"But if the matter of expunction be contrary to the truth of the case, reproachful for its base subserviency, derogatory from the just and necessary powers of the Senate, and repugnant to the constitution of the United States, the manner in which it is proposed to accomplish this dark deed is also highly exceptionable. The expunging resolution, which is to blot out or enshroud the four or five lines in which the resolution of 1834 stands recorded, or rather the recitals by which it is preceded, are spun out into a thread of enormous length. It runs, whereas, and whereas, and whereas, and whereas, and whereas, &c., into a formidable array of nine several whereases. One who should have the courage to begin to read them, unaware of what was to be their termination, would think that at the end of such a tremendous display he must find the very devil."
And then coming to the conclusion, he concentrated his wrath and grief in an apostrophizing peroration, which lacked nothing but verisimilitude to have been grand and affecting. Thus:
"But why should I detain the Senate, or needlessly waste my breath in fruitless exertions. The decree has gone forth. It is one of urgency, too. The deed is to be done—that foul deed which, like the blood-stained hands of the guilty Macbeth, all ocean's waters will never wash out. Proceed, then, with the noble work which lies before you, and, like other skilful executioners, do it quickly. And when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and tell them what glorious honors you have achieved for our common country. Tell them that you have extinguished one of the brightest and purest lights that ever burnt at the altar of civil liberty. Tell them that you have silenced one of the noblest batteries that ever thundered in defence of the constitution, and bravely spiked the cannon. Tell them that, henceforward, no matter what daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you have for ever hermetically sealed the mouth of the Senate. Tell them that he may fearlessly assume what powers he pleases, snatch from its lawful custody the public purse, command a military detachment to enter the halls of the capitol, overawe Congress, trample down the constitution, and raze every bulwark of freedom; but that the Senate must stand mute, in silent submission, and not dare to raise its opposing voice. That it must wait until a House of Representatives, humbled and subdued like itself, and a majority of it composed of the partisans of the President, shall prefer articles of impeachment. Tell them, finally, that you have restored the glorious doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance. And, if the people do not pour out their indignation and imprecations, I have yet to learn the character of American freemen."
Mr. Webster spoke last, and after a pause in the debate which seemed to indicate its conclusion; and only rose, and that slowly, as the question was about to be put. Having no personal griefs in relation to General Jackson like Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Clay, and with a temperament less ardent, he delivered himself with comparative moderation, confining himself to a brief protest against the act; and concluding, in measured and considered language, with expressing his grief and mortification at what he was to behold; thus:
"We have seen, with deep and sincere pain, the legislatures of respectable States instructing the senators of those States to vote for and support this violation of the journal of the Senate; and this pain is infinitely increased by our full belief, and entire conviction, that most, if not all these proceedings of States had their origin in promptings from Washington; that they have been urgently requested and insisted on, as being necessary to the accomplishment of the intended purpose; and that it is nothing else but the influence and power of the executive branch of this government which has brought the legislatures of so many of the free States of this Union to quit the sphere of their ordinary duties, for the purpose of co-operating to accomplish a measure, in our judgment, so unconstitutional, so derogatory to the character of the Senate, and marked with so broad an impression of compliance with power. But this resolution is to pass. We expect it. That cause, which has been powerful enough to influence so many State legislatures, will show itself powerful enough, especially with such aids, to secure the passage of the resolution here. We make up our minds to behold the spectacle which is to ensue. We collect ourselves to look on, in silence, while a scene is exhibited which if we did not regard it as a ruthless violation of a sacred instrument, would appear to us to be little elevated above the character of a contemptible farce. This scene we shall behold; and hundreds of American citizens, as many as may crowd into these lobbies and galleries, will behold it also: with what feelings I do not undertake to say."
Midnight was now approaching. The dense masses which filled every inch of room in the lobbies and 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, was depicted upon 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 persistence, for they alone now did the speaking; and while Mr. Webster was yet reciting his protest, two senators from the opposite side, who had been best able to maintain their equanimity, came round to the author of this View, 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." Mr. Webster concluded. No one rose. 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, Mr. Asbury Dickens. Forty-three senators were present, answering: five absent. The yeas were:
"Messrs. Benton, Brown, Buchanan, Dana, Ewing of Illinois, Fulton, Grundy, Hubbard, King of Alabama, Linn, Morris, Nicholas, Niles, Page, Rives, Robinson, Ruggles, Sevier, Strange, Tallmadge, Tipton, Walker, Wall, Wright.
"Nays.—Messrs. Bayard, Black, Calhoun, Clay, Crittenden, Davis, Ewing of Ohio, Hendricks, Kent, Knight, Moore, Prentiss, Preston, Robbins, Southard, Swift, Tomlinson, Webster, White."
The passage of the resolution was announced from the chair. Mr. Benton rose, and said that nothing now remained but to execute the order of the Senate; which he moved 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 28th, 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 these words: "Expunged by order of the Senate, this 16th day of March, 1837." Up to this moment the crowd in the great circular gallery, looking down upon the Senate, though sullen and menacing in their looks, had made no manifestation of feeling; and it was doubtless not the intention of Mr. Webster to excite that manifestation when he referred to their numbers, and expressed his ignorance of the feeling with which they would see the deed done which he so much deprecated. Doubtless no one intended to excite that crowd, mainly composed, as of usual since the bank question began, of friends of that institution; but its appearance became such that Senator Linn, colleague of Senator Benton, Mr. George W. Jones, since senator from Iowa, and others sent out and brought in arms; other friends gathered about him; among them Mrs. Benton, who, remembering what had happened to General Jackson, and knowing that, after him, her husband was most obnoxious to the bank party, had her anxiety sufficiently excited to wish to be near him in this concluding scene of a seven years' contest with that great moneyed power. Things were in this state when the Secretary of the Senate began to perform the expunging process on the manuscript journal. Instantly a storm of hisses, groans, and vociferations arose from the left wing of the circular gallery, over the head of Senator Benton. The presiding officer promptly gave the order, which the rules prescribe in such cases, to clear the gallery. Mr. Benton opposed the order, saying:
"I hope the galleries will not be cleared, as many innocent persons will be excluded, who have been guilty of no violation of order. Let the ruffians who have made the disturbance alone be punished: let them be apprehended. I hope the sergeant-at-arms will be directed to enter the gallery, and seize the ruffians, ascertaining who they are in the best way he can. Let him apprehend them and bring them to the bar of the Senate. Let him seize the bank ruffians. I hope that they will not now be suffered to insult the Senate, as they did when it was under the power of the Bank of the United States, when ruffians, with arms upon them, insulted us with impunity. Let them be taken and brought to the bar of the Senate. Here is one just above me, that may easily be identified—the bank ruffians!"
Mr. Benton knew that he was the object of this outrage, and that the way to treat these subaltern wretches was to defy and seize them, and have them dragged as criminals to the bar of the Senate. They were congregated immediately over his head, and had evidently collected into that place. His motion was agreed to. The order to clear the galleries was revoked; the order to seize the disturbers was given, and immediately executed by the energetic sergeant-at-arms, Mr. John Shackford, and his assistants. The ringleader was seized, and brought to the bar. This sudden example intimidated the rest; and the expunging process was performed in quiet. The whole scene was impressive; but no part of it so much so as to see the great leaders who, for seven long years had warred upon General Jackson, and a thousand times pronounced him ruined, each rising in his place, with pain and reluctance, to confess themselves vanquished—to admit his power, and their weakness—and to exhale their griefs in unavailing reproaches, and impotent deprecations. It was a tribute to his invincibility which cast into the shade all the eulogiums of his friends. The gratification of General Jackson was extreme. He gave a grand dinner to the expungers (as they were called) and their wives; and being too weak to sit at the table, he only met the company, placed the "head-expunger" in his chair, and withdrew to his sick chamber. That expurgation! it was the "crowning mercy" of his civil, as New Orleans had been of his military, life!