It is formed, in a great measure, upon the principle of jealousy of the crown,—­and as things stood, when it took that turn, with very great reason.  I go farther:  it must keep alive some part of that fire of jealousy eternally and chastely burning, or it cannot be the British Constitution.  At various periods we have had tyranny in this country, more than enough.  We have had rebellions with more or less justification.  Some of our kings have made adulterous connections abroad, and trucked away for foreign gold the interests and glory of their crown.  But, before this time, our liberty has never been corrupted.  I mean to say, that it has never been debauched from its domestic relations.  To this time it has been English liberty, and English liberty only.  Our love of liberty and our love of our country were not distinct things.  Liberty is now, it seems, put upon a larger and more liberal bottom.  We are men,—­and as men, undoubtedly, nothing human is foreign to us.  We cannot be too liberal in our general wishes for the happiness of our kind.  But in all questions on the mode of procuring it for any particular community, we ought to be fearful of admitting those who have no interest in it, or who have, perhaps, an interest against it, into the consultation.  Above all, we cannot be too cautious in our communication with those who seek their happiness by other roads than those of humanity, morals, and religion, and whose liberty consists, and consists alone, in being free from those restraints which are imposed by the virtues upon the passions.

When we invite danger from a confidence in defensive measures, we ought, first of all, to be sure that it is a species of danger against which any defensive measures that can be adopted will be sufficient.  Next, we ought to know that the spirit of our laws, or that our own dispositions, which are stronger than laws, are susceptible of all those defensive measures which the occasion may require.  A third consideration is, whether these measures will not bring more odium than strength to government; and the last, whether the authority that makes them, in a general corruption of manners and principles, can insure their execution.  Let no one argue, from the state of things, as he sees them at present, concerning what will be the means and capacities of government, when the time arrives which shall call for remedies commensurate to enormous evils.

It is an obvious truth, that no constitution can defend itself:  it must be defended by the wisdom and fortitude of men.  These are what no constitution can give:  they are the gifts of God; and He alone knows whether we shall possess such gifts at the time we stand in need of them.  Constitutions furnish the civil means of getting at the natural:  it is all that in this case they can do.  But our Constitution has more impediments than helps.  Its excellencies, when they come to be put to this sort of proof, may be found among its defects.