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| Illustration of Lincoln arguing in the Illinois General Assembly |
⚖️ A President Who Thinks He’s a Court
On a raw January morning in 1837, the Illinois House of Representatives found itself arguing over a question that should have been settled already. The State Bank of Illinois had been declared constitutional by the Illinois Supreme Court and approved by the Council of Revision — the only bodies with the authority to decide the matter. Yet the chamber was in an uproar, not because of anything in the state constitution, but because of a rumor drifting west from Washington: that Andrew Jackson, in the final weeks of his presidency, had privately “almost decided” the Bank was unconstitutional. Jackson had no jurisdiction over Illinois, no case before him, no ruling to issue — but his personal opinions had become gospel among the Van Buren men who dominated Illinois politics. They treated his private judgment as if it carried the force of law.
Lincoln rose to confront that shadow. He wasn’t debating banking; he was debating the dangerous idea that a president’s personal view could override a court’s actual ruling - state or federal.
📎 Sidebar: Jackson Was Gone — But Jacksonism Wasn’t
When Lincoln delivered this speech on January 11, 1837, Andrew Jackson was still in office, but his successor, Martin Van Buren, had already been elected but not yet inaugurated. Van Buren himself was quieter and more cautious, but his supporters in Illinois remained thoroughly "Jacksonian" in doctrine. They carried forward Jackson’s habit of turning private judgment into public authority. So when Lincoln mocked “the gentleman at Washington city,” he was using Jackson as a stand‑in for the Van Buren loyalists in the Illinois legislature who were recycling Jackson’s habit of using his personal opinions as if they were binding constitutional law.
🎯 Lincoln’s Razor‑Edged Mockery
With the stage set, Lincoln began with the rumor itself — and to the constitutional absurdity behind it.
He begins with a flourish that still stings:
“Some gentleman at Washington city was on the very eve of deciding our Bank unconstitutional… had not some one of the Bank officers placed his hand upon his mouth.” [1]
And then the knife turns:
“The extra‑judicial decision — not quite, but only almost made — by the gentleman at Washington… before whom, by the way, the question never has, nor never can come…” [1]
He refuses to call Jackson by name or title “the President.” He refuses to treat the rumor as serious. He refuses to accept that personal will is more powerful than constitutional judgment.
“Extra‑judicial” is Lincoln’s lawyerly way of saying: This is nonsense. It has no legal force whatsoever.
🏛️ The Real Constitutional Authority
Lincoln reminds his colleagues that the Illinois Supreme Court — the only tribunal with actual jurisdiction — had already ruled the Bank constitutional. The Governor and the Council of Revision had approved the charter. The matter was settled.
So what, he asks, are they to do with Jackson’s “almost‑decision”?
Nothing. Because it means nothing.
A president’s private view is not a legal ruling. Not in 1837. Not now.
🔥 Lincoln Goes on the Attack: Bribery, Hypocrisy, and Mobocracy
The chamber tried to shut him down. Mr. Linder called him to order; the chair overruled. Linder appealed, then withdrew the appeal with a sneer, saying he preferred to let Lincoln continue because politically — “he would break his own neck.” [1]
Lincoln did not flinch.
“I know I was not out of order; and I know every sensible man in the House knows it.” [1]
He then dismantled the insinuation that the twenty‑four Bank commissioners had been bribed. He listed them by name — Tilson, McLaughlin, Wann, Wight, Riley, Davidson, Wilson, Pierson, Green, Baker, Wren, Taylor, Christy, Roberts, Godfrey, Mather, Jenkins, Linn, Gilman, Prentice, Hamilton, Buckner, Thornton, and Taylor — and reminded the House that these were among the most respected men in the state. [1]
Then he flipped the accusation by say that there was less probability that these twenty‑four had been bribed than that any six democrat members of the House — “even though they were headed and led on by ‘decided superiority’ himself” — might be. [1]
With that sneering reference to the president, the room must have gone still.
Lincoln then exposed the hypocrisy of the resolution’s sponsor, who had recently argued that the legislature had no authority to interfere with contracts — yet now demanded an examination of the Bank without any legal basis.
“He must either abandon the position he then took, or he must now vote against his own resolution.” [1]
And then came Lincoln's warning that feels almost prophetic:
“I am opposed to encouraging that lawless and mobocratic spirit… already abroad in the land; and spreading with rapid and fearful impetuosity, to the ultimate overthrow of every institution… in which persons and property have hitherto found security.” [1]
Lincoln wasn’t defending a bank. He was defending the rule of law.
Lincoln then turned from the constitutional absurdity of Jackson’s “almost‑decision” to the practical consequences of the Van Buren men’s proposal. Even if the legislature had the authority — which it did not — he asked what good could possibly come from such an examination.
- Could they declare the Bank unconstitutional?
- Compel it to cease operations?
- Repair any injuries?
Reckless political theater, driven by loyalty to a president’s personal opinion rather than constitutional process, would land hardest on ordinary people.
🔁 The Pattern Lincoln Saw — and We Still See
Lincoln’s speech is not about 1837. It’s about a recurring American temptation:
When the law is inconvenient, when the courts rule the “wrong” way, when constitutional limits feel constraining, there is always a president who believes his own interpretation should prevail.
Jackson did it with the National Bank. He did it with Indian treaties. He did it with the federal Supreme Court itself. [**]
Lincoln’s sarcasm is aimed at the pattern, not the man — the belief that personal will can stand in for constitutional judgment.
📡 The Echo in 2026
Nearly two centuries later, a major Supreme Court ruling on tariffs drops in 2026 — and the reaction from Washington sounds eerily familiar.
A president dismisses the ruling. Treats his own view as superior. Signals that the Court is wrong, corrupt, or simply to be ignored. Encourages supporters to follow him, not the judicial process.
The issue is different. The behavior is not.
Lincoln’s 1837 question becomes the question again:
“What will their decision amount to?”
And his answer, delivered with that dry frontier finality in 1837, still applies:
“Certainly none.”
🧭 Lincoln’s Remedy: Institutions Over Individuals
Lincoln’s entire argument rests on one principle:
Constitutional authority belongs to institutions, not personalities.
Not to rumor. Not to private opinion. Not to political pressure. Not to a president’s decision or “almost‑decision.”
The law is the law because it is made through the process — not because someone powerful declares it so.
That was true in 1837. It is true in 2026.
📜 Closing: The Warning That Still Echoes
Lincoln’s sarcasm in 1837 wasn’t petty. It was protective.
He mocked the idea that a president could act as a one‑man Supreme Court because he understood how fragile constitutional norms become when personal will tries to replace legal judgment.
The names change. The issues change. The temptation doesn’t. And neither does the remedy: Institutions, not individuals, decide the law.
From the archives of Abraham Lincoln, Storyteller.
Mac
For readers who want the constitutional backstory behind this debate, here’s a brief backgrounder on the Bank War and Jackson’s doctrine.
[**] FYI: For readers who want the constitutional backstory behind this debate, here’s a brief backgrounder on the Bank War, Indian Removal and the Jackson - Supreme Court struggle.
Andrew Jackson’s presidency produced one of the earliest and sharpest clashes between the executive branch and the Supreme Court. Jackson believed the president also had the power to interpret the Constitution — a doctrine called presidential departmentalism. (Jefferson imagined "departmentalism" as a Constitutional dialogue among branches; Jackson treated it as a license to act on his own.) This put him at odds with Chief Justice John Marshall, whose landmark decision in McCulloch v. Maryland (1819) upheld the national bank and affirmed broad federal power. Jackson rejected that ruling outright, vetoing the Bank’s recharter in 1832 on constitutional grounds and insisting that the Court’s decisions did not bind the executive.
The conflict deepened during the Indian removal crisis, when the Court ruled in Worcester v. Georgia (1832) that Georgia had no authority over Cherokee lands and could not seize their territory or force their removal. Jackson, however, sided with Georgia, and although the exact wording is debated, he challenged the court to a power struggle with the sentiment: “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it.”
But the Court had already spoken; it was the administration that ignored the ruling and proceeded with the Indian removal anyway. Jackson’s stance — that presidential will could override judicial authority — became a defining feature of Jacksonian “democracy” and, as history shows, cast a long constitutional shadow, effectively discrediting "departmentalism.”
Marshall recognized immediately that Jackson had precipitated a Constitutional crisis by refusing to enforce Worcester v. Georgia. But Marshall also understood something deeper:
The Supreme Court had no enforcement power. The Constitution gave him no army, no marshals, no executive muscle.
If Marshall had tried to force the issue — by ordering federal marshals into Georgia, or by issuing contempt orders — he would have triggered a confrontation between his branch of the government and the executive branch that he could not win. Jackson would have ignored him, Georgia would have resisted, and the Court’s authority would have been shattered in real time — forever.
So Marshall chose the only strategy available to him: He let the ruling stand on the books, knowing it would outlive Jackson.
And he was right.
Worcester became a foundational precedent for tribal sovereignty.
It was cited for generations after Jackson was gone.
It became part of the long arc of constitutional law that Jackson could not erase.
Marshall was playing the long game — the institutional game — not the political one.
Just like Lincoln.
Mac
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