Quilling illustration for Federalist Nos. 62-66
Federalist Nos. 62-66

The Senate

Generated summaryFive essays on the Senate's design and powers, arguing that a smaller, longer-serving body that represents the states equally gives the government stability, expertise, and a fitness for treaties and impeachments that a large, fast-turnover assembly could never supply.

Federalist 62

Generated summaryThe Senate is built for what a single popular assembly does badly. Senators must be older and longer citizens, the State legislatures choose them, each State votes equally, and a second chamber checks hasty and changeable lawmaking.
Key points
  • The Senate, examined under five heads, is defended as a stabilizing second chamber that cures the defects of a single popular assembly.
  • Senators need greater age and longer citizenship, thirty years and nine, for a trust requiring knowledge, steadiness, and freedom from foreign attachment.
  • Appointment by the State legislatures gives a double advantage: a select choice, and a link securing the States’ own authority.
  • Equal representation of the States is a compromise that recognizes and preserves each State’s residual sovereignty against consolidation.
  • It adds an obstacle to bad legislation: nothing passes without a majority both of the people and of the States.
  • The small number and long term answer a republic’s ills: betrayal of trust, sudden passions, want of legislative knowledge, and instability.
  • A mutable government forfeits foreign respect, and laws too changeable to be known cease to be any rule at all.
  • Instability enriches the shrewd few at the expense of the many, chills enterprise, and erodes the people’s attachment.

I turn now to the Senate, under five heads: qualifications; appointment by the State legislatures; equal representation; number and term; powers. A senator must be thirty and a citizen nine years; a representative, twenty-five and seven. The senatorial trust needs riper years for knowledge and steadiness. It deals directly with foreign nations, so it suits only men weaned from the habits of foreign birth. Nine years is a prudent middle: it admits worthy adopted citizens without opening a channel to foreign influence. Appointment by the State legislatures probably suits public opinion best. It favors a select appointment and gives the States a hand in forming the federal government, which must secure their authority and may link the systems.

Equal representation in the Senate is a compromise between large and small States. If proportional shares suit one incorporated people, and equal shares suit sovereign States in a league, a compound republic partaking of both has some reason to mix them. But all admit this part sprang from amity and mutual concession, not theory. America needs a common government equal to its objects. The smaller States will not grant one shaped to the larger’s wishes. The larger States must choose between this government and a worse one. Prudence bids them take the lesser evil and weigh the advantages that may repay the sacrifice.

The equal vote both recognizes and preserves each State’s remaining sovereignty. Large States should welcome it as much as small; they too guard against consolidation into one republic. It also blocks bad laws: nothing passes without a majority of both the people and the States. This check may harm as well as help. But the larger States control the supplies and can defeat its abuse. And since the ease and excess of law-making seem our governments’ likeliest diseases, this part may prove more convenient in practice than many suppose.

Senators’ number and term turn on a senate’s purposes, seen in the ills a republic suffers without one. First. Even in republican government, those who run it may betray their trust. A senate, a second branch dividing power with the first, is a wholesome check. It doubles the people’s security: usurpation or treachery now needs two bodies, where the ambition or corruption of one would otherwise suffice. Combinations grow less likely as the two bodies differ, so we should distinguish them by every mark consistent with due harmony and genuine republican principles.

Second. Single and numerous assemblies yield to sudden passions and factious leaders, and pass harmful measures. The correcting body must be free of the fault: fewer members, longer terms. Third. Men called mostly from private life, briefly in office, with no motive to study the objects and principles of legislation, will blunder if left wholly to themselves. Much of America’s trouble traces to such blunders, from the head, not the heart. Good government needs fidelity to the people’s happiness and knowledge of the means. We have slighted the second; the Constitution supplies it, and so strengthens the first.

Fourth. A rapid turnover of members, however qualified, shakes the public councils and shows the need for a stable institution. Each State election changes half the representatives; new men bring new opinions, new measures. Constant change even of good measures defies every rule of prudence. Its harms would fill a volume; I note a few.

In the first place, a changeable government forfeits the respect of other nations and every advantage of national character. A nation betraying want of wisdom and stability may count on every loss the more systematic policy of wiser neighbors can inflict. America is her own lesson. She is held in no respect by her friends, derided by her enemies, a prey to every nation that trades on her wavering councils.

The internal effects of a changeable policy are worse: they poison liberty itself. The people gain little by choosing their lawmakers if the laws cannot be read or understood. Nor if they are revised before they appear, or change so fast none can guess tomorrow’s law. Law is a rule of action; what rule is little known and less fixed?

Instability also gives the shrewd, enterprising, and moneyed few an unfair advantage over the industrious, uninformed mass. Every new regulation of commerce, revenue, or property is a harvest to those who watch and can trace the change. Here, it may be said with some truth, laws are made for the few, not the many. Want of confidence in the public councils damps every venture depending on lasting arrangements. Worst of all, the people lose their attachment to a system that betrays such weakness. No government is long respected without being respectable, nor respectable without order and stability.

Federalist 63

Generated summaryA stable, select Senate gives the nation a sense of responsibility and a reputation abroad that a fast-changing House cannot. No long-lived republic has lacked one. Critics still fear it could harden into an aristocracy.
Key points
  • A senate supplies still more that a fleeting assembly cannot: a sense of national character, long-term responsibility, and a guard against the people’s passions.
  • A due sense of national character earns foreign respect and steadies councils that passion or interest might warp.
  • Some measures bear fruit only over years, and only a stable body can be justly answerable for them.
  • A senate defends the people against their own temporary errors, so their cool and deliberate sense ultimately prevails.
  • No long-lived republic has existed without a senate; Sparta, Rome, and Carthage alone prove the need.
  • Representation was not unknown to the ancients; America’s true distinction is excluding the people in their collective capacity.
  • The Senate cannot grow into an aristocracy: it could usurp only by corrupting the States, the House, and the people in turn.
  • Maryland’s like Senate shows no such danger, and in Britain the popular branch has always overmatched the hereditary house.

A fifth gain from a senate is a due sense of national character. Without a select and stable branch, shifting policy costs us foreign esteem. Our councils also lose their feel for world opinion. That judgment matters for two reasons. First, a measure should look abroad like the fruit of wise, honorable policy. Second, in doubtful cases, where passion or momentary interest may warp our councils, the impartial world’s view is the best guide. No large, changing body can hold such a sense. It lives only where praise and blame fall on each member, or in a body trusted long enough to tie its pride to the community’s good name.

I add a sixth defect: in some cases the government owes the people too little responsibility. It springs from the frequency of elections that creates responsibility elsewhere. To be fair, responsibility must reach only what the responsible party controls; to work, only what constituents can judge. Government’s objects are of two kinds. Some act at once and in plain sight. Others are chains of linked measures whose effect is slow and perhaps unseen. An assembly with so short a term adds one or two links to that chain. It cannot answer for the result. The cure is an added legislative body, lasting enough to pursue such objects and answer for them.

So far I have weighed the Senate only against the people’s representatives. I add that such a body may guard the people from their own passing errors and delusions. The community’s cool, settled sense ought to prevail over its rulers, and in free governments it finally will. Yet at times passion, private gain, or the artful false claims of interested men sway the people. They then call for measures they will soon regret. A calm, respected body can check that course and hold back the people’s blow at themselves until reason, justice, and truth regain their hold.

A widely spread people, it may be objected, cannot catch violent passions or join in unjust measures like a crowded district. I grant it, having called it a chief merit of a confederated republic. Still, it does not remove the need for other guards. The same extent that spares America some dangers of small republics leaves her longer under interested men’s false claims. History also knows no long-lived republic without a senate: Sparta, Rome, and Carthage alone bear that name. The first two had a senate for life; Carthage’s, less known, steadied it against popular swings.

These ancient examples are not for us to copy; they clash with America’s genius. Still they prove the need for an institution that blends stability with liberty. Some defects only a senate can cure belong to a large, often-elected assembly and to the people alike. Others belong to the assembly alone. The people never willfully betray their own interests; their representatives may. That danger is greater where one body holds the whole legislative trust. It is less where dissimilar bodies must agree to every public act.

The difference most relied on between the American and other republics is representation. It is the pivot of our government, and supposed unknown to the ancients. I do not undervalue it. Still, that claim is not precisely true. Athens chose nine Archons yearly, and later an assembly of six hundred that helped make the laws and alone could propose them. Carthage’s senate was elective. Sparta’s Ephori and Rome’s Tribunes were chosen each year by the whole people, and acted almost as their full representatives.

So the ancients knew representation and used it in their constitutions. The true distinction lies elsewhere. American governments shut the people, in their collective capacity, out of any share in governing. The ancients did not shut out the people’s representatives. That still leaves a great advantage to the United States. But it takes full effect only with an extensive territory. No representative government could have worked within the narrow limits of Greece.

The Constitution’s jealous adversary will probably repeat his charge. A Senate not chosen directly by the people, and seated six years, must gradually gain a dangerous upper hand and end in a tyrannical aristocracy. The general reply should be enough. Liberty may be endangered by abuses of liberty as well as by abuses of power, and here the first seems the greater danger. But a more particular reply may be given.

Before such a revolution, the Senate must corrupt itself, then the State legislatures, then the House of Representatives, then the people at large. Without the legislatures, the regular change of members would renew the whole body. Without the House, that coequal branch would defeat the attempt. Without the people, new representatives would soon restore the old order. Can any man believe the Senate could reach a lawless ambition through all these obstacles?

Experience says the same. Maryland’s Senate is chosen indirectly, as the federal Senate will be, for a term only one year shorter; it also fills its own vacancies. Yet no symptom of danger has appeared there, and the early jealousies have died away. The British example is stronger. Its upper house is a hereditary body of nobles, and its Commons sits seven years, chosen largely by a small part of the people. There, if anywhere, aristocratic tyranny should appear. Instead the nobles lost the monarch’s support and were crushed by the popular branch.

Antiquity agrees. Sparta’s Ephori and Rome’s Tribunes were the people’s yearly representatives. Both overmatched their senates for life and at last prevailed. In a free government, the branch with the people on its side cannot be beaten. So the federal Senate can never usurp its way into an independent aristocratic body. Should such a revolution ever come, the House, with the people behind it, could restore the Constitution. Against the people’s immediate representatives, nothing could uphold the Senate but enlightened policy and devotion to the public good. That alone would win it a share of the people’s affection.

Federalist 64

Generated summaryThe treaty power rests with the President and Senate. Their mode of choice and long terms bring able men to it, and the President’s command of secret intelligence keeps talks both careful and quick.
Key points
  • The treaty power is safely lodged with the President and Senate, whose mode of choice yields the ablest men and joins deliberation with secrecy.
  • Select electors and the State legislatures choose more wisely than popular elections, which party zeal exploits.
  • Age limits confine the choice to men the people have had time to judge.
  • Long terms let them master our national concerns and form a steady system, while staggered elections preserve continuity.
  • The President can pursue secrecy and dispatch, seizing the fleeting tides of affairs and convening the Senate only when its consent is needed.
  • A treaty is a bargain binding both parties, so the legislature alone need not make it, nor may it be repealed at will.
  • Its makers are bound like all others, have no separate interest, and remain answerable through impeachment.

Enemies of men and measures rarely blame only what deserves it. How else can I explain condemning the whole Constitution, then attacking its least objectionable articles? The second section lets the President make treaties by the Senate’s advice and consent, two-thirds of the senators present concurring. Power over war, peace, and trade needs guards: that it go to the best-qualified men, and serve the public good. The convention met both: electors deputed by the people name the President, the State legislatures the senators. That beats popular election, where party zeal works on the unwary.

Such electors will in general be our most enlightened citizens. We may presume their votes go only to men marked by ability and virtue. The Constitution bars men under thirty-five from the presidency, under thirty from the Senate, so the people have had time to judge them. The men so chosen will best know and advance our national interests, at home and abroad, and their reputation for integrity merits confidence. With such men the treaty power is safely lodged.

Some would give the treaty power to a popular assembly whose members come and go. Such a body cannot handle great objects, which need steady study, talent, exact knowledge, and time. The convention therefore gave it to able, honest men, whose term is long enough to master our concerns and form a system. Frequent Senate elections never hand these affairs all at once to new men. Enough of the old stay to preserve uniformity, order, and steady official knowledge.

Few deny that trade and navigation need a steady system, which our treaties and laws should match; the Senate’s consent to both secures it. Treaties also sometimes need secrecy and speed. The best intelligence comes only when its holders fear no discovery. Many would trust the President’s secrecy, but not the Senate’s, still less a large assembly’s. So the President forms treaties by the Senate’s advice and consent, yet manages intelligence as prudence suggests.

Days, even hours, are often precious to those who govern, as experienced men tell us. Want of secrecy and speed has cost us often and dearly; to neglect them would leave the Constitution inexcusably defective. The steps needing most secrecy and speed are preparatory ones. They matter nationally only as they help attain the negotiation’s aims, so the President can take them alone. He can call the Senate whenever its consent is needed. So our negotiations gain talent, knowledge, integrity, and deliberation, with secrecy and speed besides.

Some find no defect, yet say that treaties, having the force of law, belong to lawmakers only. They forget that our courts’ judgments bind as fully as laws. Every constitutional act, executive or judicial, is as valid. So the people may lodge the treaty power in a body apart from the legislature, the executive, and the judiciary.

Others accept the mode, but would have treaties repealable at pleasure, not supreme law. Yet a treaty is only another name for a bargain. No nation would bind itself absolutely while we stayed bound only so long as we chose. Treaty-makers may cancel treaties, as lawmakers repeal laws; but both parties made the treaty, and both must consent to change it. The Constitution has therefore not extended the obligation of treaties.

Jealousy may serve republics, yet like bile it can abound and deceive the eyes. Hence some fear the President and Senate may slight some States in treaties; others, that two-thirds will oppress the third. They ask if these men are answerable, if corruption can be punished, and how a bad treaty may be undone.

All the States are equally represented in the Senate by able and willing men, so all have equal influence there. As the Union grows national, the whole’s good gains attention, served only by advancing each part’s. No treaty they make can spare them: they, their families, and their estates are bound like the rest. With no private interest apart from the nation’s, they lie under no temptation to neglect it.

Corruption cannot be supposed of the President and two-thirds of the Senate. Should it happen, the treaty so gained would be void by the law of nations. Their responsibility could hardly be increased. Every motive that sways men secures their fidelity: honor, oaths, reputation, conscience, love of country, and family ties. The Constitution has taken the utmost care that they be men of talents and integrity. So we may trust their treaties will be as good as circumstances allow. The impeachment article supplies the fear of punishment and disgrace.

Federalist 65

Generated summaryImpeachments belong to the Senate, not the Supreme Court. It is dignified and independent enough to judge fairly between an accused official and the House that accuses him, and large enough for a power bound by no strict rules.
Key points
  • The Senate is the fittest court for trying impeachments, a national inquest best conducted by the nation’s representatives.
  • Impeachments reach political offenses that agitate the whole community, risking a verdict fixed by party strength rather than guilt.
  • Britain’s model, the Commons accusing and the Lords judging, treats impeachment as the legislature’s bridle on the executive.
  • The Supreme Court would serve poorly, wanting the fortitude and credit for a proceeding too grave and unbound to trust to a few judges.
  • The same judges should not try both the impeachment and the later criminal case, or the double security of two trials is lost.
  • Making the chief justice preside secures the union’s benefit without incorporating the Court into the Senate.
  • Perfection is no fair standard; adversaries must prove the whole plan bad, not merely imperfect.

Two Senate powers remain: a share in appointments, and the court of impeachments, with which I close. Appointments belong with the executive department. That court tries the misconduct of public men, the abuse of some public trust. Such offenses are rightly called political, for they chiefly concern injuries to society itself. Their trial will seldom fail to rouse the whole community and split it for or against the accused. In many cases it joins existing factions; then the greatest danger is that party strength, not proof of guilt, decides.

This trust touches the political reputation and existence of every public man. It is hard to place in a government built wholly on elections. The most prominent men there are too often leaders or tools of the cunning or numerous faction. They can hardly be expected to hold the neutrality judging requires. The convention, it appears, thought the Senate its fittest keeper.

If impeachment’s true spirit is a national inquest into the conduct of public men, who should be the nation’s inquisitors but its representatives? None dispute that one branch of the legislature should prefer the impeachment. The same reasons plead for admitting the other branch to a share. The borrowed model treats impeachment as a bridle in the legislature’s hands upon the executive: in Great Britain the Commons prefers and the Lords decides. Where else is a tribunal dignified and independent enough to stay impartial between the accused and his accusers, the people’s representatives?

It is much to be doubted whether the Supreme Court’s members would always have the fortitude this task demands. Still more doubtful is whether their credit could reconcile the people to a decision against their representatives’ charge. The first want is fatal to the accused, the second dangerous to public peace. Both hazards could be avoided only by a court larger than economy allows. The proceeding’s nature demands a large court too. No strict rules bind the charge or its reading, as in common trials. No jury stands between the judges and the accused. Such awful discretion, dooming trusted men to honor or infamy, must not rest with a few.

These considerations alone seem enough to make the Supreme Court an improper substitute for the Senate; one more strengthens the conclusion. Conviction does not end the punishment. Barred for life from his country’s esteem, honors, and salaries, he may still be tried at ordinary law. Should the men who disposed of his fame dispose of his life and fortune too? Error in the first sentence would be apt to breed error in the second, robbing him of the double security two trials intend. A jury might seem the cure, but juries often follow the judges.

Would joining the Supreme Court to the Senate here have improved the plan? Its advantages would be outweighed by the same judges sitting in both trials of the offender. The plan gains part of that benefit by making the chief justice preside over the court of impeachments, without a full merger.

Would a court wholly apart from the other departments serve better? Complexity is one objection; the graver is heavy expense or many mishaps. Only two forms are easy to imagine: permanent officers on fixed salaries, or state officers called in for each impeachment. The court ought to be large, so anyone weighing public wants against means condemns the first. The second means gathering men scattered over the Union, while delay injures the innocent and helps the guilty. It might also rob a state of good men persecuted by a rash or scheming House majority. Harsh as that seems, the demon of faction rules all large bodies at certain seasons.

Even if some substitute were better, the Constitution should not for that be rejected. If men agreed to no government until every part were perfect, society would soon fall into anarchy and the world become a desert. Its opponents must prove more than that some parts fall short of the best imaginable; they must prove the whole plan bad and pernicious.

Federalist 66

Generated summaryThe objections to trying impeachments in the Senate do not hold. Partial blending of legislative and judicial power is proper, the House keeps real counterweights, and the Senate’s share in appointments and treaties gives it no motive to shield guilt.
Key points
  • The four main objections to trying impeachments in the Senate all fail on examination.
  • Blending the powers here is proper: one house accuses and the other judges, and impeachment is the legislature’s check on the executive.
  • Fears of an over-mighty Senate are met by the House’s counterweights: money bills, the sole power to impeach, and umpiring disputed presidential elections.
  • Senators would not shield their own appointees, for they merely ratify the President’s choice and are presumed to drop the unworthy.
  • Nor can senators be their own judges: two-thirds cannot be impeached for a bad treaty any more than a legislative majority for a bad law.
  • Members must stay exempt for acts done collectively, so security rests on trusting proper hands, not on punishing votes.
  • Yet a faithless executive, or senators corrupted by foreign gold, remain fully open to punishment.

The first objection: trying impeachments in the Senate mixes legislative and judicial power. That breaks the maxim of separate departments. But the maxim allows partial blending for special purposes, if the departments stay mainly distinct. Such blending is at times needed for their mutual defense. An executive veto bars legislative encroachment. Perhaps, with no less reason, impeachment checks the executive. One house accuses, the other judges, so the same men are never both accusers and judges. That also guards against a factious spirit in either house. Conviction needs two thirds of the Senate, so innocence is safe.

A second objection: the Senate already shares treaties and appointments. Add every impeachment, and its influence would dominate, making the government too aristocratic. The charge is too vague to answer precisely. Better to weigh each power alone, and lodge it where it does most good and least harm. My last paper went far toward proving that no fitter seat exists for impeachments. If that is so, drop the fear of a Senate grown too strong.

In any republican government the most popular branch is generally the people’s favorite. History and reason show it will commonly be a full match for every other part, if not an overmatch. The plan adds counterweights: the House alone originates money bills. It alone brings impeachments, a full counterbalance to deciding them. It also umpires any presidential election no majority of electors settles, a case sure to arise. Deciding contests for the first office may outweigh all the Senate’s special powers.

A third objection: senators would judge gently the men they helped appoint. But that condemns a practice in every State government, where officers at pleasure depend on those who appoint them. The practice rests on another presumption. Appointers answer for their choices and want affairs well run, so they will remove the unworthy. Facts may not always bear this out, yet if it is broadly just, the fear falls. The President nominates; the Senate only ratifies or rejects, and never chooses. It may defeat one choice and force another, yet senators may consent while preferring someone else. So a majority can favor an appointee only as far as merit appears, and proof of its absence destroys that.

A fourth objection: joining the executive in treaties makes senators their own judges of any corrupt execution of that trust. Suppose they betray the nation in a ruinous treaty. What punishment could follow, when they decide the charge against themselves? It is pressed harder than any other, yet rests, unless I am mistaken, on a false foundation.

The guard against corrupt treaties lies in the numbers and characters of those who make them. A treaty needs the President and two thirds of a Senate the State legislatures choose. The convention might fitly punish the executive, or a few senators bought by foreign corruption. But not two thirds of the Senate for a bad treaty, any more than a majority of either house for a ruinous law. No government, I believe, has ever admitted that principle.

A majority of the House could no more impeach themselves than two thirds of the Senate could try themselves. Why should the House escape for an unjust law, while the Senate suffers for an injurious treaty? Members must not be punished for acts done as a body; free debate requires it. Safety must rest instead on trusting proper hands, making fidelity their interest, and combination against the public good hard.

If the executive perverts the Senate’s instructions, the Senate will not lack the will to punish him and defend its own authority. Count on its pride, if not its virtue. And suppose leading members lure the majority into hateful measures. Clear proof of their corruption would commonly move the body to sacrifice the authors of its disgrace, and so turn public resentment away.