There
is no other hand to grasp our sceptre.'
'_Our_ sceptre! what sceptre?'
'The sceptre of our kings.'
'Kings!'
'Ay, why dost thou look so dark?'
'How looked the prophet when the stiff-necked populace forsooth must
have a king! Did he smile? Did he shout, and clap his hands, and cry,
God save his Majesty! O, Jabaster! honoured, rare Jabaster! thou second
Samuel of our lightheaded people! there was a time when Israel had no
king except their God. Were we viler then? Did kings conquer Canaan? Who
was Moses, who was Aaron, who was mighty Joshua? Was the sword of Gideon
a kingly sword? Did the locks of Samson shade royal temples? Would a
king have kept his awful covenant like solemn Jephtha? Royal words
are light as air, when, to maintain them, you injure any other than a
subject.
'Kings! why, what's a king? Why should one man break the equal sanctity
of our chosen race? Is their blood purer than our own? We are all the
seed of Abraham. Who was Saul, and who was David? I never heard that
they were a different breed from our fathers. Grant them devout, which
they were not; and brave and wise, which other men were; have their
posterity a patent for all virtues? No, Jabaster! thou ne'er didst err,
but when thou placedst a crown upon this haughty stripling.
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