my cause so ably, so earnestly, so unanswerably before your honor, is my political sovereign.  Precisely as no disfranchised person is entitled to sit upon a jury, and no woman is entitled to the franchise, so none but a regularly admitted lawyer is allowed to practice in the courts, and no woman can gain admission to the bar—­hence, jury, judge, counsel, all must be of the superior class.

    Judge Hunt.—­The Court must insist—­the prisoner has been tried
    according to the established forms of law.

Miss Anthony.—­Yes, your honor, but by forms of law all made by men, interpreted by men, administered by men, in favor of men and against women; and hence your honor’s ordered verdict of guilty, against a United States citizen for the exercise of the “citizen’s right to vote,” simply because that citizen was a woman and not a man.  But yesterday, the same man-made forms of law declared it a crime punishable with $1,000 fine and six months’ imprisonment to give a cup of cold water, a crust of bread or a night’s shelter to a panting fugitive tracking his way to Canada; and every man or woman in whose veins coursed a drop of human sympathy violated that wicked law, reckless of consequences, and was justified in so doing.  As then the slaves who got their freedom had to take it over or under or through the unjust forms of law, precisely so now must women take it to get their right to a voice in this government; and I have taken mine, and mean to take it at every opportunity.

    Judge Hunt.—­The Court orders the prisoner to sit down.  It will not
    allow another word.

Miss Anthony.—­When I was brought before your honor for trial, I hoped for a broad and liberal interpretation of the Constitution and its recent amendments, which should declare all United States citizens under its protecting aegis—­which should declare equality of rights the national guarantee to all persons born or naturalized in the United States.  But failing to get this justice—­failing, even, to get a trial by a jury not of my peers—­I ask not leniency at your hands but rather the full rigor of the law.

Judge Hunt—­The Court must insist—­[Here the prisoner sat down.] The prisoner will stand up. [Here Miss Anthony rose again.] The sentence of the Court is that you pay a fine of $100 and the costs of the prosecution.  Miss Anthony.—­May it please your honor, I will never pay a dollar of your unjust penalty.  All the stock in trade I possess is a debt of $10,000, incurred by publishing my paper—­The Revolution—­the sole object of which was to educate all women to do precisely as I have done, rebel against your man-made, unjust, unconstitutional forms of law, which tax, fine, imprison and hang women, while denying them the right of representation in the government; and I will work on with might and main to pay every dollar of that honest debt, but not a penny shall go to this unjust claim.  And I shall earnestly and persistently continue to urge all women to the practical recognition of the old Revolutionary maxim, “Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God.”

    Judge Hunt.—­Madam, the Court will not order you to stand committed
    until the fine is paid.