The World Set Free, H. G. Wells [ereader for textbooks .txt] 📗

Firmin had.

“Those were the authentic kings. In the end they were cut up and a bit given to everybody. They sprinkled the nations⁠—with Kingship.”

Firmin turned himself round and faced his royal master.

“What do you intend to do, sir?” he asked. “If you will not listen to me, what do you propose to do this afternoon?”

The king flicked crumbs from his coat.

“Manifestly war has to stop forever, Firmin. Manifestly this can only be done by putting all the world under one government. Our crowns and flags are in the way. Manifestly they must go.”

“Yes, sir,” interrupted Firmin, “but what government? I don’t see what government you get by a universal abdication!”

“Well,” said the king, with his hands about his knees, “We shall be the government.”

“The conference?” exclaimed Firmin.

“Who else?” asked the king simply.

“It’s perfectly simple,” he added to Firmin’s tremendous silence.

“But,” cried Firmin, “you must have sanctions! Will there be no form of election, for example?”

“Why should there be?” asked the king, with intelligent curiosity.

“The consent of the governed.”

“Firmin, we are just going to lay down our differences and take over government. Without any election at all. Without any sanction. The governed will show their consent by silence. If any effective opposition arises we shall ask it to come in and help. The true sanction of kingship is the grip upon the sceptre. We aren’t going to worry people to vote for us. I’m certain the mass of men does not want to be bothered with such things.⁠ ⁠… We’ll contrive a way for anyone interested to join in. That’s quite enough in the way of democracy. Perhaps later⁠—when things don’t matter.⁠ ⁠… We shall govern all right, Firmin. Government only becomes difficult when the lawyers get hold of it, and since these troubles began the lawyers are shy. Indeed, come to think of it, I wonder where all the lawyers are.⁠ ⁠… Where are they? A lot, of course, were bagged, some of the worst ones, when they blew up my legislature. You never knew the late Lord Chancellor.⁠ ⁠…

“Necessities bury rights. Lawyers live on rights.⁠ ⁠… We’ve done with that way of living. We won’t have more law than a code can cover, and beyond that government will be free.⁠ ⁠…

“Before the sun sets today, Firmin, trust me, we shall have made our abdications, all of us, and declared the World Republic, supreme and indivisible. I wonder what my august grandmother would have made of it! All my rights!⁠ ⁠… And then we shall go on governing. What else is there to do? All over the world we shall declare that there is no longer mine or thine, but ours. China, the United States, two-thirds of Europe, will certainly fall in and obey. They will have to do so. What else can they do? Their official rulers are here with us. They won’t be able to get together any sort of idea of not obeying us.⁠ ⁠… Then we shall declare that every sort of property is held in trust for the Republic.⁠ ⁠…”

“But, sir!” cried Firmin, suddenly enlightened. “Has this been arranged already?”

“My dear Firmin, do you think we have come here, all of us, to talk at large? The talking has been done for half a century. Talking and writing. We are here to set the new thing, the simple, obvious, necessary thing, going.”

He stood up.

Firmin, forgetting the habits of a score of years, remained seated.

“Well,” he said at last. “And I have known nothing!”

The king smiled very cheerfully. He liked these talks with Firmin.

That conference upon the Brissago meadows was one of the most heterogeneous collections of prominent people that has ever met together. Principalities and powers, stripped and shattered until all their pride and mystery were gone, met in a marvellous new humility. Here were kings and emperors whose capitals were lakes of flaming destruction, statesmen whose countries had become chaos, scared politicians and financial potentates. Here were leaders of thought and learned investigators dragged reluctantly to the control of affairs. Altogether there were ninety-three of them, Leblanc’s conception of the head men of the world. They had all come to the realisation of the simple truths that the indefatigable Leblanc had hammered into them; and, drawing his resources from the King of Italy, he had provisioned his conference with a generous simplicity quite in accordance with the rest of his character, and so at last was able to make his astonishing and entirely rational appeal. He had appointed King Egbert the president, he believed in this young man so firmly that he completely dominated him, and he spoke himself as a secretary might speak from the president’s left hand, and evidently did not realise himself that he was telling them all exactly what they had to do. He imagined he was merely recapitulating the obvious features of the situation for their convenience. He was dressed in ill-fitting white silk clothes, and he consulted a dingy little packet of notes as he spoke. They put him out. He explained that he had never spoken from notes before, but that this occasion was exceptional.

And then King Egbert spoke as he was expected to speak, and Leblanc’s spectacles moistened at that flow of generous sentiment, most amiably and lightly expressed. “We haven’t to stand on ceremony,” said the king, “we have to govern the world. We have always pretended to govern the world, and here is our opportunity.”

“Of course,” whispered Leblanc, nodding his head rapidly, “of course.”

“The world has been smashed up, and we have to put it on its wheels again,” said King Egbert. “And it is the simple common sense of this crisis for all to help and none to seek advantage. Is that our tone or not?”

The gathering was too old and seasoned and miscellaneous for any great displays of enthusiasm, but that was its tone, and with an astonishment that somehow became exhilarating it began to resign, repudiate, and declare