel Peacock;
denouncing the late war, and declaring that it was not becoming in a
moral and religious people, to express any approbation of military or
naval exploits which were not immediately connected with the
defence of our seacoast. Massachusetts adopted the following
resolution:
“Resolved That the aforesaid resolve of the fifteenth day of June,
A. D. 1813, and the preamble thereof, be, and the same are hereby,
expunged from the journals of the Senate.”
It is self-evident that, in this case, not the least intention existed
of defacing the old manuscript journal. The word “expunge” was
used in its figurative signification, just as it is in the case before us,
to express the strongest reprobation of the former proceeding. That
proceeding was to be expunged solely by force of the subsequent
resolution, and not by any actual obliteration. There never was any
actual obliteration of the journal.
Judging, then, from the highest English authorities, from the
works of celebrated authors and statesmen, and from the
proceedings of legislative bodies, is it not evident that the word
expunge has acquired a distinct meaning, altogether inconsistent
with any actual obliteration?
 All that we have heard about defacing and destroying the journal
are mere phantoms, which have been conjured up to terrify the
timid. We intend no such thing. We only mean, most strongly, to
express our conviction that the condemnatory resolution ought never
to have found a place on the journal. If more authorities were
wanting, I might refer to the Legislature of Virginia. The present
expunging resolution is in exact conformity with their instructions to
their Senators. As a matter of taste, I cannot say that I much admire
their plan, though I entertain no doubt but that it is perfectly
constitutional. That State is highly literary; and I think I have
established that their Legislature, when they used the word
expunge, without intending thereby to effect an actual obliteration of
the journal, justly appreciated the meaning of the language which
they employed.
The word expunge is, in my opinion, the only one which we could
have used, clearly and forcibly to accomplish our purpose. Even if it
had not been sanctioned by practice as a parliamentary word, we
ought ourselves to have first established the precedent. It suits the
case precisely. If you rescind, reverse, or repeal a resolution; you
thereby admit that it once had some constitutional or legal authority.
If you declare it to have been null and void from the beginning; this
is but the expression of your own opinion that such was the fact.
This word expunge acts upon the resolution itself. It at once goes to
its origin, and destroys its legal existence as if it had never been. It
does not merely kill, but it annihilates.
Parliamentary practice has changed the meaning of several other
words from their primitive signification, in a similar manner with that
of the word expunge. The original signification of the word rescind is
“to cut off.” Usage has made it mean, in reference to a law or
resolution, to abrogate or repeal it. We every day hear motions “to
strike out.” What is the literal meaning of this expression? The
question may be best answered by asking another. If I were to
request you to strike out a line from your letter, and you were willing
to comply with my request, what would be your conduct? You would
run your pen through it immediately. You would literally strike it out.
Yet what use do we make of this phrase every day in our legislative
proceedings? If I make a motion to strike out a section from a bill
and it prevails, the Secretary encloses the printed copy of it in black
lines, and makes a note on the margin that it has been stricken out.
The original he never touches. Why then should not the word
expunge, without obliterating the proceeding to which it is directed,
signify to destroy as if it never had existed?
After all that has been said, I think I need scarcely again recur to
the Pennsylvania precedent. It is evident from the whole of that
proceeding that an actual expunging of the journal was intended, if
it had not already been executed. I have no recollection whatever of
the circumstances, but I am under a perfect conviction, from the
face of the journal, that such was the nature of the case. I should
vote now as I did then, after a period of more than twenty years.
Both my vote, and the motion which I subsequently made upon that
occasion, evidently proceeded upon this principle. The question
arose in this manner, as it appears from the journal. On the 10th of
February, 1816, “The Speaker informed the House that a
constitutional question being involved in a decision by him yesterday,
on a motion to expunge certain proceedings from the journal, he
was desirous of having the opinion of the House on that decision,”
viz: “that a majority can expunge from the journal proceedings in
which the yeas and nays have not been called.” Now, as no trace
whatever appears upon the journal of the preceding day of the
motion to which the Speaker refers, it is highly probable, nay, it is
almost certain, that the proceedings had been actually expunged
before he asked the advice of the House.
No man feels with more sensibility, the necessity which compels
him to perform an unkind act towards his brother Senators than
myself; but we have now arrived at that point when imperious duty
demands that we should either adopt this expunging resolution or
abandon it forever. Already much precious time has been employed
in its discussion. The moment has arrived when we must act.
Senators in the opposition console themselves with the belief that
posterity will do them justice, should it be denied to them by the
present generation. They place their own names in the one scale
and ours in the other, and flatter themselves with the hope that
before that tribunal at least, their weight will preponderate. For my
own part, I am willing to abide the issue. I am willing to be judged
for the vote which I shall give to-day, not only by the present, but by
future generations, should my obscure name ever be mentioned in
after times. After the passions and prejudices of the present moment
shall have subsided, and the impartial historian shall come to record
the proceedings of this day, he will say that the distinguished men
who passed the resolution condemning the President were urged on
to the act by a desire to occupy the high places in the Government.
That an ambition noble in itself, but not wisely regulated, had
obscured their judgment, and impelled them to the adoption of a
measure unjust, illegal, and unconstitutional. That in order to
vindicate both the Constitution and the President, we were justified
in passing this expunging resolution, and thus stamping the former
proceeding with our strongest disapprobation.
I rejoice in the belief that this promises to be one of the last highly
exciting questions of the present day. During the period of General
Jackson’s civil administration, what has he not done for the American
people? During this period he has had more difficult and dangerous
questions to settle, both at home and abroad,—questions which
aroused more intensely the passions of men,—than any of his
predecessors. They are now all happily ended, except the one which
we shall this day bring to a close,

“And all the clouds that lowered upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”

The country now enjoys abundant prosperity at

home, whilst it is respected and admired by foreign
nations. Although the waves may yet be in some
agitation from the effect of the storms through which
we have passed, yet I think I can perceive the
rainbow of peace extending itself across the
firmament of Heaven.