Volume 8 — EXPULSION OF JESSE D. BRIGHT, OF INDIANA.

Speeches in the Senate, January 21 and February 4, 1862.

December 16, 1861, Mr. Wilkinson, of Minnesota, submitted to the Senate a resolution for the expulsion of Hon. Jesse D. Bright, a Senator from Indiana, on account of a letter to Jefferson Davis, which was pronounced “evidence of disloyalty to the United States, and calculated to give aid and comfort to the public enemies.” The resolution was referred to the Judiciary Committee, which reported upon it adversely; but, on consideration and debate, it was adopted, so that Mr. Bright was expelled.

January 21, 1862, Mr. Sumner spoke as follows.

MR. PRESIDENT,—The expulsion of a Senator is one of the most solemn acts which this body can be called to perform. The sentence of a court in a capital case is hardly more solemn; for, though your judgment cannot take away life, it may take away all that gives value to life. Justice herself might well hesitate to lift the scales in which such a destiny is weighed. But duties in this world cannot be avoided. When cast upon us, they must be performed, at any cost of individual pain or individual regret,—especially in the present case, where the Senate, whose good name is in question, and the country, whose welfare is at stake, forbid us to hesitate.

In other similar cases, arising out of recent events, where the Senate has already acted, the persons in question were absent, openly engaged in rebellion. There was no occasion for argument or discussion. Their guilt was conspicuous, like the rebellion itself. In the present case, the person is not absent, openly engaged in rebellion. He still sits among us, taking part in the public business, voting and answering to his name, when called in the roll of the Senate. His continued presence may be interpreted in opposite ways, according to the feelings of those who sit in judgment. It may be referred to conscious innocence, or it may be referred to audacious guilt.

That he takes his place in the Senate is not, therefore, necessarily in his favor. Catiline, after plotting the destruction of Rome, took his place in the Senate, and listened to the orator who denounced the treason; nor did the Roman patriot hesitate to point his eloquence by the exclamation that the traitor even came into the Senate,—“etiam in Senatum venit.” In the history of our country there is a well-known instance of kindred audacity. Benedict Arnold, after commencing correspondence with the enemy, and before detection, appeared at the bar of a court-martial in Philadelphia, and yet, with treason not only in his heart, but already in his acts, thus spoke, without a blush: “Conscious of my own innocence and the unworthy methods taken to injure me, I can with boldness say to my persecutors in general, and to the chief of them in particular,”—and, with this introduction, he alleged patriotic service.[125] You know well the result. The traitor thus appearing and speaking in open court continued his treason. The faithful historian does not hesitate to say that “at the moment these declarations were uttered he had been eight months in secret correspondence with the enemy, and was prepared, if not resolved, when the first opportunity should offer, to desert and betray his country.”[126] History teaches by example; and the instances that I adduce admonish us not to be governed merely by appearances, but to look at things as they are, and to judge according to facts, against which all present professions are of little worth.

I put aside, therefore, the argument founded on the presence of the person in question. That he still continues in the Senate, and even challenges this inquiry, does not prove his innocence any more than it proves his guilt. The question is still open, to be considered carefully, gravely, austerely, if you will, but absolutely without passion or prejudice,—anxious only that justice should prevail. Your decision will constitute a precedent, important in the history of the Senate, either as warning or encouragement to disloyalty. And since our votes are to be recorded, I am anxious that the reasons for mine should be known.

The question may be properly asked, if this inquiry is to be conducted as in a court of justice, under all the restrictions and technical rules of judicial proceedings. Clearly not. Under the Constitution, the Senate, in a case like the present, is absolute judge, free to exercise its power according to its own enlightened discretion. It may justly declare a Senator unworthy of a seat in this body on evidence defective in form, or on evidence even which does not constitute positive crime. A Senator may deserve expulsion without deserving death; for in the one case the proceeding is to purge the Senate, while in the other it is punishment of crime. The motives in the two cases are widely different. This identical discretion has been already exercised at this very session, as well as the last, in the expulsion of several Senators. And the two early precedents—the first of William Blount, in 1797, and the second of John Smith, in 1807—both proceeded on the assumption that the Senate was at liberty to exercise a discretion unknown to a judicial tribunal. In the well-considered report of the Committee in the latter case, prepared by John Quincy Adams, at that time Senator, we find the following statement.

“In examining the question, whether these forms of judicial proceedings or the rules of judicial evidence ought to be applied to the exercise of that censorial authority which the Senate of the United States possesses over the conduct of its members, let us assume, as the test of their application, either the dictates of unfettered reason, the letter and spirit of the Constitution, or precedents, domestic or foreign, and your Committee believe that the result will be the same: that the power of expelling a member must in its nature be discretionary, and in its exercise always more summary than the tardy process of judicial tribunals. The power of expelling a member for misconduct results, on the principles of common sense, from the interest of the nation that the high trust of legislation should be invested in pure hands.”[127]

I do not stop to consider and illustrate a conclusion thus sustained by precedent as well as reason. It is obvious that the Senate may act on any evidence satisfactory to show that one of its members is unworthy of his seat, without bringing it to the test of any rule of law. It is true that the good name of the individual is in question; but so also is the good name of the Senate, not forgetting also the welfare of the country; and if there are generous presumptions of personal innocence, so also are there irresistible instincts of self-defence, compelling us to act vigorously, not only to preserve the good name of the Senate, but also to save the country menaced by traitors.

Consider, too, the position of a Senator. Elected by the Legislature of his State, he sits for six years in this body, sharing its labors, its duties, its trusts. His official term is the longest known to the Constitution. The Representative, and the President himself, pass away; but the Senator continues. In ordinary times his responsibilities are large; but now they are larger still. On every question of legislation, touching our multitudinous relations, touching our finances, our army, our navy, touching, indeed, all the issues of peace and war,—also on every question of foreign policy, whether in treaties or in propositions disclosed in executive session,—and again, on all nominations by the President, judicial, executive, military, and naval,—the Senator is called to vote; and he is free to join in debate, and to influence the votes of others. With these great responsibilities are corresponding opportunities of knowledge with regard to the counsels of the Government. These doors are often closed against the public, but they are never closed against him. This position of the Senator gives to the question of his loyalty an absorbing interest. Surely it is of no small moment to know if there be among us any person unworthy of all this confidence.

The facts in the present case are few, and may be easily stated; for, beyond certain presumptions, they are of public notoriety, and above all doubt. Indeed, the whole case can be presented as plainly and as unanswerably as a mathematical proposition or a diagram in geometry.

On the 6th of November of the last year, Abraham Lincoln of Illinois was elected President by the popular vote. The election was in every respect constitutional; and yet, in violation of all the obligations of the Constitution, and all the duties of patriotism, a movement was instantly organized in the Slave States to set aside this election, by acts of conventions, if possible, but by violence, if necessary. The movement began in South Carolina, a State always mad with treason; and before the 1st of January then next succeeding, this State formally separated from the Union, renounced the National Government, and ranged in open rebellion. Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana followed; and the precise object of this rebellion was to form a new government, with Slavery as its corner-stone. The Senators of these States, one after another, abandoned their seats in this Chamber, announcing a determination to seek their respective homes, and leaving behind menaces of war, should any attempt be made to arrest their wicked purposes.

Meanwhile military preparations were commenced by the Rebel States, who made haste to take military possession of forts and other property belonging to the National Government within their borders. Already, before the 1st of January, the Palmetto flag was raised over the custom-house and post-office at Charleston; it was also raised over Castle Pinckney and Fort Moultrie, in the harbor of Charleston, which, together with the national armory, then containing many thousand stands of arms and military stores, were occupied by Rebel troops in the name of South Carolina. At Charleston everything assumed the front of war. The city was converted into a camp. The small garrison under Major Anderson, after retreating from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter, was besieged in the latter fortress. Powerful batteries were erected to sustain the siege. From one of these batteries, on the 9th of January, a shot was fired at the United States steamship Star of the West, with the national flag at her mast-head, bearing reinforcements for the garrison, and the discomfited steamship put back to New York. The darling desire was to capture Fort Sumter, and various plans were devised for this purpose. One Rebel proposed to take the fort by floating to it rafts piled with burning tar-barrels, thus, as was said, “attempting to smoke the American troops out, as you would smoke a rabbit out of a hollow.” Another was for filling bombs with prussic acid, and sending them among the national troops. Another thought that it might be taken without bloodshed,—through silver, rather than shell,—simply by offering each soldier ten dollars of Rebel money. Another proposed a floating battery, through which, under cover of the stationary batteries, and with the assistance of an armed fleet, an attack might be made, while from some convenient point a party of sharpshooters would pick off the garrison, man by man, and thus give opportunity to scale the walls. But such a storming, it was admitted, could be accomplished only at a fatal sacrifice of life, and it was finally determined that the better way was by protracted siege and starvation. Such, at this early day, were the propositions discussed in Charleston, and through the journals there advertised to the country.

The same spirit of rebellion, animating similar acts, appeared in the other Rebel States. On the 3d of January, Fort Pulaski, a fortress of considerable strength near Savannah, was occupied by Rebel troops of Georgia, acting under orders from the Rebel Governor. On the 4th of January, the national arsenal at Mobile, with arms, barrels of powder, and other munitions of war, was seized by Rebel troops of Alabama, as was also Fort Morgan on the same day. On the 11th of January, the marine hospital, two miles below New Orleans, was seized by Rebel troops of Louisiana, and the patients of the hospital, numbering two hundred and sixteen, were ordered away to make quarters for the Rebels,—thus repeating the indefensible atrocity of Napoleon, when, near Dresden, he seized an insane asylum for his troops, and set its inmates loose, saying, “Turn out the mad.”[128] On the 12th of January, Fort Barrancas and the navy-yard at Pensacola, with all their ordnance stores, were obliged to surrender to armed Rebels of Florida and Alabama, the commandant reporting to the National Government, “Having no means of resistance, I surrendered, and hauled down my flag.” On the 24th of January, the national arsenal at Augusta, in Georgia, also surrendered, upon demand of the Rebel Governor. On the 31st of January, the national branch mint, containing $389,000, and the national sub-treasury, containing $122,000, were seized at New Orleans by the Rebel authorities. Such, most briefly told, are some of the positive incidents of actual war through which the Rebellion became manifest. And you also know, that, throughout the anxious period, when these things were occurring, the National Capital was menaced by the Rebels, proposing especially to disperse Congress, to drive away the National Government, and to seize the National Archives. Nor can you forget that Lieutenant-General Scott, then at the head of our army, under the exigencies of the time, changed his head-quarters from New York to Washington, where he gave his best powers to the national defence,—organizing the local militia, summoning the national troops, planting cannon, and in every way preparing to meet the threatened danger.

Meanwhile these Rebel States, having declared their separation from the National Government and forcibly seized its strongholds and other property within their borders, proceeded to constitute themselves into a political conglomerate, under the title of Confederate States. Their Constitution was adopted on the 8th of February, and the same day Jefferson Davis, of Mississippi, was elected President and commander-in-chief of the armies, and Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia, Vice-President. Shortly afterwards, on the 21st of February, the President of the Rebellion nominated a Cabinet, in which Toombs, of Georgia, was Secretary of State, Memminger, of South Carolina, Secretary of the Treasury, and Walker, of Alabama, Secretary of War. To this extent had the Rebellion gone. No longer a mere conspiracy, no longer a simple purpose, no longer a mere outbreak, it was an organized body, or rather several organized bodies massed into one, and affecting the character and substance of government. Remember, too, that in all its doings and pretensions it was a Rebel government, set in motion by conspiracy and sustained by declared Rebellion, which openly disowned the National Government, openly seized the national forts, and openly dishonored the national flag. Of this flagrant Rebellion Jefferson Davis became the chosen chief, as he had already been for a long time the animating spirit. In him the Rebellion was incarnate. He was not merely its civil head, but its military head also. It was he who made cabinets, commanded armies, and gathered munitions of war. His voice and his hand were voice and hand of the Rebellion itself. By his own eminent participation, and the superadded choice of the Rebels, he had become its chief, as much as the old Pretender was chief of the disastrous Rebellion in Great Britain, crushed on the field of Culloden,—as much as Satan himself, when seated on his throne and rallying his peers of state, was chief of an earlier rebellion.

That transcendent outrage, in itself the culmination of the Rebellion, destined to arouse at last a forbearing people, had not yet occurred; but it was at hand. Fort Sumter had not been openly assailed; but the hostile batteries were ready, and the hostile guns were pointed, simply waiting the word of Rebel command, not yet given.

Precisely at this moment, on the 1st of March, 1861, Jesse D. Bright, at the time a Senator of the United States, addressed the following letter to the chief of the Rebellion.

“Washington, March 1, 1861.

“My dear Sir,—Allow me to introduce to your acquaintance my friend Thomas B. Lincoln, of Texas. He visits your capital mainly to dispose of what he regards a great improvement in fire-arms. I commend him to your favorable consideration, as a gentleman of the first respectability, and reliable in every respect.

“Very truly yours,

“Jesse D. Bright.

“To His Excellency, Jefferson Davis, “President of the Confederation of States.”

And now, before considering the letter, look well at the parties and their respective positions. It is written by a person at the time Senator, and addressed to a person at the time chief of the Rebellion, in behalf of an unknown citizen, owner of a great improvement in fire-arms. It is proper to mention, as additional facts which will not be questioned, that the author had been for a long time in notorious personal relations with the conspicuous authors of the Rebellion, especially with Jefferson Davis and John Slidell,—that he had notoriously sympathized with them in those barbarous pretensions for Slavery which constitute the Origin and Mainspring of the Rebellion,—and that he had always voted with them in the Senate. All this is notorious; and if the old maxim, Noscitur a sociis, or, according to our familiar English, “A man is known by the company he keeps,” be not entirely obsolete, then this inquiry must commence with a presumption against such an intimate associate of the Rebels. But, while looking at the author, we must not forget the humble citizen intrusted with the letter. It is a fact, as I understand, that he has been since arrested for treason, and is now in the hands of the law, charged with the highest crime known to justice, while the author still occupies a seat in the Senate. Perhaps this is only another illustration of the saying of Antiquity, that the law is a cobweb, holding the weak, but which the powerful break through with impunity. The agent is now in custody; the principal is yet in the Senate. So much at present with regard to the parties.

Next comes the letter itself. And here mark, if you please, first, the date, which is the 1st of March. This was at the very moment when the Rebellion was completely organized, and had assumed at all points the undisguised front of war. By various acts of violence it had forcibly dispossessed the National Government of all its military posts in the whole extensive region, except Fort Sumter and Fort Pickens, which it held in siege,—while, by other formal acts, it had assumed to dispossess the National Government of all jurisdiction, civil or military, throughout this region. That such acts constituted “levying of war,” within the meaning of the Constitution, is too plain for argument. This phrase, borrowed from the early statute of Edward the Third, has received positive interpretation in the country of its origin, according to which its meaning is clear. There is no better authority than Sir William Blackstone, who, when considering what is “levying of war,” says: “This may be done by taking arms, not only to dethrone the king, but under pretence to reform religion or the laws, or to remove evil counsellors, or other grievances, whether real or pretended: for the law does not, neither can it, permit any private man or set of men to interfere forcibly in matters of such high importance.”[129] And Lord Mansfield, Chief-Justice of England, on the trial of Lord George Gordon, declared it to be “the unanimous opinion of the Court, that an attempt, by intimidation and violence, to force the repeal of a law, was a levying war against the king, and high treason.”[130] I quote these authorities simply that this statement may not rest at any point on my assertion. At the date of this letter, then, there was actual levying of war by Jefferson Davis and his associates against the Government of the United States. And let me add, that this levying of war was not merely that moderate constructive levying of war described by Blackstone, but open, earnest, positive war, backed by armies and by batteries.

You will next observe the address of this letter. It is “To His Excellency, Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederation of States.” Bestowing upon this Pretender the title of “His Excellency,” the author certainly exhibits a courtesy—at least in form—which usage does not allow the President of the United States. It is well known, that, at the organization of the Government, the title of “Excellency,” together with all other titles, was, after debate, carefully rejected for our Chief Magistrate; but the author of this treasonable letter will not deny anything to the Chief of the Rebellion. His profusion appears at once, and his first words become a confession. Not by titles of courtesy do loyal Senators address a traitor. There has been a King of England who on one occasion was called only Charles Stuart, and there has been a King of France who on one occasion was called only Louis Capet; and these great instances show how even the loftiest and most established titles are refused, where treason is in question. Titles are sometimes insincere; but a title voluntarily bestowed testifies at least to the professions of him who bestows it. It is a token of respect, and an invitation to good-will, proceeding directly from the author. And in this spirit was this letter begun.

Not content with bestowing upon this Pretender a title of courtesy denied to our own President, the author proceeds to bestow upon him a further title of office and of power. He addresses him as “President of the Confederation of States,”—meaning the very States then engaged in levying war upon the National Government. So far as this author can go, just to the extent of his authority, the Pretender is recognized as President, and the Rebel States are described by the very title which, in defiance of the National Government, they assume. Our own Government steadfastly refuses this recognition. Foreign nations thus far follow substantially the policy of our own Government; but the author of this letter, at the time Senator, makes haste to offer recognition.

Perhaps this double criticism on the address of the letter may seem unimportant. It might be so, if the address had been used in conversation or debate, although then it would be tolerable only if used in derision. But it becomes important, when used directly to the Pretender himself; for then it signifies respect and recognition, while it discloses the mood of the author.

Look next at the contents, or the letter itself, and all that is implied in the address you will find painfully verified. The disloyalty which crops out in titles of courtesy and recognition becomes full-blown in the letter itself, whether we regard its general character or its special import; and I shall now consider these in their order.

In general character the letter is correspondence with a public enemy, in open war with our own country; or rather let me say it is correspondence with a public rebel. It is obvious that all correspondence of such a character, even without considering its special import, is open to suspicion. Throughout history it has been watched with jealous judgment, as in the cases of Bolingbroke and Atterbury in England, of Pichegru and Fouché in France. Tried even by those technical rules which in the present inquiry we reject, it may help to complete the evidence of treason itself. The well-chosen language of the Constitution, borrowed from an early resolution of the Continental Congress, by whom it was borrowed from the early English statute, authorizes this conclusion. According to the Constitution, “Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort.” Here are two classes of cases: the first is levying war, which Jefferson Davis, as we have already seen, was notoriously doing at the date of this letter; and the second is adhering to enemies, giving them aid and comfort. Even if mere correspondence with an enemy would not bring the author within the scope of these words, clearly and beyond all question such correspondence is calculated to give at least moral aid and comfort to the enemy. Nor is it to be disregarded on this occasion, even if it does not reach the technical requirement of treason. If we listen to the Supreme Court of the United States in the case of Bollman, we find this tribunal declaring, that, “if war be actually levied, that is, if a body of men be actually assembled for the purpose of effecting by force a treasonable purpose, all those who perform any part, however minute, or however remote from the scene of action, and who are actually leagued in the general conspiracy, are to be considered as traitors.”[131] Assuming the previous league, it cannot be doubted that an act of sympathy and friendship, though minute or remote, extended to persons in rebellion, would be evidence to bring the offender within the cautious grasp of the Constitution, even on technical grounds. If in the present case there was no previous league, there was at least a previous and most notorious fellowship, kindred to a league, by which the author was morally linked to the conspirators.

But the letter in question is a letter of sympathy and friendship, from beginning to end,—such a letter as only one friend could write to another friend. Dated at Washington on the 1st of March, it was calculated, if received by the Pretender, to give him hope and confidence, by inspiring the idea that here in the Senate Chamber there was at least one person still wearing this high trust, who, forgetting all that was due to his country, and forgetting all that was due to the Rebellion, reached forth his hand in friendly salutation. Dated at Washington on the 1st of March, it was calculated, if received, to awaken doubt of the loyalty of the Senate itself, and to encourage belief that here, in this sanctuary of the Constitution, treason might hatch undisturbed. So are we all knit together, that we are strengthened by human sympathy; and the Pretender would have felt new vigor, as the strength of the American Senate was transfused through the declared sympathies of an acknowledged member. The patriot soul recoils from the ancient traitor who flashed a signal torch from a beleaguered citadel; but one of our own number, who yet sits among us, has done this very thing.

Such is the necessary conclusion with regard to this letter, if we look at its general character. But when we consider its special import, the conclusion is still more irresistible. The letter clearly comes within the precise text of the Constitution. It is flat treason. I use no soft words, for the occasion does not allow it. Adhering to the enemy, giving them aid and comfort, must be proved by some overt act, of which Blackstone states the following instances: “As by giving them intelligence, by sending them provisions, by selling them arms, by treacherously surrendering a fortress, or the like.”[132] Such are precise words of this authority, and I do not stop to enforce them. But this letter is an overt act of adherence, giving aid and comfort, identical with the instances mentioned by Blackstone. Read it. “Allow me to introduce to your acquaintance,” so says the letter, “my friend Thomas B. Lincoln, of Texas.” The bearer of the letter is commended as a friend of the writer: but a friend is something more than associate or confederate; he is almost part of one’s self. Thus accredited, his errand is next announced: “He visits your capital mainly to dispose of what he regards a great improvement in fire-arms.” Mark the words “your capital.” Such is the language of an American Senator, writing to the Pretender, whose standard of Rebellion was then flying at Montgomery, in Alabama, which is thus deferentially designated as his capital. Observe next the declared object of the visit. It is “to dispose of what he regards a great improvement in fire-arms.” Thus does an American Senator send actual, open, unequivocal aid to the Chief of the Rebellion. It is true, he does not send him rifles or cannon; but he sends him “a great improvement in fire-arms,” through which rifles and cannon and other instruments of death, then preparing to be employed by Rebel hands against the patriot armies of the Republic, might be made more deadly. What are a few rifles, or a few cannon, by the side of such a comprehensive gift? When France, through the disguised agency of a successful dramatist,[133] sent ordnance and muskets to our Revolutionary fathers, she mixed herself positively in the contest, and, under the Law of Nations, Great Britain was justified in regarding her conduct as an act of war. And when an American Senator, without disguise, sends “a great improvement in fire-arms” to the Rebel chief, then engaged in levying war against his country, he mixes himself in the Rebellion, so that under Municipal Law he is a traitor. This conclusion is harsh, and I state it painfully; but it is according to the irresistible logic of the law and the facts.

But the letter contains other language to aggravate its guilt. Not content with sending the “great improvement in fire-arms,” the bearer is thus accredited to the Rebel chief: “I commend him to your favorable consideration, as a gentleman of the first respectability, and reliable in every respect.” An American citizen going forth on an errand of treason is thus exalted by an American Senator. The open traitor is announced as “a gentleman of the first respectability.” This is much to say of anybody; it is too much to say of an open traitor. But he is “reliable in every respect.” All language is to be construed with reference to the matter which it concerns. The bearer of this letter, going forth on an errand of treason, is “reliable in every respect”; and as the universal contains the special, he is reliable especially for the purposes of his treason: and this is the commendation which he bears to the Rebel chief from an American Senator.

Such a letter naturally begins, “My dear Sir,”—for the Chief of the Rebellion is evidently dear to the writer. That such a letter should be signed, “Very truly yours, Jesse D. Bright,” is natural also, and the words are not mere form. The author evidently, according to the contents of the letter,—as appears alike in its general character and its special import,—belongs to the Rebel chief, and is one of his “own.” In writing to the Rebel chief, he honestly begins, “My dear Sir,” and honestly closes, “Very truly yours”; but a person thus beginning and thus closing a letter of treason, volunteered to the declared enemy of his country, can hardly expect welcome to the confidential duties of this body.

Of course, in this inquiry, I assume the genuineness of the letter. If this letter were to be considered on technical grounds, the evidence would not be disdained even under the conservative words of our Constitution, according to which “no person shall be convicted of treason, unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession in open court.” We have had the confession of the writer in open Senate, following similar confession in a supplementary letter, to which reference has been made in this debate. There can be no doubt on this point, and the writer must stand or fall by this letter, unless something has occurred since which can be accepted in extenuation of the unfortunate transaction.

It is true that the bearer of the letter was not able to present it. Before consummating his errand of treason, he was arrested by the watchful officers of the law, and, as we have already seen, is now in custody. The agent is in the hands of the law, while we debate on the seat of his principal. At the risk of introducing a superfluous topic, I cannot forbear adding that the crime of the principal was perfect when he wrote the letter and delivered it to his agent. It was expressly decided in England long ago, that a treasonable communication, “though intercepted, is an overt act of treason”; and this early principle was repeated by the Court of King’s Bench, speaking by the voice of Lord Mansfield, in the case of Dr. Hensey,[134] and again by the same court, under Lord Kenyon, in the case of William Stone.[135] It is completely applicable to the present case, even if our inquiry proceeded on technical grounds.

But the history of the transaction is not yet complete. Other incidents have occurred since, which are strangely offered in extenuation of the original crime. At the arrest of the agent, towards the close of last summer, the letter was found among his papers. Of course it excited much attention and some feeling. This was natural. At last the author, who still sits among us, addressed a second letter to his late colleague in this body [Mr. Fitch].

Mr. Bright (from his seat). It was not to my late colleague; it was to another Mr. Fitch.

Mr. Sumner. Very well. The letter, dated “At my Farm, September 7, 1861,” proceeds as follows: “The letter to which you refer is no doubt genuine. I have no recollection of writing it; but if Mr. Lincoln,” the bearer of the letter, “says I did, then I am entirely satisfied of the fact; for I am quite sure I would have given, as a matter of course, just such a letter of introduction to any friend who had asked it.” Thus, as late as the 7th of September, in the retirement of his farm, the original letter was approved and sanctioned. I would not exaggerate the effect of this second letter, as I need not exaggerate any point in this unhappy case; but, in view of the character of the original letter, the second letter can only be considered as marking either stolid hardihood of guilt or stolid insensibility to those rules of duty without which no man can be a good citizen; but either way, it only adds to the offensive character of the original transaction, and makes the duty of the Senate more plain.

I do not dwell on other topics of this second letter, because, though exhibiting bad temper and bad principles, they do not necessarily conduct to treason. The author is welcome to express “utter contempt for Abolitionism,” and also to declare his early and constant opposition to what he calls “the entire coercive policy of the Government.” Such declarations may render him an unsafe counsellor, but they do not stamp him as traitor. And it belongs to us, while purging this body of disloyalty in all its forms, to maintain at all hazards that freedom of speech which is herald and safeguard of all other freedom.

There is other testimony which aggravates the case still further. Not content with writing the traitorous letter, on the 1st of March, 1861, not content with approving and sanctioning this letter on the 7th of September, the author very recently rose in the place yet conceded to him in this Chamber, and deliberately said: “I have done nothing that I would not do over again under the same circumstances, and that I am not prepared to defend here or elsewhere.”[136] These words were uttered on this floor, in debate on another case which occurred as late as the 7th of January of this year. Thus was the original act of the 1st of March again affirmed, and the relations existing at that time with the Rebel chief proclaimed and vindicated; and all this in the American Senate, without a blush. Alas for that sensitive virtue which is the grace and strength alike of individuals and of communities! Surely it was wanting in him who could thus brave a just judgment: I fear it was wanting also in ourselves, when he was permitted to go without instant rebuke.

But I hear the suggestion, that at the date of this letter war was not yet flagrant, and that the author did not anticipate an actual conflict of arms. The first part of this suggestion is notoriously false. War had already begun, in the seizure of forts, and in the muster of Rebel armies; nay, more, in the very presence of the author, the gage of battle was flung down on this floor by Senators leaving to take part in the Rebellion. This has been unanswerably shown by the Senator from Minnesota [Mr. Wilkinson]. But the second part of the suggestion attributes to the author an ignorance of the well-known condition of things, inconsistent with his acknowledged intelligence. If the progress and development of the Rebellion had been in secret, if it had been masked by an impenetrable privacy, if it had been shrouded in congenial darkness, then this apology might be entitled to attention. But the Rebellion was open and complete; and on the 1st of March it was armed from head to foot, and in battle array against the National Government. Such was the actual condition of things, patent, certain, conspicuous to the whole country. And permit me to say that any apology now offered on pretext of ignorance shows simply a disposition to evade a just responsibility at any hazard of personal character.

I note the further suggestion, that the letter was written in carelessness, or in heedlessness, if you please, and without treasonable intent. Of course such a suggestion must be futile; for every man is presumed to know the natural consequences of his conduct. This is the rule of law, and the rule of patriotism. No man can be admitted to set up any carelessness or heedlessness as apology for treason. And I doubt not you will all agree with me, that a patriot Senator cannot be careless or heedless, when his country is in peril.

But I catch yet another suggestion, that this letter is trivial and insignificant to justify the condemnation of a Senator. Then, indeed, is disloyalty trivial; then is treason itself trivial. It is true, the letter is curt; it contains a single short paragraph only; but I have yet to learn that crime is measured by paragraphs or sentences, and that treason may not be found in a few words as well as in many. True, also, the letter is familiar in tone; but treason is a subtle wickedness, which sometimes stalks in state and sometimes shuffles in homely disguise. It is our duty to detect and to judge it, whatever form it takes.

Mr. President, let me not be unjust,—let me not lean even ungently against an offender; but you will pardon me, if I add, that against precise testimony, and in the face of unquestioned facts, I can find little in any present professions of loyalty to be accepted even in extenuation of the offence. The duty of the Senate depends upon former conduct, and not upon present professions. It is difficult to imagine any present professions which can restore the confidence essential to the usefulness of a Senator. It is in the hour of trial and doubt that men show themselves as they are, laying up for the future weal or woe,—and not afterwards, when all temptation to disloyalty is lost in the assured danger it must encounter, and when all positions have become fixed by events. Nor do I forget that mere professions have too often been a cover for falsehood. I refer again to the story of Benedict Arnold. After making his escape from the fort which he was about to betray, and finding shelter on board the British frigate, the Vulture, then swimming in the North River, he addressed a letter to General Washington, which begins as follows.

“On board the Vulture, 25 September, 1780.

“Sir:—The heart which is conscious of its own rectitude cannot attempt to palliate a step which the world may censure as wrong. I have ever acted from a principle of love to my country, since the commencement of the present unhappy contest between Great Britain and the Colonies: the same principle of love to my country actuates my present conduct, however it may appear inconsistent to the world, who very seldom judge right of any man’s actions.”[137]

Perhaps these very words might now be repeated by the person whose seat is in question. He may not fancy being classed with Benedict Arnold; but the professions of that fugitive traitor are identical with the professions to which we have listened on this floor. There is still another letter to General Washington from the same quarter, only a few days later, that is equally suggestive. Arnold protests against the arrest and impending execution of Major André, who, he says, acted under his directions, and his promise of protection; and he adds, “As commanding officer in the department, I had an undoubted right to transact all these matters,”[138]—precisely as the person whose seat is in question avers in letter and debate that he had undoubted right to open that traitorous correspondence with the Chief of the Rebellion. But I proceed no further with this parallel.

Sir, if the present question were to be decided on grounds of sympathy, it would be pleasant to record our names so as to give the least personal pain. But we should act weakly and ignobly, if on any such ground we failed in the double duty now so urgent,—first, to the Senate, of which we are members, and next, to that country which has a right to our truest and most unhesitating devotion. If there be among us any person still enjoying the confidential trusts, legislative, diplomatic, and executive, of this Chamber, who, since Rebellion hoisted its flag and pointed its cannon, has failed in that loyalty which is an inviolable obligation,—even though his offence may not have the deepest dye of treason,—he is unworthy of a seat in the Senate; and be assured, Sir, that our country, which knows so well how to pardon all that is pardonable, expects that no such person, whatever his present professions, shall be recognized any longer as Senator.

Do not hesitate, then. The case is clear, and impartial history will so record it. No argument, no apology, no extenuation can remove or mitigate its requirements. There is a courage which belongs to this peaceful Chamber as much as to the battle-field, and now is the occasion for it. Above all, let no false tenderness substitute sympathy for judgment; and remember well, that, while casting out a faithless Senator, you will elevate the Senate and inspire the country.

Mr. Sumner was followed on the same day by Mr. Lane, of Indiana, colleague of Mr. Bright, and then by Mr. Bright himself, who was especially bitter in allusion to him, alleging personal difference as the motive of his conduct. Mr. Sumner replied at once to this imputation.

Mr. President,—The Senator from Indiana [Mr. Bright], in the speech he has just made, referred to his personal relations with myself, and intimated, if he did not charge, that there had been some personal question or difference between us. Sir,——

Mr. Bright. Mr. President,——

Mr. Sumner. Excuse me.

Mr. Bright. I intimated no such thing, Sir.

Mr. Sumner. Let me finish. Sir, that is not the fact. Since I have been a member of this body, now more than ten years, it has been my fortune to mix in the debates on important public questions. On these occasions I have encountered, as the record shows, the opposition of that Senator, and of his constant associates in this body, all of them now in open rebellion. With the Senator and his constant associates I never had personal question or difference. Therefore, when the Senator asserts any such thing, or suggests it, he goes entirely beyond the record, and I could not allow the debate to close to-night without interposing my positive denial.

Sir, I have approached this painful question free from all personal prejudice. I have no feeling against the Senator. There has been nothing in our past relations to turn the scales by a feather’s weight.

The speech of Mr. Bright, to which allusion is made, does not appear in the official report. It was taken down and written out by the reporters, and then submitted to Mr. Bright, who never returned the manuscript. At the proper place in the Congressional Globe,[139] where the speech should be, is the following: “Mr. Bright next addressed the Senate. [His speech will be published in the Appendix.]” It is not found in the Appendix, which is explained by the following in the Index for the Session, under the name of Jesse D. Bright: “The manuscript of the speech referred to on page 418 was retained by Mr. B.” So that the speech was suppressed by him.

February 4th, after several others had spoken, Mr. Sumner spoke again as follows.

Mr. President,—This debate is about to close; but before the vote is taken I wish briefly to review it, and to show again that there is but one conclusion which can truly satisfy the Senate or the country. If your last judgment in this case were not of incalculable importance both for the Senate and the country, helping to elevate the one and to inspire the other, I should not venture again to claim your attention. Such a precedent, so fruitful in good influences, should be completely commended and vindicated, that it may remain forever a commanding example.

Among all who have spoken, we naturally yield precedence on this occasion to the Senator from Indiana [Mr. Bright]. His speech was not long, but it afforded ample ground for regret, if not for condemnation. It showed offensively the same spirit which is found in the original letter; nor did it suggest anything in apology, except that the bearer of the letter was his lifelong friend, and that, when writing the letter, he did not dream of war: in other words, an act of unquestionable disloyalty was put under the double cloak of lifelong friendship and professed ignorance. The real condition of things was not noticed, while he sought to serve a friend. Because the bearer of the letter was his lifelong friend, and because the Senator did not see war ahead, therefore he was justified in sending forth this lifelong friend on an errand of disloyalty, ay, of treason itself, and of making him the instrument of aid and comfort to an organized rebellion. Of course such an argument shows weakness, and not strength; and the very weakness out of which it sprung naturally became impassioned and unjust. If any personal feeling could disturb that perfect equanimity which with me, on this occasion, is a sentiment and a duty, I might complain of that vindictive tone which broke forth, not only in personal imputation, but also in menace that what I said on the case of the Senator I dared not say again here or elsewhere; but I make no complaint. It is sufficient for me that I spoke in the conscious discharge of duty, and that I know of nothing in the vindictive tone or in the menace of the Senator that can interfere with such duty, as I understand it. Therefore I put aside what he has said, whether of personal imputation, or of personal menace, or of argument; for they all leave him worse than if he had continued silent.

I put aside also the elaborate argument, lasting for more than a whole day, of the Senator from Kentucky [Mr. Davis], practically exalting Slavery above the Constitution, and, while life is sacrificed and property is taken, while great rights are trodden down and all human energies are enlisted in defence of our country, insisting that Slavery alone is too sacred to be touched. Sir, I put aside this argument, because it is utterly out of place and irrelevant; and I trust it is not my habit in debate to ramble from that straight line which is the shortest way to the desired point. There is a time to sow and a time to reap; and there will be a time to discuss the constitutional power of Congress to end this Rebellion, even if, in so doing, it is constrained to end Slavery itself.

I put aside, also, the suggestion of the Senator from New York [Mr. Harris], to the effect that the Senator from Indiana is now on trial, that our proceedings are judicial, and that the evidence before us is insufficient to satisfy the requirements of such a case. Surely this assumption proceeds on a mistake. The Senator from Indiana is not on trial, in the ordinary understanding of that term; nor are our proceedings judicial; nor is the evidence insufficient for the case. Under the Constitution, each House, with the concurrence of two thirds, may expel a member; but this large discretionary power is given simply for the protection of the body in the exercise of an honest and honorable self-defence. The Senate itself is on trial just as much as the Senator; and permit me to say that the Senate will condemn itself, if it allow any person to continue among its members who has forfeited that peculiar confidence in his loyalty which is essential to his usefulness as Senator. It is vain to say that the evidence is insufficient. Technically and judicially it may be so; but according to all legislative precedents and all the rules of common life it is obviously sufficient, for it is beyond all practical doubt. My friend from New York did not hesitate at this session to vote for the expulsion of Breckinridge, of Polk, and of Johnson, without one scrap of evidence that he would recognize as a judge on the bench. How can he require evidence now which he did not require then?

I put aside, also, the argument of the Senator from Pennsylvania [Mr. Cowan], so carefully and elaborately stated, to the effect that on the 1st of March, when the disloyal letter was written, there was no war actually existing between the Rebel States and the United States. Even if this assumption were correct, even if the United States were still hesitating what course to adopt, nothing is clearer than this: the Rebel States were in rebellion,—organized, armed, and offensive,—with the avowed purpose of overthrowing the National Government within their borders; and such rebellion was, beyond all question, a levying of war under the Constitution of the United States, so that all adherence to it, giving aid and comfort, was treason itself. But even if not disposed to admit actual levying of war on the part of the Rebels,—though of this there can be no doubt,—there was surely preparation and purpose so to do; and any contribution to such preparation and purpose was disloyalty, if not treason. Clearly, Jefferson Davis at that time was a traitor, at the head of traitors. What, then, can be thought of a Senator who offered arms to him?

I put aside, also, the suggestion of the Senator from New Jersey [Mr. Ten Eyck], founded on the language of the President in his inaugural address of the 4th of March. It is true that the President spoke of the Rebels in generous, fraternal words, such as became the Chief Magistrate of a great people, not yet renouncing the idea of conquering by kindness, and not forgetting that Leviathan was tamed by a cord. But, whatever the language of the President, it is none the less clear that the Rebellion at that very moment was completely organized by a succession of overt acts, which fixed the treasonable position of its authors, and especially of its chief, to whom the letter offering arms was addressed.

I put aside, also, the argument of the Senator from California [Mr. Latham], especially that part founded on the tolerance shown to treason, when uttered here by the retiring Rebels. Nobody questions that treason was uttered on this floor, or that treasonable counsels went forth from this Chamber. But the Senate was then controlled by the associates of the Senator of Indiana, and it was not in our power to check or chastise the traitors. It is within the recollection of many that those utterances were heard on this side of the Chamber, not only with indignant patriotism, but with bitter, stinging regret at the abject condition of the Senate, then so entirely in the hands of traitors that we were obliged to hear in silence. Surely such utterances, wicked with treason, constituting the very voice of the Rebellion, cannot be an apology for the disloyal letter of the Senator; nor can silence, when we were powerless to act, be any argument for silence now that power and responsibility are ours.

I agree with the Senator from Illinois [Mr. Browning], that the whole conduct and declaration of the author may be legitimately employed to elucidate the character of this letter; but I found no supplementary charge on such conduct or declaration. Others may use the argument that the Senator has declared himself against coercion of the Rebel States, or that he has refused to vote the necessary means for the suppression of the Rebellion; but I use no such argument. Much as I lament such a course, and justly obnoxious as I regard it, yet I cannot consider it as an argument for expulsion of the Senator. Freedom of debate is among the triumphs of modern civilization; and it shall never be impaired by any vote or word of mine. To this freedom I have held fast, when almost alone in this body; and what I have steadily vindicated for myself against all odds I shall never deny to another. Therefore, if I am the judge, there is no Senator who will not always be perfectly free to speak and vote as he thinks best on every question that shall legitimately arise; but beyond this immunity he must not go. He shall not talk treason; he shall not parley with rebellion; he shall not address to it words of sympathy and good-will; especially, he shall not recognize its chief in his pretended character of President, nor shall he send him improved fire-arms to be employed in the work of treason.

Putting aside all these considerations, the case against the Senator from Indiana is clear. All apologies, all excuses, utterly fail. It is vain to say that the bearer of the letter was his lifelong friend, as it is vain to say, also, that the Senator did not dream that there would be war. The first apology is as feeble as the second is audacious. If the Senator did not dream that there would be war, then why send arms to the chief of the Rebellion? To Jefferson Davis as a private citizen, to Jefferson Davis as a patriot Senator, there was no occasion or motive for sending arms. It was only to Jefferson Davis as chief of the Rebellion that arms could be sent; and to him, in that character, they were sent. But even if the Rebellion were not at that time manifest in overt acts,—as it clearly was,—still the sending of arms was a positive provocation and contribution to its outbreak, especially when the arms were sent by a Senator. And now, at the risk of repetition, I say again, it is not necessary that the war should have been commenced on the part of the United States. It is enough, that, on the part of Jefferson Davis, at the date of the letter, there was actual levying of war, or, at least, a purpose to levy war; and in either of these two cases, the latter as well as the former, the guilt of the Senator offering arms is complete,—call it treason, or simply disloyalty, if you will.

It is vain that you seek to surround the Senatorial letter-writer with the technical defences of a judicial tribunal. This will not do. They are out of place. God grant, that, in the administration of justice, a citizen arraigned for his life may always be presumed innocent till he is proved guilty! But, while zealously asserting this presumption in a criminal trial, I utterly deny it in the present case. The two proceedings are radically unlike. In the one we think most of the individual; in the other we think most of the Senate. The flag-officer of a fleet, or the commander of a garrison, when only suspected of correspondence with the enemy, is without delay deprived of command; nor can any technical presumption of innocence be invoked in his defence. For the sake of the fleet, for the sake of the garrison, which must not be betrayed, it is your duty to see that he is deprived of command. Nor can a suspected Senator, with all his confidential trusts, legislative, diplomatic, and executive, expect any tolerance denied to a suspected flag-officer, or to a suspected commander of a garrison. If not strong, pure, and upright in himself, he must not expect to find strength, purity, and uprightness in any presumption of innocence, or in any technical rule of law. For the sake of the Senate, he must be deprived of his place. Afterwards, should he be arraigned at law, he will be allowed to employ all the devices and weapons familiar to judicial proceedings.

There is another illusion into which the Senator has fallen; and it seems to me that the Senator from New York, and perhaps other Senators, have followed him. It is the assumption, that, in depriving the Senator of his seat, we take from him something that is really his. This is a mistake. A Senator is simply a trustee. The Senator is trustee for Indiana. But his fidelity as trustee is now drawn in question; and since no person is allowed to continue as trustee whose character is not above suspicion,—inspired uberrimâ fide, according to the language of the law,—the case of the Senator should obviously be remanded to the State for which he still assumes to act. Should he be wronged by expulsion, then will that State promptly return him to his present trust, and our judgment will be generously reversed. The Senator has no right for himself here; he does not represent himself; but he represents his State, of which he is the elected, most confidential trustee; and when his fidelity is openly impeached, there is no personal right which can become his shield. Tell me not of the seat of the Senator. Let the Senator be cautious in language. By courtesy the seat may be his; but in reality the seat belongs to Indiana; and this honored State, unsurpassed in contributions to the patriot armies of the Republic, may justly protest against longer misrepresentation on this floor by a disloyal Senator.

But the Senator from Pennsylvania [Mr. Cowan] exclaims—and the Senator from New York follows him—that the offence of the Senator is “treason or nothing.” For myself, I have no hesitation in expressing the conviction that it is treason. If it be not treason in a Senator to send arms to an open traitor, whom he at the same time acknowledges in his traitorous character, then it were better to blot out the crime of treason from our statute-book, and to rase its definition from the Constitution. Sir, it is treason. But even if not treason according to all the technical requirements of that crime, obviously and unquestionably it is an act of disloyalty so discreditable, so unworthy, and so dangerous as to render the duty of the Senate imperative. Is it nothing that the Senator should write a friendly letter, make open acknowledgment, and offer warlike aid to a public traitor? Is it nothing, that, sitting in this Chamber, the Senator should send to the chief of the Rebellion words of sympathy and arms of power? Is it nothing that the Senator should address the traitor in terms of courtesy and official respect? Is it nothing that the Senator should call the traitor “His Excellency,” and should hail him “President of the Confederation of States”? And is it nothing that the Senator should offer to the traitor thus addressed what of all things he most coveted, to be turned against the Constitution which the Senator has sworn to support?

Sir, the case is too plain for argument. You cannot argue that two and two make four, that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points, or that the sun shines in the sky. All these are palpable to reason or to sense. But, if I did not see before me honored Senators, valued friends, who think otherwise, I should say that to the patriot soul it is hardly less palpable that a Senator, acknowledging in friendly correspondence the chief of a Rebellion set on foot in defiance of the United States, and sending to him arms, whose only possible use was in upholding the Rebellion, has justly forfeited that confidence which is as much needed as a commission to assure his seat in this Chamber. The case is very plain, and we have taken too much time to consider it. We have been dilatory when we ought to have been prompt, and have hearkened to technical defences when we should have surrendered to that indignation which disloyalty is calculated to arouse.

The Senator from New Hampshire [Mr. Clark] has reminded us—as John Quincy Adams reminded another generation—of that beautiful work of Art in the other wing of the Capitol, where the Muse of History, with faithful pen, registers the transactions of each day, and he trusted that over against the record of past disloyalty another page might beam with the just judgment that followed. But there is another work of Art, famous as Art itself, and proceeding from its greatest master, which may admonish us precisely what to do. The ancient satrap Heliodorus, acting in the name of a distant sovereign, entered that sumptuous temple dedicated to the true God, where stood the golden candlesticks and hung the veil which was yet unrent, and profanely seized the riches under protection of the altar itself, when suddenly, at the intercession of the high priest, an angelic horseman armed with thongs is seen to dash the intruder upon the marble pavement, and to sweep him with scourges from the sacred presence. Now that disloyalty, in the acknowledged name of a distant traitor, intrudes into this sanctuary of the Constitution, and insists upon a place at our altar, there should be indignant chastisement, swift as the angelic horseman that moves immortal in the colors of Raffaelle. In vain do you interpose appeals for lenity or forbearance. The case does not allow them. I know well the beauty and the greatness of charity. For the Senator I have charity; but there is a better charity due to the Senate, whose solemn trusts are in jeopardy; and even if you do not accept completely the saying of Antiquity, which makes duty to country the great charity embracing all other charities, you will not deny that it is at least a commanding obligation, by the side of which all that we owe the Senator is small. And, Sir, let us not forget, let the precious example be present in our souls, that He who taught the beauty and the greatness of charity was the first to scourge the money-changers from the temple of the Lord.

Mr. Davis, of Kentucky, followed. Some of his words are quoted, from their bearing on Mr. Sumner’s opposition to Slavery.

“The gentleman shakes his imperial locks like a Jove, and menaces death and destruction to Slavery. I thank my stars that the gentleman is not yet the Jove of this land, nor the Jove of this Senate either. There are minds as exalted and as cultivated as his, and there are wills as patriotic and as true to the Constitution and to the country as his, and altogether independent of his; and it is to those minds that I appeal, whenever a question involving the interests of my constituents comes up here, not to the mind of the gentleman from Massachusetts. I know, Sir, what fate would await Slavery, if he could speak the fiat. He is, however, but one member of this body.”

February 5th, after further debate, the final vote was taken on the resolution of expulsion, and resulted in yeas 32, nays 14.

The Vice-President. Upon this question the yeas are 32, the nays are 14. More than two thirds having agreed to the resolution, it is passed. [Applause in the galleries.]

The Vice-President. Order! Order!

The Washington correspondent of a Northern journal described the scene of the vote.

“All seemed to feel that they were acting, not for the present only, but for coming time. The great crowd of spectators filling every available spot, and the presence of many of the members of the House, added to the impressiveness of the scene. Amid breathless anxiety and profound silence the roll-call commenced. For a time the ayes and noes bore a doubtful proportion. Senator Willey, having held his vote in abeyance till the last, had just announced that he should vote against the expulsion, and Senator Carlile, who had been generally supposed to favor the resolution, also joined his colleague among the noes. As the vote proceeded, the ayes became almost uninterrupted, and we were prepared for the result. A few moments more and the event was over,—felt by those who witnessed it to be scarcely less solemn than the infliction of death itself, and which will probably be cited in precedent when all its spectators shall have long been dust.”