I now come upon that swarm of technicalities, devices, quirks, and
quibbles, which from the beginning have infested this proceeding. It is
hard to speak of such things without showing a contempt not entirely
parliamentary. To say that they are petty and miserable is not enough.
To say that they are utterly unworthy of this historic occasion is to
treat them politely. They are nothing but parasitic insects, “vermin
gendered in a lion’s mane,”--so nimble and numerous, that, to deal with
them as they skip about, one must have the patience of the Italian
peasant, who catches and kills, one by one, the diminutive animals
that infest his person. The public has not forgotten the exhibition of
“industrious fleas.” The Senate has witnessed the kindred exhibition of
“industrious quibbles.”
I can give specimens only, and out of many I take one which can never
be forgotten. It is found in the Opinion of the Senator from West
Virginia [Mr. VAN WINKLE], which, from beginning to end, treats this
impeachment as if it were a prosecution for sheep-stealing in the
police-court of Wheeling, and brings to the defence the unhesitating
resources of a well-trained criminal lawyer. This famous Opinion,
which is without parallel in the annals of jurisprudence, must always
be admired as the marvel of technicality in a proceeding where
technicality should not intrude. It stands by itself, solitary in
originality. Others have been technical also, but the Senator from West
Virginia is nothing else. Travelling from point to point, or rather
seeing point after point skip before him, at last he lights upon one
of the largest dimensions, which he boldly seizes and presents to the
Senate.
According to him, there is no allegation in the Articles that the
order for the removal of Mr. Stanton was actually delivered to him,
and, this being so, the Senator declares, that, “if there is evidence
of a delivery to be found in the proceedings, it cannot be applicable
to this Article, in which there is no charge or averment.” And this
is gravely uttered on this transcendent occasion, when an indignant
people has risen to demand judgment of a criminal ruler. The Article
alleges that the order was “unlawfully issued,” and nobody doubts that
its delivery was proved; but this is not enough, according to the
Senator. I challenge history for another instance of equal absurdity
in legal pretension. The case approaching it the closest is the famous
extravagance of the Crown lawyer in the British Parliament, who, in
reply to the argument of our fathers that they could not be taxed
without representation, bravely insisted that they were represented,
and sustained himself by declaring, that, under the Colonial charters,
the lands were held in common socage as “of the manor of Greenwich in
Kent,” and, as Greenwich was represented in Parliament, therefore the
Colonies were represented there.[211] The pretension was perfect in
form, but essentially absurd. The Senator from West Virginia outdoes
even this climax of technicality. Other generations, as they read this
great trial, with its accumulation of transgressions ending in the
removal of Mr. Stanton, will note with wonder that a principal reason
assigned for the verdict of Not Guilty was the failure of the Articles
to allege that the order for removal was actually received, although
there was a distinct allegation that it was “unlawfully issued,”
with evidence that it was received, and no human being, not even the
technical Senator, imagined that it was not. But how inconsistent
with the Law of Impeachment already set forth,[212] which seeks
substantial justice, and will not be arrested by any nice requirements!
Lord Mansfield did not hesitate to condemn certain objections as
“disgraceful subtilties.” What would he have said to the Senator from
West Virginia?
There is another invention, which has in its support some of the
ablest of the apologists, like the Senator from Iowa [Mr. GRIMES], the
Senator from Maine [Mr. FESSENDEN], and the Senator from Illinois [Mr.
TRUMBULL]. It is said, that, as Mr. Stanton did not go out, therefore
there was no removal, and therefore Andrew Johnson is not guilty. If
the authority of names could change the unreal into the real, then
this pretension might have weight. It is impossible that anything so
essentially frivolous should be recognized in this proceeding. Such
are the shifts of a cause to be defended only by shifts! Clearly the
offence of the President was in the order “unlawfully issued,” and this
was complete at the moment of its delivery. So far as depended upon
him, Mr. Stanton was removed. This is the way in which the country
saw the transaction, and the way also in which it will be recorded by
history.
But these same apologists, with curious inconsistency, when they come
to consider the appointment of Adjutant-General Thomas, insist that
there was vacancy in law, called by the Senator from Maine _legal_
vacancy. But such vacancy could be only because there had been removal
in law. There is no escape from this consequence. If there was removal
in law, and there was no right to make it, the President was guilty of
misdemeanor in law, and must take the consequences.
It would be unprofitable to follow these inventions further. From these
know all. In the face of Presidential pretensions inconsistent with
constitutional liberty, the apologists have contributed their efforts
to save the criminal by subtilties which can secure his acquittal in
form only, as by a flaw in an indictment; and they have done this,
knowing that he will be left in power to assert his prerogative, and
that his acquittal will be a new letter of license. Nothing the skill
of the lawyer could supply has been wanting. This learned profession
lends to the criminal all the arts in which it excels, giving all to
him and forgetting the Republic. Every doubt, every scruple, every
technicality, every subtilty, every quibble, is arrayed on his side,
when, by every rule of reason and patriotism, all should be arrayed
on the side of our country. The Public Safety, which is the supreme
law, is now imperilled. Are we not told by Blackstone that “the law is
always ready to catch at anything in favor of Liberty”?[213] But these
apologists catch at anything to save a usurper. In the early days of
the Common Law there were technicalities in abundance, but they were
for the maintenance of justice. On such was founded that extensive _ac
etiam_ jurisdiction of the King’s Bench, which gives occasion for the
elegant Commentator to remark, that, however startling these may be at
first to the student, “he will find them, upon further consideration,
to be highly beneficial and useful.”[214] These generous fictions for
the sake of justice must not be confounded with the devices by which
justice is defeated.
The trick of the apologists has been, by stringent application of
technical rules, to shut out all except offences charged, and then,
when stress was laid upon these offences, to cry out that at most they
were only technical, and too trifling for impeachment. To satisfy
lawyers, the House weakly declined to act on the bloody transgressions
of two years, but sought to provide against the future. Like the
Roman ambassadors, they traced a line about the offender, which he
was not to pass except at peril. This was the line of law. At last
he passed the line, openly, knowingly, defiantly; and now that he is
arraigned, we are told that this plain offence is nothing, only a
little technicality. One of the counsel at the bar, [Mr. GROESBECK,] in
a speech which showed how much feeling and talent could be given to a
wrong side, exclaimed:--
“It almost shocks me to think that the President of the United
States is to be dragged out of his office on these miserable
little questions whether he could make an _ad interim_
appointment for a single day.”
Only by excluding the whole context and all its antecedents could the
question be reduced to this trivial form; and yet, even thus reduced,
it involved nothing less than the supremacy of the laws.
I know not how such a question can be called “trifling.” Often a
great cause is presented on a narrow issue: as when English liberty
was argued on the claim of ship-money, which was a tax of a few
shillings only. Behind this question, called trifling by the kingly
apologists of that day, loftily stood the great cause of the People
against Prerogative, being the same now pending before the Senate.
That other cause, on which at a later day hung the destinies of this
continent, was presented on a narrower issue still. There was a tax
of threepence a pound on tea, which our fathers refused to pay. But
behind this question, so trifling to the apologists of prerogative,
as behind that of ship-money, stood loftily the same great cause. The
first cost Charles the First his head. The second cost George the Third
his colonies. If such a question can be disparaged as of small moment,
then have the martyred dead in all times suffered in vain, then was the
costly blood lavished for the suppression of our Rebellion an empty
sacrifice.
Constantly we are admonished that we must confine ourselves to the
Articles. Senators express a pious horror at looking outside the
Articles, and insist upon directing attention to these only. Here
the Senator from Maine is very strong. It is “the specific offences
charged,” and these only, that he sees. He will not look at anything
else, although spread upon the record of the Senate, and filling the
land with accumulated horrors. Of course such a system of exclusion
sacrifices justice, belittles this trial, and forgets that essential
latitude of inquiry which belongs to a political proceeding, having
for its purpose expulsion from office only, and not punishment. It is
easy, by looking at an object through the wrong end of an opera-glass,
to find it dwarfed, contracted, and solitary. This is not the way to
look at Nature; nor is it the way to look at Andrew Johnson. The great
offender should be seen in the light of day, precisely as he is, nor
more nor less, with nothing dwarfed, with no limits to the vision, and
with all the immense background of thronging transgressions filling
the horizon as far as eye can reach. The sight may ache; but how else
can justice be done? A Senator who begins by turning these Articles
into an inverted opera-glass takes the first step towards judgment of
acquittal. Alas that the words of Burke are not true, when, asserting
the comprehensive character of impeachment, he denied, that, under it,
“they who have no hope at all in the justice of their cause can have
any hope that by some subtilties of form, some mode of pleading, by
something, in short, different from the merits of the cause, they may
prevail.”[215] The orator was right in thus indignantly dismissing all
questions of pleading and all subtilties of form. This proceeding is
of substance, and not of form. It is on the merits only that it can be
judged. Anything short of this is the sacrifice of justice.
Such is the case of this enormous criminal. Events belonging to
history, enrolled in the records of the Senate, and familiar to the
country, are deliberately shut out from view, while we are treated to
legal niceties without end. The lawyers have made a painful record.
Nothing ever occurred so much calculated to bring the profession into
disrepute; for never before has been such a theatre where lawyers
were actors. Their peculiarities have been exhibited. Here was a
great question of justice, appealing to the highest sentiments, and
involving the best interests of the country; but lawyers, instinctive
for the dialectics of the profession, forgot everlasting truth, never
to be forgotten with impunity. They started at once in full cry, and
the quibble became to them what Dr. Johnson says it was to the great
dramatist: “He follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out
of his way, and sure to ingulf him in the mire. It has some malignant
power over his mind, and its fascinations are irresistible.… A quibble
is the golden apple for which he will always turn aside from his
career, or stoop from his elevation. A quibble, poor and barren as it
is, gave him such delight that he was content to purchase it by the
sacrifice of reason, propriety, and truth.”[216] In this Shakespearean
spirit our lawyers have acted. They have pursued quibbles with the
ardor of the great dramatist, and even now are chasing them through the
Senate Chamber.
Unhappily this is according to history, and our lawyers are not among
the splendid exceptions. But there is reward for those who stand
firm. Who does not reverence the exalted magistrate of France, the
Chancellor L’Hospital, who set the great example of rectitude and
perfect justice? Who does not honor those lawyers of English history
through whose toils Liberty was upheld? There was Selden, so wise and
learned; Pym, so grand in statesmanship; Somers, who did so much to
establish the best securities of the Constitution. Nor can I forget,
at a later day, that greatest advocate, Erskine, who lent to the
oppressed his wonderful eloquence; nor Mackintosh and Brougham, who
carried into courts that enlarged intelligence and sympathetic nature
which the profession of the law could not constrain. These are among
the names that have already had their reward, above the artful crowd
which in all times has come to the defence of prerogative. It is no
new thing that we witness now. The lawyer in other days has been, as
we know him, prone to the support of power, and ready with technical
reasons. Whichever side he takes, he finds reasons plenty as pins.
When free to choose, and not hired, his argument is the reflection of
himself. All that he says is his own image. He takes sides on a law
point according to his sentiments. Cultured in law, and with aptitude
sharpened by its contests, too easily he finds a legal reason for an
illegal judgment. Next to an outright mercenary, give me a lawyer to
betray a great cause. Forms of law lend themselves to the betrayal.
It is impossible to forget that the worst pretensions of prerogative,
no matter how colossal, have been shouldered by lawyers. It was they
who carried ship-money against the patriot exertions of Hampden; and
in our country it was they who held up Slavery in all its terrible
pretensions from beginning to end. What is sometimes called “the legal
mind” of Massachusetts, my own honored State, bent before the technical
reasoning which justified the unutterable atrocities of the Fugitive
Slave Bill, while the Supreme Court of the State adopted the crime from
the bench. Alas that it should be so! When will lawyers and judges see
that nothing short of justice can stand?