The Constitution of the United States | Page 5

1775,
Edmund Burke showed his characteristically philosophic
comprehension of this powerful constitutional conscience of the then
American subjects of the Empire. After stating that in no other country
in the world was law so generally studied, and referring to the fact that
as many copies of Blackstone's Commentaries had been sold in
America as in England, he added:
"This study renders men acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in attack,
ready in defence, full of resources. In other countries the people, more
simple and of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill principle in
government only by an actual grievance; here they anticipate the evil,
and judge of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the
principle."
Moreover, these hardy pioneers were the privileged heirs of the great
political traditions of England. While the Constitution of the United
States was very much more than an adaptation of the British

Constitution, yet its underlying spirit was that of the English speaking
race and the Common Law. Behind the framers of the Constitution, as
they entered upon their momentous task, were the mighty shades of
Simon de Montfort, Coke, Sandys, Bacon, Eliot, Hampden, Lilburne,
Milton, Shaftesbury and Locke. Could there be a better illustration of
Sir Frederick Pollock's noble tribute to the genius of the common law:
"Remember that Our Lady, the Common Law, is not a task-mistress,
but a bountiful sovereign, whose service is freedom. The destinies of
the English-speaking world are bound up with her fortunes and
migrations and its conquests are justified by her works"?
Another reason makes the consideration of the subject not only
interesting but opportune. "These are the times that try men's souls." It
is a time of sifting, when men of all nations in civilization in these
critical days are again testing the value even of those political
institutions which have the sanction of the past. Society is in a state of
flux. Everywhere the foundations of governmental structures seem to
be settling--let us hope and pray upon a surer foundation--and when the
seismic convulsion of the world war is taken into account, it is not
surprising that this is so. While the storm is not yet past and the waves
have not wholly subsided, it is natural that everywhere thoughtful men
as true mariners are taking their reckonings to know where they are and
whether the frail bark of human institutions is still sufficiently
seaworthy to keep afloat.
Moreover, the patent evidences of weakness in the international
organization that we call civilization, the imperative need of ending the
spirit of moral anarchy, and the urgent necessity of rebuilding the
shattered ruins of the social edifice on surer foundations by the
integration of the nations, if possible, into some new form of world
organization, gives peculiar interest in these terrible days to the manner
in which the American people solved a similar problem more than a
century ago.
Then, as now, a world war had ended. Then, as now, half the world was
prostrated by the wounds of fratricidal strife. As Washington said: "The
whole world was in an uproar," and he added that the task "was to steer

safely between Scylla and Charybdis." The problem, then as now, was
not only to make "the world safe for democracy," but to make
democracy, for which there is no alternative, safe for the world. The
thirteen colonies in 1787, while small and relatively unimportant, were,
however, a little world in themselves, and, relatively to their numbers
and resources, this problem, which they confronted and solved, differed
in degree but not in kind from that which now confronts civilization.
Impoverished in resources, exhausted by the loss of the flower of their
youth, demoralized by the reaction from feverish strife, the forces of
disintegration had set in in the United States between 1783 and 1787.
Law and order had almost perished and the provisional government had
been reduced to impotence. A few wise and noble spirits, true Faithfuls
and Great Hearts, led a despondent people out of the Slough of
Despond till their feet were again on firm ground and their faces turned
towards the Delectable Mountains of peace, justice, and liberty. Let it
be emphasized that they did this, not by seeking more power, but by
imposing restraints upon themselves. That spirit of self-restraint is the
essence of the American Constitution.
So enduring was their achievement that to-day the Constitution of the
United States is the oldest comprehensive written form of government
now existing in the world. Few, if any, forms of government have
better withstood the mad spirit of innovation, or more effectively
proved their merit by the "arduous greatness of things done."
For this reason, as the nations of the world are now trying in a cosmic
form and under similar conditions to do that which