e, though administered by others, is still
administered in the king's name."

"No doubt, in his name: this is a part of the peculiar privilege. War
is made in his majesty's name, too--so is peace. What is war? It is the
personal conflicts between bodies of men of different nations. Does his
majesty engage in these conflicts? Certainly not. The war is maintained
by taxes. Does his majesty pay them? No. Thus we see that while the
war is constitutionally the king's, it is practically the people's.
It follows, as a corollary--since you quote corollaries, brother
Downright--that there are two wars--or the war of the prerogative,
and the war of the fact. Now, the prerogative is a constitutional
principle--a very sacred one, certainly--but a fact is a thing that
comes home to every monikin's fireside; and therefore the courts have
decided, ever since the reign of Timid II., or ever since they dared,
that the prerogative was one thing, and the law another."

My brother Downright seemed a good deal perplexed by the distinctions
of the court, and he concluded much sooner than he otherwise would have
done; summing up the whole of his arguments, by showing, or attempting
to show, that if the king had even these peculiar privileges, and
nothing else, he must be supposed to have a memory.

The court now called upon the attorney-general to reply; but that person
appeared to think his case strong enough as it was, and the matter,
by agreement, was submitted to the jury, after a short charge from the
bench.

"You are not to suffer your intellects to be confused, gentlemonikins,
by the argument of the prisoner's counsel," concluded the chief-justice.
"He has done his duty, and it remains for you to be equally
conscientious. You are, in this case, the judges of the law and the
fact; but it is a part of my functions to inform you what they both are.
By the law, the king is supposed to have no faculties. The inference
drawn by counsel, that, not being capable of erring, the king must have
the highest possible moral attributes, and consequently a memory,
is unsound. The constitution says his majesty CAN do no wrong. This
inability may proceed from a variety of causes. If he can do NOTHING,
for instance, he can do no wrong. The constitution does not say that
the sovereign WILL do no wrong--but, that he CAN do no wrong. Now,
gentlemonikins, when a thing cannot be done, it becomes impossible;
and it is, of course, beyond the reach of argume