A practical question arises here, whether this rule should be applied to the whole body of population, including women, children, and unnaturalized foreigners, or to those only who exercise the electoral franchise,—in other words, to voters. It is probable that the rule would produce nearly similar results in both cases, as voters, except in few places, would bear a uniform proportion to the whole population. But it is easy to determine what the principle of the Representative System requires. Since its object is to provide a practical substitute for meetings of the people, it should be founded, in just proportion, on the numbers of those who, according to our Constitution, can take part in those meetings,—that is, upon the qualified voters. The representative body should be a miniature or abridgment of the electoral body,—in other words, of those allowed to participate in public affairs. If this conclusion needs authority, it may be found in the words of Mr. Madison, in the Debates on the National Constitution. "It has been very properly observed," he says, "that representation is an expedient by which the meeting of the people themselves is rendered unnecessary, and that the representatives ought, therefore, to bear a proportion to the votes which their constituents, if convened, would respectively have."[18]

The Rule of Three, then, applied to voters, seems to me sound; but whether applied to voters or population, it is the true rule of representation, and stands on irreversible principles. In my view, it commends itself to the natural reason so obviously, so instinctively, that I do not feel disposed to dwell upon it. But since it is called in question, I shall be excused for saying a few words in its behalf. Its advantages present themselves in several aspects.

First. I put in the front its constant and equal operation throughout the Commonwealth. Under it, every man will have a representative each year, and every man will have the same representative power as every other man. In this respect it recognizes a darling idea of our institutions, which cannot be disowned without weakening their foundations. It gives to the great principle of human equality a new expansion and application. It makes all men, in the enjoyment of the electoral franchise, whatever their diversities of intelligence, education, or wealth, or wheresoever they may be within the borders of the Commonwealth, whether in small town or in populous city, absolutely equal at the ballot-box.

I know that there are persons, Sir, who do not hesitate to assail the whole doctrine of the equality of men, as enunciated in our Declaration of Independence and in our Bill of Rights. In this work two eminent statesmen of our own country and England have led the way.[19] But it seems to me, that, if they had chosen to comprehend the meaning of the principle, much, if not all, of their objection would have been removed. Very plain it is that men are not born equal in physical strength or in mental capacity, in beauty of form or health of body. This is apparent to all, and the difference increases with years. Diversity or inequality in these respects is the law of creation. But as God is no respecter of persons, and as all are equal in his sight, whether rich or poor, whether dwellers in cities or in fields, so are all equal in natural rights; and it is an absurd declamation—of which no gentleman in this Convention is guilty—to adduce, in argument against them, the physical or mental inequalities by which men are characterized. Now I am not prepared to class the electoral franchise among inherent, natural rights, common to the whole human family, without distinction of age, sex, or residence; but I do say, that from the equality of men, which we so proudly proclaim, we derive a just rule for its exercise. For myself, I accept this principle, and, just so far and just so soon as possible, I would be guided by it in the system of Representation. But there are other reasons still.

Secondly. The Rule of Three, as applied to representation, is commended by its simplicity. It supersedes all the painful calculations to which we have been driven, the long agony of mathematics, as it was called by my friend over the way [Mr. Giles], and is as easy in application as it is just.

Thirdly. This rule is founded in Nature, and not in Art,—on natural bodies, and not on artificial bodies,—on men, and not on corporations,—on souls, and not on petty geographical lines. On this account it may be called a natural rule, and, when once established, will become fixed and permanent, beyond all change or desire of change.

And, fourthly, this rule removes, to every possible extent, those opportunities of political partiality and calculation, in the adjustment of representation, which are naturally incident to any departure from precise rule. It was beautifully said of Law by the greatest intellect of Antiquity, that it is mind without passion; and this very definition I would extend to a rule which, with little intervention from human will, is graduated by numbers, passionless as law itself in the conception of Aristotle. The object of free institutions is to withdraw all concerns of State, so far as practicable, from human discretion, and place them under the shield of human principles, to the end, according to the words of our Constitution, that there may be "a government of laws, and not of men." But, just in proportion as we depart from precise rule, it becomes a government of men, and not of laws.

Such considerations as these, thus briefly expressed, seem to vindicate this rule of representation. But I would not forget the arguments adduced against it. These assume two distinct forms: one founded on the character of our towns and the importance of preserving their influence; the other founded on the alleged necessity of counteracting the centralization of power in the cities. Now of these in their order.

And, first, of the importance of preserving our towns. Sir, I yield to no man in appreciation of the good done by these free municipalities. The able member for Erving [Mr. Griswold], who began this debate, the eloquent member for Berlin [Mr. Boutwell], and my excellent friend of many years, the accomplished member for Manchester [Mr. Dana], in the masterly speeches which they have addressed to the Convention, attributed no good influence to the towns which I do not recognize also. With them I agree, cordially, that the towns of Massachusetts, like the municipalities of Switzerland, have been schools and nurseries of freedom,—and that in these small bodies men were early disciplined in those primal duties of citizenship, which, on a grander scale, are made the foundation of our whole political fabric. But I cannot go so far as to attribute this remarkable influence to the assumed fact, that each town by itself was entitled to a representative in the legislative body. At the time of the Revolution this was the prerogative of most towns, though not of all; but it cannot be regarded as the distinctive, essential, life-giving attribute: at most, it was only an incident.

Sir, the true glory of the towns then was, that they were organized on the principle of self-government, at a time when that principle was not generally recognized,—that each town by itself was a little republic, where the whole body of freemen were voters, with powers of local legislation, taxation, and administration, and, especially, with power to choose their own head and all subordinate magistrates. The boroughs of England have possessed the power to send a member—often two members—to Parliament; but this has not saved them from corruption; nor has any person attributed to them, though in the enjoyment of this franchise, the influence which has proceeded from our municipalities. The reason is obvious. They were organized under charters from the crown, by which local government was vested, not in the whole body of freemen, but in small councils, or select classes, originally nominated by the crown, and ever afterwards renewing themselves. No such abuse prevailed in our municipalities; and this political health at home, Sir, and not the incident of exclusive representation in a distant Legislature, has been the secret of their strength. I would cherish it ever.

This brings me, in the next place, to the objection founded on centralization of power in the cities. It is said that wealth, business, population, and talent, in multitudinous forms, all tend to the cities, and that the excessive influence of this concentrated mass, quickened by an active press, by facilities of concert, and by social appliances, ought to be counterbalanced by allotment to the towns of representative weight beyond their proportion of numbers. Now, Sir, while confessing and regretting the present predominance of the cities, I must be permitted to question the propriety of the proposed remedy. And here, differing in some respects from friends on both sides, I make an appeal for candid judgment of what I shall candidly say.

Let us deal fairly by the cities. No student of history can fail to perceive that they have performed different parts at different stages of the world. In Antiquity, they were the acknowledged centres of power, often of tyranny. In the Middle Ages, they became the home of freedom, and the bridle to feudalism. For this service they should be gratefully remembered. And now there is another change. The armed feudalism is overthrown; but it is impossible not to see that it has yielded to a commercial feudalism, whose seat is in the cities, and which, in its way, is hardly less selfish and exacting than the feudalism of the iron hand. My friend, the member for Manchester [Mr. Dana], was clearly right, when he said that the Boston of to-day is not the Boston of our fathers. Let me be understood. I make no impeachment of individuals, but simply indicate those combined influences proceeding from the potent Spirit of Trade, which, though unlike that Spirit of the Lord where is Liberty, is not inconsistent with the most enlarged munificence. I think, while confessing the abounding charities of the rich men whose eulogy we have heard more than once in this debate, it must be admitted that those pure principles which are the breath of the Republic now find their truest atmosphere in calm retreats, away from the strife of gain and the hot pavements of crowded streets. Sir, it is not only when we look upon the fields, hills, and valleys, clad in verdure, and shining with silver lake or rivulet, that we are ready to exclaim,—

"God made the country, and man made the town."

But, Sir, while maintaining these opinions, I cannot admit the argument, that the centralized power of the cities may be counteracted by degrading them in the scale of representation. This cannot be purposely done, without departing from fundamental principles, and overthrowing the presiding doctrine of personal equality. Cities are but congregations of men; and men exert influence in various ways,—by the accident of position, the accident of intelligence, the accident of property, the accident of birth, and, lastly, by the vote. It is the vote only which is not an accident; and it should be the boast of Massachusetts, that all men, whatever their accidents, are equal in their votes.

The idea of property as a check upon numbers, which on a former occasion found such favor in this hall, is now rejected in the adjustment of our representative System. And, Sir, I venture to predict that the proposition, newly broached in this Commonwealth, to restrain the cities by curtailment of their just representative power, will hereafter be as little regarded.

II.

Mr. President,—Such is what I have to say on the history and principles of the Representative System, particularly in the light of American institutions; and this brings me to the practical question at this moment. I cannot doubt that the District System, as it is generally called, whereby the representative power will be distributed in just proportion, according to the Rule of Three, among the voters of the Commonwealth, is the true system, destined at no distant day to prevail. And gladly would I see this Convention hasten the day by presenting it to the people for adoption in the organic law. To this end I have striven by my votes. But, Sir, I cannot forget what has passed. The votes already taken show that the Convention is not prepared for this radical change; and I am assured by gentlemen more familiar with public sentiment than I can pretend to be, that the people are not yet prepared for it.

Thus we are brought to the position occupied successively by the Conventions of 1780 and 1820, each of which, though containing warm partisans of the District System, shrank from its adoption—as in Virginia, the early recommendation of Jefferson, and his vehement support at a later day, have been powerless to produce this important amendment. John Lowell, who appeared at the bar of the Massachusetts Legislature in 1776 to vindicate the principle of equality in representation, and Theophilus Parsons, author of the powerful tract which proposed to found the Representative System on the Rule of Three, were both members of the first Convention,—and I know not if the District System has since had any abler defenders. To these I might add the great name of John Adams, who early pleaded for equality of representation, and declared, in words adopted by the Essex Convention, that the Representative Assembly should be "an exact portrait in miniature of the people at large."[20] In the Convention of 1820, the District System was cherished and openly extolled by a distinguished jurist, at that time a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States,—Joseph Story,—whose present fame gives additional importance to his opinions. And yet the desire of these men failed. The corporate representation of towns was preserved, and the District System pronounced impracticable. In the Address put forth by the Convention of 1780, and signed by its President, James Bowdoin, these words may be found:—

The Convention seem to have recognized the theoretic fitness of an "exact representation," but did not regard it as feasible in a State already divided into nearly three hundred corporations. In the Convention of 1820, Joseph Story, who has been quoted by my eloquent friend [Mr. Choate], used language which, though not so strong as that of the early Address, has the same result.

Sir, I am not insensible to these considerations, or to the authority of these examples. A division of the State into districts would be a change, in conformity with abstract principles, which would interfere with existing opinions, habitudes, and prejudices of the towns, all of which must be respected. A change so important in character cannot be advantageously made, unless supported by the permanent feelings and convictions of the people. Institutions are formed from within, not from without. They spring from custom and popular faith, silently operating with internal power, not from the imposed will of a lawgiver. And our present duty here, at least on this question, may be in some measure satisfied, if we aid this growth.

Two great schools of jurisprudence for a while divided the learned mind of Germany,—one known as the Historic, the other as the Didactic. The question between them was similar to that now before the Convention. The first regarded all laws and institutions as the growth of custom, under constant influences of history; the other insisted upon positive legislation, giving to them a form in conformity with abstract reason. It is clear that both were in a measure right. No lawgiver or statesman can disregard either history or abstract reason. He must contemplate both. He will faithfully study the Past, and will recognize its treasures and traditions; but, with equal fidelity, he will set his face towards the Future, where all institutions will at last be in harmony with truth.

I have been encouraged to believe in the practicability of the District System by its conformity with reason, and by seeing how naturally it went into operation under the Constitution of the United States. But there is a difference between that case and the present. A new Government was then founded, with new powers, applicable to a broad expanse of country; but the Constitution of Massachusetts was little more than a continuation of preëxisting usages and institutions, with all dependence upon royalty removed. This distinction may help us now. If the country were absolutely new, without embarrassment from existing corporate rights,—claims I would rather call them,—it might easily be arranged according to the most approved theory, as Philadelphia is said to have been originally laid out on the model of the German city which its great founder had seen in his travels.[23] But to bring our existing system into symmetry, and to lay it out anew, would seem to be a task—at least I am reluctantly led to this conclusion by what I have heard here—not unlike that of rebuilding Boston, and of shaping its compact mass of crooked streets into the regular rectangular forms of the city of Penn. And yet this is not impossible. With each day, by demolishing ancient houses and widening ancient ways, changes are made which tend to this result.

Sir, we must recognize the existing condition of things, remedy all practical grievances so far as possible, and set our faces towards the true system. We must act in the Present, but be mindful also of the Future. There are proper occasions for compromise, as most certainly there are rights beyond compromise. But the Representative System is an expedient or device for ascertaining the popular will, and, though well satisfied that this can be best founded on numbers, I would not venture to say, in the present light of political science, that the right of each man to an equal representation, according to the Rule of Three, and without regard to existing institutions or controlling usages, is of that inherent and lofty character—like the God-given right to life or liberty—which admits of no compromise.

Several grievances exist, which will be removed by the proposed amendments. There is one which I had hoped would disappear, but which is the necessary incident of corporate representation: I mean the unwieldy size of the House.

It is generally said that a small body is more open to bribery and corruption than a large body; but, on the other hand, I have heard it asserted that the larger is more exposed than the smaller. I put this consideration aside. My objection to a large House is, that it is inconvenient for the despatch of public business. There is a famous saying of Cardinal de Retz, that every assembly of more than one hundred is a mob; and Lord Chesterfield applied the same term to the British House of Commons. At the present time that body has nominally six hundred and fifty-four members. It is called by Lord Brougham "preposterously large"; but a quorum for business is forty only; and it is only on rare occasions of political importance that its benches are completely occupied. The House of Lords, nominally, has four hundred and fifty-nine members; but a quorum in this body consists of three only;[24] and much of its business is transacted in a very thin attendance.

The experience of Congress, as also of other States, points to a reduction of our present number. Indeed, for many years this was a general desire through the State. In the earliest Colonial days every town was allowed three deputies; but in five years the number, on reaching thirty-three, was reduced to two for each.[25] At a later day, in 1694, a great contest in the House was decided by a vote of twenty-six against twenty-four.[26] In the agitating period between 1762 and 1773, covering the controversies which heralded the Revolution, the House consisted, on an average, of one hundred and twenty members; and only on one occasion the magnitude of the interest is reported by Hutchinson to have drawn together so many as one hundred and thirteen. At the last session of the Provincial Legislature, in May, 1774, when the Revolutionary conflict was at hand, the complete returns of the Journal show one hundred and forty. In 1776 there was a House of three hundred and five; but this "enormous and very unwieldy size," according to the language of the time, was assigned as a reason for a new Constitution. I regret that we cannot profit by this experience. A House of two hundred and fifty, or, since we are accustomed to large congregations,[27] of three hundred at most, would be an improvement on the present system.

There are two proposed improvements which I hail with satisfaction: one relates to the small towns, and the other to the cities. The small towns will have a more constant representation; and this of itself is an approach to the true principle of representation, which should be constant as well as equal. The cities will be divided into districts, and this I regard of twofold importance: first, as the beginning of a true system; and, secondly, as reducing the power which the cities, by the large number of their representatives, chosen by general ticket, now exercise.

A respected gentleman, now in my eye, has reminded me that in boyhood his attention was arrested in this House by what was called "the Boston seat," reserved exclusively for the Boston members, who sat together on cushions, while other members were left to such accommodation as they could find on bare benches. This discrimination ceased long ago. But it seems to me that this reserved and cushioned seat is typical of another discrimination, which Boston, in common with the cities, still enjoys. Sir, in voting for forty-four representatives, the elector in Boston exercises a representative power far exceeding that of electors in the country; and the majority which rules Boston and determines the whole delegation exercises a representative power transcending far that of any similar number in the Commonwealth. This is apparent on the bare statement, as forty-four sticks are stronger in one compact bundle than when single or in small parcels. Thus, while other counties are divided, the delegation from Boston is united. In all political contests, it is like the well-knit Macedonian phalanx, or the iron front of the Roman legion, in comparison with the disconnected individual warriors against whom they were engaged. This abuse will be removed; and here is the beginning, I had almost said the inauguration, of a true electoral equality in our Commonwealth.

And now, in conclusion, while thanking gentlemen for the kind attention with which they have honored me, let me express briefly the result to which I have come. I have openly declared my convictions with regard to the District System, and in accordance with these have recorded my votes in this Convention. These votes, which reveal my inmost desires on this matter, I would not change. But the question is not now between the District System, which I covet so much for Massachusetts, and the proposed amendments, but between these amendments and the existing system. On this issue I decide without hesitation. I shall vote, Sir, for the propositions of amendment before the Convention, should they come to a question on their final passage, not because they are all that I desire, not because they satisfy the requirement of principles which I cannot deny, not because they constitute a permanent adjustment of this difficult question, but because they are the best which I can now obtain, because they reform grievances of the existing system, and because they begin a change which can end only in the establishment of a Representative System founded in reality, as in name, on Equality. Their adoption will be the triumph of conciliation and harmony, and will furnish new testimony to the well-tempered spirit of our institutions, where

BILLS OF RIGHTS: THEIR HISTORY AND POLICY.

Mr. Chairman,—As Chairman of the Committee on the Preamble and Bill of Rights, it is my duty to introduce and explain their Report. It will be perceived that it is brief, and proposes no important changes. But in justice to the distinguished gentlemen with whom I have the honor of being associated on that Committee, I deem it my duty to suggest that the extent of their labors must not be judged by this result. It appears from the proceedings of the Convention of 1820, that the Committee on the Bill of Rights at that time sat longer than any other Committee. I believe that the same Committee in the present Convention might claim the same preëminence. Their records show twenty different sessions.

At these sessions, the Preamble and the Bill of Rights, in its thirty different propositions, were passed in review and considered clause by clause; the various orders of the Convention, amounting to twelve in number, the petitions addressed to the Convention and referred to the Committee, as also informal propositions from members of the Convention and others were considered, some of them repeatedly and at length. On many questions there was a decided difference of opinion, and on a few the Committee was nearly equally divided. But after the best consideration we could bestow in our protracted series of meetings, it was found that the few simple propositions now on your table were all upon which a majority of the Committee could be brought to unite. As such I was directed to present them. Admonished by the lapse of time and the desire to close these proceedings, I might be content with this simple statement.

But, notwithstanding the urgency of our business, I cannot allow the opportunity to pass—indeed, I should not do my duty—without attempting for a brief moment to show the origin and character of this part of our Constitution. In this way we may learn its weight and authority, and appreciate the difficulty and delicacy of any change in its substance or even its form. I will try not to abuse your patience.

The Preamble and Bill of Rights, like the rest of our Constitution, were from the pen of John Adams,—among whose published works the whole document, in its original draught, may be found. At the time when he rendered this important service to his native Commonwealth and to the principles of free institutions everywhere, he was forty-four years of age. He was also quite prepared. The natural maturity of his powers had been enriched by the well-ripened fruit of assiduous study and of active life, both of which concurred in him. The examples of Greece and Rome and the writings of Sidney and Locke were especially familiar to his mind. The Common Law he had made his own, and mastered well its whole arsenal of Freedom. For a long time the vigorous and unfailing partisan of the liberal cause in Boston, throughout its many conflicts,—then in Congress, whither he was transferred, the irresistible champion of Independence,—and then the republican representative of the United, but still struggling, Colonies at the Court of France,—in the brief interval between two foreign missions, only seven days after landing from his long ocean voyage, he was chosen a delegate to the Constitutional Convention, and at once brought all his varied experience, rare political culture, and eminent powers to the task of adjusting the framework of government for Massachusetts. As his work, it all claims our regard; and no part bears the imprint of his mind so much as the Preamble and Bill of Rights; nor is any other part authenticated as coming so exclusively from him.

At the time of its first adoption the Massachusetts Bill of Rights was more ample in provisions and more complete in form than any similar declaration in English or Colonial history. Glancing at its predecessors, we learn something of its sources. First came, long back in the thirteenth century, Magna Charta, with generous safeguards of Freedom, wrung from King John by the Barons at Runnymede. From time to time these liberties were confirmed, and, after an interval of centuries, they were again ratified, near the beginning of the unhappy reign of Charles the First, by a Parliamentary Declaration, to which the monarch assented, known as the Petition of Right, which, in its very title, reveals the humility with which the rights of the people were then maintained. Finally, in a different tone and language, at the Revolution of 1688, when James the Second was driven from his dominions, a "Declaration of the true, ancient, and indubitable rights and liberties of the people of the kingdom," familiarly known as the Bill of Rights, was delivered by the Convention Parliament to the new sovereigns, William and Mary, and embodied in the Act of Settlement, by virtue of which they sat on the throne. These, Sir, are English examples.

Their influence was not confined to England. It crossed the ocean. From the beginning the Colonists were tenacious of the rights and liberties of Englishmen, and at various times and in various forms declared them. Connecticut, as early as 1639, Virginia in 1624 and 1776, Pennsylvania in 1682, New York in 1691,—and I might mention others still,—put forth Declarations, brief and meagre, but kindred to those of the mother country. In the Colony of New Plymouth, the essential principles of Magna Charta were proclaimed in 1636, under the name of "The General Fundamentals"; and in 1641 the inhabitants of Massachusetts Bay announced, in words worthy of careful study, that "the free fruition of such Liberties, Immunities, and Privileges, as Humanity, Civility, and Christianity call for, as due to every man in his place and proportion, without impeachment and infringement, hath ever been and ever will be the tranquillity and stability of Churches and Commonwealths, and the denial or deprival thereof the disturbance, if not the ruin, of both."[28] Such was the Preamble to the "Body of Liberties" of the Massachusetts Colony in 1641. It would be difficult to find any text more comprehensive than these remarkable words,—the object being "Liberties, Immunities, and Privileges," to such extent "as Humanity, Civility, and Christianity call for"; and this Declaration, broader than Magna Charta, became the inspiration of Massachusetts, if not of the Nation. Nor does Massachusetts stand alone in this honor. Connecticut is by her side.[29]

I should not do justice to this "Body of Liberties," if I did not call attention to at least four different declarations. There is, first, the clause: "There shall never be any bond slavery, villenage, or captivity amongst us, unless it be lawful captives taken in just wars, and such strangers as willingly sell themselves or are sold to us"; and although this provision falls short of that universal freedom which is our present aspiration, it is a plain limitation upon Slavery, and marks the hostility of the Colony. Another declaration sets an example of hospitality: "If any people of other nations, professing the true Christian religion, shall flee to us from the tyranny or oppression of their persecutors, or from famine, wars, or the like necessary and compulsory cause, they shall be entertained and succored amongst us according to that power and prudence God shall give us." And it is further declared: "Every person within this jurisdiction, whether inhabitant or foreigner, shall enjoy the same Justice and Law that is general for the Plantation, which we constitute and execute one towards another, without partiality or delay." Here is nothing less than Equality before the Law, without this compendious term. There is another declaration, which has the same exalted character: "Every man, whether inhabitant or foreigner, free or not free, shall have liberty to come to any public Court, Council, or Town Meeting, and either by speech or writing to move any lawful, seasonable, and material question, or to present any necessary motion, complaint, petition, bill, or information, whereof that meeting hath proper cognizance, so it be done in convenient time, due order, and respective manner." Such declarations as these belong to the history of Freedom.

In the animated discussions immediately preceding the Revolution, the rights and liberties of Englishmen were constantly asserted as the birthright of the Colonists. This was often by formal resolution or declaration, couched at first in moderate phrase. At the outrage of the Stamp Act, a Congress of delegates from nine Colonies, held at New York in October, 1765, put forth a series of resolutions embodying "Declarations of our humble opinion respecting the most essential rights and liberties of the Colonists."[30] The humility of this language recalls the English Petition of Right under Charles the First. This was followed in 1774 by the Declaration of the Continental Congress, which, in another tone and with admirable force, in ten different propositions, arrays the rights which belong to "the inhabitants of the English Colonies in North America, by the immutable Laws of Nature, the Principles of the English Constitution, and the several Charters or Compacts."[31]

"Time's noblest offspring is the last";

and the whole Colonial series is aptly closed by the Declaration of Independence, announcing not merely the rights of Englishmen, but the rights of men.

Only a few brief weeks before the Declaration of Independence, Virginia, taking the lead of her sister Colonies, established a Constitution, to which was prefixed an elaborate Declaration of Rights. This remarkable document, which became the immediate precedent for the whole country, marks an epoch in political history. Massachusetts and Connecticut had already led the way in that early and most comprehensive Preamble, which has been too little noticed; but in all English Declarations of Rights, and generally even in those of the Colonies, stress was laid upon the liberties and privileges of Englishmen. The rights claimed even by the Continental Congress of 1774, in their masculine Declaration, were the rights of "free and natural-born subjects within the realm of England." But the Virginia Bill of Rights, standing at the front of its first Constitution, discarded all narrow title from mere English precedent, planted itself on the eternal law of God, above every human ordinance, and openly proclaimed that "all men are by nature equally free and independent,"—a declaration which is repeated, though in other language, by the Massachusetts Declaration of Rights.

The policy of Bills of Rights is sometimes called in question. It has been said that they were originally privileges or concessions extorted from the king, and, though expedient in a monarchy, are of little value in a republic. As late as 1821, in the Convention for revising the Constitution of New York, doubts of their utility were openly expressed by Mr. Van Buren. But they are now above question. State after State, ending with California, follows the example of Virginia and Massachusetts, and places its Bill of Rights in the front of its Constitution. Nor can I doubt that much good is done by this frank assertion of fundamental principles. The public mind is instructed, people learn to know their rights, liberal institutions are confirmed, and the Constitution is made stable in the hearts of the community. Bills of Rights are lessons of political wisdom and anchors of liberty. They are the constant index, and also scourge, of injustice and wrong. In Massachusetts, Slavery itself disappeared before the declaration that "all men are born free and equal," interpreted by a liberty-loving Court.[32]

In the Convention of 1780 the Bill of Rights formed a prominent subject of interest. The necessity of such a safeguard had been pressed upon the people, and its absence from the Constitution of 1778 was unquestionably a reason for the rejection of that ill-fated effort. Indeed, the Constitution was openly opposed because it had no Bill of Rights. In the array of objections at the period was the following, which I take from an important contemporaneous publication: "That a Bill of Rights, clearly ascertaining and defining the rights of conscience and that security of person and property which every member in the State hath a right to expect from the supreme power thereof, ought to be settled and established previous to the ratification of any Constitution for the State."[33] Accordingly, at the earliest moment after the organization of the Convention, a motion was made, "that there be a Declaration of Rights prepared previous to the framing a new Constitution of Government," which after adoption gave way to another, "that the Convention will prepare a Declaration of Rights," and this motion prevailed by a nearly unanimous vote,—the whole number present, as returned by the monitors, being two hundred and fifty-one, of whom two hundred and fifty voted in the affirmative.[34] Thus emphatically did the early fathers of Massachusetts manifest their watchfulness for the rights of the people; and there is good reason to believe, also, that among the motives which stimulated it was a determination in this way to abolish Slavery.[35] The Convention then resolved to "proceed to the framing a new Constitution of Government." A grand Committee of thirty was chosen to perform these two important duties; and this Committee, after extended discussion, intrusted to John Adams alone the preparation of a Declaration of Rights, and to a Sub-Committee, consisting of James Bowdoin, Samuel Adams, and John Adams, the duty of preparing the Form of a Constitution, which Sub-Committee again delegated the task to John Adams: so that to the pen of this illustrious citizen we are indebted primarily both for the Declaration of Rights and the Form of the Constitution.[36]

It is not difficult to trace most, if not all, of the ideas and provisions of our Preamble and Declaration of Rights to their primitive sources. The Preamble, where the body politic is founded on the fiction of the Social Compact, was doubtless inspired by the writings of Sidney and Locke, and by the English discussions at the period of the Revolution of 1688, when this questionable theory did good service in response to the assumptions of Filmer, and as a shield against arbitrary power. Of different provisions in the Bill of Rights, some are in the very words of Magna Charta,—others are derived from the ancient Common Law, the Petition of Right, and the Bill of Rights of 1688,—while, of the thirty Articles composing it, no less than nineteen,[37] either wholly or in part, may be found substantially in the Virginia Bill of Rights: but these again are in great part derived from the earlier fountains.

And now, Sir, you have before you for revision and amendment this early work of our fathers. I do not stop to consider its peculiar merits. With satisfaction I might point to special safeguards by which our rights have been protected against usurpation, whether executive, legislative, or judicial. With pride I might dwell on those words which banished Slavery from our soil, and rendered the Declaration of Independence here with us a living letter. But the hour does not require or admit any such service. You have a practical duty, which I seek to promote; and I now take leave of the whole subject, with the simple remark, that a document proceeding from such a pen, drawn from such sources, with such an origin in all respects, speaking so early for Human Rights, and now for more than threescore years and ten a household word to the people of Massachusetts, should be touched by the Convention only with exceeding care.

FINGER-POINT FROM PLYMOUTH ROCK.

Speech at the Plymouth Festival in Commemoration of the Embarkation of the Pilgrims, August 1, 1853.