The speech Daniel Webster delivered August 28 before the impeachment vote could not have been called partisan. He made no mention of the Democratic-Republicans or the Tertium Quids, North or South, but confined himself to the subject of freedom, the rule of law, and the preservation thereof:
The life of nations is measured in millennia, the life of institutions in centuries. Our nation is in its infancy, and our institutions are yet young. And as the twig is bent, so the tree inclines. This present age is the time for the inculcation of rules and habits that shall govern the bodies of our government for so long as they exist.
Until today, our nation has not had occasion to test the mechanism of impeachment, by which Congress may enforce the rule of law upon the President of the United States. This mechanism must not be found wanting.
When the vote came, it was 174 to 65. The Tertium Quids were, in fact, the largest single party in the House, with 95 voting members to the Dead Roses’ 91, the Populists’ 38, the Reformists’ 16 and the Liberationists’ two—but they stood alone and divided in the face of three united parties. Both sides were missing one vote; the government of Massachusetts deemed it unnecessary to appoint a replacement for Adams less than four months before the election, and Cone was in a D.C. jail.[1]
In one sense, this was a victory—impeachment in the House required only a simple majority, but if a two-thirds majority had been needed, Webster had more than that. But in another sense, more than a two-thirds majority of the Tertium Quid delegation had voted against impeachment…
Charles Cerniglia, The Road to the Troubles: The American South, 1800-1840
August 28, 1838
Oval Office, White House
Sen. Thomas Lindall Winthrop remained seated, and let Clay do all the talking. After the walk down Pennsylvania Avenue and up the stairs, his aching joints felt every one of their seventy-eight years. He was president
pro tempore of the Senate. This was a title that had never mattered before in all American history—which he well knew, as he’d personally lived through all of it thus far—and might never matter again. But it mattered today.
“It comes to this, Mr. President,” said Clay. “You have no support in any party but your own, and that party has eighteen senators. If even two of them vote to convict… do you really want to be dragged out of this office kicking and screaming? A resignation would allow you to leave with some measure of dignity.”
“Do you think two of them would cast those votes?”
“Of ninety-one Tertium Quids in the House, twenty-six voted to impeach you,” said Clay. “The equivalent vote in the Senate delegation would be five votes at least.”
“That was the vote to impeach. Not to convict. Having the House announce to the world, in no uncertain terms, that they no longer trust me—as a man of honor, that does pain me deeply.”
“Do you deny that you deserve it?”
“I suppose I should have expected, as the first Tertium Quid president, that your party would seize upon the first error I made. But… if there were nothing else at stake, I think I would resign. But I have a war to win, and the man I chose as my possible replacement is no longer with us. Instead…”
Clay turned and gestured towards him. Time to take part in this conversation.
“Instead you have me.”
“Senator Winthrop. Of Massachusetts.”
“Yes. And I will give you my word—if you resign your office, then as Acting President I will leave all of your appointments in their current positions. Including your Attorney General[2], your Secretary of Domestic Affairs[3], and your postmaster[4].”
“Whereas if I don’t…”
“Then, should I become Acting President, I will do exactly as I see fit.”
“With all due respect, Senator… you’re even older than poor David.”
“I dare say I’ll last until March of next year.”
“Ay, there’s the rub. The very moment you sit down behind this desk, Daniel Webster—who’s been preparing to run for president since some time after his birth—begins his campaign, and some Quid must be found to oppose him. The question is, will any Tertium Quid vote for that? Not just to tell me what a disappointment I am, but to replace me in office with one Massachusetts man, and then very likely another one?”
“I thought the Tertium Quids had decided to become the party of the whole country. What happened to that?”
“What happened was that certain Massachusetts politicians made themselves enemies of the entire basis of the Southern economy. Certain politicians in Massachusetts and elsewhere decided that Article IV, Section 2, Clause 3[5] should be allowed to become a dead letter—something I bear in mind every time they speak of our sacred Constitution when opposing my own actions.” Berrien looked at him squarely. “And one Massachusetts politician in particular became a correspondent with the ‘Sword of Nemesis’ himself.”[6]
“What are you…” Winthrop needed a moment to remember what exactly Berrien was talking about. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“When you say ‘correspondent,’” said Clay, “do you mean before or after Byron came to our shores and started making trouble?”
“Does it matter? If you in the Senate wish to replace me with an abolitionist, then go and look for the votes to do so. I won’t do it for you.”
When I say Daggett was racialist, I don’t mean he got nervous when he saw young men of other races congregating outside in numbers greater than two, or that he heard the news of unfortunate events in Guinea[7] or Bantuvia[8] with indifference. He seems to have been one of those people who, as Scattergood said, “make of their lives a long, secret war against another portion of our nation”—in this case, about 2.7 percent of the population of his native Connecticut according to 1830 Census data. As a young man, he published a tract (no copies of which survive to the present day) claiming to be the “confession” of Joseph Mountain, a black man hanged on charges of rape. As a judge, he never missed an opportunity to rule against blacks who were trying to live, work, and educate their children in the state. And, of course, there is the fact that his move to the Tertium Quid party was motivated neither by any financial interest in slavery as an institution nor certainly by any belief in the principles of John Randolph of Roanoke. It was a decision based on pure racial animus.
And yet Daggett was a man who valued the system and made it a point of pride to work within it. What had first brought him to prominence, after all, was his advocacy for a constitution for the state of Connecticut. So if he had lived, Tertium Quids would have had a replacement for Berrien that they could have lived with, and Dead Roses would have had a president who was uninvolved in Berrien’s misdeeds. Better still, he would have been too old to run in 1840, leaving the field open for a contest of Webster versus, most likely, John Tyler. Given a successor of his own party, Berrien might have been persuaded to resign rather than become the first president to face impeachment. The system would have been vindicated, and a good deal of the bitterness that gave rise to the Troubles avoided. The United States would have been a more peaceful nation, for a time. It would not necessarily have been a more just one…
I’ve heard it said that it would have made a difference if Barbour had lived—that the respect the Quids held for him would have prompted them to vote for impeachment, or perhaps that Clay could have replaced Winthrop with him. I wonder, though, how much more difference it would have made than the words of Davy Crockett. Very few of Sen. Crockett’s speeches have ever been recorded. His speech on August 29 is a brief, tragic exception:
This is just about the saddest thing I’ve ever had to say.
When I heard tell of Quitman and Lamar and Navarro and the rest, and the courage they had shown in taking on New Spain all by themselves, I was the happiest fool on the Hill. It wasn’t just brag when I said I wished more than anything I could be there with them—that I could put these duties aside, pick up my old musket and go off to stretch this nation’s boundaries out in a whole new direction.
And when the House voted not to send our soldiers to join them—voted to tell those brave boys ‘You thought we would pull your bacon out of the fire? The more fools you!’—why, then, I mourned. I tell you I mourned for those boys and I wept with shame that we had the power to save them and would not do it. But the thing was done. The House had made the decision it had every right to make.
Mr. President, you done wrong. You gave an order that you knew damn well wasn’t yours to give. It ain’t for you to decide who this republic does and does not declare war on. I got no plans to send you to the gallows, but we can’t trust you with the power of that office any more.
It is tragic not because of Crockett’s own frustrated sentiment toward the filibusterers, or his own sorrow at the vote he was about to cast, but because it did not have the intended effect. When the Senate voted, Davy Crockett—the official leader of the Tertium Quid party in that body—was the only TQ senator to vote to convict. The other seventeen senators voted to acquit, and it was enough by one to prevent Berrien’s conviction. Impeachment, in Webster’s words, had been found wanting…
Andrea Fessler, America’s History in Scandals
[1] Article 1, Section 6, Clause 1 of the Constitution reads: “They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony and Breach of the Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance at the Session of their respective Houses…” What Cone did was definitely a breach of the peace.
[2] George Poindexter, who has had a number of Democratic-Republicans who worked for Sergeant prosecuted on charges of embezzling government money for campaign purposes. (I should note that they were all guilty as hell. Twenty continuous years in power will do that to a party.)
[3] William Campbell Preston, who has been spending much of his time interfering with the National University’s hiring process in an attempt to make sure they aren’t hiring abolitionists. This was actually less controversial than his refusal to sell the National Road to Erastus Corning at a time when the government is hurting for cash… followed by his attempt to encourage William Aiken and other slaveholders to put together a railroad company he
can sell it to.
[4] William T. Barry, who has made himself controversial by trying to close the postal system to major abolitionist publications.
[5] The Fugitive Slave Clause, which New England states in particular are getting very creative about not enforcing.
[6] This happened while Winthrop was raising money for the Greek revolution. IOTL and ITTL he was part of the Philhellene movement, and was quite eloquent about the Greeks. (And about the Turks.)
[7] Used ITTL as a general term for sub-Saharan West Africa.
[8] A TTL term for the part of Africa covered by the Bantu Expansion.
Merry Christmas!