On the Lottery Decision, No. 1
To the people of the United States:
I beg leave to address you, fellow-citizens, on the subject of the late decision of the Supreme Court, in the case of Cohens against the State of Virginia I address you on that great subject, from no light motives whatsoever. Far less have I any vain desire, to array myself againt the very able penman, by whom that opinion was composed. I approach you, on the contrary, with a heavy heart. I address you under a solemn conviction, that the liberties and constitution of our country are endangered—deeply and vitally endangered, by the fatal effects of that decision.
Drawn towards you, fellow-citizens, by every tie which can attach man to man; deeply penetrated by all those fond endearments, which bind the affections of a man to his native country, ought I to sit silent under such circumstances? Ought I not to raise my feeble voice, in behalf of liberties of myself and my childrens' children, to the latest generation? Ought I not to move when your liberties and those of your latest posterity are in peril?
I trust that my address to you, fellow-citizens, will not be deemed presumptuous. I address myself to you, because you, alone, are able to afford relief. I address you, in your primary and sovereign character: and I pray you, in that character, to correct the proceedings of your subordinate agents:—I address you, also, in your peaceful character. I want from you, no insurrections, no rebellions, no revolutions. It would be almost a perversion of terms, to ask the sovereign people, to rebel against the acts of their inferior agents. I ask from you no revolution, but what consists in the preservation of an excellent constitution. I require from you no insurrection, but that of a frequent recurrence to fundamental principles.
My appeal to you, I trust, will not be made in vain. You are the same American people, who, twenty years ago put down an infamous sedition-law, by the mere force of public opinion. Yes! and you also put down, there with, the equally infamous judgments of the federal courts, by which that statute was enforced. You put down, with indignation, and with scorn, those unjust judgments, which had fined and imprisoned divers of our citizens, for exercising the sacred rights of speaking and writing, guaranteed to them by the constitution. Where is now that act, and where are now those judgments? Crucified, dead and buried. They have descended together, to the tomb of the Capulets, and peace be to their names. I am sure that my appeal to you will not be heard with indifference. You are the descendents of that magnanimous people, who, in our mother country, corrected the unanimous judgment, of twelve high and ermined judges, in the famous case of ship-money. That judgment had asserted the right of the King, to levy taxes without the consent of parliament and, thus, had put the axe to the root of the constitution of England. That judgment resisted by the firmness and virtue of the illustrious Hampden, eventuated in this:—that some of those judges changed their opinions, others were impeached, and the judgment itself, was ultimately cancelled by both Houses of the English parliament as well as by the voice of the English people. It was unanimously declared by both houses to be, contrary to the constitution, subversive of the liberties of the people, and contrary to the petition of rights.(1)