The agreement which was to lead to victory was then adopted, each one severally pledging himself to it that there should be no adjournment of the senate after the resolution was called until it was passed, and that it should be called immediately after the morning business on the Monday ensuing. Expecting a protracted session extending through the day and night, and knowing the difficulty of keeping men steady to their work and in good humor when tired and hungry, the mover of the proceeding took care to provide as far as possible against such a state of things, and gave orders that night to have an ample supply of cold hams, turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, wines and cups of hot coffee ready in a certain committee-room near the senate chamber by four o'clock on the afternoon of Monday.
The motion to take up the subject was made at the appointed time, and immediately a debate of long speeches, chiefly on the other side, opened itself upon the question. As the darkness of approaching night came on and the great chandelier was lit up, splendidly illuminating the chamber then crowded with the members of the house, and the lobbies and galleries filled to their utmost capacity with visitors and spectators, the scene became grand and impressive. A few spoke on the side of the resolution, chiefly Rivers, Buchanan and Niles, and with an air of ease and satisfaction that bespoke a quiet determination and consciousness of victory.
The committee-room was resorted to in parties of four and six at a time, always leaving enough on watch, and not resorted to by one side alone. The opposition were invited to a full participation, an invitation of which those who were able to maintain their temper availed themselves of, but the greater part were not in a humor to eat anything—especially at such a feast. The night was wearing away, the expungers were in full force, masters of the chamber happy and visibly determined to remain. It became evident to the great opposition leaders that the inevitable hour had come that the 'damnable deed was to be done that night,' and that the dignity of silence was no longer to them a tenable position.
The battle was going against them, and they must go into it without being able to re-establish it. In the beginning they had not considered the expunging movement a serious proceeding, as it advanced they still expected it to miscarry on some point, now the reality of the thing stood before them confronting their presence and refusing to "down" at any command.
Mr. Calhoun opposed the measure in a speech of great severity. The day, said he, is gone, night approaches and night is suitable to the dark deed we meditate; there is a sort of destiny in this thing, the act must be performed, and it is an act which will tell upon the political history of this country forever. Mr. Clay indulged in unmeasured denunciation of the whole thing. The last speech in opposition to the measure was made by Mr. Webster, who employed the strongest language he could command condemnatory of an act which he declared was so unconstitutional, so derogatory to the character of the senate, and marked with so broad an impression of compliance with power. But though thus pronounced an irregular and unconstitutional proceeding by Mr. Webster and the other senators with whom he sided and voted, Mr. John Quincy Adams, who was at the time a member of the house, and in direct antagonism, politically, with Mr. Benton, and to the Jackson administration held a different opinion.
Midnight was now approaching. The dense masses which filled every inch of the room in the lobbies and in the galleries remained immovable. No one went out, no one could get in. The floor of the Senate was crammed with privileged persons, and it seemed that all Congress was there. Expectation and determination to see the conclusion were depicted on every countenance. It was evident there was to be no adjournment until the vote should be taken—until the deed was done, and this aspect of invincible determination had its effect upon the ranks of the opposition. They began to falter under a useless resistance; they alone now did the talking, and while Mr. Webster was yet reciting his protest two Senators from the opposition side who had been best able to maintain their equanimity, came around to the mover of the resolution and said: 'This question has degenerated into a trial of nerves and muscles. It has become a question of physical endurance, and we see no use in wearing ourselves out to keep off for a few hours longer what has to come before we separate. We see that you are able and determined to carry your measure—so call the vote as soon as you please. We shall say no more.'
Webster concluded. No one arose. There was a pause, a dead silence, and an intense feeling. Presently the silence was invaded by the single word 'question'—the parliamentary call for a vote—rising from the seats of different Senators. One blank in the resolve remained to be filled—the date of its adoption. It was done. The acting President of the Senate, Mr. King, of Alabama, then directed the roll to be called. The yeas and nays had been previously ordered, and proceeded to be called by the Secretary of the Senate, the result showing a majority of five on the side of the expungers.
The passage of the resolution was announced by the chair. Mr. Benton arose, and said that nothing now remained but to execute the order of the Senate, which he moved to be done forthwith. It was ordered accordingly. The secretary thereupon produced the original manuscript journal of the Senate, and opening at the page which contained the condemnatory sentence of March 28, 1834, proceeded in open Senate to draw a square of broad black lines around the sentence, and to write across its face in strong letters: Expunged by order of the Senate this 16th day of January, 1837.