RIGHT DIVINE.
Reading edition
[No state of things can subsist without the Divine permission. It is therefore obviously true how “the powers that be” must be “ordained of God.”
Yet truth is polygonous, and the Locke theory may be also true. All existing and operating governments, of whatever form, may be and work by Divine appointment, and yet receive their authority by delegation from the People,[13] that is, from the free Society at large.
But the case may arise (as we have a remarkable instance in California) where a mass of civilised men go forth in complete maturity, and in perfect independence of the mother country; carrying only so much of the government as is contained in certain maxims and general principles which they have imbibed with their mother’s milk. We see at once that they would choose for themselves whether they would rub on under the auspices of Justice Lynch, or depute a corporation of some sort to take the management of their affairs. Now, as it is clearly the affair of society that John should not encroach upon Thomas’s diggings, or Thomas put John to a violent death for his aggressions, some consultation, like the following, will sooner or later have to be held.]
SCENE.—The Capital of “What not.” Persons—John, Thomas, Executive, and Chorus. Thirty-two. Varlets—Mute Persons.
John.—O great Executive, be good as great, And save me from that brutal ruffian Thomas. Thomas.—Hold, sir! no names; remember where you are: I hoped you’d had enough of that before. Executive.—Nay, gentlemen, this is unseemly. Chorus.— Very; ’Twere well if John and Thomas did not fight! Ex.—Well, good my masters, what am I to do? I fain would help you; but I seem to lack The means of action: how provide you now? J. (whimpering).—I keep a dozen cudgel-men. E. (to Thomas).—And you? T.—A score. E.—Heyday! why, this must cost you something: But I presume it answers? C.— I presume it answers? Does it though? Lord bless your worship; Thomas and his men Rob, beat, and laugh at John; who’d do the same Had he the power: and, indeed, I’ve heard That John intends to keep ten other varlets; And, O that Tom and Jack would cease to fight! E.—Why, so they may, if you will but be calm; Let each man pay a trifle—scarce worth naming— And I will keep a thousand cudgel-men. C.—Apapai! this is downright Beadledom. E.—My thousand varlets shall protect you all; Each man shall have his thousand—all and each. C.—I see; but recollect yourself, my friend; This were a standing army; don’t you see? J.—Ay, recollect yourself, good sir, you are our servant, And hold your office only at our pleasure. T.—Ay, marry, do you; and if we should find That we grow weary of you, or see cause To wish you changed, pray, how will this be done, You, with your thousand knaves? Answer me that. C.—Answer me that. J.—Answer me that. I pause for a reply. E.—Dear masters mine, a little patience, pray: If you would change me, it can still be done: You are a million; and my thousand knaves, What would they do against you? J.—would they do against you? Out, you fox! Your thousand knaves, with discipline and arms, Will beat ten thousand peaceful men like me. E. (blandly).—O! gentlemen, it must be as you please, For, after all, the affair is yours, not mine; Even with constables, I do not seek The task of ruling spirits such as you. C.—O me! how John and Thomas will dispute! This must not be: come, list to me, my boys; Hark to me, Thomas; John, a word i’ your ear: Our friend is right, as usual; his stout knaves May beat ten thousand of us;—that’s a warning That we must not attack him (aside) with that force. (Aloud).—You pay a tithe of what your fellows cost you, And waive the privilege of private war, A right that wrongs me foully; those he keeps Will see fair play between you; he, no doubt, Will use his power most justly.
[Executive bows to each of them, and exit in a state of edifying meekness. Loud cheers from John and Thomas.]
Ch. (proceeds).—Should he not, So help me, Hookey Walker, he shall rue it; The wiser sort will grieve and bide their time; And fools will raise their thousands, eight or nine; And our friend’s arm shall crush them; if the time, The melancholy time, should come, when Fate, grown sick Of his vagaries, shall have spun his thread, Some twelve or fourteen thousands will be found To work the righteous sentence; he will fall; Vox Populi Vox Dei; and the Rights Of kings and constables are both divine.
Tableau.—John and Thomas stand apart, in thoughtful attitudes, their respective followers having gone to seek employment under the new system. The Chorus stands pensive, but firm, in the centre of the stage. Scene closes.
H. G. K.