If, therefore, a judge retain this right, notwithstanding his official character; if it still be lawful for him to express his opinions of public measures, to oppose by argument such as are still pending, and to exert himself for obtaining the repeal, by constitutional means, of such as have been adopted, I ask what law forbids him to exercise these rights by a charge from the bench? In what part of our laws or constitution is it written that a judge shall not speak on politics to a grand jury?—shall not advance, in a charge from the bench, those arguments against a public measure which it must be admitted he might properly employ on any other occasion? Such conduct may perhaps be ill-judged, indiscreet, or ill-timed. I am ready to admit that it is so; for I am one of those who have always thought that political subjects ought never to be mentioned in courts of justice. But is it contrary to law? Admitting it to be indecorous and improper, which I do not admit, is every breach of decorum and propriety a crime? The rules of decorum and propriety forbid us to sing a song on the floor of Congress, or to whistle in a church. These would be acts of very great indecorum, but I know of no law by which they could be punished as crimes. Will they who contend that it is contrary to law for a judge to speak of politics to a grand jury, be pleased to point out the law of the land which forbids it? They cannot do so. There is no such law. Neither is there any constitutional provision or principle, or any custom of this country, which condemns this practice.
And will this honorable body, sitting not in a legislative but a judicial capacity, be called on to make a law, and to make it for a particular case which has already occurred? What, sir, is the great distinction between legislative and judicial functions? Is it not that the former is to make the law for future cases; and that the latter is to declare it as to cases which have already occurred? Is it not one of the fundamental principles of our Constitution, and an essential ingredient of free government, that the legislative and judicial powers shall be kept distinct and separate? That the power of making the general law for future cases shall never be blended in the same hands, with that of declaring and applying it to particular and present cases? Does not the union of these two powers in the same hands constitute the worst of despotisms? What, sir, is the peculiar and distinguishing characteristic of despotism? It consists in this, sir, that a man may be punished for an act which, when he did it, was not forbidden by law. While, on the other hand, it is the essence of freedom, that no act can be treated as a crime, unless there be a precise law forbidding it at the time when it was done.
It is this line which separates liberty from slavery; and if the respondent be condemned to punishment for an act, which far from being forbidden by any law of the land, is sanctioned by the custom of this country for more than twenty years past, then we have the form of free government, but the substance of despotism.
Let the gentlemen, before they establish this principle, recollect that it is a two-edged sword. Let them remember that power must often change hands in popular governments; and that after every struggle the victorious party come into power, with resentments to gratify by the destruction of their vanquished opponents, with a thirst of vengeance to be slaked in their blood. Let them remember that principles and precedents, by which actions innocent when they were done, may be converted into crimes, are the most convenient and effectual instruments of revenge and destruction with which a victorious party can be furnished. Let them beware how they give their sanction to principles which may soon be turned against themselves; how they forge bolts which may soon be hurled on their own heads. In a popular government, where power is so fluctuating, where constitutional principles are therefore so important for the protection of the weaker party against the violence of the stronger, it above all things behooves the party actually in power to adhere to the principles of justice and law, lest by departing from them they furnish at once the provocation and the weapons for their own destruction.
This charge, therefore, fails like the rest; and what remains of the accusation? It has dwindled into nothing. It has been scattered by the rays of truth, like the mists of the morning before the effulgence of the rising sun. Touched by the spear of investigation, it has lost its gigantic and terrifying form, and has shrunk into a toad. Every part of our honorable client’s conduct has been surveyed; all his motives have been severely scrutinized; all his actions have been brought to the test of law and the constitution; his words and even his jocular conversations, have been passed in strict review; and the ingenuity and industry of the honorable Managers have proved unable to detect one illegal act, one proof, or one fair presumption of improper motive.
Tuesday, February 26.
The Court opened at about half past ten o’clock, A.M.; the Managers, the House of Representatives, and the counsel of the respondent having taken their seats.
Mr. Nicholson, as one of the Managers, addressed the Court in reply to the counsel of the accused. He said the House of Representatives having impeached Samuel Chase, one of the associate justices of the Supreme Court of the United States, of high crimes and misdemeanors; the evidence on their part having been adduced, and that on behalf of the accused, and the arguments of his counsel having been fully and patiently heard, it now became his duty to reply in support of the impeachment. To me, Mr. President, this duty is an unpleasant one. Upon all occasions and under all circumstances, the office of a public accuser is the most painful that can be imposed on us; but it is more peculiarly so when the object of accusation appears before us covered with age and infirmities. I think I speak the sentiment of my brother Managers of the House of Representatives, when I say, that this impeachment never would have been instituted, that it never would have arrived at its present crisis, if we had not believed that the best interests of our common country required that the conduct complained of should not go unpunished. There is no nation on earth, sir, in which the freedom of man and the consequent happiness of society are not inseparably interwoven with the full, free and impartial administration of justice.
“Una salus ambobus erit commune periculum.”
It was to preserve this unity of safety, to avert this common danger, that we thought ourselves bound by the most solemn obligation to bring these charges before the highest tribunal of the nation. We may in vain make laws to secure our property, to protect our liberty, and to guard our lives, if those to whom we appeal, and to whose decrees we are bound to submit, shall prove unfaithful in the discharge of their duty. If our laws are not faithfully administered; if the holy sanctuary of our courts is to be invaded by party feeling; if justice shall suffer her pure garment to be stained by the foul venom of political bigotry, we may indeed boast that we live in a land of freedom, but the boast will be vain and illusory.