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To the student of American institutions it must appear singularly impressive and instructive that the members of the Constitutional Convention of the state of New York have paused in their important work to celebrate the seven-hundredth anniversary of the Great Charter of English Liberties and to look back reverently through the centuries to the sources of our constitutional law and to the days when our ancestors were laying the foundations of civil liberty and political justice. It is, indeed, no exaggeration to assert that Magna Carta marked the greatest political epoch in the history of our race, in that it saved England from becoming one of the arbitrary and degrading despotisms which arose in Europe after the overthrow of the feudal system, and that from its principles sprang representative and constitutional government, with all that these terms have grown to mean to Americans. This ceremony must again emphasize the great truth that everything which has power to win the obedience and respect of men must have its roots deep in the past, and that the more slowly institutions have grown, so much the more enduring are they likely to prove.

Two hundred and eighteen years ago the royal governor of New York is reported to have exclaimed to the legislature of the colony: "There are none of you but are big with the privileges of Magna Carta." And to-day, Mr. President, can it not be said with equal force and pride that there are no Americans but are big with the privileges of Magna Carta? Long may that continue to be true! To provide that the spirit of these privileges shall endure forever, so far as lies in human power, is the highest and noblest duty of every American constitutional convention.

Other speakers will treat of the historical and political aspects of Magna Carta and of its reissues and confirmations by king after king and parliament after parliament. I am to speak of the legal value of some of the cardinal features of the Great Charter as antecedents of principles which are closely connected with our present political life and which continue to invigorate our system of constitutional law. But my treatment of this large and important aspect of the subject must necessarily be inadequate, in view of the limited time at your disposal.

It is undoubtedly true that Magna Carta contained much that was old in 1215 and much that subsequently became antiquated because inapplicable to changed conditions; yet it then crystallized and served to perpetuate the fundamental principles of the liberties of Englishmen. Solemnly confirmed no less than thirty-seven times by seven kings of England, it naturally became in the eyes of Englishmen the embodiment of their deepest and most firmly rooted rights and liberties and their great and stirring battle-cry against tyranny. The reissue of 1225 still remains on the English statute books as in full force and effect, so that, as an English historian has recently said, every act appearing on the statute rolls is in a sense an act amending Magna Carta.

The spirit of Magna Carta, as it thus survived, has for centuries inspired Englishmen and Americans, even though its letter may be dead and most of its provisions may long ago have become obsolete and their exact meaning hidden beneath the ruins of the past. Indeed, provisions of the Great Charter were frequently violated by king and parliament after 1215, and were allowed to fall into neglect for generations at a time; but it cannot be doubted that, if the principles they embodied had been observed, they would have secured permanent political liberty and constitutional government to England long before the seventeenth century, and that only disregard of those principles made possible the five centuries of tyranny and oppression recorded by English history.

It may likewise be true, as some historians of the scientific school are now contending, that the framers of the Great Charter and the representatives of the English church, baronage and people gathered on the meadows at Runnymede on the 15th day of June, 1215, had little or no grasp of the science of politics or of constitutional principles as we understand them. It is probably true that they had no very definite conception of the theory of representative government, or of the separation of governmental powers, or of those inalienable rights of the individual which our Declaration of Independence was later to proclaim, just as it is probably true that very few of them could even read the language in which the charter was written. But statesmen and lawyers, in dealing with the practical problems of constitutional government, will not minimize the value of Magna Carta, and our debt to the generation that forced it from King John, merely because the underlying principles may not have been fully grasped by its framers and its traditions may be based on legends and myths. It is enough that the charter contained the germ and the spirit of civil liberty and political justice.

It may be conceded that the framers of Magna Carta builded better than they knew, and likewise that many of the traditions as to the intent, meaning and scope of its provisions—traditions which were so potent and inspiring during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—were founded, as is now asserted, upon legends and myths. Yet, these legends and traditions, growing up and clustering around Magna Carta, served to keep alive and perpetuate its spirit. They generated the sentiment which impelled men to patriotic and heroic sacrifice in the cause of liberty; they sustained generation after generation in the recurring struggles for political justice and equality before the law; they formed and preserved a public morality which prevented violations of the principles of the Great Charter, and they were of incalculable inspiration and encouragement to Englishmen and Americans, if not to the whole world. The great traditions of Magna Carta have made its heritage peculiarly valuable and its service to humanity immortal. It is because of these traditions that Magna Carta is doubly sacred to us, as it was to our forefathers.

Many of us, however, venture to believe that the unknown author of the original Articles of the Barons or of the Great Charter itself—if it was not the learned Stephen Langton, who had been educated at the University of Paris and was familiar with Roman and canonical law and the charters of liberties which the kings of France had been granting to their subjects—knew far more of the underlying and vivifying principles of jurisprudence and politics than some of our modern critics are willing to attribute to that generation. Be this as it may, the political instinct of our race must have guided the framers to the eternal truths upon which the Great Charter of Liberties was based, even though they imperfectly comprehended these truths, or did not comprehend them at all. A single phrase like "the law of the land" in a political document is often wiser than is realized, not merely by the masses who acclaim it, but even by the leaders who write it. It may happily serve to preserve and compress into very small compass the relics of ancient wisdom, notwithstanding the fact that later generations are frequently puzzled to decipher the contents and discover the meaning. Such a phrase, as has been well said of the language of a nation, "sometimes locks up truths which were once well known, but which in the course of ages have passed out of sight and been forgotten. In other cases it holds the germs of truths, of which, though they were never plainly discerned, the genius of its framers caught a glimpse in a happy moment of divination, ... and often it would seem as though rays of truths, which were still below the intellectual horizon, had dawned upon the imagination as it was looking up to heaven."[2]

First and foremost among the cardinal principles of Magna Carta was the idea, then beginning again to germinate throughout Europe, that the individual has natural rights as against the government, and that those rights ought to be secured to him by fundamental laws which should be unalterable by king or council. No one can study the history of European politics during the great constructive thirteenth century without being impressed by the fact of the revival of this conception in men's minds, not only in England, but on the Continent, where it manifested itself in varying forms and in different connections. I say revival, because the same conviction had prevailed hundreds of years before in both Greece and Rome; but it had been lost for centuries.

The idea that the fundamental laws of the land—the pious and good old laws of Alfred and of Edward, as the English called them, or les lois fondamentales, as the French were then calling them—were unalterable and that any governmental regulation, or edict, or statute to the contrary should be treated as void and null, is plainly enunciated in the first chapter of Magna Carta, where King John grants to the freemen of the kingdom "all the underwritten liberties, to be had and held by them and their heirs, of us and our heirs forever," and in chapter sixty-one, where the king covenants that he "shall procure nothing from any one, directly or indirectly, whereby any part of these concessions and liberties might be revoked or diminished; and if any such thing has been procured, let it be void and null." It is certain that during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the theory generally prevailed in England that the concessions and liberties of the Great Charter had been granted forever and were unalterable by the king, or even by parliament. Thus, we find parliament enacting in 1369, with the consent of Edward III., that the Great Charter of Liberties should be "holden and kept in all points, and if any statute be made to the contrary, that shall be holden for none."

One of the scholarly critics of Magna Carta suggests that this enactment of 1369 was quite an "illogical theory" on the part of parliament, because, to quote his language, "if parliament had power to alter the sacred terms of Magna Carta, it had power to alter the less sacred statute of 1369 which declared it unalterable."[3] The conclusive answer to this kind of reasoning, at least as it must seem to statesmen and lawyers, is that Magna Carta was then regarded as something very different from and much higher than any ordinary statute. The people of that day would have protested, if the logic of parliament had then been challenged by the learned, that Magna Carta was a permanent charter of liberties and as such not subject to amendment or nullification by mere statute. But logical or illogical as the act of 42 Edward III. may have been at the time, or may seem to be to the logicians of the twentieth century, it serves to show that in the fourteenth century the English people understood and intended, and the king and parliament expressly agreed and conceded, that the liberties guaranteed by the Great Charter, then being again and again confirmed, were unalterable, and that any statute to the contrary should be "holden for none."

The spirit of that declaration still lives in every American constitution. We certainly have here the antecedent of the great controlling principle underlying the whole structure of American constitutional law, that any statute in conflict with the fundamental laws, so far as we see fit to perpetuate them in constitutional provisions, shall be void and null, in the language of the Great Charter, or holden for none, in the language of the time of Edward III. Chief Justice Marshall in the great case of Marbury vs. Madison, in 1803, was but following these ancient declarations when, speaking for the Supreme Court of the United States, he settled—we hope for all time—the beneficent and indispensable doctrine that a statute contrary to an American constitution must be treated by the courts as void and null and holden for none.

I do not overlook the fact that this idea of fundamental laws unchangeable by statute long slumbered in England, and that the contrary—the legal supremacy of parliament—was subsequently established. In studying this aspect of the Great Charter, we must recall that the conditions of life in England during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were very much simpler than those existing later, and that it was not then realized, or at most only vaguely and dimly, that the legislative power could change the laws regulating the rights and duties of individuals as among themselves or in their relation to the government. The modern habit of imagining that in legislation is to be found the panacea for all ills and of measuring the efficiency of a government by the number of statutes it has produced was unthought of. Probably the only legislative function in the minds of Englishmen during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was taxation, and as yet men hardly realized the necessity for broader regulative or legislative powers.

Nevertheless, the doctrine that the permanent fundamental principles of the law of the land guaranteed by Magna Carta were inviolable prevailed in England long after the fourteenth century, and in fact was declared in the English courts as late as the seventeenth century. Bonham's case is the most familiar instance of the recognition of that doctrine. The views of English lawyers, judges and statesmen have changed in this respect, and it is now settled that parliament is supreme and that it can amend or repeal Magna Carta in any respect it may see fit. The changed view undoubtedly met with ready acquiescence, partly because of the necessity for amendments of the law in order to cope with changing conditions, partly because of the unwillingness of the English people to leave questions of constitutional power to the courts, in view of the dependence of the judges upon the crown, but principally because of the confident belief that parliament existed primarily for the very purpose of upholding and protecting the rights and liberties secured to the people by the Great Charter of Liberties, and that the people could rely upon parliament never to consent to the violation of those rights and liberties.

Repeatedly from the seventeenth century to our own day legislation has been criticized in Great Britain and Ireland on the ground that it was in conflict with Magna Carta, and always the strongest and most effective argument against proposed legislation has been that it would violate the principles of the Great Charter of Liberties. During the past thirty years thoughtful observers of English politics have remarked that private property in England is, on the whole, less secure from attack on the part of the government in our day than it was at the time of the Stuarts. Whenever the increase of class legislation and attacks on private property shall lead Englishmen to place checks and restraints upon the power of temporary majorities, so as more effectively to protect personal and property rights—an event which, I believe, must inevitably come to pass sooner or later—then the stirring battle-cry will again be Magna Carta, and the result may be a return to the spirit of the declarations of Magna Carta and of the statute of Edward III., that any statute contrary to the law of the land guaranteeing the fundamental rights and liberties of the individual shall be void and null and holden for none. And to make that ancient, sound and honest principle really an effective protection to the individual and to minorities, the courts of justice of England may at last be empowered, as they are with us, to refuse to give force and effect and to hold for none any statute in conflict with the fundamental law of the land.

Of an importance no less vital than the idea of a permanent law of the land safeguarding the fundamental rights and liberties of the individual, was the express declaration in the first chapter of Magna Carta that the English church, Anglicana ecclesia, should be free from interference on the part of the crown and that her rights should be entire and her liberties inviolable. In this provision we have the germ of an independent church and the idea of the separation of Church and State.

It is reasonable to assume and, in view of the surrounding circumstances and the language then employed, it is highly probable that, under the lead of Langton, who was born of English parents and intensely patriotic, probably himself the author of the clause, the churchmen of that day conceived that the religion of the English people ought to be free from governmental control, and that the English church had interests and privileges independent of the crown and independent likewise of the interests and policies of Rome. At that very time the English churchmen, in cooperating with the barons and people of England to secure Magna Carta, were acting against the will of Rome; indeed, as we know, the Pope promptly denounced the Great Charter and the patriot primate, because the Pope considered that the Great Charter was derogatory to the dignity of King John as a vassal of the Holy See. In this provision of Magna Carta relating to the English church, even though it was disregarded for centuries, we recognize the idea of religious liberty and the American political principle of the separation of Church and State, as also, though vaguely, the great principle underlying the noble declaration in our own state constitution that "the free exercise and enjoyment of religious profession and worship, without discrimination or preference, shall forever be allowed in this state to all mankind."

The provisions of the Great Charter relating to the administration of justice were undoubtedly those which were of chief concern to the people at large, as they were certainly, if observed, those most essential for the security of their liberties. The framers knew that it was in the courts that the king of England would keep his promises, if at all, and that the king's government would only be as good as his judges were learned, independent and impartial. In these provisions of Magna Carta we find the principle of the separation and independence of the judicial power and the soundest and highest conceptions of the administration of justice, conceptions far in advance of those to be found in any other document or enactment of that age.

The framers had grasped the great truth that jurisprudence is a science, that the law must be administered by men learned in that science and bound to obey its rules and follow its precedents, that uniformity and certainty are essential to the administration of justice, and that the highest political liberty is the right to justice according to law and not according to the will of the judge or the judge's master, or according to the judge's individual discretion, or his notions of right and wrong. They had also arrived at the conclusion that every Englishman was entitled as of absolute right to a day in a court which would hear before it condemned, which would proceed upon notice and inquiry, and which would render judgment only after a fair trial. The plain people of England knew full well that the struggle for their old laws—the laws of their land, pious, good, fixed and permanent, as they devoutly believed them to be—would be fruitless unless they secured permanent courts and learned, independent and impartial judges; and they instinctively felt, if they did not clearly perceive, that the law is infinitely wiser than those who may be called upon to administer it, and that, as Aristotle had declared fifteen hundred years before, "to seek to be wiser than the laws is the very thing which is by good laws forbidden."

It was Magna Carta that established in England the doctrine of the rule of law administered in fixed courts by learned and independent judges bound to obey the law; and it was Magna Carta that established the greatest of all the English constitutional doctrines, that of the supremacy of the law over every official however high. When the Great Charter was being translated and explained in the cathedrals, churches and monasteries of England, the people fully understood the tremendous significance and value to them, determined as they were to establish a rule of law and put an end to arbitrary decrees, of the famous covenant in chapter forty-five that the king would "appoint as justices, constables, sheriffs, or bailiffs only such as know the law of the realm and mean to observe it well," and of the covenants in chapter seventeen that the "common pleas shall not follow our court, but shall be held in some fixed place"—in chapter eighteen that the petty assizes should be held in the county court—in chapter thirty-six that the writ of inquisition should be freely "granted, and never denied"—in chapter forty that "to no one will we sell, to no one will we refuse or delay, right or justice," which in time came to be interpreted as a universal guaranty of free and impartial justice to all classes high and low.

For many generations in England and in America it was believed that the writ of habeas corpus, justly esteemed the great bulwark of personal liberty, had its direct guaranty or at least its antecedent in Magna Carta. Such was the contention of counsel in the Five Knights case of 1627, and such was the declaration of the Petition of Right of 1628. This view is now being challenged on the ground that the exact procedure subsequently developed was not provided for in Magna Carta and was not in the minds of its authors. Even if this be so, the underlying principle of chapter thirty-six and its promise that the writ of inquisition should be freely "granted, and never denied" naturally led in time, after the passing of trial by combat, to the right of speedy inquisition by grand jury and trial by petit jury. At all events, the principle of the writ of habeas corpus was for centuries assumed to be embodied in Magna Carta.

Professor Dicey lecturing at Oxford on "The Law of the Constitution" has well remarked that, although the English Habeas Corpus acts declare no principle and define no rights, they are for practical purposes worth a hundred constitutional articles guaranteeing individual liberty. As in England, so with us. Without the writ of habeas corpus there would be no liberty worthy of the name and no rights of personal freedom of any practical value. We have only to read the leading cases in our courts to realize how great a part the writ has played and still plays in securing and rendering effective the fundamental principles of American liberty.

Chapters twelve and fourteen of Magna Carta dealt with the subject of taxation, and they laid the foundation of our representative system and of the separation of the legislative from the executive power. As has been suggested, the only legislative function that the people of England in the thirteenth century contemplated as closely affecting them or as likely to create any pressing grievance was that of taxation. It was, therefore, expressly provided in the Great Charter that, aside from the three existing feudal aids, more or less fixed, the power to impose taxes should not be exercised without the consent of the commune consilium. This common council is the body that fifty years later developed into the famous parliament of Simon de Montfort of 1265.

In the controversies in regard to taxation subsequently arising, whether in parliament, in the courts, or in the forum of public opinion, it was always insisted that Magna Carta prevented taxation without the consent of parliament, just as in the eighteenth century our ancestors contended that Magna Carta prevented taxation without representation, that is, prevented the imposition of taxes except by a legislative body in which the taxpayers were represented. We have only to refer to the arguments in the great constitutional cases before the courts of England in the seventeenth century, such as the famous case of Impositions in the reign of James I. and the still more famous case of Ship-Money in the reign of Charles I., to realize how much the people relied upon Magna Carta as establishing the doctrine that parliament alone could impose taxes.

The counsel for Bate in the former case and for Hampden in the latter case may not have apprehended the philosophical theory of the separation of governmental powers elaborated by Montesquieu in the next century, and they may not have contended that taxation was essentially a legislative function and, therefore, could not be exercised by the king; but in final analysis they affirmed these principles when they asserted that parliament alone could impose taxes. The judgment of a majority of the court in the Ship-Money case, as had been the judgment in the case of Impositions, was in favor of the crown, but the appeal to the country cost Charles I. his head and ultimately resulted in vesting in parliament the exclusive power to legislate and hence to tax. If England had then had an independent judiciary charged with the duty of enforcing the fundamental law of the land, the levying of the taxes in both of these cases would have been held contrary to the letter, as it was certainly contrary to the spirit, of Magna Carta.

It is no answer to say that the parliament of to-day finds its prototype not in the old common council referred to in Magna Carta, but in the parliament of 1265, nor is it an answer to say that the idea of taxation in its abstract form is essentially modern and was quite unknown in 1215. I do not suggest that the people of England in 1215 or even in 1265 understood the virtues of the representative system, or the principles of taxation or of the separation of powers. The point is that the direct consequence of the provisions of Magna Carta was a parliament based, theoretically at least, on the representative idea as well as on the principle that there could be no legislation without the consent of parliament.

The most famous of all the chapters of Magna Carta and the most important and far-reaching from a juridical point of view is undoubtedly the thirty-ninth, which provides that "no freeman shall be taken or imprisoned or disseised or exiled or in any way destroyed, nor will we go upon him nor send upon him, except by the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land."

The substance of this provision as to "the law of the land," or its equivalent "due process of law," is of universal application throughout the United States as a constitutional limitation upon the powers of government, and it is to be found not only in the Constitution of the United States but in the constitution of every state of the Union. It is now firmly established in American and English constitutional law, and it is familiar knowledge, that the terms "the law of the land" and "due process of law" are exactly equivalent in meaning and in legal force and effect. The earliest use of the phrase "due process of law" in American constitutions seems to have been in the fifth amendment to the Constitution of the United States, ratified in 1791. None of the state constitutions then in existence contained that term, but nearly all of them used the phrase "the law of the land." The phrase "due process of law" will be found in the New York bill of rights of 1787.

Until recent years, it had been assumed that the term "the lawful judgment of his peers" in Magna Carta meant trial by jury according to the modern understanding of that term, and that the term "the law of the land" meant laws conforming to those fundamental principles of justice which protect every individual in the full enjoyment of life, liberty and property secure from the arbitrary exercise of the powers of government. That is still the technical legal meaning of these two terms both in England and in America, although their practical effect and operation are different with us, because of our system of written constitutions which the legislative branch may not disregard or violate. Both of these meanings, however, are now challenged by certain critics as being without foundation in either the provisions or the history of the Great Charter.

Some historians contend that the familiar provision of Magna Carta could not have meant trial by a jury of twelve and a unanimous verdict, because such a jury, according to our present knowledge, did not exist until the second half of the fourteenth century. But it is quite immaterial whether the exact form of our jury-trial existed in England in 1215, or when the Great Charter was subsequently reissued or confirmed, provided that the foundations of the system had then been laid. It is sufficient for us that the antecedents of the modern jury system in all its three forms of grand jury, criminal jury and civil jury existed at the time of Magna Carta and were preserved by it. As the jury system developed, with the changes inevitably attending all such institutions of legal procedure and machinery, the form for the time being, whatever its exact nature, became "the lawful judgment of his peers" within the intent and meaning of the Great Charter. In any event, the latest confirmations of that instrument occurred at a time when the jury system as now in force was being firmly established. It is, therefore, easy to understand how the provision "the lawful judgment of his peers" in the course of time came to be regarded as intended to guarantee the common-law jury of twelve with unanimity in verdict.

Thus many, if not most, of our constitutional provisions now apply to conditions not at all contemplated by their framers although clearly within the principle enunciated and the spirit of the language used. Much of the efficacy of our federal and state bills of rights, or of any similar provisions which this Convention may embody in the new constitution, would be practically nullified if the language used were to be interpreted as being limited to the particular conditions existing when they were adopted. It is the spirit and the expanding principles of constitutional provisions which should always control. The letter killeth.

A charter of liberties, a bill of rights, or a constitution is not an ephemeral enactment designed to meet only the conditions existing at the time of its adoption. It embodies and perpetuates permanent principles. It is designed to endure "forever," in the language of Magna Carta, and "to approach immortality as nearly as human institutions can approach it," in the lofty phrase of Marshall, the great Chief Justice of the United States. Under any other rule of interpretation, Magna Carta would have become antiquated long before the discovery of America.

By the phrase "the law of the land," in chapter thirty-nine, the fundamental principles and axioms of the existing law were perpetuated. Exactly what those fundamental principles and axioms were then understood to be is not now capable of accurate exposition. The judges and the people of those days certainly had some definite ideas of reasonably just and fixed rules of conduct adequate for the solution of the simple questions arising in the controversies then being submitted for adjudication. Had the judges been pressed for a comprehensive or philosophical definition of "the law of the land," they might have said that they would not attempt to define the term any more than they would attempt to define justice itself, and that, as the Supreme Court of the United States declared only a few years ago, it is better to ascertain the intent of such an important phrase in a great constitutional document by the gradual process of judicial inclusion and exclusion as practical experience may dictate and as the cases presented for decision may require; in other words, that their decisions would in time sufficiently declare and perpetuate the principles of the law of

"A land of settled government,

A land of just and old renown,

Where freedom slowly broadens down

From precedent to precedent."

The phrase "the law of the land," as used in Magna Carta, must have been intended at the time to include procedure as well as substantive law, but the term "due process of law," now its current equivalent, originally related only to procedure. A very early, if not the earliest, use of the term "due process of law" will be found in a statute of the year 1354, 28 Edward III., in which it was provided that no person should be condemned without being first brought to answer by due process of the law, the exact wording in the quaint Norman-French of the day being "saunz estre mesne en respons par due proces de lei." As at the same time the Great Charter was being expressly confirmed "to be kept and maintained in all points," the provision in regard to due proces de lei in the act of 1354 was undoubtedly intended to be supplemental to the provisions of the Great Charter and to apply only to persons being brought to trial in a court of justice. It is true that in the seventeenth century Lord Coke used the phrase "due process of law" as the equivalent of "the law of the land," but in the contemporaneous Petition of Right of 1628 mention is made specifically of the "Great Charter of the Liberties of England" and its provision as to "the law of the land," and reference is made separately to the act of 28 Edward III. and its provision that no man should be prosecuted "without being brought to answere by due process of lawe."

The same distinction in the use of these terms will be found in the history of the Plymouth colony as early as 1636 and also in the early history of the state of New York. The New York charter of liberties and privileges of 1683 speaks of "being brought to answere by due course of law," the words evidently being taken either from the act of Edward III. of 1354, or from the Petition of Right of 1628. The New York constitution of 1777 used the term "the law of the land" but did not use the term "due process of law." In the New York bill of rights of 1787, we find the phrases "the law of the land," "due process of law" and "due course of law," and in one section the phrase "due process of law according to the law of the land." Both terms, "the law of the land" and "due process of law," are used with evidently the same meaning in the present constitution of the state of New York, that is to say, "the law of the land" is used in section I of Article I. and "due process of law" in section 6. The separate history of each section, the former first appearing in the constitution of 1777 and the latter in the constitution of 1821, will account for the difference in terminology.

It would be interesting to trace the varying uses of these terms in our forty-eight state constitutions, but that must be left for some other occasion. A majority of the state constitutions, including most of the recent constitutions, now contain the term "due process of law." As that term is the one used in the fourteenth amendment, which is applicable to all the states, it might be preferable, for the sake of uniformity and certainty, to adopt that form as less likely to confuse. Moreover, the phrase "due process of law" lends itself readily to a more comprehensive and inclusive definition if we define the word "due" to mean just and appropriate and the word "process" to mean substantive provision as well as procedure.

Finally, it may be of interest to notice the sanction and security devised for enforcing the covenants of Magna Carta. A body or tribunal of twenty-five barons, called executors, was created by chapter sixty-one, who were to "be bound with all their might, to observe and hold, and cause to be observed, the peace and liberties we have granted and confirmed to them," and who were to have power to compel the king himself, even by force, to keep the promises he had made. The clause providing this security or legal sanction was crude, but it was not necessarily an impracticable innovation. Although the plan utterly failed, it remained of immense value in principle. That principle established the right of the subjects to compel the king of England to obey a body of fixed laws outside and beyond his will; it justified revolution for just cause, and it inspired our forefathers in their struggle against George III. The influence of this idea upon public sentiment as justifying revolution, particularly during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, cannot well be over-estimated. The ineffectiveness of this provision of Magna Carta served also to demonstrate the futility of such a tribunal and security, and to lead the English people to look thereafter solely to the courts of justice and to parliament for the protection of their rights and liberties. The founders of our own republican governments may have been warned by the failure of this sanction that it would be unwise to create any political body with power to enforce constitutional provisions, and it may have been for this reason that they left the enforcement of constitutional limitations and the protection of the individual and minorities to an independent non-political forum composed of impartial judges learned in the law and meaning "to observe it well," according to the spirit of Magna Carta.

In closing his great commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, Mr. Justice Story admonished the American people that, although the whole structure of our constitutional liberty was erected by architects of consummate skill and fidelity, with its defences impregnable from without, it might nevertheless perish in an hour by the folly or corruption or negligence of its only keepers, the people. It cannot, indeed, be too often declared that, if constitutional government and fundamental rights are to endure, they must be maintained and preserved by competent leaders and representatives of the people constantly teaching the value of the traditions of Magna Carta and the necessity of adhering to constitutional principles and observing constitutional morality. The members of this Convention are not likely to disregard the living spirit of the Great Charter of English Liberties and its enduring value to Americans. It was Lincoln who said that "as a nation of freemen we must live through all time, or die by suicide." But we shall perpetuate free government and civil liberty only as we adhere to two essential conditions: the one, that our fundamental rights shall continue to be inviolable by the state, the other, that they shall be equal. "If not inviolable, they are not rights, but only enjoyments on sufferance; if not equal, they are but the privileges of a class, whatever that class may be."[4]