or the prisoner, like Dandin, in Racine's comedy of Les
Plaideurs, was disposed to pass over the deluge, and to plunge instantly
into the core of his subject. He commenced with a review of the royal
prerogatives, and with a definition of the words "to reign." Referring
to the dictionary of the academy, he showed triumphantly, that to reign,
was no other than to "govern as a sovereign"; while to govern, in the
familiar signification, was no more than to govern in the name of a
prince, or as a deputy. Having successfully established this point, he
laid down the position, that the greater might contain the less, but
that the less could not possibly contain the greater. That the right
to reign, or to govern, in the generic signification of the term, must
include all the lawful attributes of him who only governed, in the
secondary signification; and that, consequently, the king not only
reigned, but governed. He then proceeded to show that memory was
indispensable to him who governed, since, without one he could
neither recollect the laws, make a suitable disposition of rewards and
punishments, nor, in fact, do any other intelligent or necessary
act. Again, it was contended that by the law of the land the king's
conscience was in the keeping of his first-cousin. Now, in order that
the king's conscience should be in such keeping, it was clear that he
must HAVE a conscience, since a nonentity could not be in keeping,
or even put in commission; and, having a conscience, it followed, ex
necessitate rei, that he must have the attributes of a conscience, of
which memory formed one of the most essential features. Conscience
was defined to be "the faculty by which we judge of the goodness or
wickedness of our own actions. (See Johnson's Dictionary, page 162,
letter C. London edition. Rivington, publisher.) Now, in what manner can
one judge of the goodness or wickedness of his acts, or of those of
any other person, if he knows nothing about them? and how can he know
anything of the past, unless endowed with the faculty of a memory?"

Again; it was a political corollary from the institutions of Leaphigh,
that the king could do no wrong--

"I beg your pardon, my brother Downright," interrupted the
chief-justice, "it is not a corollary, but a proposition--and one, too,
that is held to be demonstrated. It is the paramount law of the land."

"I thank you, my lord," continued the brigadier, "as your lordship's
high authority makes my cas