The mother of Parliaments was in session, that venerable and most
majestic court which struck the fetters from our slavery and made us
free. Here was the serfcreated citizen, here we gained liberty of
Faith, freedom of utterance, freedom of education, freedom of
commerce. And here Brand cut the last shackle of all our chains, and
gave us the free finance.
There is no need to repeat his words. He had mankind for audience,
and those words will never be forgotten.
Consider, then, what he did:
_He moved to save the Empire from Ulster's treason._
_For the confounding of the Leagued Nations, and to take our enemies
at unawares, he hastened the fall of gold._
_To be exact, at three days' notice, he offered ounce ingots of fine
gold at a penny each to be sold by the Bank of Lyonesse in every
large town throughout the world._
_He promised to accept British money at full value, giving in
exchange the Labour currency as used in America and at Lyonesse._
This Labour money may be defined as a currency based on the security
of public lands, all value of land being created to the labours of
the community. With the increase of public revenues from State land,
the taxes are gradually remitted.
Mr. Brand further opened two thousand shops in the Kingdom where food
was offered for Lyonesse currency.
_And to strengthen the credit of his enemies in power, he gave us his
private estates, worth more than three hundred million pounds._
A sound swept through the chamber like a sob, as the great merchant
received from an attendant a roll of parchment, and in silence bent
down laying the gift at the feet of his hearers.
"It is the beginning," he said.
He was standing before a single rail of brass, the Bar of the
Commons. In front of him extended the open gangway to the table
bearing the mace, and above sat the Speaker in his chair of office.
On either side rose the close-packed benches back to the walls, aloft
were the crowded galleries.
The wavering factions were won for Lyonesse, the Labour party waited
exultant, and a division then would have wrecked the administration,
saved the Empire. Still the hard-stricken Ministers were silent, and
all men in strained attention, breathing deep, fastened keen eyes
upon the American's face.
"Let no man blame me for the Fall of Gold. Through the treachery of
one of my servants the monopoly has fallen from my hands, the
barriers are shattered, and the world goes on. We are in the
presence of forces irresistible, powers beyond control. Against this
hour of danger I have provided money, credit, food to strengthen the
hands of the Government, to sustain the life of the Empire.
"But I must warn you, and beg you to hear my warning, that any
attempt to withhold these things from the people will result in
overwhelming disaster."
Then in an awful silence the leader of the Government rose from his
place upon the Treasury bench.
"Do we understand, Mr. Speaker," he said, angrily, "that Mr. Brand
threatens the Imperial Government?"
"No," answered Brand; "I warn."
Sir Jonas Mempes raised his hand, stilling the disquietude of the
House.
"Mr. Speaker," he turned to address the chair. "We are warned, sir,
by this gentleman that he is about to debase and degrade the coinage
which bears the image and superscription of her Imperial Majesty, and
which also bears a statement of value to which is pledged the good
faith of this Government. The Queen and her lieges are invited to
assuage their defaulted honour with a currency bearing the
countenance and superscription of Mr. John Brand.
"Whose is this image and superscription? That of Mr. John Brand,
citizen and merchant. Render, therefore, unto Mr. John Brand the
things which belong to Caesar!
"I do not deny, sir, the undoubted right of any citizen and merchant
to sell fine gold, or to issue promises to pay, whether stamped upon
metal or paper, or the skins of beasts. But if we find such commerce
doing treason to the sovereignty of our Lady, the Queen, with
dishonour and ruin to her lieges, I claim that this Parliament has
the higher undoubted right of restraining that commerce by force.
"I will render to Margaret, Queen and Empress, the things which
belong to my sovereign, but this august commonwealth of nations, this
British Empire is not to be ruled by any broker of money, or any
merchant of gold.
"Sir, I understand that Mr. Brand warns us that he is about to seize
control of the public moneys. Now, the whole function of Government
consists in the maintenance of public credit, the collection of
revenues, and the application of funds to the uses of the community.
Such function, vested once in the singular puissance of kings, has
become the heritage of the electorate, the Divine right of the
people. The maintenance of that right unimpaired either by kings,
armies, traitors, or mobs is the special and peculiar function of the
House of Commons. To interfere with, or to threaten that right is
felony. Mr. Brand is either our King, or he is accused out of his
own mouth of high treason.
"Sir, it is within the constitutional rights of the House to
authorise the Speaker in the committal of Mr. Brand to the Clock
Tower, but I submit that this gentleman is here of his own free will,
and stands with his rights untarnished as in some sort our guest.
"Again, the House of Commons may take legal proceedings through the
Attorney-General, but I submit, sir, that this is a case in which the
whole Parliament must as one man confound a perilous conspiracy, or
be lacking in its duty to mankind."
The sullen mutterings of the Opposition had grown now to a roar which
drowned the Speaker's voice.
"I observe," said Sir Jonas at last, "that Mr. Brand is still present
as a guest of the House."
Loud shouts rang out from beneath the galleries, members started to
their feet.
"Order!" cried the Speaker. "Order! Sergeant-at-Arms, conduct Mr.
Brand to the doors!"
Then far above the tumult and confusion of the House, the voice of
Sir Jonas Mempes rang out his challenge.
"On behalf of the Government, I beg leave, Mr. Speaker, to give
notice of a bill attainting Mr. John Brand of High Treason!"
* * * * * *
Slowly the American walked, attended by the officers of the House,
across the deserted lobby, along the empty corridor, then into
Westminster Hall, and down the broad stairway, until the tumult died
away in the far distance, till only the stone flags answered to his
tread, and the walls echoed. His way was lined with statues, pale
ghostly effigies of Kings and Statesmen, their triumphs all
forgotten, their griefs assuaged, their sins, their penances, their
burning passions stilled. Many of these had been arraigned,
attainted, slain, or fretted themselves to death, or died in harness,
builders of England, architects of her Freedom, forerunners of her
Peace.
So he came to the doors and passed out into the sweet air of the
evening, refreshed and humbled. Perhaps, in his zeal for the Queen,
he had dealt rather too abruptly with the Commons.
This man was but thirty years old. With reverend age such as ours,
and our maturer wisdom, he would not have dared to mount that
perilous Chariot of the Sun, or threatened senates, or laid impatient
hands on grave affairs. It was not his fault that we were falling
into Russian vassalage, or that his disloyal servant shattered the
standard of gold; he lacked the benefit of our sage advice, and if he
greatly dared, he suffered for his audacity in trying to rescue the
Empire by affronting the Commons.
Some day his statue will be joined to that white avenue of the mighty
dead who set the landmarks on the way of life. That night, whatever
its cost to the master of Lyonesse, we entered the region of Etheric
Power, and the beginning of a more spacious age. For so rolls the
ordered motion of our race from height to height up the great way
towards Heaven. The fences are breaking down, the barriers are
conquered, and our horizon broadens as we climb. We hope that the
walls of Time and Space shall melt, the skies be torn asunder like a
scroll, and when we win to the last heights of human destiny, we
shall stand upon white summits, we shall behold the Infinite.
Rose flush of evening on the Abbey spires, cool bloom of dusk on that
long range of palaces housing the departments of State, violet
splendour of countless lamps, and Whitehall seething with traffic, so
Brand saw Westminster on that last day of peace. Quiet in mind, a
little tired, he strolled up Whitehall, taking the western pavement,
touching his hat when men saluted him. He thought of Margaret, the
Queen, and the memory of her face was very pleasant. He had just
passed the narrow entry of Downing Street when he heard a sudden
sharp fusillade of gunshots, and looking back noticed the instant
gathering of a crowd. He went on very anxious at heart, thinking of
Sydney. He was abreast of the old Admiralty porch when he heard
behind him the clatter of a horse charging up the street at full
gallop. He paused, turned, went out upon the causeway, and stood
waiting full in the lamplight. The horse, coal black, came tearing
down upon him, the rider, a gentleman of the Guard, his helmet and
armour shining like Sirius, greeting him with a shout of recognition,
waving something in the air, a package of documents, the Russian
papers! The black horse reared to the bit, the rider sprang from the
saddle.
"Well met," he cried; "Mr. Brand, these are from Trooper Sydney.
Take my horse, escape!"
Brand took the package of papers, which reeked of blood.
"Is he dead?"
"Captured, sir, and Colonel Anderson shot. I'm going to join Lord
Sydney!"
"Tell me your name."
"Browne."
The trooper glanced towards the advancing police.
"Mount, sir. Ride for your life!"
Brand swung to the saddle. "Where's the Queen?" he asked.
"At the Opera." The trooper snatched a white glove from his helmet.
"Send this to our Lady."
"Thank you," said Brand, "I'll tell her how you served." And so
broke away at a gallop.
The trooper, drawing his sword, turned upon the police, and delayed
them with the formalities of his surrender.