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?
“Is this nothing?
Why, then the world, and all that’s in ’t, is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing: …
… nor nothing have these nothings,