Holtspur lived in a time when the word republic was scarcely ever heard; or, when heard, only ill-understood, and scoffed at as a dream of the enthusiast. Not that he had himself any doubt as to its true signification. Perfectly did he comprehend its import—awful—grand—including the whole theory of human happiness, and man’s misery. Even in those times of tyrannical persecution—when Laud lorded it over the souls, and Strafford over the bodies of men—or even, still later, when, with impunity, the Waldense Protestant could be impaled upon the spear of the Inquisition—there were men and minds who could not be coerced to deny the divine origin of democracy, and believe in the pseudo “divine right” of kings.
Not in those times alone, but in all ages: for time cannot alter truth. A circle was a circle, before God made man to trace its curvature; and when God made men He intended them to govern themselves uncontrolled by tyrants.
That they have not done so does not prove an error in the intention. The circumference of the circle, imperfect by some interruption, does not argue the non-existence of the curve. No more in early ages—no more in mediaeval times—no more now—does the non-existence of the pure republic prove that it is not the proper form. It is the proper form,—the only one recognised by the laws of right and truth. He who does not acknowledge this, must be the owner either of a bad head or a bad heart. On either horn of the dilemma does he hang, who denies the republic!
Is there such a man, or thing in human shape? I cannot think there is. Thinking so, I could not avoid imitating my hero, in that scornful contempt, that expressed itself on his countenance, while reflecting how few there were who participated in his sentiments.
Ah! had he lived in the present time he would have witnessed strange proofs of their truth. He would have recognised—as I do—in what others call the failure of republican institutions, their proudest triumph. He would have seen thirty millions of men, comparatively with the rest of their race, transformed into giants, by the influence of less than a century of republican training! He would have seen them divided into two parties—warring against each other like Titans of the olden time; and seeing this, he could have come to no other conclusion, than that, united, these thirty millions of republican people would have been a match for the whole monarchical world!
Henry Holtspur did not need to dive into futurity for facts, to substantiate his belief in a republican form of government. His conviction came from the past—from the sources of eternal truth. The sarcasm expressed upon his features was caused by the contempt which a noble soul must naturally feel, for those things in human shape who believe, or pretend it, in the “divine right” of kings.
The cloud lingered, until he had turned into the forest road, and came in sight of the old beech—that tree whose umbrageous branches overshadowed—to him, the sweetest and most sacred spot upon Earth.
Once again he drew up under its canopy—once again gazed upon the white gauntlet, till love absorbed his every thought—even to the exclusion of that political passion—the republic.