UNIVERSAL 
LIBRARY 


OU_ 168500 


AdVayd | I 
IWSdSAINA 


COMPARATIVE POLITICS 


COMPARATIVE FOLITICS 


SIX LECTURES READ BEFORE THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
IN JANUARY AND FEBRUARY, 1873 


WITH 


THE UNITY OF HISTORY 


THE REDE LECTURE READ BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF 
CAMBRIDGE, MAY 29, 1872 


BY 


EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A., Hon. D.C.L. 


LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, OXFORD 


*“Facies non omnibus una, 
Nec diversa tamen, qualem decet esse sororum.”’ 
Ovip, Met, ii. 13. 


SECOND EDITION 


London 
MACMILLAN AND CO :Lrp. 


NEW YORK: MACMILLAN ἃ CQ, 
1896 


The Unity of History. 
First Edition, 1872. 


Comparative Politics and The Unity of History. 
First Edition, 1873 ; Second Edition, 1896. 


PREFACE 


THE six Lectures read before the Royal Institution are 
an attempt to make something like a systematic application 
of a line of argument which has been often made use of 
in particular cases botl? by myself and by other writers. 
They arc an attempt to claim for political institutions a 
right to a scientific treatment of exactly the same kind 
as that which has been so successfully applied to language, 
to mythology, and to the progress of culture. But of course 
they do not themselves attempt to do more than make a 
beginning, by applying the Comparative mcthod to some 
of the most prominent institutions of those among the 
Aryan nations whose history was best known to myself 
‘and was likely to be best known to my hearers. Nothing 
more than this could well be done in a course of lectures, 
even if my own knowledge had enabled me to carry my 
illustrations over a much wider range. But I trust that 
others whose studies have lain in other branches of history 
qnay Be led to take up the subject and to carry it on further. 
What I have done may perhaps be enough to show that 
Greeks, Italians, and Teutons have a la~ge common stock 
of institutions, institutions whose likeness cannot be other- 
wise accounted for than by the supposition of their common 
primitive origin. It remains now to show hew much of this 
common stock is common to the whole Aryan family, how 
much of the common Aryan stock may be common to the 


νὶ PREFACE 


. | os ee nem Wee 


Aryan and Semitic fafnilies, how much of the possible 
common Aryan and Semjtic stock may be common t3 the 
races of the eastern hemisphere or to the whole of mankind. 
On none of these points have I even attempted to enlarge; 
I have merely pointed them out as questions to which my 
own inquiries naturally lead up, and which I hope may be 
thoroughly worked out by some of those scholars who are 
qualified to take them in hand. 

Even within the range of the three branches of the Aryan 
family which I chose for special examination, the limits 
and nature of a course of lectures did not allow of anything 
more than to choose some of the more prominent instances 
illustrating the positions laid down, and even among these 
it was of course impossible to follow out any matter in all 
its bearings. The really practical object of a lecture is, 
after all, not so much direct teaching as the suggestion of 
points for thought and study. With this view I have, 
since the lectures were delivered, added a considerable 
number of notes and references, in which I have gone 
somewhat further into several points than I could do in 
the lectures themselves. These may, I hope, set some of 
my readers on further inquiries; I can hardly expect that 
in their necessarily desultory shape they can do much more. 

I have no doubt that both in the lectures and in the 
notes many things will be found which have been already 
said both by myself and by other writers. Probably many 
things will be found which both myself and other writers 
may find occasion to say again, as often as it ma; be 
needful to put fqrth correct views of matters about which 
popular errors and confusions are afloat. There is a large 
class of people who pay little heed to a thing that is said 
only once, but on whom, when it is said several times and 
put in severai-shapes, it at last has an effect. I believe 
that this class is more numerous—its needs are certainly 


PREFACE vii 


v 
bettt worth attending to—than those fastidious persons 


who are disgusted if they are ever called upon to hear the 
same thing twice. Besides this, the same fact constantly 
har to be looked at from different points of view, to be 
used to illustrate several general propositions, to be set 
before several classes of readers or hearers. I find also 
that the best and most successful writers are always those 
who have least scruple in putting forth the truths which 
they have to enforce over and over again. And I believe 
that their so doing 15 one clement of their success, 

To the six lectures read before the Royal Institution this 
year I have added the Rede Lecture which I had the 
great pleasure of being called on to give before the Uni- 
versity of Cambridge last year. It was of course written 
before the Royal Institution Lectures were either written 
or designed. Without forming part of the same course, 
it deals with a kindred subject. Both are meant as con- 
tributions to the same object, to the breaking down of 
the unnatural barrier between what are called “ancient” 
and “modern” subjects in language, history, and everything 
else. If I should ever see the establishment of a real 
School of History and a real School of Language in the 
University of Oxford, I shall feel, not only that the 
principles for which I have been fighting for years have 
been put into a practical shape, but also that a step has 
been taken towards the advancement of really sound 
lcarning greater than any that has becn taken since the 
sixteenth century. 

Since these lectures were written I have fallen in with 
the work of M. de Coulanges called La Οὐδ Antique, at 
least in the English form into which it has been thrown 
by Mr. T. C. Barker in his book called ‘Aryan Civilization.’ 
It deals of course with many of the subjects with which 
I have dealt, and those which it doves deal with, are 


vill PREFACE 

of course dealt with ‘far more fully than I have | lone. 
But the book, notwithstanding its general title, is almost 
wholly confined to Greek and Roman matters, and deals 
hardly at all with the kindred Teutonic institutions. Nor 
can I at all pledge myself to the author's views on all 
matters, as he seems too anxious to account for every- 
thing by reference to a single principle, that of religion. 
How much 1 have learned from the writings of Professor 
Max Miiller, Mr. E. B. Tylor, and Sir Henry Maine, may 
be seen throughout the book. Among foreign writers 
it will be seen that I have drawn most largely on the 
great Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte of G. H. Waitz. It 
should be a matter of rejoicing among scholars that we 
shall soon have a companion work for our own History 
from the hands of Professor Stubbs. 


SOMERLEAZE, WELLS, 
September 26th, 1873. 


Note.—With the exception of alterations in the head-lines, 
rendered necessary by the change of print, this edition remains 
the same as that of 1873. 

FLORENCE FREEMAN. 


OXFORD, 1896. 


CONTENTS 


THE RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES 


WREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON 

THE STATE 

THE KING 

THE ASSEMBLY ... 

MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES tae 

REDE LECTURE.—THE UNITY OF HISTORY 


NOTES TO THE LECTURES 


COMPARATIVE POLITICS 


I 
3 
THE RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES 


THE establishment of the Comparative Method of study 
has been the greatest intellectual achievement of our time. 
It has carried light and order into whole branches of human 
knowledge which before were shrouded in darkness and con- 
fusion. It has brought a line of argument which reaches 
moral certainty into a region which before was given over to 
random guess-work. Into matters which are for the most 
part incapable of strictly external proof it has brought a 
form of strictly internal proof which is more convincing, 
more unerring. In one department, the first, perhaps the 
greatest, to which it has been applied, the victory of the 
Comparative Method may now be said to be assured. The 
Science of Language has been placed on a firm basis, from 
which it is impossible to believe that it can ever be dis- 
lodgad. Here and there we come across facts which show us 
that there are two classes of men on who.n its truths have 
ag yet been thrown away. There are men whom we cannot 
exactly call scholars, far less philologers, but who often have 
a purely literary knowledge of several languages, who seem 
really never to have heard of the discoveries of modern 
science, and who go on guessing and dogmatizing as if Com- 


parative Philology had never been heard of. And there are 
B 


2 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES ἴοι. 


9 


others, a more hopeless ‘but, I believe, a smaller class, ὙΠῸ 
really know what the objects and results of the scientific 
method are, but who cast them away as delusion, who look 
on the sure truths of science as dreams and on their own 
fancies as the only realities. The former class, whom the 
light has not yet reached, may possibly some day learn; at 
all events they will some day die out. The latter class, whom 
the light has reached but who count the light for darkness, 
will certainly never learn, and most likely they will never 
die out. Such men are to be found in all branches of study. 
There are those who have heard all that natural science 
has to say for itself, but who still believe that the earth is 
flat or that the moon does not go round on its axis. But 
the numbers and importance of such men are daily lessening. 
Some years back there were men whose attainments in some 
branches of linguistic study were of real importance, but 
who sneered at the scientific doctrine of the relations of 
languages as the “ Aryan heresy.” Such men are most likely 
no longer to be found. The disbelievers in Comparative 
Philology, as distinguished from those who never heard of it, 
seem now to be confined to that class of harmless lunatics 
who put forth claborate theories about “ Man’s first word,” 
or who still believe that the Irish language is derived from 
the Pheenician. With regard to Comparative Philology the 
battle is won. No man who has any right to be listened to 
on such a subject doubts that the doctrine of the relations 
of language has passed out of the stage of controversies and 
questions into the stage of admitted truths. There is, of 
course, still room for difference of opinion as to points of 
minuter detail; as to the main principle and its leading 
applications there is none. 

Comparative Philology then 1s fully established as a 
science. And,as far as this country is concerned, we may 
fairly say that it was on the spot where I now stand that its 
claims to rank as a science were established. Other applica- 
tions of the Comparative Method are later in date, and they 
have not yet won the same strong and unassailable position. 


Ι C@MPARATIVE PHILOLOGY 3 


One reason, of course, is that they2are later in date, that 
they uave not had so long a time to work their way into 
men’s minds. But this is not the only cause why Compara- 
tiwe Mythology and other applications of the Comparative 
Méthod have not won the same complete acceptance from 
every one qualified to judge which Comparative Philology 
certainly has won. In no other case—so at least it strikes 
me—can the application of the Comparative Method be so 
clear and simple, so utterly beyond doubt or cavil, as it is in 
the case of language. In the case of language the method 
is self-convincing. It is hard to conceive that the doctrine 
of the relations of language, if once clearly stated to a mind 
of ordinary intelligence, can fail to be received at once. 
When it is not so received, it can only be because of the 
difficulty which we all more or less feel when we are called 
on, not only to learn but to unlearn. The opposition to the 
scientific treatment of language or of any other subject 
always comes from teachers who find it hard to cast aside 
an old method and to adopt a new. It never comes from 
learners to whom all methods are alike new, and who find 
the scientific method by far the easiest. That Comparative 
Philology is sometimes misunderstood, even by those who 
profess to accept its teaching, is shown by the fact that there 
are a good number of people who believe that the great 
result of the scientific study of language is to show that 
Greek and English are both of them derived from Sansecrit. 
But this kind of thing will die out of itself. No one who 
has from the beginning been taught according to the scientific 
rgethod, and who has never heard of any other, will ever fall 
into confusions of this kind. And it seems impossible that, 
with any one whose mind is able to give a fair field and no 
favour, Comparative Philology can fail to be accepted at 
once. To many it will come, not as something new, but as 
the fuller revelation of something towards which they have 
been feeling their way of their own heads. Every one who 
has learned any two cognate languages otherwise than as a 
parrot, must have found out detached pieces of Grimm’s Law 


4 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES S.EcT. 


for himself. When a niin has got thus far, and when -the 
complete doctrine and itg consequences are set before him, 
they carry their own conviction with them. We see what 
kind of words the various Aryan languages have in commen, 
and what kind of words each language or group of languages 
has peculiar to itself. The inference as to the affinity of 
those languages to one another, and as to the condition of 
those who spoke them at the various stages of the great 
Aryan migration, is one which it is impossible to withstand. 
Comparative Philology has in truth revealed to us several 
stages of the pre-historic growth of man for which we have 
no recorded evidence, but which it makes far more certain 
than much which professes to rest on recorded evidence. It 
teaches us facts about which né external proof can be 
had, but for which the internal proof, when once stated, is 
absolutely irresistible. 


With Comparative Mythology, on the other hand, the case 
seems to be different. The mere statement of the doctrine 
does not in the same way carry conviction with it. The 
phenomena presented by Comparative Philology cannot 
reasonably be explained in any other way than that in which 
Comparative Philology professes to explain them. We find, 
for instance, the word mill, or some word evidently the same, 
used in the same sense in a number of different languages, 
between some of which the process of borrowing from one 
another is historically impossible (1). Even in the case of a 
single word, it would be hard to believe that the likeness was 
the result of accident. It would be hard to believe that, bv 
sheer chance, without any connexion of any kind with each 
other, a large nurgber of isolated nations separately made up 
their minds to call a milla mill. But when we find the same 
phenomena, not in one or two words, but in many, the 
notion of accidental likeness becomes impossible. With such 
|facts before us, there is no withstanding the inference that 
‘all those languages were once one language, that the nations 
Which speak those languages were once one nation, and that 


Ι COMPARATIVE PHILOLOGY SELF-CONVINCING 5 


thos2 nations did not part asunder till they were so far 
civilized as to have found out the use of mills, and of all 
other objects the names of which are common to the whole 
group of languages. But when we find a legend, or several 
legen¢ds3, which seem to be common to several distant ages 
and nations, the doctrine of a common derivation from a 
common stock is not in the same way the only possible 
explanation. It may be shown by argument to be the 
right explanation in each particular case; but the mere 
statement of the doctrine does not of itself convince us that 
it must be the right explanation in any case. The alleged 
points of likeness between legend and legend will not seem 
so indisputable to every mind as the identity between two 
cognate words. Some minds may refuse to see the likeness 
at all; others may see the likeness, but may hold that it can 
be accounted for by some other means than that of referring 
both to a common source. To fall back on our former 
illustration, the art of grinding corn may have been invented 
over and over again by any number of independent nations. 
The point on which the Comparative Philologer takes his 
stand is that it is inconceivable that, in such a case, they 
should all have called the instrument of grinding a mill. In 
the same way some of the simple stories, the obvious 
characters, the easily imagined situations, which form the 
staple of the legendary lore of most nations, may have been 
invented over and over again in distant times and places. 
There is at least nothing obviously absurd in thinking so; 
there is no absolute need to account for the likeness by the 
tkeory that all must have come from one common source. 
Comparative Mythology begins to be really convincing only 
when it can call Comparative Philology to its help. When a 
name in a Greek- legend cannot be reasonably explained by 
the Greek language, but can be explained by the Sanscrit, 
the probability that the Greek and the Indian story really 
do come from the same source comes very near to moral 
certainty. Yet even here there 1s room for difference of 
opinion in a way in which there is not in the case of Philology 


6 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE ‘SCIENCES τερον. 


proper. We are told, for instance, that the Charites “the 
Graces, in the Greek mythology are the same as the Haris, 
the horses of the Sun, in the Indian mythology. The philo- 
logical connexion of the two names is beyond all doubt; ine 
Greek and the Sanscrit word both obviously come from a 
common root, from the primitive meaning of which both have 
wandered very far indeed: But it does not seem to follow 
that there must be any nearer connexion between the 
Charites and the Harits than the general connexion which 
exists between any two words which come from a common 
root. Some minds may refuse to see any likeness between 
the solar horses of the Indian legend and the graceful female 
forms of the Greek legend. They may be inclined to think 
that the singular Charis of the ‘ Iliad, the plural Charites of 
the ‘Odyssey,’ may be independent creations of the Greek 
mind, wrought out after the separation of the Greeks and 
their immediate kindred from the common family. They 
may deem that Charis and the Charites are as directly 
impersonations as Até and the Lita:; they may deem that 
they took their name from the noun χάρις, the later and 
ordinary sense of the word, after that later and ordinary sense 
had parted off from the original root. Such a view is at 
least not obviously absurd, nor is it at all mconsistent with 
the acceptance of the general doctrine of Comparative 
Mythology (2). In the case of language, any particular 
language may develope any number of new words from the 
old roots; it may adopt any number of new words from 
foreign tongues. But the invention of a new root in any 
particular language is a thing which we cannot conceive. As 
to mythology the case is different. We may allow that there 
is a great stock of legend common to the whole Aryan family, 
or common to all mankind, and yet we may hold that many 
particular legends, Hellenic, Teutonic, or any other, are due 
to the independent play of fancy after Hellénes, Teutons, or 
any other branch of the common stock, had become a distinct 
people with a distinct language. For my own part, I firmly 
believe that Comparative Mythology really has brought to 


1 ‘COMPARATHVE PHILOLOGY AND MYTHOLOGY 7 


hight a vast common stock of legend, the groundwork of 
whica is to be found in the physical phenomena of nature. 
But I must decline to believe that the whole mythology of the 
Ae yan nations, as we find it in Greek and Teutonic literature, 
has this origin and no other. I believe that a large part of 
Greek and Teutonic mythology has its source in solar legends. 
But I must decline to believe that every hero of Greek or 
Teutonic legend must needs be the sun, save only that small 
minority who are not the sun but the wind (3). 

The difference then between Comparative Philology and 
Comparative Mythology would seem to be this. Comparative 
Philology is, within its own range, the absolutely universal 
solvent: Comparative Mythology must be content to be only 
one most important solvent among others. To admit this 
implies no kind of undervaluing of the Comparative Method 
as applied to mythological subjects. It is still by that 
method that the mythology of any people must be tested. 
That method is still the safeguard against all unscientific 
treatment of the subject—against running, for instance, to 
Egypt, Phoenicia, or Palestine, for the explanation of 
particular Greek legends. The scientific method is first to 
find out what there 15 in the Indian, Greek, Teutonic and 
other Aryan mythologies which can be fairly set down as 
springing from one common stock. When this 1s clearly 
made out, we are then in a position to determine what part 
of the mythology of each people is due to independent 
invention since the dispersion, what part, if any, 1s due to 
importation from non-Aryan sources, Semitic or any other. 

Besides Comparative Philology and Comparative Mytho- 
logy, there is a third branch of knowledge to which the Com- 
parative Method has lately been applied with much success. 
In truth, as in the case of Comparative Philology itself, this 
Institution has been one chief means of bringing what may 
be fairly called a new science into general notice. I mean 
the scientific inquiry into manners and customs, and the 
grouping together of the wonderful analogies which they set 
before us in times and places the most remote from one 


8 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES  fuct. 


FN 
" νἤἦ 


another. This is an ingufry which follows easily, and almpst 
necessarily, upon Comparative Philology itself. We have-seen 
that, by Comparative Philology alone, without any external 
evidence of any kind, we can find out a great deal as to tke 
social, political, and religious state of the various branches of 
the Aryan stock at various stages of their dispersion. We 
can see that some of the most important steps in the march 
of human culture were taken while the Aryan nations were 
still a single people. We can see that other steps were taken 
independently by different branches of the common stock, 
after they had parted off from one another. Sometimes we 
can go so far as to see that some invention or discovery was 
made by a particular branch, after it had parted off from the 
common centre, but before it had parted off again into the 
particular nations which meet us in written history. The 
evidence of language alone thus gives us a general notion of 
the amount of advance which had been made by the Aryans 
before the dispersion. It gives us also the means of tracing 
in some degree the further advance made by the Eastern 
and the Western Aryans after the Eastern and Western 
branches had parted, but while the forefathers of Greeks, 
Italians, and Teutons still kept together. We can see that 
further steps were taken by the common forefathers of Greeks 
and Italians, after they had parted company with the Teutons, 
but before Greeks and Italians were parted asunder by the 
Hadriatic. But in this line of inquiry it is to language 
alone that the Comparative Method is directly applied. The 
knowledge which it brings to light as to the growth of human 
culture is most important in itself, and it 1s established by, 
the most certain of proofs ; still it is only an incidental result 
of an inquiry which has another immediate object. But in 
the third branch of inquiry of which I am speaking, the 
Comparative Method is directly applied to the growth of 
culture itself. The immediate object of research is no longer 
language, it 1s no longer legend as legend; it is the customs, 
the social institutions, the religious ceremonies, of the different 
nations of the earth into the nature and origin of which the 


Ι ΤΗΣ DOCTRINE OF SURVIVALS 9 


χων.»ν»Ἅ.. 


inquirer is now searching. Such a research could hardly be 
carried on except by one to whom the studies of Comparative 
Philology and Comparative Mythology were already familiar : 
lisguistic science gives the inquirer help at every step ; legend- 
ary loge gives him help more precious still ; but his imme- 
diate object is different from either. He deals with customs 
and ceremonies, even with legends as they either spring out 
of or give birth to customs and ceremonies, much as his 
fellow-inquirers deal with language and with legend looked 
at for its own sake. He traces the religious rite, the social 
or domestic order, up to its root, just as his brethren do with 
words and with legends. He finds perhaps that the custom, 
civil or religious, has shrunk up into a mere superstition or 
prejudice, which at first sight seems purely arbitrary and 
meaningless. It seems arbitrary and meaningless, just as 
many a word, many a legend, whose history 15 full of life and 
meaning to the scientific inquirer, seems arbitrary and mean- 
ingless to those who stand without the gate. But, by com- 
paring together the analogous customs of various, often most 
remote, ages and countries, the scientific inquirer is led up to 
the root ; he is led up to the original idea of which particular 
customs, ceremonies, and beliefs, are but the offshoots. And 
in all these cases, as the inquiry can be carried upwards, so it 
can be carried downwards. Here comes in the doctrine of 
Survivals (4). It is a fascinating process by which we learn 
to trace out the way in which a belief, a word, a legend, we 
might add a grammatical form, survives in this or that 
phrase or custom, whose origin has long been forgotten, and 
which, without a knowledge of that origin, seems utterly 
meaningless. As the Comparative Philologer shows that 
inflexions and terminations which seem to be purely arbi- 
trary were once whole and living words, having as true a 
meaning as the root which they now simply serve to modify 
—as he can trace out a long history of language and of much 
beside language in the single letter, the mere Yes’r and 
Yes’m, to which a short and careless utterance has cut down 
the once sounding titles of Senior and mea Domina (5)—as 


10 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE ®CIENCES ‘Ect. 
a 


πὲ 


the Comparative Mythol$ger groups together the utterances 
of primeval thought on the great mysteries of nature, as he 
traces them on, through legends of Gods and heroes, down to 
some feeble echo in the tales of the nursery or the cottage 
fire-side—so their fellow-worker, the votary of our third 
science which yet lacks a name, traces out the embodiments 
of primeeval thought in ancient rites and customs ; he follows 
the ancient belief and its utterances down to some faint and 
forgotten shadow lingering on in some proverbial saying, in 
some familiar gesture, it may be even in some common 
article of dress, in some faint relic of any of these kinds 
which we see or hear or wear or practise every day of our 
lives, without a thought of the primeval source from which 
it sprang, or of the long pages of‘history of which it is the 
memorial. For this science, I say, the offspring doubtless of 
the two earlier sciences, but which has fully established its 
right to rank side by side with either of them, we need a 
name. Let us hope that a name may be found for it, 1f not 
—what may perhaps be hopeless—within the stores of our 
own mother-tongue, yet at least within the range of the 
foreign words which have been already coined. It would be 
a pity if a line of inquiry which has brought to ight so much, 
and from which so much more may be looked for, should end 
by cumbering the dictionary with some fresh word of new 
and barbarous formation (6). 

This third, as yet nameless, science follows the Comparative 
Method no less strictly than it is followed by Comparative 
Philology and Comparative Mythology. But it is still less 
safe in this case than in the case of Comparative Mytnologv 
to argue that every instance of likeness in times and places 
far away from one another necessarily proves that they are 
strictly sprung from a common source. When we find either 
a legend or a custom repeated in this way in distant times 
and places, we may be sure that there is a connexion between 
the several instances; but we need not infer that there is 
the same kind of direct connexion which we infer when we 
find the Greek, the Teuton, and the Hindoo using the same 


I RELATIONS OF THE THREE SCIENCES 11 


words and grammatical forms. If we find the same custom, 
as we often do, at opposite ends of the earth or in ages far 
away from one another, we need not infer that that custom 
ngist have been handed down from a time when the fore- 
fathers of the two nations which are found using it formed 
one people. It may be so; doubtless it often is so. But it 
may also happen that the custom is in each case an inde- 
pendent invention, the fruit of like circumstances leading to 
like results. Or it may be that the custom, without being 
itself in strictness a common possession, may be in each case 
the offspring of a common idea, an idea common to all man- 
kind or to some one of the great divisions of mankind. Or 
again it 15 quite possible that a custom may have been simply 
borrowed by one nation from another, either while its mean 
ing was still remembered or after it had been forgotten. 
But, notwithstanding all these chances, the method employed 
in this form of research, just as much as in the other two, 1s 
strictly Comparative. The customs are dealt with in the 
same way in which the words and the legends are dealt with 
in the other cases. And all three forms of inquiry stand in 
a close relation to one another. Comparative Mythology 
could not get on at all without Comparative Philology; and 
the science of customs, ceremonies, and survivals bears on 
both Philology and Mythology at every step. And the three 
may be ranged in a certain order. Comparative Philology is 
the purest science of the three: its evidence is the most 
strictly internal ; it makes the least use of any facts beyond 
its own range; its argument is that which most distinctly 
carries its own conviction with it. Comparative Mythology 
does all this in a less degree ; the third nameless science does 
so in a less degree still. Each depends more on facts which 
do not come immediately within its own range than Com- 
parative Philology does. Still all three hang together ; all 
are branches of one inquiry; all are applications of one 
method, of that method the introduction of which marks the 
nineteenth century, like the fifteenth, as one of the great 
stages in the developement of the mind of man. 


12 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE ΟΙΕΝΟῈΒ tect. 
Φ 


My beginnings have thus far, I fear, been dry and abstract. 
But I have been anxious to fix the exact relations between 
the chief subjects to which the Comparative method of 
research has as yet been applied. It was important for niy 
purpose to do this, as my object in this course of Lectres is 
to attempt the application of the same method to another 
subject. Or, to speak more accurately, I should perhaps not 
so much say another subject as a special and most important 
branch of that third class of subjects of which I have already 
spoken. I wish that what I have to say may be looked on 
as an attempt to follow in the same path as two inquirers 
both of whom are well known in this place, Professor Max 
Miiller and Mr. E. B. Tylor. With Mr. Tylor’s subject I wish 
specially to connect my own: I should indeed wish that 
mine may be looked on as a part of his. But, as for the 
whole, so for the part, it is not easy to find a name. My own 
subject I wish to speak of as Comparative Politics ; but I feel 
that that is a form of words which is not a little liable to be 
misunderstood. But I may perhaps be allowed to make use of 
it, after I have explained the sense which I wish the words to 
bear. In the phrase of Comparative Politics I wish the word 
Politics to be taken in the sense which it bears in the name 
of the great work of Aristotle. By Comparative Politics I 
mean the comparative study of political institutions, of forms of 
government. And, under the name of Comparative Politics, 
I wish to point out and bring together the many analogies 
which are to be seen between the political institutions of 
times and countries most remote from one another. In this 
sense my subject is the more minute treatment of a part of 
Mr. Tylor’s subject, namely those customs, ceremonies, 
formule, and the kke, which have to do with the political 
institutions of different ages and nations. The analogies 
which may be marked between the most remote ages and 
countries as to their forms of government, their political 
divisions, the partition of power among different bodies 
or magistrates, are far more and far more striking than would 
come into any one’s mind who has not given special attention 


Ι POINTS JF LIKENESS AND UNLIKENESS 13 


to the inquiry. In some cases the Ifkeness is seen at the first 
glance; 1n others it lies perhaps somewhat below the surface : 
but it needs only a little thought, backed by a little practice 
ine researches of the kind, in order easily to see the real 
likeness which often lurks under superficial unlikeness. As 
in Comparative Philology a small amount of practice teaches 
the learner to mark connexions between words at which the 
unlearned are certain to mock, so it is with this study also. 
The most profitable analogies, the most striking cases of 
direct derivation, are not those which are most obvious at 
first sight. 

But another warning must be given. In tracing out an 
analogy or parallel of any kind, points of unlikeness are as 
carefully to be studied as points of likeness; it is in truth 
the points of superficial unlikeness which often give us the 
surest proofs of essential likeness. When we stop to com- 
pare, when we mark this and that point of difference in 
detail, it is the surest proof of a real likeness between the 
two things which we are comparing. When we stop to 
comment on the small differences between one human face 
and another, it is because we recognize all alike ag human 
faces, because we see in all of them that essential likeness 
which alone enables us to see the points of unhkeness. So it 
is with the subject of our present inquiry. We are concerned 
with the essential likeness of institutions, and we must never 
allow incidental points of unlikeness to keep us from seeing 
that essential likeness. And this caution is the more needed, 
because points of likeness and unlikeness which, in their 
practical results, in their bearings on later history, are of the 
very first importance, may, in our way of looking at the 
matter, be purely incidental. I will illustrate my meaning 
by an example. The English Parliament consists of two 
Houses: the Assemblies of most other medieval European 
states consisted of three or more. The practical importance 
of this difference has been almost boundless in its effects 
both on the history of England and on the history of the 
many kingdoms and commonwealths which have copied the 


14 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SOIENCES δεου. 


8. ! 
4 


political institutions of England. The peculiar.relation of 
the two Houses of Parliqment to one another depend§ on 
there being two Houses and not more. The whole doctrine 
of two branches in a legislature, the bicameral system as it,'s 
called, the endless attempts, successful and unsuccessful, ‘to 
set up artificially in other lands what has come to us ready- 
made through the facts of our history, all go on the principle 
that there shall be two Houses and no more. Now, if we 
look to the history of our own constitution, we shall find that 
this particular number of two, as the number of the Houses 
of our Parliament, 1s not owing to any conviction that two 
Houses would work better than either one or three, but was 
a matter of sheer accident. The Estates of the Realm are, 
in England no less than elsewheré, three—Nobles, Clergy, 
and Commons (7). In France, we all know, the Clergy 
remained a distinct member of the States-General as long as 
the States-General lasted. In England the Clergy could 
never be got permanently to act as a regular parliamentary 
Kstate (8). The causes of this difference belong to the 
particular history of England; the effects of it are that the 
Parliament of England remained a Parliament of two Houses. 
only, and that a crowd of constitutions, European and 
American, have followed the English model. The accident 
then has, in its consequences, been one of the great facts of 
later political history ; but, in our point of view, 1ὖ is a mere 
accident with which we are in no way concerned. How 
these Estates grew up in nearly every European country is 
essentially a part of our Comparative inquiry; how it 
happened that, in one particular country, one of © these 
Estates failed to keep its distinct political being is a matter 
of ordinary constitutional history. Still less have we anything 
to do with the questions whether the effect of the accident, 
that is the particular form of the English Parliament, has 
been good or bad, or whether the attempts to reproduce the 
same model in other countries have been wise or foolish. 
For our present purpose we must throw ourselves into a 
state of mind to which political constitutions seem as 


I TRANSLANTATION OF INSTITUTIONS 15 


absolutely colourless as grammatical forms,—a state of 
mina to which the change from monarchy to democracy or 
from democracy to monarchy seems as little a matter of 
myral praise or blame as the process by which the Latin 
languege changed into the French or the process by which 
the High-German parted off from the Low. 


For the purposes then of the study of Comparative Politics, 
a political constitution is a specimen to be studied, classified, 
and labelled, as a building or an animal is studied, classified, 
and labelled by those to whom buildings or animals are 
objects of study. We have to note the likenesses, striking 
and unexpected as those likenesses often are, between the 
political constitutions of remote times and places; and we 
have, as far as we can, to classify our specimens according to 
the probable causes of those likenesses. For, though the 
genuine Comparative Method may be as strictly applied to 
this inquiry as to any of the others, yet in this inquiry it 1s 
further off than in any of the others from being the one 
universal solvent. It is still less safe than in the case 
of Comparative Mythology to infer that every case of likeness 
between two political institutions is necessarily to be 
explained by supposing that both of the two are vestiges of 
one common stock. There are at least three causes to which 
likenesses of this kind may be owing, and we must consider 
to which of the three any particular case of likeness ought to 
be referred. And, as always happens in such cases, the three 
classes which we may thus form will be found to some extent 
{0 run into one another, and there will be cases about which 
it may be matter of doubt to which of our classes we ought to 
refer them. ! 

Thus the likeness between any two institutions, identity 
of name, identity of nature, or any other point of likeness, 
may be the result of direct transmission from one to another. 
And this transmission may take several forms. It may be in 
the strictest sense a direct handing on from one state of 
things to another: or it may be Stiiple imitation, in all the 


16 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE ἘΝΟΙΕΝΟῈΒ τοι. 


various shades which simple imitation may take. Thus it 
constantly happens thate the institutions of a ruling city 
or country will appear again in its dependencies. They 
are adopted by or forced upon its subject provinces; 
they are reproduced as a matter of course in the colonies 
which it plants with its own citizens. Take, for instance, 
what so long was the greatest dependency of England,—a 
conquered province if we look to one class of its inhabitants, 
a colonial settlement if we look to another class,—the so long 
separate but dependent kingdom of Ireland. In Ireland, as 
an English colony, the whole machinery of English Govern- 
ment, central and local, was reproduced as a matter of course. 
The Houses of Parliament, the Courts of Law and their 
Judges, the Ecclesiastical establishment in all its branches, 
the local administration under Lords Lieutenant, Sheriffs, 
Justices of the Peace, and the lke, were all simply, as a 
matter of course, modelled according to the English pattern. 
Some differences may be found: thus the functions of an 
Irish Grand Jury are not exactly the same as those of the 
English body of the same name. But differences of: this 
kind, mere matters of the minutest detail which have grown 
up in comparatively recent times, in no way affect the 
general reproduction of the institutions of the mother country 
in the colony. The English carried their whole system into 
Ireland; so did the Crusaders carry their whole system into 
their conquests in the East: the most perfect system of feudal 
law is to be found in the Assizes of the Christian Kingdom 
of Jerusalem (9). These cases, which are the types of countless 
others, are cases of direct handing on of names and ifstitu . 
‘ions from one country to another. It is a process which can 
1ardly be called initation ; 1t 1s not so much the framing of 
something after the model of something else; it is rather the 
ictual translation of the thing itself to another soil. There 
was most likely no thought about the matter: men who 
settled in a new land carried with them their own institu- 
tions and the names of those institutions as a matter of 
course. Cases.of imitation properly so called are something 


Ι _ DIRECT IMITATION 17 


different. In them men, after thought and debate, choose 
one model to follow, when they might have chosen another. 
The imitative work, however closely it may reproduce the 
likeness of the original, is not the original: it is not even 
the transplanted original; 1Ὁ 1s something which has a 
distinct being and which starts from a beginning of its own. 
Such are the cases which I have already spoken of, in which 
the constitution of the English Parliament, a constitution 
which in England came about as the mere result of circum- 
stances, has been deliberately imitated in other countries.| 
Most of the legislative Assemblies of Europe have followed the 
English model more or less closely. But the reproduction of 
English forms in this way is quite another process from their 
reproduction in Ireland. The difference may be likened to 
the difference between the real kindred which springs from 
natural parentage and the artificial kindred which springs from 
the legal fiction of adoption. And again, wide differences may 
be marked between different cases of simple imitation. Let 
me take an instance from the mere use of a borrowed name. 
There is a Capitol at Washington and there is a Capitol 
at Toulouse. In both cases alike the name is used in mere 
imitation of the Capitol at Rome. I say mere imitation, 
because it is hardly likely that, even at Toulouse, the name 
Capitoliwm and the magistracy of the Octovirt Capitolina were 
strictly handed on by direct transmission from Roman days 
(10). Yet we feel that the name Capitol is in its place at 
Toulouse in a way in which it is not in its place at 
Washington. In the second birth of municipal freedom 
it was natural that the citizens of Toulouse, cleaving to the 
memories of Rome, her laws and her language, should give to 
their institutions names borrowed from the old stock. At 
Washington the name of Capitol was mere imitation, it was 
the mere calling up of a name which had been dead for ages 
and with which those who made the new use of it had 
no direct connexion of any kind. At Toulouse, though I 
believe the use of the name to be imitation and not direct 


transmission, yet it 1s imitation of a kind which differs as little 
σ 


18 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE fCIENCES τοι. 


as may be from direct’ transmission. So again, to take 
another illustration from the same region, the city of Alby 
kept its Consuls down to the great French Revolution (11), 
and, before many years had passed from that Revolution, 
Consuls were ruling, not only over Alby but over all France. 
Both, no doubt, were cases of imitation, yet we feel that for 
the commonwealth of Alby to give to its magistrates the 
name of Consuls, in days when the memory of the Roman con- 
sulship was still a living thing, was something different from 
that mere dead imitation of times and things which had 
utterly passed away which gave the name of Consuls to the 
elder Buonaparte and his colleagues. We may thus dis- 
tinguish imitation from direct transmission, and we may see 
wide differences between different eases of imitation. But, 
in the whole class with which we are dealing, the names and 
institutions of one time and place are consciously transferred 
to some other time and place. A thing which already exists 
is moved from an old home to a new one; the thing is done 
openly; there is no mystery about it; the process needs not 
to be searched out by inference or analogy; 1t takes its place 
among the facts of recorded history. The political institutions 
of one people have been handed on to another people, or they 
have been purposely imitated by another people. We find 
analogous cases within the range of the other kindred 
sciences. Religious beliefs and sacred legends have been 
spread in the same way. The creed of a conquering people 
has been spread over its subjects and neighbours, or a people 
have of their own free will adopted a creed which arose in 
some distant age and country. Christianity and Islam alike 
have been spread in both of these ways, by the swords of 
conquerors as well as by the preaching of missionaries. Open 
and undoubted connexions of this kind between the religious 
beliefs of different nations have nothing in common with 
those subtler connexions which are revealed to us by 
Comparative Mythology. So too with language itself: a 
conquered or neighbouring ‘people adopts the language of a 
more powerful people. Thus the tongues of Greece, Rome, 


Ι LIKE RESULTS FROM LIKE CAUSES 19 


Persia, and Arabia, to say nothing of the tongues of modern 
Europe, have been spread over vast regions whose nations 
have adopted the speech of their conquerors or civilizers. 
O: again, a people, without necessity or compulsion, may 
adopt, if not the whole language, yet a large part of the 
vocabulary, of another nation, just as they may adopt the 
whole or part of its institutions. In this way the purity of 
our own tongue has given way to a jargon drawn from every 
quarter, of the world, and even our High-Dutch kinsfolk 
seem to be too ready to follow us in the same evil path (12). 
Processes like these, which have their place among the 
recorded facts of history, stand distinct from the no less 
certain though unrecorded facts which are taught us by 
Comparative research. 

It is for the most part not very hard to know when a case 
of likeness between political institutions ought to be referred 
to this first class. The connexion in such cases is for the 
most part a matter of recorded history or of immediate 
inference from recorded history. With regard to our second 
and third classes our course is not so clear: we no longer 
have recorded history to help us, and 1t may often be a 
question to which of the two classes any particular instance 
belongs. When we find a hkeness between the institutions 
of any two nations, which likeness we cannot reasonably 
attribute to conscious transmission or imitation during 
historical times, there are two possible ways in which the 
likeness may be explained. It may well be that there is no 
direct connexion whatever, conscious or unconscious, between 
the two. The likeness may be real and beyond doubt, but 
there may be no reason to believe either that one people has 
borrowed from the other, or that both have inherited from a 
common source. The cause of the likeness may simply be 
that like causes have, at however great a distance of time 
and place, led to like results. The institutions of a people 
are the natural growth of the circumstances under which it 
finds itself; if two nations, however far removed they may 
be from one another both in time and in place, find them- 


20 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES | uxct. 


-- oe, 


selves under like circumstances, the chances are that the 
effect of this likeness of circumstances will show itself in the 
likeness of their institutions. The same evils will suggest 
the same remedies; the same needs will suggest the sane 
means of supplying them. There can be little doubt that 
many of the most essential inventions of civilized life have 
been invented over and over again in distant times and 
countries, as different nations have reached those particular 
points of social advancement when those inventions were 
first needed. Thus printing has been independently invented 
in China and in medieval Europe; and it is well known 
that a process essentially the same was in use for various 
purposes in ancient Rome, though no one took the great step 
of applying to the reproduction of books the process which 
was familiarly used for various meaner purposes (13). What 
happened with printing we may believe also to have 
happened with writing,and we may take another illustration 
from an art of quite another kind. There can be no doubt, 
from comparing the remains of the earliest buildings in 
Egypt, Greece, Italy, the British Islands, and the ruined 
cities of Central America, that the great inventions of the 
arch and the dome have been made more than once in the 
history of human art. And moreover, much as in the case 
of printing, we can see in many places strivings after them, 
and near approaches made to them, which still never reached 
complete success (14). Nor need we doubt that many of the 
simplest and most essential arts of civilized life——the use of 
the mill, the use of the bow, the taming of the horse, the 
hollowing out of the canoe,—have been found out over and 
over again in distant times and places. It is only when we 
find the unmistekeable witness of language, or some other 
sign of historical connexion, that we have any right to infer 
that the common possession of inventions of this kind is any 
sign of common derivation from one primitive source. So it 
is with political institutions also. The same institutions 
constantly appear very far from one another, simply because 
the circumstances which called for them have arisen in 


1 UNCONSCIOUS REPRODUCTION OF INSTITUTIONS 21 


times and places very far from one another. The whole 
system of historical analogies resis on this doctrine. We 
see the same political phenomena repeating themselves over 
and over again in various times and places, not because of 
any borrowing or imitation, conscious or unconscious, but 
because the like circumstances have led to the like results. 
To master analogies of this kind, to grasp the laws which 
regulate the essential hkeness and not to be led away by 
points either of likeness or unlikeness which are merely 
incidental, is the true philosophy of history. Of the way in 
which political circumstances and institutions repeat them- 
selves, where no kind of borrowing or imitation can be 
thought of, many instances will occur to any one who thinks 
at all upon the matter. Let me take a most striking case 
from very modern history. It is shown beyond doubt in the 
writings of the founders of the Constitution of the United 
States that they had no knowledge of the real nature of the 
Federal Constitution of the Achaian League (15). But two 
sets of commonwealths, widely removed from one another in 
time and place, found themselves in circumstances essentially 
the same. The later Federal union was therefore cast in a 
shape which in several points presents a likeness to the elder 
one, a likeness which is all the more striking and instructive 
because it was most certainly undesigned. Washington and 
Hamilton had very faint notions that they were doing the 
same work which had been done twenty ages before them by 
Markos of Keryneia and Aratos of Sikyén; but they did the 
work all the same. But, on the other hand, the Federal 
Constitution of Switzerland is a conscious reproduction of 
the Federal Constitution of America, with such changes as 
were called for. by the different circumstances of the two 
commonwealths (16). A better illustration can hardly be 
found of the difference between likenesses which are owing 
to direct transmission or imitation and likenesses which are 
simply owing to the law that like causes produce like 
effects. 

| We have thus seen that class of likenesses which come of 


22 RANGE OF THE COMPARATIVE SCIENCES τερον. 


direct and conscious reproduction or imitation, and we have 
seen the class where the Mkeness is simply the natural result 
of like circumstances. But beyond these two lies the third 
class, the class which forms the more immediate subject of 
our inquiry, the class of likenesses where there is, on the one 
hand, no reproduction, no imitation, but where, on the other 
hand, the connexion is something closer than that of mere 
nalogy. These are the cases where there is every reason to 
lew that the likeness really 15 owing to derivation from a 
ommon source. Where nations have been wholly cut off 
from one another during the historic times, and where there 
is no affinity of language to make us believe that they are 
scattered colonies of a common stock, this explanation is not 
to be thought of But when we see nations which have 
been, during the historic times, more or less widely parted 
off from one another, but which are proved by the evidence 
of language really to be such colonies of a common stock— 
when, among nations like these, we find in their political 
institutions the same kind of likenesses which we find in 
their languages and their mythology—the obvious inference 
is that the hkeness in all these cases is due to the same 
cause. That is to say, the obvious inference is that there 
was a time when these now parted nations formed one 
nation, and that, before they parted asunder, the common 
forefathers of both had made certain advances in political 
life, had developed certain common political institutions, 
traces or developements of which are still to be seen in the 
political institutions of the now isolated nations. At the 
time of the dispersion each band of settlers took with it a 
common tongue, a common mythology, a common store of 
the arts of soci&l life. So it also took with it certain 
principles and traditions of political life, principles and 
traditions common to the whole family, but which grew up, 
in the several new homes of the scattered nations, into 
settled political constitutions, each of which has character- 
istic features of its own, but all of which keep enough of 
likeness to show that they are all offshoots from one common 


I THE THREE CHIEF ARYAN NATIONS 23 


stock. To trace out likenesses of this kind, to distinguish 
those likenesses which really mark ‘the offshoots of a common 
stock from those which are better referred to either of the 
other classes which I have distinguished, is the object of the 
inquiry which I have ventured to call Comparative Politics. 
Having thus, in this Introductory Lecture, tried to establish 
the possibility of such an inquiry, its proper objects and its 
proper limits, I wish to go on, in the lectures which are to 
follow, to illustrate the subject in some detail from those 
political institutions which were common to the races which 
hold the highest place in the history of mankind. My 
matter hitherto has perhaps been uninviting: it has certainly 
been of a kind which carries with it a certain strain on the 
mind, and which does not allow of any lively treatment. 
The matter which I have in store for the rest of the course 
will, I trust, be found of a more attractive kind; and I shall 
hope that those who have followed me thus far will not 
refuse to follow me in tracing out the signs of original unity 
which are to be found in the primitive institutions of the 
Aryan nations, above all, in the three most illustrious 
branches of the common stock—the Greek, the Roman, and 
the Teuton. 


24 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


1 


GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON 


WE are now fairly embarked gn our subject. We are 
now in a position to trace out all that the Comparative 
method of inquiry has to tell us of the earliest political state 
of that branch of mankind to which we ourselves belong. 
We are now ready to stand face to face with our own 
immediate forefathers and kinsmen. And, along with them, 
we are ready to look, with fresh interest and reverence, on 
those other branches of the common stock—kinsmen them- 
selves, though kinsmen less nearly: allied—who went before 
our own race in holding the first place among the nations 
of the earth. In the pages of history truly so called—in 
the records which set man before us in his highest form— 
the records which do not simply burthen the memory with 
the names of barbarian Kings, but which teach the mind 
and the heart by the deeds and words of the heroes of our 
common nature—the records which set before us, not the 
physical bigness of Eastern kingdoms but the moral greatness 
of Western commonwealths—in that long history of civilized 
man which stretcMes on in one unbroken tale from the union 
of the towns of Attica to the last measure of progress in 
England or in Germany—in this long procession of deeds 
wrought long ago but whose effects still abide among us, of 
men whose very memories have often been forgotten, but 
whose works still live in lands which they never heard of— 
in this mighty drama of European and Aryan history, three 


II PROMINENCE OF THE THREE RACES 25 


lands, three races, stand forth before all others, as those to 
whom, each in its own day, the mission has been given to 
be the rulers and the teachers of the world. The names of 
thdse three races were the last words of my first lecture, and 
the political institutions of those three races, and the relations 
of those institutions to one another, will be the main subject 
‘of my whole course. Their history has ever been the main 
subject of my own studies; their history I may reasonably 
suppose to be better known than any other to most of my 
hearers in this or in any other audience. As the Ayran 
family of nations, as a whole, stands out above the other 
families of the world, so the Greek, the Roman, and the 
Teuton, each in his own turn, stands out above the other 
nations of the Aryan family. Each in his turn has reached 
the highest stage alike of power and civilization that was to 
be had in his own age, and each has handed on his own 
store to be further enriched by successors who were at once 
conquerors and disciples. We get our glimpses of all three 
in times when the light of authentic history is but beginning 
feebly to struggle through the mists of legend. Yet, even 
in those earlicst glimpses, we see a people who have already 
risen far above the state of savages, a people who already 
enjoy the most essential inventions of civilized being, who 
have already grasped the first principles of domestic and 
religious life, who have already taken the first steps in the 
growth of social order, of military discipline, and of civil 
«cvernment. Our first glimpses of history, in its highest 
and truest sense, show us the land which is at once the 
border-land of Europe and Asia and the most European of 
all European lands—the land which, above all others, is the 
land of hills and valleys, of islands and peninsulas, of harbours 
and inland seas—the land formed by the hand of Nature to 
be the home of those countless independent commonwealths 
which were the earliest and the most brilliant, if not the 
most lasting, of all the forms of man’s political life (1). 
There, in the mother-land of Hellas, the native land of art 
and song and wisdom, and more glorious still as the native 


26 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


land of law and freedom, we see the Aryan man in the first 
form in which European ‘history or legend shows him, already 
possessed of all the needful arts of life, already gathered into 
organized civil communities, already taught to obey the 
voice of the elders of his people; but already knowing how, 
by the shout of applause or by yet more emphatic silence, 
to teach the elders of his people what the will of the people 
itself deems good. He has already Kings, but he has also 
already Assemblies; he has already courts where the man 
who has suffered wrong may come and seek for right at the 
judges’ hand. Out of the common stock of the common 
race he has already brought to perfection the noblest forms 
of the common speech and of thg¢ common store of legend ; 
he speaks the tongue of Homer, and bows before the Gods 
of whom Homer sang. We see him, in these his earliest 
days, brought face to face alike with kindred tribes and with 
the worthiest rival of any alien stock; we see him spreading 
the name and arts of Hellas over all the Augean and Ionian 
coasts (2); here winning island after island from the grasp 
of the men of Tyre and Sidon (3); here raising his laggard 
kinsmen of Asia, of Sicily, and of Epeiros, to the level of 
the brethren who had so far outstripped them in the race (4). 
We see him, as time rolls on, planting his colonies, each 
colony a centre of civilized life and political freedom, on all 
the coasts from the Iberian to the Tauric peninsula (5). 
We see him in his own land rearing to the service of the 
Gods or of the State the first buildings, the first painted 
and sculptured forms, that really deserved the name of art (6). 
We see him bring to perfection, as in a moment, the living 
strains of the tragic and the comic muse, and we see him 
hand down to all who shall come after him the first-fruits of 
man’s political wisdom, the great possession for all time (7). 
Another act of the drama shows us that a day so bright as 
this was in truth a day too bright to last; we see the 
political independence of the nation, both in its own land 
and in its plantations on foreign shores, die out step by step 
till its very name has passed away. But it shows us too 


[I HISTORICAL POSITION OF ROME 27 


how, in the well-known phrase, the captive land led captive 
her conquerors; how the Macedo.uian who dealt the first 
blow to her political freedom became the armed apostle of 
her culture; how he carried her tongue, her art, and her 
wisdom. into lands which the colonists of her days of freedom 
had never reached (8). And, yet more, we see how the 
power which was to take her place in the world’s annals 
became her scholar in the act of becoming her conqueror— 
how, under the Roman sway, Greek became more than 
ever the common speech of civilized man—how at last the 
throne of Rome was fixed in a Grecian city—how Greek and 
Roman came to be words of the same meaning (9)—how the 
Greek speech and the Greek creed kept its hold on one half 
of the divided Empire—and how, even under the sway 
of the Barbarian, that speech and creed have lived on to 
our own day. 

From Greece we change the scene to Italy. Of the three 
great peninsular lands of Southern Europe, the central one, 
as compared with the group of islands and promontories to 
the east of it, forms a solid and compact land, which nature 
seems to have marked out for a single dominion. And, 
placed in the midst of that great inland sea whose shores 
formed the whole civilized world of early times, no other 
land seems so clearly marked out as the destined home-of 
universal Empire. And so it was: a single city of central 
Italy made its way, step by step, to the dominion of Italy, 
end from the dominion of Italy to the dominion of the 
Mediterranean world. Step by step, the ruling city called 
in her allies and subjects to share in her own citizenship. 
A day at last came when York and Antioch not only obeyed 
a single ruler, but were as truly formed intv a single state as 
were the village of Romulus and the village of Tatius in the 
first days of Roman legend (10). Greece had won the 
intellectual dominion of the world by her arts and her 
philosophy. Rome won the political dominion of the worl 
by her arms, and kept her hold of it by her abiding Law. 
For the song of Homer and the lore of Aristotle she had the 


28 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


sword of Sulla and Cresar, the dooms of Servius and Justinian. 
Her tongue and her laweshe has handed on to every later 
age, and with them she handed on another gift, not, like 
them, her own by birth, but which she had made no less uer 
own by adoption. The old creeds which had grovm and 
stiffened out of the traditions which were the common 
heritage of the whole Aryan folk gave way to a creed which 
arose in a distant corner of Rome’s dominion, among a 
despised people of alien blood and speech. If the Aryan 
world of Europe has learned its arts and its law from its own 
elder brethren, it is from the Semitic stranger that it has 
learned its faith, But before a Semitic faith could become 
the faith of Rome and of Kurope, its dogmas had to be 
defined by the subtlety of Greciaut intellect, the constitution 
of its organized society had to be wrought into shape by the 
undying genius of Roman rule. This Semitie faith, banished 
from its Semitic home, became the badge of Rome’s 
dominion: the sway of Christ and Casar became words of 
the same meaning (11), It was with a true feeling of the 
doom which was in store tor her, that the men of those ages 
which a shallow view of history looks on as the ages of 
Rome's decline dared to give the name of Eternal to the 
eity which was then in the childhood of her second life, 
preparing fora new and mightier dominion over the minds 
of men (12). Eternal indeed) Rome has shown herself in 
her tongue, in her laws, and in the borrowed faith which, 
by her own law of adoption, she made her own. But she 
became eternal by still working out the same law which had 
been the law of her greatness from her earliest days. Ron.e 
became mistress of the world by doing what Athens and 
Sparta and Carthage had never done, by gathering those 
whom she had conquered into her own bosom. And she has 
remained the mistress of the world, because she knew how 
to carry on the same law in what seemed to be the days of 
her overthrow and bondage. The spell which she once threw 
over those whom she conquered she now knew how to 
throw over those who conquered her: she won the Goth to 


1 ENGLISH CONSTITUTION PURELY TEUTONIC ἃ9 


restore her material fabrics (13), and the Frank to restore 
her political dominion. The local Rome has fallen from her 
high estate, but she is the Eternal City none the less. 
Wherever men speak her tongue, wherever men revere her 
laW, wherever men profess the faith which Europe and 
European colonies have learned of her, there Rome is still. 

We have now come to the third race, to the race of which 
we ourselves are members, to the predominance of the 
Teutonic nations, alike on either side of the German Ocean 
and on either side of the Atlantic. Of that race we may, for 
the purposes of the present inquiry, boast ourselves as the 
truest representatives. The boast may be a startling one, 
but, for the purposes of the present inquiry, 16 1s a true one. 
In purity of language indeed, our tongue, with the strong 
Romance infusion which has crept into its vocabulary, cannot. 
compare for a moment with the speech either of our High- 
German or of our Scandinavian kinsfolk. And, if we would 
see the ancient Teutonic institutions still abiding in their 
ancient form, it 15 not in the Teutonic island but on the 
Teutonic mainland that we must seek for them. But those 
well-nigh unchanged relics of the carhest times linger on 
only in a few Alpine valleys. The Landesgemeinden of Uni 
and Unterwalden are the truest representatives on τα ἢ 
alike of the Germans of Tacitus and of the Achaians of 
Homer; but they are the Assemblies only of districts, not 
of nations, hardly even of tribes (14). Among the great 
nations of modern Europe, our own is, beyond all doubt, the 
one which can claim for its political institutions the most 
unbroken descent from the primitive Teutonic stock. The 
very fact which fur so many ages gave Germany the highest 
place among nations at the same time cut her off from all 
claim to be the truest representative of the oldest Teutonic 
days. The Teutonic Kingdom, whose King was also Roman 
Emperor, was the foremost example of that fusion which has 
made the modern world; it was the foremost example alike 
of Roman influence on the Teuton and of Teutonic influence 
on the Roman. But, for that very reason, it could not be 


30 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEGOTON LECT, 


the foremost example δὲ a state whose modern institutions 
have grown of themscelyes, step by step, out of the oldest 
institutions of the common stock. The Scandinavian nations 
have been even more out of the way of direct Roman 
influences than ourselves; still they too cannot lay qlaim to 
the same unbroken political descent. All honour, all success, 
to the new-born freedom of those three noble realms; still 
it is but a new-born freedom, a freedom which has come into 
being within the memory of living men, a freedom whose 
foundations could be laid only by sweeping away the 
encroachments of despotisin and oligarchy (15). But, widely 
as our present constitution differs from the rude traditions 
and customs of the followers of Hengest and Cerdic, there 
still is no break between them :%all is growth within the 
same body; there has never been any moment when the old 
was swept away and the new was put in its stead. Alone 
among the political assemblies of the greater states of Europe, 
the Parhament of England can trace its unbroken descent 
from the Teutonic institutions of the earliest times (16). 
There is absolutely no gap between the meeting of the 
Witan of Wessex which confirmed the laws of /Elfred (17), 
or that far carher meeting which changed Cerdic from an 
Kaldorman into a King (18), and the meeting of the Great 
Counetl of the Nation which will come together in afew 
days within the precincts of the home of the Confessor. 
There are many points in which other lands have kept far 
greater traces in detail of ancient institutions than we have 
done; but no other nation, as a nation, ean show the same 
unbroken continuity of political being. In this way we mey 
claim to have preserved more faithfully than any of our 
kinstolk the congmon heritage of our common fathers. 
This boast we may truly make; but the very causes which 
enable us to make it shut us out from any claim to represent 
the general march of the Teutonic element in European 
affairs, Britain, like Seandinavia, was a world of its own 
(19): it was not, like the rest of Western Europe, a Roman 
land overrun by Teutonic settlers who grew as it were from 


u FUSION OF FOMAN AND TEUTONIC ELEMENTS 31 


colonists into conquerors. It is a laud which had ceased to 
be Roman before its Teutonic conquerors set foot in it. 
Hence we have no true Roman element in us: we have 
nothing which has lived on uninterruptedly from the days 
when Severus and Constantine reigned at York, and when 
London had for a moment changed its name for that of the 
Roman Augusta (20). Whatever Roman element we have in 
us we owe, not to direct transmission from the elder Empire, 
but to our conversion by Roman missionaries, to our conquest 
at once by Romance-speaking warriors and by Romance- 
speaking lawyers, to the spirit of imitation which decked the 
lords of the island world with titles borrowed from the 
Cesars of the mainland (21). In the three homes of our 
folk, in the oldest Englandeby the Eider and the Slei, in the 
newer England which we made for ourselves in the island 
world of Britain, in that newest England of all which is 
spread over the islands and continents of the Ocean, we have 
of a truth had our mission, but if has been a mission apart 
from the mission of our kinsfolk in the general course of 
European history. On the European mainland the Teutonic 
conquerors of Rome appear, like the Roman conquerors of 
Greece, ina character made up of that of conquerors and of 
disciples. The process was indeed different in the two cases, 
No Roman ever forgot the name or the speech of Rome, ΟἹ 
merged his national being in that of his Greek subjects. 
But the Teutonic conquerors of the Roman provinces were 
proud to continue her dominion in their own persons > they 
were proud to bear the titles of her ancient rule, and step by 
step to adopt her speech and to forget the land and the race 
from which they sprang. Never were the three races which 
have been foremost in European history brought more closely 
together—never did the magie power of Rome stand forth 
more clearly—never did she show herself more proudly as 
the historic centre, binding together the times before her 
and the times after her—than in the days when Greek and 
(serman, Byzantion and Aachen, disputed the heritage and 
the titles of the dominion which the local Rome had lost, 


32 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEGTON LECT. 


but which was Roman &till, into whatever hands it fell (22). 
Out of the union of Roman and Teutonic elements arose the 
modern world of Europe. The other races of Europe play 
but a secondary or ἃ hidden part alongside of them... In 
Eastern Europe the Slave has played over again, with less 
brilhancy, the same part which the Teuton played in the 
West: he too has been half conqueror, half disciple. Bul- 
garia, Servia, Russia, are to the Eastern Empire and the 
Eastern Church what the kingdoms of Western Europe are 
to the Western Empire and the Western Church. The day 
of greatness of the Slavonic nations is perhaps yet to come. 
Their early advance was checked, and their progress was 
thrown back for ages, by a crowd of the most opposite 
enemies (23); and their revivalein later times has placed 
them high among the rulers of the world, but has hardly 
placed them among its enlighteners. The other great 
Kuropean race, the race which came before the Teuton as 
the Slave came after him, the great Celtie race which formed 
the vanguard of the Aryan march to the West, still lives, 
still Hourishes, still plays a foremost part in the history of 
the world; but he plavs that part under a borrowed guise. 
The Celt in his own person, speaking his own tongue, lingers 
only in corners here and there, one degree only more visible 
than the Iberian whom he dislodged. Τὸ fit himself to play 
ἃ foremost part in the history of Europe, the Celt has had to 
borrow the garb of two successive conquerors. The Celt of 
Gaul has wrought many a brilliant page in the history of 
Europe: but he has wrought it only as one who has taKen 
to himself the name of a German tribe, and who speaks ope 
of the many dialects of the undying tongue of Rome. 


Thus much written history would teach us, that these 
three races, the Greek, the Roman, the Teuton, have played, 
each in his own day, the foremost part in European history, 
foremost alike in the arts of war and peace, foremost in 
hterature and philosophy, foremost in the twofold rule over 
the bodies and the souls of men. But written history by 


I ORIGINAL KINDRED OF THE THREE RACES — 33 


itself could never have told us in what relation those three 
races stood to one another. That there was something in 
common between the men of the two great peninsulas, that 
Grgece and Italy were not foreign to one another in the way 
in Pwhigh Egypt and Carthage were foreign, could not but 
force itself on men’s minds. But for ages there were no 
better means of explaining their undoubted likeness than by 
dreams of primeval and heroic colonists passing from the 
Eastern peninsula to the Western. Hérakl¢és, Evandros, 
Odysseus, passed from Greece to leave their mark on Italy, 
and the Sabine Numa learned of the Samian Pythagoras the 
sacred lore with which his infant city was to worship the 
common Gods of Greece and Italy (24). But that Greece 
and Italy had aught in c&mmon with the Goth, the Frank, 
and the Saxon, perhaps never came into men’s minds, unless 
indeed we may see some shadows of the great truth in those 
wild tales which spoke of Héraklés and Odysseus as leaving 
traces of their presence by the banks of the Rhine and the 
Danube, as well as by those of the Tiber and the Arno (25). 
It is to the Comparative method of research that we owe that 
greatest discovery of modern science which puts all these 
facts in their true order and their true relation to cach other. 
From that method we have learned that the three ruling 
races were but tribes of one greater race, branches of one 
common stock, detachments of one vast army, some of which 
reached their destined quarters earlier than their comrades. 
We see and know the relation in which the three ruling 
races stand to each other; we see also the relation in which 
t'ey stand to other members of the great family whose place 
in the world’s history has been less brilliant. It may be 
that the Celt came too soon, that the Slave came too late, to 
have any direct share in the work of their brethren; but 
they are brethren none the less, We can now see the great 
family in its primeval home, already risen far above the 
state of savages, furnished already with the ruling thoughts 
and the main inventions of civilized life. We see men 


among whom the family life, the social life, has already taken 
D 


84 GREEK, ROMAN, AND ΤΕΟΦΟΝ LECT. 


the first and greatest steps, who have already developed the 
great conceptions of government and religion, who have 
already learned to build—let us rather say to tember—houses, 
to ear the ground, to tame the horse and the hound as th2ir 
helpers in warfare, either with men of other stocks er with 
the wild deer of their own woods and wastes, with the bull 
whose horns have been taught to sound the song of freedom, 
with the lion whose backward path modern science has 
mapped out from the caves of Mendip to the banks of the 
Strymon (26). We see the many kindred streams flow off 
from the common source; one branch has already passed off 
into the far East, again to meet in far-off ages with their 
severed brethren, to give worthy foes to Miltiadés and 
Alexander, to Julian and Heraclfis (27), and to give foes, 
subjects, teachers, and learners, to the founders and rulers of 
our own realm in the far-off Aryan land. They passed to 
the land of morning ; others took another line of march, as 
if to follow the great light whose daily course held so deep a 
away over their thoughts to his home or his tomb beyond 
the stream of Ocean (28). And in that great company 
marched together, not yet parted off into people, nations, and 
languages, the forefathers of Camillus and of Brennus, of 
Crsar and of Vercingetorix. There marched, as yet brethren 
of one house and speech, the forefathers of Théseus and 
Achilleus, the forefathers of Theodoric and Charles, the 
forefathers of Hengest and Cerdic. And there, carrying as 
it were the brightest destinies of the world within them, 
marched the men of whose stock should come the great 
champions of right and freedom, the forefathers, as yet ope 
in speech and brotherhood, of Kleisthenés the son of Mega- 
klés, of Caius cLicinius, and of Simon of Montfort. But 
after a while they part company. One band leads the van 
of the westward march, to bear the brunt of the strife 
against the older tenants of the land, themselves as it were 
to take their place, to live on in distant islands and penin- 
sulas as isolated fragments of a once wide-spread and 
unbroken people (29). While the Celtic vanguard presses 


11 DISPERSION OF ARYAN TRIBES IN EUROPE 35 


to the Ocean, two other swarms press towards the shores of 
the two great inland seas to whose presence it is owing that 
Europe has not been as Africa, or even as Asia, The 
Northern swarm lags behind for a while, husbanding its 
sttength for the days when its scattered tribes should gather 
themselves into the nations of Germany, of Scandinavia, and 
of England—for the days when offshoots from those main 
stems should grow into the commonwealths which have 
guarded the source and the mouth of the great Teutonic 
stream (30), which have planted a root of freedom even on 
the dreary shores of Iceland, and which have called into 
being the mightiest commonwealth of all in the new English 
land beyond the Ocean. But our own day was not to come 
till our kinsmen who pre&ed on, as it might then seem, with 
ἃ happier lot, to the brighter shores of the southern sea had 
done their work and had made the way ready for us. 
Leaving the common centre as an united band but parting off 
into two companies at the head of the great Hadriatie Gulf, 
the forefathers of the Hellénes and the forefathers of the 
Itahans spread themselves over the two peninsular lands 
where the written history of Arvan man was to begin. They 
played their part, cach branch in its turn; the Western 
branch entered into the heritage of the Kastern, till the time 
came when our own race was to enter upon the heritage of 
both, to become the direct inheritors of Rome, and, through 
Rome, the indirect inheritors of Greece. 

These then are the three great historic races, the races 
which have played the foremost part among mankind, the 
reces whose history really makes up the political history of 
man. But striking and instructive as the history of each 
of them 1s in itself, it becomes more strikins and instructive 
still when we look on those three races as brethren of one 
common stock, parted kinsmen who shared a common 
heritage which they knew not of. And there are moments 
in the history of the world when not only these three races, 
but all the European branches of the great family seem as 
it were gathered together, sometimes to do battle against a 


96 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


common enemy, sometimes, as it were, to meet at the hearth 
of that abiding power whieh might well pass for the common 
centre of them all. We read a casual notice that Frankish 
and English ambassadors found their way to the court of 
Justinian, and the utmost that we feel is a kind of lnguid 
curiosity, awakened by one of the very few times when the 
name of our nation in its earliest days is to be found in the 
pages of writers who still spoke the tongue of Greece (31). 
But when we think that those Frankish and = Enghsh 
sibassadors represented the two great branches of the 
Teutonic race, that they brought with them, if not the 
homage, at least the awe and wonder, of the conquered 
Celtic lands of Gaul and Britain—when we think that the 
prince to whose court they went was himself a kind of 
triple-bodied Géryon, a Roman Cwsar of Slavonic birth, 
reigning in a Greek city over all lands from the Ocean 
to the Euphrates (32)—it would seem as if representatives 
of every European branch of the common stock had been 
gathered together beneath the roof of the man who gave 
the world the abiding gift of the Imperial Law. Or take 
another instance, not this time from a peaceful gathering, 
but from the field of battle. On the field of Chalons every 
European branch of the Aryan family seemed to have sent 
its contingent to the host which was to drive back the 
Turanian invader. Side by side, equal in might and dignity, 
emblems of the world that was passing away and of the 
world that was coming in its stead, marched Aétius and 
Theodoric, the Roman and the Goth. But the Roman 
came from the Illyrian land by the Danube; the Goth 
ruled over Celt and Iberian on either side of the Pyrenees 
(33). And arouud their banners gathered the Frank and 
the Saxon, representatives of the two great branches of the 
Teutonic race, along with the Celt from his Armorican 
peninsula and the Sarmatian from the furthest European 
home of the common family (34) One name alone is 
wanting. Greece and Macedonia sent no help against a 
foe in whose presence they might well have remembered 


II ARYAN AND NON-ARYAN INSTITUTIONS 37 


9 
that Xerxes and Darius were their kinsmen. All that the 


eldest brethren of the house cou give was the Hellenic. 
sounding name borne by the Patrician who led the hosts 
off Rome to their last victory. 
4 

Those days were the true Middle Ages, the days when 
the Roman and Teutonic elements of modern European 
life stood side by side, not as yet wrought together into 
the whole which was to come of their fusion. And the 
history of those wonderful ages gains a fresh life if we 
remember that when Alaric led his host from the walls of 
Athens to the walls of Rome (35), he was marching through 
the lands of men of the same primeval blood and speech as 
his own, And now what had those scattered brethren im 
common? What, above all, had the three great races in 
common, the Greek, the Roman, the Teuton? For those 
three must, as I have already said, form the main subject 
of our inquiry. Their own importance is higher than that 
of any other race: I who have taken the matter in hand 
am better able to deal with them; you who hear me will 
most likely be better able to judge of what I say, if I keep 
myself for the more part within the limits of the races which 
hold the foremost place in European history. For the more 
part, 1 say, not exclusively. While keeping our main 
attention fixed on these three races, I shall still freely, as 
occasion may serve and as my own knowledge may allow 
me, draw illustrations from other branches of the Aryan 
family, and even from nations which stand outside the 
Aryan pale. In an inquiry of this kind, which as yet is 
purely tentative, it is well to draw our illustrations from 
as wide a range as may be. The points of tikeness between 
the primitive political institutions of the various Aryan nations 
are beyond doubt, but we meet with striking likenesses also 
among nations which are not Aryan. These facts suggest 
that we should very carefully examine every case of likeness, 
that we should see as well as we can to which of the three 
causes of likeness which I traced out in my former lecture 


38 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT, 
Vv 
it may most safely be referred. One of those three causes,— 
that of direct transmissfon, whether taking the form of 
conscious imitation or not,—may be pretty well laid aside 
while dealing with the primitive institutions of any nation. 
Men who are in the state in which any of the Aryan nations 
were at the time when we get our first glimpses of them are 
not likely to borrow institutions from any foreign source, 
except when they come in contact with nations in a state 
of civilization out of all comparison with their own. The 
Celt of Gaul was not likely to adopt the manners or institu- 
tions of the Iberian, nor was the Iberian likely to adopt the 
manners and institutions of the Celt. But both stood ready 
to be moulded by the manners and institutions of the Greck 
colonists of Massalia or of the Roman colonists of Aque 
Sextre (36). It is absolutely certain that the primitive 
Greek, the primitive Teuton, and the primitive Italian 
did not) borrow from one another. We may even be certain 
that the different tribes of the three races did not borrow 
from one another—that the Iomian did not borrow from the 
Dorian, the Latin from the Osean, or the Frank from the 
Saxon. But, setting actual borrowing of any kind aside, 


It requires close examination in each particular case to say 
whether the hkeness between the institutions of any two 
given tribes or nations is due to the actual sharing of a 
common heritage or to the hke working of hke circum- 
stances in different times and places. Even between 
two Aryan races, even between two tribes of the same Arye” 
race, it is not always sate hastily to decide that the likeness 
must be due to one or other of these causes, Greater 
caution still is needed when we come to likenesses between 
Aryan nations and nations of another stock. We shall 
presently see that the Old Testament, to go no further, 
furnishes us with several cases of striking hkeness between 
Hellenic or Teutonic institutions and the institutions of the 
primitive Semitic tribes. Is such a likeness as this, not 
indeed accidental but incidental? Is it due simply to the 
working of like circumstances bringing about like results ὁ 


1 INSTITUTIONS COMMON TO DIFFERENT RACES 89 
) 

Or are we to suppose that, beyond the common heritage of 
the Aryan nations, there is a wider common heritage in 
which Aryan and Semitic nations share alike (37), or even 
a Wider heritage still, common to all mankind? I will not 
venture to decide dogmatically in favour of any of these 
alternatives. J do not think that the time has come in 
which it is safe to decide dogmatically in favour of any 
of them. In an inquiry which is still only in its infancy, 
it 15 safer to mark such cases for further examination, but 
to leave their full explanation till the inquiry itself shall 
have reached a further stage. With our present amount 
of knowledge, the wisest course is to collect instances from 
all quarters, to classify them so far as we have the means 
of doing so, but not to be hasty in such classification, not to 
be disheartened if there are many instances which we have 
to leave unclassified altogether. 

In carrying out our inquiry as to the connexion between 
Primitive institutions, we may apply nearly the same rules 
as those which have been suggested in the case of Com- 
parative Mythology. [0 is not safe to set down any instance 
of likeness as being necessarily a case of an inheritance 
from. the common stock, unless we have some corroborative 
evidence besides the likeness itself. We have the highest 
degree of such corroborative evidence whenever Comparative 
Philology steps in to help us. If two distinct nations of 
the Aryan family—or, by the same argument, if two distinct 
nations of any other family—have a common institution 
called by a common name, and if the likeness 15. plainly 
nut a case of imitation or borrowing from one another, such 
an institution may be set down without any kind of doubt 
as being a clear case of commun inheritance from a commun 
stock. But the negative argument the other way is by 
no means equally strong. The caprice of language 18 80 
great, words drup out of use in one tongue and are kept 
in use in another in such a singular way, that the mere 
fact that cognate institutions are not called by cognate 
names is not of itself proof that they are not part of a 


40 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


Φ 
common heritage. We must weigh all the circumstances 
and all the different forms of evidence. Of all the forms of 
corroborative evidence, the philological form is doubtless the 
highest, but it is not the only one. If two nations are 
shown by other evidence, especially by philological ©vidence 
applied to other subjects, to be kindred nations, holding in 
common a large share of the primitive common stock—if 
the nature of their political institutions, no less than of 
their language, their mythology, their customs of other 
kinds, naturally suggests the thought of a common deriva- 
tion—the mere fact that their institutions do not bear 
cognate names is not enough to disprove, or even to throw 
doubt upon, the common derivation of those institutions. 
In many, perhaps in most, eases we shall find that the 
kindred institutions bear names which are not philologically 
cognate, but which translate one another, sometimes in a 
very remarkable way. The institutions are the same; the 
names are not the same; they may not even come from 
ἃ common root; but they are the names which most 
closely answer to one another in meaning in a later stage 
of the two languages. This is in truth exactly what we 
might look for. The common stock of language which the 
undivided Aryan family possessed in common—even the 
stock which its European branches possessed in common 
after their separation from the Eastern branch—was, in 
the nature of things, a vocabulary of the simplest kind, a 
vocabulary consisting mainly of nouns expressing the most, 
familiar objects and verbs expressing the most familiar 
actions, Words expressing objects or processes which a.e 
nt all complicated or abstract belong to a later stage. Those 
each nation has’ formed for itself; it has formed them out 
of the old common roots, but it has formed them each for 
itself, and after its own fashion. Now this argument 
specially applies to the names of political institutions. We 
may believe that the primitive Aryans, before their separa- 
tion, had already taken the first steps in political life; that 
they had already developed a simple form of government, 


I ARYAN FORM OF GOVERNMENT 4] 


eee eee aN nee a ee fae 


-- 


traces of which are still to be found among the scattered 
members of the common family. * That such is the case, 
or is likely to be the case, is the ground-work of the whole 
of ¢he present inquiry. But, though we may believe that 
the Argans before the dispersion had worked out for them- 
selves something which we may fairly call common political 
institutions, we cannot believe that they had worked out 
tor themselves any refined or exact political vocabulary. 
The political stock which the scattered brethren carried off 
with them at the dispersion must have consisted of a few 
acknowledged customs, a few acknowledged simple principles ; 
but their dictionary of political terms must have been short. 
They may have had—I firmly believe that they had—among 
them the germs of monarchy, of aristocracy, and of demo- 
cracy, but they certainly had not names for those abstract 
ideas. It was each nation working for itself after the 
dispersion, which worked for itself, out of the common 
stock of principles and customs, such more elaborate political 
forms as suited its own circumstances. And for those forms 
it devised names out of its own vocabulary as it stood at 
the time. In this way, while we fully believe that there 
is a common political heritage belonging to the whole 
family, yet it is in no way wonderful, it is rather what we 
should in every way expect to happen, that each nation 
should have a political vocabulary of its own. That 18. to 
say, most of the names of particular officers and the hke 
in each particular nation were independently given by cach 
nation in the particular language into which the common 
speech had by that time grown among them. 

And now let us illustrate all this by examples taken from 
the political history and political nomenclature of the three 
great races of which we have mainly to speak. In future 
lectures I hope to draw out more fully in detail how, as far 
as we can go back, by the help of history or legend, into 
Hellenic, Italian, or Teutonic antiquity, we find in all alike 
the germs alike of the monarchic, the aristocratic, and the 
democratic principles of government. That union of the 


42 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT, 


three which Tacitus thought, if possible, could not be lasting, 
seems in truth to have ebeen a common Aryan heritage— 
possibly a heritage of all mankind (38). In later times 
conscious attempts have been made, or, without any conscious 
attempt, men have been led by the circumstances i which 
they found themselves, to devise forms of government after 
this model. In so doing, as in so many other cases, they 
have often, wittingly or unwittingly, fallen back upon the 
earliest models that were to be found. There is one form 
of government which, under various modifications, is set 
before us in the earliest glimpses which we get of the 
political life of at least all the European members of the 
Aryan family. This is that of the single King or chief, 
first ruler in peace, first captain in war, but ruling, not by 
his own arbitrary will, but with the advice of a council of 
chiefs eminent for age or birth or personal exploits, and 
further bringing all matters of special moment for the 
final approval of the general Assembly of the whole people. 
1 am far from saying that this form of government 18 
peculiar to the Aryan nations; but I wish to deal with it 
first of all as something which seems to be common to all 
the Aryan races, and which is undoubtedly common to the 
three great races with which we are chiefly concerned. It 
is the form of government which we see painted in our first 
picture of European life in the songs of Homer; it is found 
alike in the realm of the King of Men at Mykéné and in 
the realm of the King of Gods and Men on Olympos. Tt 
is the form of government which tradition sets before us 
as the earliest form of that ancient Latin constitution out 
of which grew, first the Commonwealth and then the Empire 
of Rome. It iscno less the form of government which we 
see in the first picture of our own race drawn for us by the 
hand of Tacitus (39), and in the glimpses given us by our 
own native annals of the first days of our own branch of 
that race when they made their way into this island in 
which we dwell. Differences of detail may easily be marked 
in the different forms of the common constitution, as it 


11 THE KING, COUNCIL, AND ASSEMBLY 43 


appears in each of the three great races and even at different 
times and among different tribes of the same race, The 
titles of the chief ruler, the manner of his appointment, the 
range of his powers, differ in different cases. With these 
differences of detail I shall have to deal in my next lecture. 
I have now only to speak of the common element in all. 
And in all, I think, we shall see the same general system 
of the single head of the state, the smaller Council, and 
the final authority of all, the general Assembly of the whole 
people. And, when the likeness is so close between the 
three branches of this great family which cannot possibly 
have borrowed their institutions from one another in later 
times, but which remained together as one people till a late 
stage of the general dispersion of the Aryan nations, the 
presumption surely is in favour of the belief that political 
institutions which are so strikingly alike are in truth a 
common heritage, a primeval form of government under 
which the forefathers of Greeks, Italians, and Teutons lived 
together, before Greeks, Italians, and Teutons had parted 
off into separate nations. This presumption may be met 
by the objection at which I have already hinted, namely, 
that the several powers of the State, analogous as their form 
and powers may be, are not, as a rule, called by cognate 
names in the three languages, Greek, Latin, and Teutonic. 
But, if I have suggested the objection, I think I have also 
answered it beforehand. I think that the diversities of 
nome are exactly what we ought to expect. Hach race 
carried away certain general principles of government from 
the common stock; but the details of each particular con- 
stitution, still more the details of its political vocabulary, 
were worked out by each nation for itself, or rather by each 
tribe of each nation for itself, in times long after the 
dispersion. At all events, the points of likeness and un- 
likeness between the early political vocabulary of the three 
races form a part of our subject, and it is with some inquiry 
into them that I purpose to fill up the rest of the space 
which is left me to-day. We shall find few or no cases in 


44 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEUTON LECT. 


which the actual names of any office are akin in the three 
languages; but we shaH find that most of them can be 
traced up to common roots, and that there are several cases 
in which names, though they are not cognate with one 
another, yet most certainly translate one another. 


Let us begin with the familiar names of the chief of the 
State in the three languages. It is plain at first sight that 
the words βασιλεύς, Rex, and King are not words of common 
origin. Nor 15 the matter mended if, instead of those three 
familiar names, we use older or less usual names in each 
of the three languages, if we take the older or poetic Greek 
title ἄναξ (40), or if for the comparatively modern title of 
King we take the older Thiudans or Drihten. But the fact 
that Cyning, King, in all its forms, is a comparatively modern 
title, is an important point in the argument. It shows how 
offices which were substantially the same were called by 
different names at different times, or by different branches 
of the same race. The Gothic Zhiudans and the English 
Cyning must have expressed an office substantially the same, 
because the Latin Rex and the Greek βασιλεύς translate 
both of them. The names are in no way kindred in origin, 
but they are closely kindred in meaning: Cyning from cyn 
and Thiudans from thiuda, each called after the kin or people, 
pretty well translate one another (41). We thus find two 
nations so nearly allied in speech, though so widely cut off 
in history, as the English and the Goths, nations about 
which we can hardly doubt that their institutions came from 
a common source, calling the head of the people by nan.es 
which in both cases meant the head of the people but which 
are in no way philologically akin. There is, then, no need 
to be surprised if, among branches of the Aryan family which 
are less nearly akin, we do not always find cognate offices 
called by cognate names. We shall rather be surprised to 
find in how many cases the names are cognate. The Latin 
Rex and the Teutonic Cyning have nothing in common in 
their names; but, if we go one step beyond the titles borne 


aI NOMENCLATURE OF KINDRED TONGUES 45 


by the men themselves, we shall find that the regnum of 
the one is the same thing as the “te of the other; if we 
say of the one that he rexit, we say of the other that he 
vixcte (42). We may go further East and West, and find 
the ‘sam.2 name in the Celtic both of Wales and Ireland, 
and in the far-off Sanscrit (43). We then see that both 
the idea of government and this particular root to express 
government had borne fruit in the Aryan mind, not only 
before the Latin had parted off from the Teuton, not only 
before the Celt had parted off from both, but before the 
great separation had happened between the European and 
the Asiatic branches of the great family. It is therefore 
owing merely to one of the accidents of language that, while 
Latin and English -had a cognate noun and a cognate verb 
to express the kingly office, Latin had, and English had not, 
a cognate noun to express the King himself. And if the 
comparatively modern forms, both of English and of High- 
German, give us no cognate name for Mex, we have in the 
older Gothic the form ezks, which, if 1t does not strictly 
translate Rex and Cyning, is not very far removed from 
them in meaning (44). H then we find these traces of 
common origin in Latin, Teutonic, Celtic, and Sanscrit, we 
may be sure that the absence of any such analogies, at all 
events of any such palpable analogies, between races 80 
much more closely allied as the Greek and the Latin, must 
be a mere caprice of language, though a strange one indeed. 
I say no such palpable analogies, because I leave it to 
stronger philologers than myself to say whether any kindred 
m:y lurk between ἄρχειν and regere. However this may be, 
it is at least plain that the most obvious words, ἄναξ and 
βασιλεύς, are in no way akin either to Re. or to Cyning. 
But, whatever thay be the origin of those names, there is 
nothing wonderful in each tribe calling its particular officers 
by names of later formation in its own language. That the 
words Rex and βασιλεύς should be quite distinct is no more 
wonderful than that the names given by different Italian 
and different Greek tribes to other closely allied officers 


46 GREEK, ROMAN, AND ΤΕΟΤΟΝ LECT 


should be wholly distinct also, Latium has its Pretors and 
Dictators, Samnium has its Lmperators, while Rome has 
Pretors, Dictators, and Imperators all at once. The only 
difference—a difference of no importance for our purnose, 
though of great importance in a strictly philological view— 
is that Pretor, Dictator, and Imperator are all words of easy 
formation in Latin, while βασιλεύς has plenty of Greek 
derivatives, but, as far as we can see, no Greek cognates. 
So the Assembly is in old time the ἀγορή: at Athens it is 
the ἐκκλησία; at Sparta it is the aAla. But the Spartan 
name appears again at Athens as the name, if not of the 
popular Assembly, yet of the popular court of justice (45), 
and, by that cycle which in so many ways binds together 
the last and the first days of inuependent Greece, the ἀγορή 
which we have scen among the Achaians of Homer appears 
again among the Achaians of Polybios (46). The Greek 
γένη and the Latin gentcs are palpably the same in name 
as well as in substance; but the φρατρίαι and φράτορες of 
Athens have in their political use no Latin cognates, though 
we see in them the missing Greek cognates of the names of 
kindred, brother and frater (47). So the Athenian βουλή 
answers to the Spartan γερουσία; but now mark that the 
Spartan γερουσία translates the Latin Senatus. Mark too, 
that the aristocratic order at Athens and at Rome are 
respectively the ἱππεῖς and the Hqwites, words which have a 
philological connexion in the far-off kindred of ἵππος and 
equus, but which in their actual shapes are distinct and 
comparatively late formations (48). A whole flood of 
analogies now pours in upon us, The γερουσία and the 
Senate are kindred institutions, institutions which, one can 
hardly doubt, ave really part of the common heritage. But 
the analogy of the names is simply a case of that kind of 
analogy which springs from like causes producing lke effects, 
In an early state of society, age implies rule and rule implies 
age; this is taught us by a whole crowd of words in all 
languages. From the Elders of Midian and the δημογέροντες 
of Ilios, we have not only Spartan and Roman Senators, but 


1 NAMES WHICH TRANSLATE ONE ANOTHER 41 


πρέσβεις, ambassadors, whose name of age has passed into a 
name of office: we have Christiar Presbyters and English 
Ealdormen ; we have the long string of names which spring 
from the medieval use of Senior (49), Monseigneur, Monsieur, 
Sire, Sw, and endless others. And, to end as we have begun, 
beyond the Aryan fold, we have the Sheikhs of the Arab, 
and among them the most famous of his class, the Old Man 
of the Mountain (50). So again the ἱππήλαται of Homer, 
the ἱππεῖς of Athens, the Aguites of Rome, appear again in 
the Caballeros, the Cavalieri, the Chevaliers, of Romance 
Europe, and in the Sutterschaft of the Teutonic mainland. 
Here again the names are simply analogous. Wherever, 
as always will be in an early state of society, there is no 
professional army, but an armed nation serves without pay, 
if such an army uses horsemen as part of its force (51), that 
force is sure to be made up of the noble and wealthy: 
cavalry and chivalry will be the same. In the later days 
of Rome the Hguwites ceased to be a military body; but in 
after ages, when the same state of things came again, new 
words were made, no longer from the now obsolete equus, but 
from the word caballus which had taken its place. In 
Germany again the same causes again called forth the word 
Ritter, and its English equivalent comes into use in the later 
years of our national Chronicle, when King William dubs 
his son Henry to rider (52). No such title 15 heard of in 
the earlier days of England. The Thegn, the Ealdorman, 
the King himself, alike fought on foot; the horse might bear 
him to the field, but when the fighting itself came, he 
strod ca his native earth to receive the onslaught of her 
enemies (53). 

All these are instances of the way in which, especially in 
so young a form of research as this, we must ever walk 
warily, and most carefully distinguish cases of likeness which 
there is every reason to believe are really owing to inherit- 
ance from a common stock, and cases where the likeness is 
simply the likeness of analogy, the effect of lke results 
springing from like causes. We have seen how much 


48 GREEK, ROMAN, AND TEOTON LECT. 


is proved by the presence of cognate names of offices, how 
little is proved by its absence. Our preliminary work is now 
over. We have defined the nature of our method; we have 
traced out the limits within which it will for the present be 
wise commonly to confine its application. In the following 
lectures I shall try to grapple with the leading analogies to 
be found in the great institutions of the three races with 
whom we have mainly to deal. In my next lecture I purpose 
to deal with the State itself} with the primitive conception 
of the commonwealth, as we see it in our first glimpses of 
Greek, Roman, and Teutonic political life. I shall thence 
go on to the head of the State, the King, and to its body, 
the Assembly. And the course may well be wound up with 
some instances of special analogids in the institutions of the 
three races, all helping to show, on the one hand, how truly 
human nature is one; how, without regard to races and times, 
men are by like circumstances moulded to like forms; and, on 
the other hand, to show how great is the common heritage 
which the tribes of the common family bore away from their 
primeval home, how many are the signs of ancient brother- 
hood, which, notwithstanding distance of place and time, 
notwithstanding mutual ignorance and mutual hatred, may 
still be traced among them. 


ΠῚ THE THREE ELEMENTS 49 


Ill 


THE STATE 


IN my two former lectures we have, I trust, seen somewhat 
of the general nature of that common political heritage a 
share in which probably belongs to every member of the 
great Aryan family, and most certainly belongs to each of 
its three most illustrious branches. Our earliest glimpses of 
the life of our forefathers and kinsfolk set them before us as 
already gathered together in organized societies, as having 
already developed the first principles of political government, 
and, what is more, as already showing the germs of the 
three great forms of political government,—as showing the 
germs of monarchy, of aristocracy, and of democracy. Wher- | 
ever we find, in however rude a shape, the King or other chief, 
the Council of elders or nobles, and the general Assembly 
of the people, the substance of all three is there. Nor must 
we in this matter be led away by mere names, The first 
element, that of the King or other chief, may remain after 
ine kingship in the ordinary sense has been abolished, just 
as the forms and titles of kingship may remain after the real 
kingly power has passed away. The ari.tocratic element 
again, the Council, may or may not take the form of an 
hereditary body. Aristocracy, I need hardly say, in its strict 
sense, is the rule of the best: indeed aristocracy would be 
the rule of the ideally best, those who are really wisest, 
bravest, and most upright. Any other standard, be it that 
of age, of birth, or of wealth, is simply a substitute which 

E 


δ0 THE STATE LECT, 


wee -- 


is accepted because, in an imperfect world, the rule of 
the ideally best is something which may be talked about, 
but which will never be found in actual being (1). In the 
most conservative society of men that ever was, the ccm- 
munity which never wholly abolished any one of its ancient 
institutions, in the Commonwealth of Rome, we see how both 
the kingly and the aristocratic elements of the State, in the 
common sense of those words, might be swept away without 
at all sweeping away the substance of either the kingly or 
the aristocratic power. Personal kingship was swept away, 
but the kingly power was not swept away: it was simply 
put into commission, entrusted to two men for a year, instead 
of to one man for life (2). Afterwards, as the needs of the 
State called for such a change, it was further divided among 
various magistrates of various ranks, but to all of whom 
some portion of kingly dignity still clave (3). So again, 
when, as the monarchy had changed into a commonwealth, 
so the commonwealth changed into a monarchy, the change 
was not made by abolishing old offices, or by creating new 
ones, but by gathering all the offices of State into the hand 
ofa single man. As the separation of the various duties of 
the King created the various magistracies of the Common- 
wealth, so in turn the union of the various magistracies 
of the Commonwealth created the Emperor (4). So with 
regard to the aristocratic branch, the object of all popular 
movements at Rome was, not to abolish the Senate, not 
even greatly to lessen the powers of the Senate (5), but to 
break down the distinction of old and new citizens, and 
to throw the Great Council of the Commonwealtu opca 
to all its members. In this way the three powers went on, 
though the hanas which held them might be changed. The 
kingly power went on, though there was no longer a personal 
King; the aristocratic power went on, though it was no 
longer confined to a particular order of the Commonwealth ; 
and thereby for two glorious centuries Rome came nearer to 
being aristocratic, in the literal sense, than any other 
government that the world ever saw. If the rule of the best 


IIt ROME THE TRUEST ARISTOCRACY 51 


was ever reached in any political community upon earth, it 
surely was in the commonwealth which strove against 
Hannibal and overthrew him. If there ever was a time 
when the ideal picture of the poet was to be found on earth, 
thé tin.e when 


None was for a party ;. 
When all were for the state ; 
When the great man helped the poor, 
And the poor man loved the great, 


that time was surely to be found in those brightest days of 
the Roman Commonwealth, when the elder distinctions of 
patrician and plebeian had passed away, and when the later 
distinctions of rich and poor had not begun to show them- 
selves (6). The great idea of the State, the City, the 
Commonwealth, the great whole in and for which each of its 
members lived and worked and fought and died, had never 
reached to greater sway over the minds of men than in the 
long struggle between the first of cities and the first of men. 
Thus it was shown that the very greatest of men, in the 
single strength of the wisest head, the stoutest heart, and 
the strongest arm, was, after all, a power less mighty than 
the enduring strength of an united people (7). To show 
how the idea of the State—that is, in those days, the idea of 
the City—could rule men’s heads and guide their actions, I 
might find examples equally to the purpose in the history of 
other commonwealths, in democratic Athens or in oligarchic 
Venice. But Rome stands out above all, because in no 
ovher commonwealth did the three primitive elements of 
government live on so long side by side, with changed forms 
indeed, but with the strength of all threé undiminished. 
Among the ranks of her own citizens, Rome had in those 
days no elements of weakness: every citizen had his place, 
and knew his place, and did his work in his place. Her one 
element of weakness lay without her walls, in that she was a 
city ruling over other cities (8). But here, as in all history, 
and as pre-eminently in Roman history, the good and the 


52 THE STATE LECT. 


bad, the strong and the weak sides, spring from the same 
source, and can hardly bé separated from one another. The 
noblest and the vilest deeds of the true Roman went hand 
in hand. 'To Rome, to the State, to the whole of which he 
was but an unit, he was ready at any moment to sacrifice 
himself and all that he had; and to the State, to which he 
was ready to sacrifice himself, he was no less ready to sacrifice 
all that came in the way of the greatness of the Roman 
Commonwealth. To Rome he would sacrifice the laws of 
eternal justice, the rights of other nations and common- 
wealths, the very faith of treaties, and what we should deem 
the truth and honour of Rome herself. 

The State then, in what 1s in some sort the highest con- 
ception of it, is a City; and it can hardly fail to be a City 
bearing rule over other cities. Now the conception of the 
State as a City is far from being the earliest conception of 
the State; still it is one which has much in common with 
the earliest conception of the State as opposed to the con- 
ception of it which now prevails in modern Europe. The 
modern conception of the State is a Nation. It is perhaps 
not very easy to define a Nation; still the word conveys an 
idea which, if not always very accurate in point of philosophy, 
is at least practically intelligible. Whatever else a nation 
may be or may not be, the word suggests to us a considerable 
continuous part of the earth’s surface inhabited by men who 
at once speak the same tongue and are united under the 
same government. Anything differing from this strikes us 
as exceptional. Thus Switzerland and Scotland give us 
examples of nations, which we feel to be nations, but which 
are formed by the artificial union, through the circumstances 
of their history, of parts of three adjoining nations which 
have parted off from their natural brethren and have found 
adoptive brethren among strangers. On the other hand, in 
North America we see, in the United States and the adjoin- 
ing dominions of the British Crown, a continuous territory 
inhabited by men speaking the same language, but who, 
being separated from one another by the circumstances of 


ἘΠῚ DEFINITION OF NATIONALITY 59 


their history, no longer feel themselves to be members of the 
same nation. By a process analogeus to the Roman law of 
adoption, that law by which a man might artificially become 
a taember of a family to which he did not belong by birth, 
those parts of the German, Burgundian, and Italian nations, 
which have joined together to form the modern Swiss nation, 
and those parts of the Irish, English, and British nations 
which have joined together to form the modern Scottish 
nation, have cast away their original nationality and have 
made for themselves a new one (9). But the Publius 
Cornelius Scipio who finally overthrew Carthage was, 
fAkmilius as he was by birth, as good a Scipio as the elder 
Publius who had given Carthage her death-blow at Zama. 
And so the artificial Scots, the artificial Switzers, have 
formed a nation as real and true as if it had been a nation 
strictly answering to some linguistic or ethnological division. 
And, in the other case, the events which have caused the 
English settlers north and south of the great American lakes 
to part off into two distinct nations have the character of a 
family quarrel, which, because it is a family quarrel, 1s harder 
to heal than a quarrel between strangers. But we feel that 
all cases of this kind either way are exceptional cases, 
accounted for by exceptional causes; the normal nation is 
one where the continuous speakers of a single tongue are 
united under a single government ; such a nation forms the 
ideal of a State, whether kingdom or commonwealth, which 
forms the ground of all modern political speculation. 

Now this fact that we expect, as a rule, the nation to form 
a singie government—the fact that political unity enters 
into our general idea of a nation—shows how greatly we 
have changed in this matter from the political ideas of earlier 
times. Take Greece for example. There was in the Greek 
mind a distinct idea of a Greek nation, united by a common 
origin, speech, religion, and civilization. Every Greck was 
a brother to every other Greek, as contrasted with the 
outside Barbarian (10). But that the whole Greek nation, 
or so much of it as formed a continuous or nearly continuous 


54 THE STATE LECT, 


territory, could be united into one political community, never 
came into the mind of any Greek statesman or Greek 
philosopher. The independence of each city was the one 
cardinal principle from which all Greek political life star‘ed. 
The State, the Commonwealth, was in Greek eyes a Tity, an 
organized society of men dwelling in a walled town as the 
hearth and home of the political society, and with a surround- 
ing territory not too large to allow all its free inhabitants 
habitually to assemble within its walls to discharge the 
duties of citizens. During the most brilliant times of the 
Greek Commonwealths, the City, and nothing higher or 
lower, was the one acknowledged political unit. A scattered 
tribe was not enough, an unwalled village was not enough; 
while, on the other hand, no Greek of those days willingly 
merged his city in any greater aggregate (11). And the 
higher was the civilization, the fuller was the political 
developement, of any branch of the Greek nation, the stronger 
was the feeling with which it clave to the full political 
independence of every separate city. The feelings which we 
bear towards the Nation, the Greeks bore towards the City 
(12). We have heard in modern times of “oppressed 
nationalities””—a form of words which, I suppose, means 
much the same as oppressed nations. That form of words 
implies that such nations are wronged by being put under a 
government which is not of their own nation. With exactly 
the same feelings did the old Greeks look upon those cases 
in their own political world when it was not nation that was 
subject to nation, but city that was subject to city. Forone 
city to bear rule over another was common enough, when οἱ.6 
city was stronger and another weaker; but such a relation 
was always deetied to be unjust, at all events in the eyes of 
the weaker city. And in such cases it was always, in the 
strictest’ sense, city bearing rule over city; the subject city 
still kept on its being as an organized political community, 
and it therefore felt only the more keenly the loss of its full 
political independence (13). The theory of the independence 
of each city, the universal doctrine of Greece, was, though as 


ΠῚ ORIGIN OF THE CITY 55 


-«-- eee ee 


we shall presently see in a very modified form, the political 
doctrine of ancient Italy also. The feeling has affected 
language in a way which makes it hard to represent some 
fariiliar Greek and Latin expressions in any modern speech. 
Πατρίς, patria, may often be well enough translated by 
country, patrie Vaterland ; but the true patria of the Greek 
or the Roman was not a country in our sense: it was not 
Grecce but Athens, it was not Italy but Rome, which was 
the patria of the Athenian or the Roman (14). Scipio at 
Liternum was held to be in exile as much as if he had 
banished himself to Spain or Syria. And when Tiberius 
removed his dwelling from Rome to Caprez, men wondered 
that a Roman citizen, a Roman prince, could so long “ carere 
patria”; a phrase which, 12 we translate it “to be without a 
country,’ sounds strange indeed when applied to one who 
had simply moved his dwelling from Rome to an island off 
the coast of Campania (15). 


But the idea of the City, on the face of it, marks in truth 
a very advanced state in the political developement of any 
people. If we look at the history of Greece only, we shall 
find abundant signs that that political life of the city which 
comes out with such brilliancy in the days of the Persian 
and Peloponnesian wars, and which was already fully 
established in the days of Homer, was far from being the 
earliest social condition of the Greek people. The thing in 
fact hardly needs proof: it needs no evidence to show that a 
wandering tribe cannot build cities, nor is it hkely that men 
should gather themselves together in political societies within 
walled towns till they have been long accustomed to the 
practice of agriculture and of life in settlec, dwellings. As 
the settled village is an advance on the wandering tribe, so 
the walled city is an advance on the unwalled village; its 
origin is often to be found in the hill-fort which formed the 
rude citadel of the village, the primeval fortress where men 
and cattle might seek shelter in case of a sudden inroad of 
their enemies. The hill-fort might itself grow into the city, 


56 THE STATE LECT. 


as so many ancient Gaulish hill-forts have grown into ancient 
Roman and modern French cities (16), or as the greater 
Athens of later times gathered round the holy rock of 
Athéné, once itself the city, but now its venerable Akropblis 
(17). Or again, as population grows and civilization acvances, 
the hill-fort may be wholly forsaken for some more tempting 
site in the plain; as when the lofty Dardanié made way for 
holy Ilios, the city of articulate-speaking men (18). Greek 
city life could not have existed as long as the forefathers of 
the Hellénes were slowly making their way from the head of 
the Hadriatic gulf down to the peninsula of Attica and the 
great island of Pelops (19). The point 15 that even the first 
rudiments of Greek city life could hardly have come into 
being till the Hellénes had long been in possession of the 
peninsular land between Mount Olympos and Cape Malea. 
The Homeric poems contain passages which seem to contrast 
the social state of the Achaian princes and people with other 
races, at least not wholly alien, which were still on a lower 
social level (20). It is worth noticing too that the familiar 
word δῆμος, the people, seems to have first of all meant the 
ground, and thence to have been transferred to the inhabit- 
ants or tillers of the ground (21). This change of meaning 
could hardly have taken place after city life was fully 
established. And side by side with the greatest develope- 
ment of the later meaning of the word, side by side with the 
Athenian Démos himself, we see the local divisions of the 
land, which still bore the same name, witnesses of the time 
when Démos had meant the land itself, and not those who 
dwelt upon it (22). But other proofs show that the state uf 
society which we see in the Homeric poems succeeded, no 
doubt by gradudi stages, to one far less advanced, which still 
left traces of itself in historic times. In historical times the 
cities are everything; treaties and leagues were, in the more 
advanced regions of Greece, made only between city and 
city. But the most ancient of common Greek institutions, 
the great religious union of the Amphiktyons, was not an 
union of cities. Athens and Sparta, as Athens and Sparta, 


HI TRIBES MORE ANCIENT THAN CITIES 57 


had no part or lot in it. The Amphiktyonic body was an 
union of races, races some of which had risen to greatness in 
other parts of Greece, while others remained in their ancient 
obscurity in their old seats by Thermopylai. In that great 
religious convocation, the Dorian and the Ionian race had 
each its equal vote alongside of Malians and Phthidtic 
Achaians. Athens and Sparta, as severally the greatest 
Tonic and the greatest Dorian city, might practically command 
the Jonian and the Dorian vote; but, as the cities of Athens 
and Sparta, they had no formal place in the Council. This 
feature in the Amphiktyonic body, a feature which could not 
possibly have been introduced at any moment in the recorded 
history of Greece, at once shows the vast antiquity of the 
Amphiktyonic union, and ἦν also shows that the system of 
cities with which we are so familiar in Grecian history grew 
out of an earlier system of tribes (23). So again, even in 
the historic times of Greece, we find that there were large 
districts, Htolia, Akarnania, some parts of Arkadia, in which 
city life was very imperfectly developed, where walled towns 
at special points were not unknown, but where the city had 
not wholly swallowed up the tribe and the village, in the 
way in which it had done in the lands of Athens, Corinth, 
or Beotia (24). ‘We find also in the historic times more 
than one instance in which a Greek city—Elis for example, 
and Megalopolis in after times—was formed by the union of 
several villages, or of towns so small that they hardly 
deserved the names of cities (25). And we see too, in the 
case of Mantineia and of Sparta itself, a tradition so strong 
tLat it can hardly have been groundless, which told that 
those cities had themselves been formed in a like sort, in 
days which must have been older than the Humeric catalogue 
(26). So again, in those neighbouring nations which were 
not strictly Greek, but to whom the true Hellénes seem to 
have stood in the relation of members of the same family 
who had outstripped their brethren, among Epeirots and 
Macedonians, we find much the same state of things as in 
the ruder parts of Greece itself: the city is not unknown, 


58 THE STATE LECT, 


-- 


but the tribe and the village still remain the leading 
features of national life (27). We might have inferred 
without historical evidence, from the very nature of the case, 
that the Greek system of cities grew out of an earlier 
system of tribes and villages, but there is in truth quite 
enough of strictly historical evidence to prove the point. 

The system of cities was thus, even in Greece, far from 
being a thing which had been from the beginning. But it 
became, as we all know, the great characteristic of Grecian 
politics, the feature to which Greece owes at once the 
brilliance and the shortness of its history. For the city, 
according at least to Greek political ideas, kept on one 
feature of the life of the tribe, even more strictly than it 
was kept on by the tribe itself. The City, the State, the 
commonwealth, was an assemblage of γένη, of gentes, of natural 
or artificial families. Citizenship was thus a matter of 
hereditary descent: mere residence, even to the ninth and 
tenth generation, could never confer the civic franchise (28). 
Once or twice in the history of a city, when the original 
citizens had shrunk up into a narrow oligarchy, a large 
admission of the unenfranchised classes to the rights of 
citizenship might change the commonwealth from an oligarchy 
into a democracy (29). Now and then too citizenship might 
be bestowed by special decree on a stranger, whether a 
resident on the spot or a distant prince who had deserved 
well of the commonwealth (30). But there was no way by 
which the necessary extinction of citizen families could be, 
as a matter of ordinary course, supplied by new blood. A 
Greek city might hold other cities in bondage; sho might 
have other cities united to her on terms of either equal or 
dependent alliance; but the breaking down of the citizen 
barrier, the admission of allies or subjects to a common 
franchise, was, we may say, unknown in the historical times 
of Greece. It had been done once before history began, 
when all the Attic towns were either persuaded or constrained 
to merge their political being in that of the one city of 
Athens (31). It was tried once in historical times, in a 


ἘΠῚ GREECE NEVER BECAME A NATION 59 


«..- 


feeble and unsuccessful way, when the commonwealths of 
Argos and Corinth were for a momeat thrown into one (32). 
But, as a rule, through the most brilliant days of Greece, 
eacu city clave to its.separate political being. The higher 
the policical developement, the higher the material and social 
civilization of any Grecian city, the more fervently, the more 
obstinately, it clave to its distinct and independent being as 
a sovereign commonwealth. It might be a ruling city, and 
it never dreamed of granting its citizenship to its subjects; 
it might be a dependent city, and it dreamed perhaps of 
throwing off the yoke of its too powerful neighbour, but 
never of asking for its franchise. 

From this cause sprang two results. Greece never became, 
in any political sense, a nation. And those parts of Greece 
which, in her latest days of independence, came nearest to 
becoming a nation were not those parts which had filled the 
foremost places in her earlier and more brilliant days. In 
the last, the Federal, age of Greece the parts of Greece 
which showed the fullest national life were precisely those 
more backward districts where Greek city life had never 
developed itself in its fulness. tolia, Akarnania, even the 
hellenized Epeiros, now show a truer national life than 
Athens. But in those later days one great step in political 
progress was taken. Federal principle had hitherto lurked 
in Greece only in the parts where either city life was hardly 
developed at all, or where the cities were small and of little 
account in Grecian politics. It had long bound together the 
fierce tribes of Atolia and the respectable but insignificant 
towns of the original Achaia (33). It now became the 
leading principle of Greek politics. The greater part of 
Greece was mapped out among Federal commonwealths. 
But the greatest cities of the olden time kept aloof from 
a system which so greatly trenched on the separate inde- 
pendence of each particular city. Athens never joined the 
Achaian League; Sparta was enrolled in it against her 
will (34). In these last days of independent Greece a new 
form of political life arose. But it was simply a developement 


60 THE STATE LECT. 


or modification of her old system of independent cities. The 
cities gave up so much of their independent political being 
as to group themselves into Confederations, to let several 
cities form a single State in their dealings with other Stites. 
But the Confederation was still a Confederation of cities. 
The internal constitutions of the cities remained untouched. 
Each still remained a distinct and sovereign commonwealth 
in all its domestic affairs. The form of a Federal Common- 
wealth, a Bundesstaat (35), and that a Federal Common- 
wealth formed, not of tribes or cantons but of cities, was 
the nearest approach to national unity to which the most 
advanced parts of Hellas in the days of her independence 
ever reached. 

Here then is one idea of the State: that in which the 
State, the Commonwealth, the body in which a man enjoys 
political rights and discharges political duties, the body 
round which all his patriotic feelings centre, is not a nation, 
not a country in our sense, but a single city. There is no 
doubt that such a system as this calls forth the powers of 
man to their very highest point; there has never been 
another political society in the world in which the average 
of the individual citizen stood so high as it did under the 
Athenian Democracy in the days of its greatness. The weak 
point of such a system is that it is too brilliant to last; the 
high-strung enthusiasm to which it owes its being, and 
without which it cannot be kept up at the same level, is 
not likely to last for many generations (36). Again, such 
a system can last only as long as it forms the whole of its 
own civilized world. Where the strength of a country is 
cut up among a number of absolutely independent cities, 
indifferent or even hostile to one another, they must give 
way as soon as an united power of equal strength and equal 
intelligence is brought to bear upon them. Greece drew 
increased strength, and even increased union, from the 
attacks made upon her by the brute force of Persia: she 
could not bear up against the single power of Macedonia, 
schooled in her own arts and discipline. The lesson did its 


ar THE CITY SYSTEM LESS PERFECT IN ITALY 6Ὶ 


work in the revival of Greek independence in the Federal 
period. But even then the degree cf union that was reached 
was simply Federal, and even that degree of union was 
nev.r extended over the whole land. Greece never became 
a natiou: a people whose idea of political life does not go 
beyond the separate and independent city never can become 
a nation; it never can endure when the forces of a nation 
are brought against it. But it none the less shows the 
powers of man ina higher form than they can reach under 
any other system; and, although the system itsclf is one 
which cannot last in its full force and glory through more 
than a few generations of men, its history is none the less 
rich in abiding lessons for all time. 


From the idea of the State as the single independent 
city, the idea which gave all its brilliance to the peninsula 
east of the Hadriatic, we turn to another idea of the State, 
or rather to a modification of the same idea, which was 
worked out in the political history of the other great 
Mediterranean land. Italy, no less than Greece, was from 
the earliest times parted out into small commonwealths, or 
rather it was occupied by distinct settlements, clans, or 
tribes, which grew into distinct commonwealths, The idea 
of the independent city may be said to have been the leading 
political idea of ancient Italy, no less than of ancient Greece, 
but it was never carried out in the same completeness. We 
must set aside that part of Southern Italy which was in 
after times directly colonized from Greece, and the history 
οὕ who.e Greek cities is simply a part of the history of the 
Greek cities elsewhere. In that much larger part of Italy 
which was untouched by Greek colonizatiun, though the 
walled city seems to have been everywhere the ideal political 
unit, yet true city-life, according to Greek notions, never 
reached the same complete predominance. From the be- 
ginning the towns were smaller, and they were more ready 
to join themselves together by a Federal tie. There never 
could have been more than a very few Italian cities, and 


62 THE STATE LECT 


those scattered at distances as great as that which separated 
Rome from Capua, which could have had any claim to rank 
alongside of the great cities which in Greece lay as near 
together as Thebes, Athens, Corinth, Sikyén, and Azgos 
(37). Hence the history of ancient Italy is a history of 
confederations, far more than a history of single cities; and 
the Italian confederations had from the beginning a closer 
union and a nearer approach to national unity than the 
later and more brilliant confederations of Greece. Latium, 
Samnium, and the rest, had more in common with ®tolia 
and Akarnania than with the more strictly civic confeder- 
ation of the Achaian League. The real elements of old 
Italian life are the gens or clan and the tribe. The city 
is rather the fortress, the plac&é of meeting, the place of 
shelter, of the tribe or collection of tribes, than the actual 
home and dwelling-place which it was in Greek ideas (38). 
At the same time it was in Italy that the idea of the city, 
the single independent city—the ruling city—was carried 
out on a scale in which it never was before or after. A 
group of Latin villages grew together to form a border 
fortress of Latium on the Etruscan march (39). That border 
fortress grew step by step to be the head of Latium, the 
head of Italy, the head of the Mediterranean world. The 
idea of the city—the ruling city—gathering around it the 
various classes of citizens, half-citizens, allies, and subjects 
(40), all looking to the local city as the common centre, 
whether of freedom to be exercised or dominion to be 
endured, all this finds its greatest and mightiest develope- 
ment in the Latin city of Rome. Rome alone amorg cit? 55 
can rightly call herself eternal; but she won her eternity 
by casting off, more than any other city ever did, the 
trammels which narrowed the greatness and shortened the 
life of the other ruling cities of the world. The course by 
which Rome rose to her dominion was set forth by one of 
her own Cesars in her own Senate; it was by granting, 
step by step, equal rights with her own alike to faithful 
allies and to conquered enemies. Claudius argued, with 


1 EFFECTS OF EXTENSION OF ROMAN FRANCHISE 63 


thorough insight into the history of the State over which 
he ruled, that the dominion of Athens and Sparta had been 
short, because they had failed to grant their citizenship to 
their allies and subjects; that the dominion of Rome had 
been lasting, because the allies and subjects of Rome had 
been freely allowed to become Romans. The plebeian, the 
Latin, the Italian, each in his turn, had been admitted to 
the rights and honours of the conquering city. From Italy, 
so Claudius argued, the same process should go on to Gaul 
and Spain; and so it did go on till, when the franchise of 
the Roman city had become nothing worth, all the free 
inhabitants of the Roman world were admitted to it (41). 
But mark that it was to the franchise of the Roman city, 
to the local burghership of a single town, that Latium, 
Italy, and the world, were gradually admitted. They were 
admitted to a body of exactly the same nature as the 
hereditary burghers of an old Greek or a medieval Italian 
city, to a body essentially the same as the freemen of a 
modern English borough. We may, in a sense, say that 
a city grew into a nation, or into more than a nation, when 
its citizenship was thus extended to the whole of the then 
civilized world. Still it was the local franchise of a city; 
it was a franchise which, as long as it remained any real 
franchise at all, could be exercised nowhere except in that 
city (42). The result was that, long before the world had 
become Roman, even before all Italy had become Roman, 
the municipal government of the Roman city had been tried 
and found wanting as the government of so large a part 
o: the world. The constitution which, for its own proper 
use, had been one of the best that the world ever saw—a 
constitution all the better because it grew up bit by bit 
as it was wanted—broke down when it was put to an use 
for which it was utterly unfitted. The burghers of a single 
Italian city could not govern the whole world; they could 
not even govern Italy. They could not even administer 
the affairs of their own city, when they themselves were 
numbered by hundreds of thousands. The despotism of the 


64 THE STATE LECT 


Ceesars was the Gorn remedy for an incurable disease. As 
regards the city itself,«if, as Mzecenas thought, life even 
in torments is better than death (43), the disease was a 
smaller evil than the remedy. As regards the subject lends, 
they gained by getting one master instead of many. The 
moral of Grecian history is that a system of independent 
cities cannot bear up against an united kingdom or common- 
wealth. The moral of Roman history is that, if a single 
city aspires to universal dominion, it may indeed become 
the seat of a power which deserves to be called eternal, but 
it can become mistress of the world only by the sacrifice 
of its own freedom. The distinction between citizen and 
subject may be swept away; but it will be swept away, 
not by raising the subject to the level of the citizen, but 
by bringing down the citizen to the level of the subject. 


We thus see that, though Greece and Italy alike took 
the independent city as their leading political idea, the 
results which were worked out were widely different in the 
two cases. The earlier and fuller establishment of the 
Federal principle in Italy, the greater readiness in com- 
municating the franchise to allies and subjects, both worked 
to the same end. And I suspect that both of these were 
different results of the same cause, and that that cause was 
that the clan feeling, the tribe feeling, had by no means so 
wholly given way to the city feeling as it did in Greece. 
The truth is that, if we read history as chronology requires 
us to read it, beginning with Greece, thence going on to 
the Roman conquerors of Greece, and thence to the Tc7- 
tonic conquerors of Rome, we are, for many purposes of this 
inquiry, readinf history backwards. We find the primitive 
conception of the State in an earlier form among the 
Italians than we find it among the Greeks, at all events 
than we find it in those Greek states of which we have 
most knowledge. And we find it in a still earlier form 
amongst the Teutonic nations than we find it among the 
Italians. The notion of the State as a city is, as we have 


ΠῚ GREEK, ITALIAN, AND TEUTONIC SYSTEMS θ 


seen and as it must be in the nature of things, a later notion 
than the notion of the State as a trebe. We have seen that, 
even in some parts of Greece, the notion of the city—the 
ruliug idea of fully developed Greek political life—grew 
but slowly, and never bore the same fruits which it bore 
in the great Greek city commonwealths. Among the Teu- 
tonic nations we may fairly say that the city commonwealth 
never became an essential element of political life at all. 
The conception of the absolutely sovereign city common- 
wealth is not a strictly Teutonic conception; it has never 
been the ruling political idea of any Teutonic people. The 
Greeks reached the city stage so early, they carried out its 
leading idea to such perfection, that they never reached the 
national stage. The Teuténs passed from the tribal stage 
into the national stage without ever going through the city 
stage at all. The Italians followed an intermediate course ; 
they reached the city stage, but they never carried it to 
the same perfection to which it was carried in Greece. The 
older ideas of the clan and the tribe kept far more power ; 
down to the latest days of Rome’s freedom they exercised 
an influence which they lost at a far earlier stage of Athenian 
political history. 

To trace out the difference in this respect between the 
history of the three chief races which we are comparing, we 
must go back to the very beginnings of political life. The 
Greek philosophers themselves saw that the original element 
of the State—of the City—was to be found in the family. 
But they perhaps did not attach its full importance to the 
siuge waich comes between the family in the narrower sense 
and the political commonwealth (44). The great practical 
element in all early political societies is the fumily, but it is: 
the family, not in the narrower sense of the mere household, 
the father and his immediate children, but in the form which 
the family takes when it has swelled into the clan. The 
clan may take many forms: it may long keep up the wild 
independence, the predatory life, the attachment to the 
hereditary chief of the race, which distinguishes the Celtic 


66 THE STATE LECT. 


.-...... . ------..ῳω.--...,...ς..,... 


clans and septs both in Britain and in Ireland (45). Ina 
higher stage it may take the shape of the agricultural village 
community, such as we see it in forms common to the Aryan 
races both in East and West (46). The two things in snort, 
the clan and the village community, are the same thing, 
influenced only by those circumstances, geographical or other- 
wise, which allow one clan or company to adopt a more 
settled life, while another is driven to linger in, or even to 
fall back upon, a ruder state of things. The yevos of Athens, 
the gens of Rome, the mark or gemeinde of the Teutonic 
nations, the village community of the East, and, as I have 
said, the Insh clan, are all essentially the same thing. All 
are parts of the common heritage; all mark a stage in pro- 
gress which is essentially the same, although the further 
developements of each have branched off into such widely 
different shapes. In each case, the community thus formed 
is the lowest political unit—it is the association next above 
that of the mere household. It does not stand immediately 
below the tribe, as we find between them the intermediate 
association of the hundzed or curia. Still, the tribe on the 
one side, the clan or gens on the other, stand out in sucha 
much more marked way than the intermediate group that 
we may venture to say that, as the commonwealth, whether 
city or nation, is formed by an union of tribes, so the tribe is 
formed by an union of gentes. 

The names yévos and gens at once proclaim that community 
of blood is the idea which lies at the root of the association 
so called. We have no English name which exactly expresses 
the same idea (47); but the local nomenclature of our own 
land makes it plain that this lowest political unit was at 
first, here as eisewhere, formed of men bound together by 
a tie of kindred, in its first estate natural, in a later 
stage either natural or artificial. A large proportion ‘of 
the parishes of England bear names which come directly 
from old Teutonic patronymics. Uffington, Gillingham, a 
crowd of others—the same name not uncommonly repeating 
itself in distant parts of the country—point beyond all doubt 


II THE ORIGINAL ELEMENT OF THE STATE 67 


9 
to the Uffingas, the Gillingas, and so forth, as their original 
Teutonic settlers (48). These names answer exactly to those 
borne by the gentes of Athens and Rome, to the Alkmaiénidai 
ana the Juli, and to those borne by the clans and septs of 
the Scot both in his own island and in Britain (49). In all 
these cases the name is strictly a patronymic; the race is 
called after a supposed forefather. But in none of these 
cases are we bound to look for actual kindred among all the 
members of the body (50). Still it is none the less true that 
the idea of the family runs through all, The family is the 
starting-point: the common patriarch, divine or human, real 
or mythical, Alkmaion, Julus, Offa, Donald, is the tie which 
binds together all the members of his house, whether really 
sprung of his blood or not. The adopted son, the freedman, 
the client, the favoured stranger, might be received in their 
several degrees within the pale of the house, so that real 
purity of blood would become a mere name, a simple legal 
fiction (51); still it was into the house, the gens, the clan— 
that is, into the family, to its name, its rights, its sacred 
ceremonies and traditions (52)—that he was admitted. Both 
at Rome and at Athens the gentes were joined together into 
a higher union, that of the cwria or the ¢parpla—that is, the 
brotherhood, the name which still so strangely preserves 
the common Aryan word which the Greek tongue has lost in 
its older and nearer meaning (53). The gathering of cure 
or φρατρίαι again forms the tribe; the gathering of tribes 
forms the State. But alike at Rome and at Athens, tribes 
formed of curice and gentes lost their political significance, 
aud gave way as political institutions to tribes of later origin 
founded on another principle. In the later stages of both 
commonwealths, the elements of which the ‘commonwealth’ 
was made up were no longer the primitive genealogical 
tribes, but tribes which were essentially local. But the 
smaller groups of which the tribes were immediately made 
up, the gentes and the groups intermediate between the gentes 
and the tribes, still lived on, though, by one of those accidents 
which are to be found in all these histories of political growth, 


68 THE STATE LECT. 


it happened that the element which kept most of its import- 
ance differed in the twc cases. In the later stages of the 
Athenian commonwealth we hear far more of the φρατρία 
than we do of the γένος, At Rome the curie sank inio a 
mere name at a comparatively early stage, while the gentes 
remained and flourished, and had the most abiding influence 
on the hational character and the national history. 

At Rome then the influence of the family community was 
far stronger, far more lasting, than it was at Athens. One 
cause of this difference may seem a small one. There can 
be little doubt that the fact that the gentes of Rome survived 
longer and played a greater part in history than the Greek 
and Teutonic unions which answer to them is largely owing 
to an accident of Roman nomenclature, though we cannot 
doubt that the apparent accident had itself some determining 
cause. Megaklés the Alkmaionid, or Godric the Uffing, 
remembered and boasted of the name of his real or mythical 
forefather, but he did not bear it about with him as part of 
himself, as his nomen to which his own personal name was 
only a praenomen, in the way in which the names of the 
patriarchs of their house were borne by Titus Quinctius or 
Caius Julius (54). But other causes were doubtless also at 
work. There can be little doubt that the genealogical 
associations at Rome drew much of strength and perman- 
ency from the fact that they were, more largely than at 
Athens, local associations also. No fact in what we may call 
mythical history seems better established than the tradition 
that the city of Rome grew out of the union of two or more 
village communities. So, as we have seen, did many Greciau 
cities, Sparta itself among them (55). But at Sparta the 
origin of the o3al—the Spartan cwrie—and tribes is not to 
be looked for in the old Lacedzemonian local divisions, but in 
the divisions which the Dorian conquerors brought with 
them and which they established in all the Dorian cities of 
Peloponnésos. These tribes, common to the Dorians every- 
where, together with the ὠβαί of which they were formed, 
lived on as divisions of the ruling Spartan people, alongside 


ul KFFECTS OF ROMAN SYSTEM OF NOMENCLATURE 69 


τ ? 


of the local divisions earlier than the conquest, just as, both 
at Athens and Rome, we find the local tribes either sup- 
planting or existing alongside of the tribes which were 
purely genealogical (56). At Athens, if the city was formed 
by the geographical union of earlier villages—a_ process 
which must not be confounded with the political union of 
the towns of Attica—it must have been at a time so early as 
to have left no trace of itself either in legend or in tradition. 
A prying eye may perhaps find out some slight and doubtful 
traces of inhabitants of the soil earlier than the historic 
Athenians, but they will hardly find traces of the fusing 
together of neighbouring and kindred villages (57). We 
find at Athens the four Jonic tribes, common probably to 
the Jonians everywhere; but we have no such _ local 
memories as those which connect the Ramnes with the 
village of Romulus and the Titienses with the village of 
Titus Tatius (58). Add to this the feeling of which I shall 
have to speak in another lecture, the strong conservative 
feeling which runs through the political revolutions of Rome 
in a far higher degree than through those of Athens. It 
thus came about that the old Ionic tribes at Athens were 
swept away as political bodies, and that the gparpia: and 
gentes lived on only as family brotherhoods and _ religious 
associations, no longer as component members of the com- 
monwealth. The ancient genealogical tribes gave way to 
the later tribes of the constitution of Kleisthenés, tribes 
which were mere artificial divisions, and which had no 
real tie either of descent or of locality. The Ten Tribes 
were indeed made up of δῆμοι, and the δῆμοι were doubtless, 
in the strictest sense, village communities; but care was 
specially taken that the δῆμοι which made up a tribe should 
not lie geographically together (59). For such a change 
there were good reasons in the political experience of the 
time; but the substitution of a new local division for one 
purely genealogical marks a great revolution in men’s ideas, 
and shows how far real statesmanship could prevail over 
mere traditional memories (60). The Démos often bore the 


70 THE STATE LECT. 


name of the Gens (61). Still in the later political arrange- 
ments of Athens the Gens had passed utterly away, and the 
Démos was not itself a political unit, but a mere local 
division of a new local tribe. 


At Rome, on the other hand, the commonwealth, both in 
its earlier and its later form, was made up of tribes which 
were essentially local. Such, we can hardly doubt, were the 
old Patrician tribes which represented the original com- 
munities of which the city itself in its first estate was made 
up. The settlement of Romulus and the settlement of 
Tatius, that is the tribes of the Ramnes and the Titienses, 
occupied two distinct hills among,the famous seven (62). It 
is more certain that the new Roman people, the Plebs, was 
made up from the beginning of strictly local tribes; it is 
certain that, as the State grew, it grew by the addition of 
fresh local tribes. When a new town or district was enfran- 
chised, its territory formed a new tribe; and of the thirty-five 
tribes of the later commonwealth the local city of Rome 
contained four only (63). And the local tribe too, like the 
Attic δῆμος, was often closely connected with the clan (64). 
And though the δῆμος, as an element of the State, was 
essentially a local division, yet, as the δῆμοι were in their 
origin gentes or village communities, it was quite possible 
that, at the time when the δῆμοι were mapped out, the 
δῆμος might nearly answer to some gens and its following. 
And in the like sort, though the δῆμοι and the new tribes were 
local in their origin, yet, when once established, they became 
genealogical. So it was with the local Roman tribes also. 
Their names show that they too were often connected with a 
gens, and the connexion is marked in a special way in one 
case which has been preserved to us either by history or by 
tradition. When Attus Clausus and his following moved to 
Rome, they formed the Claudian tribe as well as the Claudian 
gens. But the Claudian tribe had not, like an Attic Démos, 
sunk to be a mere local division ; it was a component part of 
the Roman commonwealth, with its independent vote in the 


I POSITION OF THE LOCAL ROMAN CITY 71 


Ἵ 


Assembly of the Roman tribes. Through all these causes, 
the ideas which were at the root of every commonwealth— 
the ideas of the clan and the tribe—lived on at Rome with 
far vreater strength, and with a far closer connexion with 
the political life of the commonwealth, than they kept at 
Athens. But, because the ideas of the clan and the tribe 
remained more lively, the idea of the city was less perfect. 
The Roman commonwealth was a city commonwealth, 
because the city of Rome was the one heart and home of 
the State. But, in this like Athens, though unlike every 
other Greek city, the life of the commonwealth was not shut 
up within the walls of the city. Rome was a city common- 
wealth ; we cannot call it a mere city commonwealth, when 
the City itself had little more than a ninth part of the 
voting power of the State—four votes only out of thirty-five. 
In all these ways the conception of the city was less perfect 
at Rome, less perfect in Italy generally, than it was in 
Greece. For that very reason the political system of Rome 
was more long-lived than that of Greece. Rome never, in 
strictness, became a nation; but it came far nearer to 
becoming a nation than either Greece as a whole or any 
particular Greek commonwealth. 


We now come to the institutions of our own forefathers 
and kinsmen—to the primitive conceptions of the State as 
held by the nations of the Teutonic race. Our own early 
history is the true key to the early history of Greece and 
Italy. Among the ancient Germans and Scandinavians, and 
not least among the Teutonic settlers in our own island, we 
see many things face to face which in Greece and Italy we 
see but darkly; we see many things for certain which in 
Greece and Italy we can only guess at; we see many things 
still keeping their full life and meaning, of which in Greece 
and Italy we can at most spy out traces and survivals. It 18 
among the men of our own blood that we can best trace out 
how, as in Greece and Italy, the family grew into the clan— 
how, as in Greece and Italy, the clan grew into the tribe— 


72 THE STATE LECT. 


and how at that stage the developement of the two kindred 
races parted company—how among Teutons, on either side 
of the sea, the tribe has grown, not into the city but into the 
nation. But, before I try to work out this comparisor: and. 
contrast in any detail, I would first speak of two facts which 
strongly illustrate the different political and social ideas of 
those two great branches of the Aryan family, the Greek and 
the Italian on one side, our own forefathers on the other. I 
choose two facts, two formule, two fashions of speech, stand- 
ing out on the surface of those transitional ages when the 
Roman and the Teutonic system stood side by side. They 
will show how utterly unlike from one point of view, close as 
is their likeness from another,,are the political ideas and 
manner of speech of those in whose minds the city is every- 
thing, and of those with whom the city is unknown or 
secondary, with whom the tribe grew at once into the nation. 
Both examples come from early ecclesiastical history. When 
Christianity gradually became the religion alike of the 
Roman Empire and of the conquerors who embraced its 
civilization, those who obstinately clave to the old idolatry 
were called, both in Latin and in Teutonic speech, by names 
which in themselves expressed, not error in religion, but 
inferiority of social state. The worshipper of Jupiter or of 
Woden was called in Latin mouths a pagan, in Teutonic 
mouths a heathen. The two names well set forth the two 
distinct standards of civilization which were held by those 
who spoke the two languages. The paganus was the man of 
the country, as opposed to the man of the city. The Gospel 
was first preached in the towns, and the towns became 
Christian while the open country around them still clave to 
the old Gods. Hence the name of the pagan, the rustic, the 
man who stood outside the higher social life of the city, came 
to mean the man who stood outside the pale of the purer faith 
of the Church (65). But in the England of the sixth 
century, in the eastern Germany of the eighth, no such 
distinction could be drawn. If all who dwelled without the 
walls of a city had remained without the pale of the Church, 


III ROMAN AND TEUTONIC SYSTEMS 73 


---- 


the Church would have had few votaries indeed among the 
independent Teutons. In their idéas the opposition between 
the higher and the lower stage was not the opposition between 
the man of the city and the man of the country; 1t was the 
opposition between the man of the occupied and cultivated 
land and the wild man of the wilderness. The cities, where 
there were any, and the villages and settled land generally, 
became Christian, while the rude men of the heath still 
served Woden and Thunder. The worshippers of Woden 
and Thunder were therefore called heathens (66). Pagan and 
Heathen alike mark the misbeliever as belonging to a lower 
social stage than the Christian. But the standard of social 
superiority which is assumed differs in the two cases, The 
one is the standard of a people with whom the city is the 
centre of the whole social life; the other is the standard of a 
people among whom the city, if it was to be found at all, was 
simply the incidental dwelling-place of a part of the nation 
which was in no way privileged over those who dwelled 
beyond its bounds. 

The other instance from the same period is this. In the 
organization of the Christian Church the ecclesiastical 
divisions always followed the civil divisions of the time; a 
fact which, as they commonly outlived those divisions, makes 
the boundaries of ecclesiastical provinces and dioceses of such 
primary importance in historical geography. But in Roman 
and in Celtic or Teutonic Europe—for in this matter we may 
class Celt and Teuton, Scot and Englishman, together—the 
ecclesiastical divisions represent civil divisions of quite dif- 
ferent kinds. In Italy, Gaul, or Spain, the Bishop was 
placed in the city; the city was his hearth and home, the 
chief seat of his spiritual labours ; it was from the city that 
he drew his title, and the limits of his spiritual jurisdiction 
were marked by the limits of the civil jurisdiction of the 
city. In Britain and Ireland, on the other hand, either 
there were no cities at all, or, where there were any, they 
were not, as under the Roman system, the centres of all 
political and social life. Hence the Bishop was not the 


14 THE STATE LECT. 


Bishop of the city, but the Bishop of the tribe or nation: 
the limits of his diocese were fixed by the limits of the 
principality; his see, his d¢shop-stool, was not necessarily 
fixed in the most populous spot in his diocese, and the ttle 
of the Bishop, like the title of the King, was more commonly 
taken from the people than from any place in their territory 
(67). Titles like Meath, Ossory, Argyll, and Galloway are 
vestiges of the days when men spoke also of an Archbishop 
of the English and a Bishop of the South-Saxons (68). And 
all bear witness to a state of things when the tribe and not 
the city, the people and not the territory, was the source and 
limit alike of temporal and of ecclesiastical rule. 


That our own forefathers and kinsmen, in the picture 
which Tacitus gives us of their earliest state, lagged behind 
their kinsfolk in the two southern peninsulas, as we see 
them in the Homeric poems and in the earliest traditions 
of Rome, is a matter neither of shame nor of regret. Our 
political developement has been slower, but it has also been 
surer. By never reaching to the highest civilization of one 
age, we have been able to reach toa yet higher civilization 
in another age. By never passing through the exclusive 
city stage, we have been better able to reach the national 
stage. In a word, when we compare Teutonic history with 
the history of ancient Greece and Italy, we see that what 
we have lost in brilliancy we have gained in permanence. 
The commonwealths of Greece shone with a meteoric bright- 
ness too glorious to be lasting. Her isolated cities were 
not—they could not be—wrought together into a single 
nation. Rome founded, not indeed a lasting nation, but a 
lasting power, by bringing the whole of the then civilized 
world under the dominion of a single ruling city. But 
the nations of the Teutonic race, alike in Germany, in Britain, 
and Scandinavia, grew from tribes into nations without ever 
going through the Greek stage of a system of isolated cities. 
The first glimpse which Tacitus gives us of the men of 
our own race sets them before us as being still in a distinctly 


III TEUTONIC MARK ANSWERS TO GENS 75 


lower stage of society than the Homeric Achaians. Their 
state answers rather to the state of those races on which 
it is plain that the Homeric Achaian looked down as being 
in a social state inferior to his own. They had risen far 
above the mere hunting and fishing stage, far above the 
pastoral stage; they have not reached the stage of the 
city, but they have reached the stage of the village com- 
munity. The lowest unit in the political system is that 
which still exists under various names, as the mark, the 
gemeinde, the commune, or the parish (69). This, as we 
have seen, is one of the many forms of the gens or clan, 
that in which it is no longer a wandering or a merely 
predatory body, but when,,on the other hand, it has not 
joined with others to form one component element of a 
city commonwealth. In this stage the gens takes the form 
of an agricultural body, holding its common lands—the 
germ of the ager publicus of Rome and of the /folkland 
of England (70). This is the markgenossenschaft, the village 
community of the West. This lowest political unit, this 
gathering of real or artificial kinsmen, is made up of families, 
each living under the rule, the mund, of its own father, 
that patria potestas which survived at Rome to form so 
marked and lasting a feature of Roman law (71). As the 
union of families forms the gens, and as the gens in its 
territorial aspect forms the marhgenossenschaft, so the union 
of several such village communities and their marks or 
common lands forms the next higher political union, the 
hundred, a name to be found in one shape or another in 
most lands into which the Teutonic race has spread itself. 
As an intermediate union between the gens and the tribe, 
the hundred would seem to answer to the Roman curia, the 
Athenian φρατρία, the Lacedemonian ofa. But there 
is one Roman division, standing alongside, as it were, of the 
cure, Whose name, aS in so many other cases, exactly 
translates the Teutonic name of which we are speaking. 
It seems almost impossible but that the Teutonic hundred 
and the Latin century, in the earliest usage of each, must 


76 THE STATE LECT, 


have answered to one another. Both names, in their actual 
historic use, are mere survivals. Neither the hundred 
nor the century, as we know them, answer to a real hundred 
of anything ; but every name must have had a real meaning 
when it was first given, and there was a time when 
the hundred or century must have been a real hundred 
or century of something, whether of houses, or families, 
or fighting men (72). Above the hundred comes the pagus, 
the gau, the Danish syssel, the English shire, that is, the 
tribe looked at as occupying a certain territory (73). And 
each of these divisions, greater and smaller, has its chiet. 
In a primitive society, where patriarchal ideas still live 
on, age implies rule and rule imvlies age, and the Teutonic 
chiefs, great and small, bore a name of that large class of 
which we have already spoken, as showing how, in early 
times, length of days was looked on as the natural source of 
dominion. In England, at least, the chief, greater or smaller, 
bore the common title of ealdorv; in the mere family the 
father is at once the ecaldor, without further election or 
appointment from above or from below. We have the 
hundredes-ealdor, the curio; but the name in its special 
meaning belongs to the common father, the common chief, 
of the whole tribe. He bears, in his peaceful character, 
the long-abiding title of Haldorman, which in war time 
he exchanges for that of Heretoga, in later form the Herzog, 
the Dux, the leader of the army (74). He is the highest 
chief, the community over which he bears rule is the 
highest political unit, which we see in our earliest glimpses 
of Teutonic polity. For the whole history of our land and 
our race will he read backwards, if we fail always to bear 
in mind that the lower unit is not a division of the greater, 
but that the greater is an aggregate of the smaller. The 
hundred is made up of villages, marks, gemeinden, whatever 
we call the lowest unit; the shire, the gau, the pagus, is 
made up of hundreds; and in the same sort the pagus is not 
a division of the kingdom, but the kingdom is an aggregate 
of pagi. 


ΠῚ DEFINITION OF THE TRIBE 77 


Of the kingdom and its growth I shall have to speak 
more fully in my next lecture. We are now speaking 
of the state of things in which the tribe, the gau, the 
unicn of marks and of hundreds, 1s the highest strictly 
political conception. In the days with which we have 
now to deal, the tribe was the State, the gaw was the 
territory of the State. The tie of kindred between various 
tribes of the same stock might be strongly felt, they might 
be capable on occasion of common action, their common 
origin and its claims might be kept in memory by the 
recognition of a common name; still the several tribes had 
not been fused into the higher political unit, the nation. 
Each tribe was a distinct commonwealth; its union with 
other tribes was temporary, or at the most federal; each 
had its own chief, its own Haldorman or Heretoga, whose 
rule in ordinary times did not extend beyond his own 
tribe, though in times of danger a common AHereloga— 
the germ of the future King—might be chosen to lead 
the common forces of all the tribes which acknowledged 
any common tie (75) A more lasting union of several 
tribes of this kind formed the nation, the highest con- 
ception of the State or commonwealth in Teutonic political 
language, from whence it has become the ruling idea 
in the political ideas and language of modern Europe. 
The Gens, the Curia, the tribe, of Greece or Italy, each 
has its close Teutonic parallel; but here the lines diverge, 
the parallelism ceases. In Greece and Italy the union of 
tribes formed only the city; among all the branches of 
vue Teutonic stock the union of tribes formed the nation. 

I shall show in my next lecture how, as the Ealdorman 
or Heretoga was the chief of the tribe, so the King was the 
chief of the nation. And the process of the joining together 
of tribes into nations may be best traced out by marking 
how the rule of independent Ealdormen gave way to that 
of a common national King. In some lands the old system 
lingered on longer than others. Among the Continental 
Saxons it hngered longer than it did anywhere else on 


78 THE STATE LECT, 


ε 

so large a scale. The Old-Saxons, the long-abiding foes 
of the Frankish power,*the men who clave so stoutly to 
their old freedom and their old Gods, never coalesced so 
closely as to have a common King. Yet we may say that 
they learned to become a nation by another process. They 
contrived a form of national unity which dispensed with 
a personal head. It was theirs to form an union which, 
rude as it may seem beside the more finished constitutions 
either of earlier or of later days, may fairly claim the name 
of the earliest Teutonic confederation (76). In other lands 
too, on the northern moorland or among the southern moun- 
tains, by the mouths of the Elbe and the Eider or by the 
sources of the Rhine and the Reuss, smaller portions of 
the Teutonic race either kept or won back again the old 
freedom, the old political system, of the earliest times. 
In Frisian Ditmarsen the old system of the mark and the 
gau lived on from the days of Cesar and Tacitus to be 
overthrown by the Danish Kings of the House of Oldenburg 
(77). In the Three Lands of the Alemannian mountains, 
in the valleys of the young Rhine and the young Rhone, 
it was won back to live on to our own days (78). Else- 
where tribes grew into nations, Ealdormen grew into Kings, 
and, in some cases, nations and their kings have grown into 
dominions and rulers greater still. 

This old Teutonic constitution, the constitution once 
common to the whole race, but which lived on longest 
among those Continental branches of the race which were 
most closely akin to ourselves, was brought into the Isle of 
Britain by its Teutonic conquerors. Our forefathers, tuc 
Angles and Saxons, brought over with them the divisions, 
the institutions, the titles, of their old land into the land 
which became their new home. This is one of the dis- 
tinctive features of our island history, one which we share 
with a small part only of the Teutonic lands on the main- 
land. The change between the Germany of Tacitus and the 
Germany which, less than a hundred years later, began to 
send forth Franks and Saxons, Burgundians and Lombards, 


ΠῚ TEUTONIC SYSTEM CARRIED TO BRITAIN 79 
must have been a change indeed. The tribes had been 
gathered into nations (79). But the swarms which parted 
off from the central hive carried their own institutions with 
them into every land where the Roman influence was not 
too strong for them. Wherever they found or made a land 
empty of inhabitants, wherever they really became the 
people of the land and not merely a conquering class among 
their Roman subjects, all the old divisions and the old 
institutions sprang up again on the new soil (80). In our 
own island above all, settled as it was bit by bit by small 
parties of Teutonic invaders, before whom, in all those parts 
of the island where they really did settle, everything British 
and everything Roman was utterly swept away, the process 
had to begin again from the beginning. In all that was 
strictly England things started utterly afresh: marks grew 
into hundreds, hundreds into shires, shires into kingdoms, 
separate kingdoms into one united kingdom, on the soil 
of England itself. In Britain therefore we can actually look 
upon the process, while in Germany we can see only the 
results. The ancient system was doubtless modified by the 
circumstances of men who found themselves in a land where 
they had to win and hold every inch of ground with the 
sword’s point. The mark and the gaw show themselves 
again, but they do not show themselves by the same names. 
The village community with its common land, the joint 
possession of a clan reverencing a supposed common ancestor 
of the Basingas or the Wellingas, is as clearly to be marked 
in England asin Germany. But, as in later times the mari: 
has been almost stifled between the ecclesiastical parish and 
the feudal manor (81), so we may suspect that from the 
beginning it showed some points of difference from the same 
institution on the Continent. We may suspect that thd tie 
of kindred, everywhere to some extent artificial, was more 
largely artificial in England than it was on the mainland. 
And we may be sure that small settlements planted in a 
hostile land would from the beginning show a special ten- 
dency to unite into larger wholes. Marks and hundreds 


80 THE STATE LECT. 


planted in Kent or Sussex by the followers of Hengest and 
‘Elle could never have been wholly independent; they must 
from the beginning have acknowledged the supremacy of 
the common Heretoga under whom their settlers had n.ade 
their way into the land. In England therefore the system 
must from the beginning have been touched with some 
shadow of the coming kingship. Still the same elements 
were there, and in England, as in Germany, the larger 
bodies were formed by the union of the smaller. By a 
strange chance, the group answering to the German gau, 
the English shire, bears a name which expresses the exactly 
opposite idea to that of union. But there 15 reason to 
believe that both the name and its meaning are due to 
events in English history some centuries later than the first 
settlement. The later English pagi, to use the name by 
which they appear in Latin writers, were strictly shires, 
divisions shorn off from a large whole. But they were 
formed in imitation of those earlier English pag: which were 
formed by the process of union. The oldest pagi of England 
do not, in ancient usage at least, admit the name of shave. 
They bear strictly tribal names, whether, lke the East- 
Saxons, the pagus itself has become the kingdom, or 
whether, as with the Sumorsetas and Dorsetas, several pagz 
joined to form one larger kingdom of the West-Saxons (82). 
The aggregate of tribes was thus able to form, what the 
aggregate of cities never could form, a nation in the highest 
sense. 

I might go on almost for ever on the fascinating, but stall 
somewhat obscure, subject of the old Teutonic polity, wheth 
in Germany, Britain, or Scandinavia, But my main business 
now is only to insist on the one great difference between 
Teutonic and Hellenic politics; the presence of the city as 
the leading political idea in the one system and its absence 
in the other. We see how closely the primitive elements 
correspond ; so closely that we cannot doubt for a moment as 
to their being portions of a common Aryan inheritance. But 
we see also how they were modified by the one great dis- 


“III GROWTH OF ENGLISH NATION 81 


vo 


tinction between village and city life. The Greek common- 
wealth grew, flourished, and decayed as a city, amazing the 
world perhaps alike by the splendour of the days of its great- 
nes* and by the long wretchedness of the days of its decay. 
Meanwhile among the despised Barbarians, scorned by kins- 
folk who had forgotten their kindred, slowly and obscurely, 
shires were melting together into kingdoms and tribes into 
nations. Thus were formed those nations of Teutonic blood 
which settled within the Continental provinces of the Empire, 
and foremost among them the nation to whom, in course of 
time, the Empire itself was to come as part of their inherit- 
ance—the mighty people of the Franks (83). So too in our 
own island we can see the steps by which the English nation 
in Britain, and that greater “nglish whole of which the English 
in Britain are now but a part, grew out of those endless 
Teutonic settlements on the British coast, of which the keels 
of Hengest and Horsa brought the earliest. We can see, 
though somewhat dimly, a crowd of petty States under their 
separate chiefs, whether bearing the title of King or Ealdor- 
man, gathered together into the great kingdoms of North- 
umberland, Mercia, and East-Anglia. We can see more 
clearly the confederated West-Saxon principalities fused to- 
gether into the one West-Saxon kingdom, and we can see 
the West-Saxon kingdom grow into the Kingdom of England 
and into all that the Kingdom of England has added to it in 
later times (84). All the events of our history, election, com- 
mendation, conquest, all help in the work of fusion ; till, instead 
of a system of isolated cities, instead of a single city bearing 
ule over subject cities and provinces we have a political work 
more lasting than the other, more just and free than the 
other, the nation which knows no distincfions among its 
members, and ‘which gives equal rights to the dwellgrs in 
every corner of its territory. 


In this way we see that the Teutonic history is in some 
sort the key to the history of the two southern peninsulas. 
We see the institutions of the Teutonic people, domestic, 


82 THE STATE LECT, 


Cee 


social and strictly political, at an earlier stage than we see 
those of the Greeks ana Italians, While therefore we see 
the general likeness, the evident common origin of all, we 
see also something of the different steps by which these*two 
great divisions of the Aryan family shaped their several in- 
stitutions out of the common stock. Among the Germans of 
Tacitus we see a state of things in which the elements com- 
mon to all have been less changed than in any other picture 
that we have of any European people. In the Homeric 
Achaians we see a stage somewhat more advanced in itself, 
and still further modified, even then, by the tendency of the 
Greeks to centre all their political life within the walls of a 
city. Out of the state of Homeric Greece the state of his- 
torical Greece grows by pure and natural developement. Out 
of the old Teutonic state of things the institutions of modern 
Europe have also grown, but not by the same unmixed course 
of developement. Everywhere the original Teutonic stock has 
been more or less modified by an infusion of Roman elements. 
I speak of Western Europe in general, of the Romance-speak- 
ing no less than of the Teutonic-speaking lands, for I am not 
now speaking of language but of political institutions. In 
the languages of Southern Europe, Latin is, of course, the 
main stock ; the Teutonic element which all of them have in 
a greater or less degree is a mere infusion, just as, in the 
languages of Northern Europe, the Teutonic is the main 
stock, and the greater or less Romance element is a mere 
infusion (85). But with regard to political institutions, we 
may, even in Southern Europe, look upon all that came from 
a Roman source as an infusion into a Teutonic body. Onc 
spot alone in Western Europe—if it has any nght to be 
reckoned as part of Western Europe—the island common- 
wealth of Venice, never acknowledged a Teutonic master, 
and kept on its unbroken connexion with the elder state 
of things (86). Everywhere else Teutonic kingdoms were 
founded ; and though their institutions were largely modified 
by the laws and institutions of their Latin-speaking subjects, 
yet, even in Gaul, Spain, and Italy, we must look on the rule 


μι TEUTONIC INFLUENCE IN ROMANCE LANDS 88 


of Gothic, Frankish, Burgundian, Lombard, and Norman 
Kings as a rule essentially Teutonic, though largely modified 
by the Roman traditions of the several countries. And, on 
the ether hand, there is no Teutonic country, not the Scan- 
dinavian kingdoms themselves, which has, even in its political 
institutions, kept wholly clear of the influence of Rome. 
Throughout Western Europe we may set down the strictly 
political institutions as Teutonic, but as everywhere modified, 
in some countries very slightly, in others very largely, by the 
traditions of Roman times, and by the influence of that 
undying Roman Law which has been the foundation of the 
later jurisprudence of every European nation but our own. 
And, besides this general influence of the elder state of 
things on the political institutions of the Teutonic kingdoms 
of modern Europe, there has been one case at least in which 
the direct continuity of Roman institutions, strengthened:by 
that other source of likeness which brings like events out of 
like causes, went far to bring about a revival of an elder state 
of things. These causes made medieval Italy, with its system 
of city commonwealths, a living revival of the political story 
of ancient Greece. On the points of likeness and unlikeness 
between the two I will not here enlarge, as it is a subject 
which I have done my best to deal with in detail in another 
shape (87). I will only say here that, though the Teutonic 
political system did not, like that of Greece, assume the city 
as the necessary starting-point of political life, yet it showed 
itself quite able to take in the city, even the virtually inde- 
pendent city, as one important element among others in its 
putitical system. In all lands but our own the Roman cities 
lived through the storm of Teutonic invasion: and presently, 
both in our own land and in the lands where the Roman 
had never dwelled, cities of purely Teutonic birth bega to 
arise (88). In our own land, the strong feeling of national 
unity, the strong central authority of the Crown, the work 
which was begun by the great West-Saxon Kings, and which 
was carried to its full perfection by the Norman Conqueror, 
hindered English municipalities from ever growing into 


84 THE STATE LECT, 
ἷ 
sovereign commonwealths. Yet it is ἃ thought worth bearing 
in mind, how near the Five Boroughs of Danish England once 
were to forming an independent confederation of city com- 
monwealths, how near Exeter once was to being, like Thebes 
or Sparta, a city ruling over neighbouring and weaker cities 
(89). Here, as in every other part of Western Europe, a new 
element, unknown to the ancient Teutonic institutions, gra- 
dually arose—the element of cities which everywhere enjoyed 
a certain measure of self-government and local independence, 
a measure which, wherever the central government was weak, 
came in practice very near to absolute freedom. In Italy it 
reached its highest point, and Florence was for some ages as 
truly an independent democracy as Athens. In the Teutonic 
lands themselves the developement of the independent cities 
seems less brilliant ; but it perhaps seems less brilliant only 
because the Italian cities have a special charm of their own. 
They have that combined charm of classical, of medieval, 
and of modern associations, which appeals to a wider range 
of sympathies than aught that attaches to the cities on the 
Rhine or the Danube, to the Teutonic Rome girded by the 
Aar or to the Teutonic Carthage girded by the Trave (90). 
Yet the German cities have their history too, their history 
artistic, social, mercantile, religious, as well as strictly political. 
And, in their strictly political aspect, the history of the 
League of the Northern Hansa and of the Old League of 
Upper Germany (91) is as rich in political teaching as the 
history of the Italian cities themselves. We may learn more 
from the Bern of Berchthold and the Erlachs, where no King 
or Tyrant ever dwelled, than we can learn from the Bern of 
Theodoric and Can’ Grande (92). The internal histories of 
the Teutonic cities, their internal disputes and revolutions, 
the origin of their exclusively patrician governments, the 
more rare aspirings of their democracies, teach us better to 
understand the history of Rome and Athens themselves. 
But between the cities of the elder Greek and Italian world 
and the cities of medieval Europe one great point of differ- 
ence must always be borne in mind. In ancient Greece the 


ell NO TRUE ROMAN ELEMENT IN ENGLAND 85 


cities were everything; their territory took in the whole 
land, they acknowledged no super-ority, even of the most 
formal kind, in any earthly power. But in Germany the free 
cities and their dominions were always mere oases in a land 
of princely rule; and even in Italy the city commonwealths 
never wholly covered the whole surface of the land, and never 
wholly threw off the formal superiority of the King of Italy 
and Emperor of the Romans. 

In all these inquiries the question is ever suggesting itself, 
how far we are to see in the analogies between ancient and 
medieval city commonwealths merely the working of the law 
that lke causes should produce like effects, and how far we 
are to see any tradition, any imitation, of Roman institutions 
in the municipalities of the*purely Teutonic parts of Europe. 
This is a question far too wide for discussion here. In England, 
in this as in other matters, there was no room, no opportunity, 
for direct Roman influences. Many of our English towns 
are simply Teutonic village communities which grew and 
prospered so as to outstrip their neighbours. But where 
an English town arose—even after an interval of desolation 
—on the site, often even within the walls, of a fallen Roman 
city, there was at least the memory of the past to influence 
the history of the restored erection. Yet it 1s certain that 
nothing in the institutions of any English city can really be 
traced to a Reman source; there is nothing Roman in the 
municipal institutions of Bath or Chester, or even Exeter, 
any more than there is on such purely English sites as Read- 
ing or Northampton (93). In Italy and Southern Gaul, on 
.ue other hand, whether there be any direct transmission or 
not, there is, as we have already seen, not a little of that 
natural and inevitable imitation which closely borders on 
direct transmission. In Germany, on the other hand, in such 
cases as the common use of the name Patrician for the ruling 
families, we see imitation of another kind. It is not such 
a dead imitation as the consulship of Buonaparte, because 
there is a real analogy between the patricians of Rome and 
the patricians of Bern or Niirnberg; but it is not the same 


86 THE STATE LECT 


kind of natural imitation as the consulship at Milan or Alby. 
We may be satisfied with saying that in the medieval city 
commonwealths there is a Roman element clearly shown— 
even we in England have what we may call the elemert of 
suggestion—but that its nature and degree varies widely in 
different lands and times. But it is the likeness from analogy 
between the ancient and the medieval cities which gives the 
comparison of the two its real historic interest and value. 
What amount of likeness between them may be due to direct 
transmission is little more than a matter of antiquarian 
research in each particular place. 


We have thus traced the origin and history of the two 
great ideas of the State, the conéeption of the State as a city 
and the conception of the State as a nation. We have seen 
how the common elements developed up to a certain point 
side by side among the southern and northern branches of 
the European Aryans, and how, after reaching a certain point 
in common, the developement of the Greek and Italian nations 
and that of the Teutonic nations branched off in different 
directions. We have traced the course of the family, the 
gens, the hundred, and the tribe, till they grow into the 
Greek or Italian city and into the Teutonic nation. The 
causes of the divergence hardly belong to our present subject. 
Those causes are many and various, and not least among 
them are those geographical causes which made the Mediter- 
ranean lands take the lead in European civilization, and 
which made Greece take the lead among Mediterranean lands. 
In those lands a political growth, quicker, more brilliant, but 
less lasting, led them to the developement of the city; our 
growth, slower, obscurer, but steadier and more lasting, led 
us to the developement of the nation. And in this develope- 
ment we, the great Teutonic colony in this once Celtic island, 
have assuredly played no mean part among our brethren and 
kinsfolk of the common stock. It is, as I have already said, 
in our land that the old Teutonic institutions have really had 
the freest play, that they have grown and developed with the 


PIII SUMMARY 87 


most unbroken continuity down to our own day. Nowhere 
else have both liberty and national unity received so few 
checks. The Scandinavian nations have drawn even less 
tha.: ourselves directly from Roman sources; their national 
life has been more unbroken than our own, but their political 
life has been far less so. Germany has split asunder, and is 
being welded together again before our eyes. So has Italy. 
In both cases perhaps the nation has split asunder because 
the real power of the local kingdom was crushed between the 
weight of the Imperial dignity which was joined to it (94). 
We have had no such breaks: the causes of the difference 
belong to quite other branches of historical research ; but the 
fact is in its place here. The stages by which the Teutonic 
tribe, by admitting tribe after tribe to equal fellowship, grew 
into the modern European nation—a process at once the 
parallel and the contrast to that by which a single Italian 
city came to embrace whole kingdoms and nations within the 
pale of its municipal franchise—can nowhere be so well 
studied as in the history of our own land. 


88 THE KING LECT, 


IV 
THE KING 


FRoM the State itself we come to its head, to its chief, above 
all to the chief in his most clearly defined and fully developed 
form, when he holds the rank of a King. Now, what 15 ἃ 
King? The question is far more easily asked than answered. 
We commonly know a King when we see him; but it is 
quite another matter to say offhand in what his kingship 
consists. Some Kings are hereditary; others are elective. 
Some Kings reign with absolute power; the power of others 
is narrowly limited by Law. Some Kings acknowledge no 
superior on earth; others admit a greater or less superiority 
in a feudal or federal chief. In some kingdoms the kingly 
office, like most other offices, is confined to the male sex; 
in others it 15 open to both sexes alike. Some Kings go 
through an ecclesiastical ceremony of consecration; some 
dispense with any such rite. Yet, amidst all this unlikeness, 
it is plain that there is a common idea of kingship, which 
is at once recognized, however hard it may be to define iv. 
This is shown, among other things, by the fact that no 
difficulty is ever felt as to translating the word King and the 
words which answer to it in other languages. Between any 
Romance and any Teutonic language, Rex and its derivatives, 
Cyning and its cognates, are felt to answer to one another. 
No man ever doubts as to using ex or Ror to translate 
King or Konig, in any of the possible changes which may be 
rung on the two sets of words. If we go on into Greek, 


fy DIFFERENT CONCEPTIONS OF KINGSHIP 89 


we find that, in those stages of the language with which 
most of us are chiefly familiar, in :ts classical and in its 
modern stage, βασιλεύς answers to Rex and King as exactly 
as tney answer to one another. For some ages indeed 
βασιλεύς bore the special sense of Hmperor; and, to express 
the lowlier rank of King, the word ῥήξ was imported bodily 
from the Latin (1). But this was a change of meaning 
which rose out of distinct and known historical causes, and, 
when these historical causes came to end, the usage of 
the Greek language fell back upon what it had been before 
they began. Even now that the constitutions of most 
European kingdoms are so constantly verging towards a 
common model, there is still a good deal of difference between 
one King and another ; and within our own memories, indeed 
within a very few years, there was a greater difference still. 
Yet no one doubts as to who is a King and who is not. Or, 
if any such doubt is raised, the question is always as to the 
claim of this or that particular person to be a King, not as 
to his nght to be called a King if he can make his claim 
good. Till 1806 the rank of Emperor of the Romans, 
King of Germany and Jerusalem, was in theory open to 
every baptized man (2). Till 1795 the rank of King of 
Poland was, not only in theory but in practice, open to all 
men of princely birth in other lands and to the whole nobility 
of the Polish Kingdom. The Polish King often rose from a 
private station and his children often went back to a private 
station. His powers within his own kingdom were narrowly 
limited, perhaps beyond those of any other single ruler that 
ever bore the kingly title. Yet no one ever doubted that a 
King of Poland was a King, that he was entitled to the rank 
and style and other privileges of a King, as much as if his 
kingship had been at once hereditary and absolute. In 
short, wide as have been the differences between one King 
and another in different times and places, there is still a 
common idea which runs through all the various types 
of kingship, and which stamps all Kings everywhere as 
members of the same class. In modern Europe, taken alone, 


90 THE KING LEC... 


the definition of kingship would perhaps not be very hard 
to make. Asa rule, wé may set it down that the King is 
the head of a nation, accepting the rough definition of 
a nation which I have tried to give in a former le ture. 
The chief exception to this definition is found in those 
German princes who within the present century have 
taken the kingly title. I think that we all must feel that 
they are an exception. We somehow cannot help feeling 
that a King of Bavaria or Saxony is hardly, in the Homeric 
phrase, so much of a King (3) as a King of Spain or Sweden. 
In the case of Wiirttemberg this is felt still more strongly ; 
for Saxony and Bavaria answer, in name at least, though not 
in boundaries, to divisions of the German nation so great and 
ancient that they might almost’ pass for nations themselves 
(4). In Italy, on the other hand, if there was any incon- 
gruity in the separate kingdoms of Sardinia and the Two 
Sicilies, that incongruity has come to an end (5). On the 
whole, speaking roughly—and it is only very roughly that 
we can speak on the whole matter—it certainly seems that 
we expect a King to be the chief of a nation. It seems also 
to belong to the idea of a King that he should be, both in 
rank and in power, the first person in that nation._That he 
must be the first in rank need hardly be argued, and I think 
we may say, that, however narrowly the power of a King 
may be limited by law, he still remains first in power. Even 
where the royal authority had sunk to the lowest ebb, as in 
Poland and at one time in Sweden, though the power of the 
King was less than that of some other powers in the State, 
yet he had no personal superior or equal. Then again, 1 
seems implied in the idea of a King that he should hold his 
office for life, as distinguished from the President or other 
republican magistrate who is appointed only for a fixed term 
(6). And I think it also belongs to the idea of kingship 
that the office should be permanent; that is, that the King 
should be succeeded by another King, whether the law of 
succession be hereditary, elective, or of any other kind. Sulla 
and Cesar, as Perpetual Dictators, held more than royal 


#V RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF KINGSHIP 91 


authority for life; but, as the office was a special creation for 
their own. lives, they were not Kings, as we very clearly see 
by Cesar’s longing to be a King (7). Again, in modern 
congeption, the King, whether his power be great or little, is 
irresponsible. The royal command is no excuse for an illegal 
act done by another, but there is no legal way of punishing 
an illegal act done by the King himself: History indeed will 
show that this last is a very modern conception (8) ; still it does 
seem now to be part of the idea of a King which isas fully 
recognized as any other. On the whole, we should perhaps 
not be far wrong if we define a King as a chief of a nation,, 
first in rank and power in that nation, holding a permanent 
office for life, and, m modern conception at least, personally 
irresponsible for his actions. To this we must, till very 
lately, have added that he must be admitted to his office 
with ecclesiastical rites. Iam not sure that it is not here 
that the true mystery and dignity of kingship really lay. 
The crowned and anointed King was something different from 
any other mortal, however high in rank and power. A 
divinity hedged him in which did not hedge in either the 
republican magistrate or the hereditary prince of less than 
kingly rank. The ecclesiastical consecration of the King 
is the expression in a Christian shape of the same feeling 
which, among most heathen nations, has made it essential 
that the King should be the child of the Gods (9). In 
either case the King is sacred in a way in which other rulers 
are not. But this religious sanction of kingship, which was 
its very essence a few centuries back, seems to be gradually 
uying out in Europe. Two causes have brought this about. 
One is the separation between ecclesiastical and temporal 
matters which prevails in many countries, and the general 
unwillingness in all countries to acknowledge any ecclesiastical 
influence in temporal things. The other cause is of quite 
another kind. When lawyers ruled that the King never died, 
that the throne never could be vacant, that the new King 
was King as soon as the breath was out of the last King’s 
body, they took away all the force and meaning of the 


92 THE KING LECT. 


ancient crowning rite. Whatever a coronation is now, it is 
no longer the actual atlmission to the kingly office. No 
wonder then that in several kingdoms of Europe the rite has 
been dispensed with altogether. 


The modern or lawyers’ theory of the Crown as the 
fountain of honour, the fountain of justice, the original 
grantor of all property in land, the source from which the 
Assembly of the Nation itself derives its being, is, I need 
hardly say, simply a lawyers’ theory. History has nothing 
to do with it, except, as was done long ago by the strong 
hand of John Allen, to trace the steps by which it grew 
up (10). The primeval kingship, whether Greek, Latin, or 
Teutonic, was something of quit® another kind. The King 
was not the lord of the soil, but the chieftain of the people. 
The origin of modern kingship can easily be traced up, as 
Allen has traced it, to the gradual infusion of doctrines 
borrowed from Imperial Rome—indirectly therefore from the 
monarchies of the East—into the simple political creed of 
our forefathers (11). And it is among our forefathers and 
kinsmen, both in our own island and on the Teutonic main- 
land, that we can best trace the growth of kingship, the 
chieftainship of the nation, out of the chieftainship of the 
smaller elements out of which the nation was formed. We 
have seen that both in Greece and in Italy the growth of 
strictly national life was checked by the early growth of the 
city life. The same cause equally hindered the growth of 
kingship, according to our conception of 1t. In Greece and 
Italy, when we get our first glimpses of those lands, we δι. 
a fuller developement of kingly government than we see 
among the Teutonic nations at the time when we get our 
first glimpses of them. But the same causes which led to 
this speedy growth of kingship in Greece and Italy also 
brought it more speedily to an end. In Greece, above all, 
as we see it in the Homeric picture, every settlement has its 
own King. But then, at least in the more advanced parts 
of Greece, every settlement is a city, and kingship in a single 


fv CHARACTER OF GREEK KINGSHIP 93 


city is not a form of government which is likely to last. 
The Greek King is a King in the fullest sense of the word ; 
he is, in truth, far more of a King than either his Italian or 
his Seutonic parallel. His claim to his throne might satisfy 
a Court divine of the reign of Charles the First. He is no 
mere chief, no mere magistrate, either chosen by the people 
or responsible to the people; the mortal King on earth 18 
the living image of the immortal King on Olympos. He is 
at once his child and his representative among men. The 
Homeric King is Zeus-born and Zeus-nourished ; he comes 
of the divine stock, and he rules by the divine commission. 
The sceptre which he wields is the gift of the God from 
whom alone he holds his right to wield it. That sceptre 
passes on from father to son by a right as strictly hereditary 
as the sceptre of David or of Hugh Capet (12). The 
succession may be disturbed by foreign conquest or, more 
rarely, by domestic revolution; but no Comitia, no Gemdt, 
was ever held in any Hellenic city, to decide, by an ordinary 
process of the law, who should be placed by the will of the 
people upon a vacant throne (13). The divine origin, the 
divine authority, of the Kings of heroic Greece, stand out in 
strange contrast with the narrow extent of their territory, 
with the narrow range of their powers, and with the 
unpretending simplicity of their manner of life. The King, 
Zeus-born and Zeus-nourished as he is, does not rule by his 
own will. We are dealing with a state of things too early 
to speak of law and constitution, but the King can rule only 
according to the customs and traditions of his people (14). 
re can rule only by the help of his Council of Elders and 
with the good will of the general Assembly of his whole 
folk. Nothing of the pomp and circumstance either of 
modern or of Eastern kingship surrounds him. His house 
is accessible to all; his personal life is spent in the same 
way, at once simple and public, as the life of any other 
member of the Commonwealth. Divine as he 18, no wide 
barrier parts him off from the other chiefs of his people. 
He is perhaps only one among many bearers of the kingly 


94 THE KING LECT, 


title. Even within the narrow bounds of Ithaké, there were 
many Kings besides the divine Odysseus (15). We have 
the picture of this form of government only in a legendary 
and poetical shape; but of the reality of the state of tlings 
described in the Homeric poems, and among them of the 
real existence of the heroic kingship, I at least have never 
entertained a doubt. 

From Greece we will turn to Italy. We have there no 
Homer to set before us a living picture of the earliest. 
civilized times of the country, but we have the universal 
tradition of all time that there had been Kings both in 
Rome and in other Italian cities, although, in the historical 
days of Rome, kingly rule had, both at Rome and in other 
Italian cities, become a thing of the past. And here I will 
bring in another argument, in case any sceptic should be 
found daring enough to hint that the existence of Kings, 
whether at Rome or at Athens, rests so wholly on the 
evidence of poetry and legend that it cannot be made a 
matter of serious political argument or comparison. To 
discuss the value of the sources either of old Greek or of old 
Italian history would carry me too far away from my subject ; 
but the existence both of the early Hellenic and the early 
Italian kingship can be proved by a line of argument almost 
stronger than contemporary evidence itself. The existence 
of the early kingship can be proved by the argument from 
survivals, from the traces which it left behind among the 
institutions of later times. Had Rome never had Kings, the 
names Jnterrex and Interregnun could never have been 
found among her republican institutions down to the last 
days of the Commonwealth. No one would ever have given 
the name of Jnterregnum to the time which sometimes came 
between two consulships—no one would ever have given the 
name of Jnterrex to the magistrate who held the chief power 
during such an occasional vacancy—unless there had been 
a, time when the Jnterregnum had been the time, not between 
the terms of office of two Consuls, but between the reigns 
of two Kings, unless there had been a time when the Intervexr 


I¥ SURVIVALS OF KINGSHIP 95 


really was, as his name implies, the magistrate who was to 
preside at the election, not of Consuls, but of a King (16). 
These names would of themselves be enough, in the absence 
of hietory or tradition, to prove that Rome once had Kings. 
And we may add that they prove, not only that Rome once 
had Kings, but that those Kings were elective and not 
hereditary. So again, the fact that the title of King still 
remained at Rome as the style of one of the priests of the 
national religion proves that there once had been Kings who 
more truly deserved the name. There could never have 
been a Rex sacrificulus unless he had been a survival of a 
real Rew (17). No one would have given the kingly name 
to a petty priestly functionary, unless the received legend 
had been true. That title shows of itself there once had 
been Kings who were judges and rulers and generals, as well 
as priests. It shows that their civil and military functions 
had been transferred to others, while some religious motive 
made it needful that there should still be one who bore 
the title of King, in order to do those priestly acts which 
a King alone could do. We may be sure that, however 
meaningless a name may become, it is never meaningless 
in its first use, and that the words Interregnum, Interrez, 
and Rex sacrificulus, could never have been found except in 
a State which had once been governed by Kings. These 
survivals of kingship under the Commonwealth prove that 
there had been an earlier time of real kingship, just as the 
phantom Consuls and Tribunes under the Empire would of 
themselves be enough to prove that Consuls and Tribunes 
k-d once been active powers in the State (18). Had we no 
record of the deeds of either Cesar, the Fasti alone would 
teach us that the Empire had grown out’of an earlier 
commonwealth. -So in Greece, the Spartan Kings were 
something more than survivals; they held the kingly office 
itself, greatly shorn of its ancient powers, but keeping up 
all its ancient religious sanctity (19). Still they are survivals 
so far as this. It is inconceivable that the Spartan king- 
ship, as we see it in the historic times, could ever have been 


96 THE KING LECT. 


devised as a new thing ; the existence of Kings with such 
small powers shows of itself that there had once been Kings 
with greater powers. But besides the Kings of Sparta, 
there was a King at Argos as late as the Persian , War. 
We know nothing as to the exact extent of his powers, 
and we may suspect that his kingship had been greatly 
cut down from the kingship of Diomédés and Témenos. 
Still, as he is put on a level with the Spartan Kings, it 
may seem that he still retained the functions of general 
(20). And at Athens we have in the King Archon, the 
βασιλεύς of the days of the democracy, the exact parallel 
to the Rex sacrificulus at Rome (21). No people would have 
given the title of King to a magistrate appointed by lot for 
a single year, if it had not once been ruled by real Kings— 
if there had not been functions which, it was held, could be 
rightly done by no one but a King, and which the nominal 
King of later times was appointed in order to discharge. 

The existence of kingship then in the early days both of 
Greece and of Italy may be set down as an undoubted fact. 
But such light as we have sets before us the old Italian 
kingship as something widely differing from the kingship 
of the heroic days of Greece. The difference is, no doubt, 
partly owing to the difference in the character of the two 
nations, partly to the different nature of the evidence from 
which we have to learn anything about their early polity. 
And again, the difference in the nature of our evidence is, 
in some degree at least, owing to the difference in the 
character of the two nations. In Italy we have no Homer; 
we have not even such approaches to a Homer as we have 
among our own forefathers and kinsfolk; but it is doubtless 
owing to the difference between the Greek and Italian 
character that we have no Italian Homer. It is no wonder 
then if an old Achaian King comes before us surrounded by 
a poetic halo, while the Roman King seems a person almost 
as prosaic and matter-of-fact as the Consul who follows 
after him. A desperate attempt to transfer Greek ideas 
into Latium may call Romulus the son of a God and Numa 


ιν ROMAN KINGSHIP ELECTIVE 97 


the husband of a Goddess (22); but the constitution-making 
of Ancus and of Servius is as much a matter of everyday 
life, of everyday truth and falsehood, as the constitution- 
maxing of Licinius or of Sulla (23). But on one point 
tradition cannot well have gone astray, and on that point 
we have seen that the unerring argument from survivals 
steps in to confirm the tradition. The Greek kingship was 
hereditary ; the Italian, at all events the Roman, kingship 
was elective. The Roman kingship was not confined to any 
divine race ; it was not even confined to the citizens of the 
Commonwealth ; it was open to the stranger, to the captive, 
perhaps even to the slave (24). Such a system might in 
practice give Rome much better Kings, but it swept away 
all the mystery and divinity of kingship. A Roman King 
might be the worshipper, the favourite, of Jupiter Optimus 
Maximus; but he was not his child. Ancus and Servius 
might be Jove-nourished, as well as Agamemnon and 
Achilleus; but they were not Jove-born. It may be that 
we see the Roman kingship only in a later form. It may be 
that an earlier hereditary kingship had gone before it, and 
that the elective kingship of our traditions was only a step 
in that course the next step in which exchanged elective 
Kings for Consuls. But it is just as likely that the two 
modes of succession, the hereditary and the elective, stood, 
each alone in its purity, in the old Achaian and in the old 
Italian polity, while in the old Teutonic polity we find the 
mingling together of the two. At all events, it is a thing 
to be noted that, in a Commonwealth like Rome, where 
‘amily traditions, family influences, and family character 
play so great a part, there should have been no one amung 
the proudest patricians who dared to claim a descent from 
the first founder of the city (25). 

Now the great distinction between the history of kingship 
in ancient Greece and Italy and its history among the 
Teutonic nations lies in this: the Teutoni¢g kingship went 
on and flourished, and grew into the kingship of modern 
Europe, while the Greek and Italian kingship for the most 

H 


98 THE KING LECT. 


part died out, and left ony survivals such as those which I 
have just been speaking vf. This, it seems to me, was the 
necessary fate of kingship, when the kingdom was confined 
to a single city. The tendencies of a city community: are 
essentially republican. They may be aristocratic or they 
may be democratic, but in either case they are opposed to 
the government of a single person for life. The awe and 
mystery of kingship are out of place when a King goes in 
and out before the eyes of all his subjects, as the King of a 
single city must do. At Rome, where the King had less 
divinity about him, the change from Kings to Consuls was a 
mere constitutional change; it was hardly so great a change 
as when the exclusive patrician government was broken 
down, and the consulship was thrown open to plebeians. If 
it was thought that the State would be better governed by 
placing at its head two Consuls chosen for a year, rather 
than a King chosen for life, there was no reason why the 
change should not be made. In Grecce, where the King 
had a greater share of divinity about him, the change was 
probably harder ; it was certainly more gradual. In Sparta, 
the most conservative of Greek States, kingship always went 
on. The power of the King might be lessened; he might 
cease to be the real head of the State; he might be provided 
with a colleague, and might be made responsible to other 
powers in the Commonwealth ; but the kingship of the sons 
of Héraklés was something too holy to be utterly swept 
away. Small as might be his real powers, the King, living 
or dead, was the object of a reverence which was shared by 
no mere elective magistrate; and bitter was the taunt when 
the deposed King, who had sunk to the discharge of some 
lowlier function, was asked by his former colleague how it 
felt to be a magistrate after being a King (26). Thus the 
Herakleid kingship lived on, and, living on, it was able in 
the last days of Sparta to win back its ancient powers, and 
the last Kleomenés could stand forth in the eyes of Hellas 
as a King indeed (27). Even in the less conservative Athens 
kingship died out but slowly, and it is to be remarked that 


IV TRANSITION FROM KINGS TO ARCHONS 99 


j 
the cause which tradition gives for the abolition of kingship 


at Athens is exactly the opposite to that which tradition 
gives as the cause for its abolition at Rome. The Athenians 
decr.ed that they would have no more Kings because Kodros 
was so good; the Romans decreed that they would have no 
more Kings because Tarquinius was so evil (28). In the 
former reason, whether it be historical or not, we can see a 
sign of that religious reverence which belonged to kingship 
in Greece, but which did not belong to it at Rome. The 
Athenian tradition went on to say that the first change still 
left the supreme power held for life by a member of the 
ancient kingly family. But the Archon was now responsible ; 
he was doubtless also elective; he was chosen, like our own 
ancient Kings, from a single royal family. Next, the post 
was held for ten years only, but it was still confined to 
members of the same house (29). It was not till the rule 
of a single person was abolished, till a board of nine Archons 
took the place of one, that other families were allowed to 
share the supreme dignity with the house of Kodros. And, 
when we remember that one of these nine elective magistrates 
still held a nominal kingship, we may believe that the title 
of βασιλεύς had all along gone on, in some secondary way, 
alongside of the vaguer name of ἄρχων (30). The rest of 
Athenian history consists in a series of changes by which 
the powers of the Archons were gradually transferred to 
other bodies in the State, to the popular assembly, to the 
popular courts of justice, to the magistracy of the Ten 
Generals (31). The Archonship, the vestige of ancient 
kingship, might be cut down to a shadow; but it was too 
holy a thing to be altogether swept away. It lived on 
through all changes, till at last, when it was a shadow indeed, 
it was again fora moment united with more than kingly 
power. There came a time when Hadrian, Imperator and 
Augustus of Rome and of the world, did not deem it beneath 
him to be also, for a single year, the Archon by whose name 
that year was marked in the annals of the democracy of 
Athens (32). 


100 THE KING LECT, 


one 


The Roman kingshif, fared otherwise. The revolution 
which swept away the thing itself swept it away far more 
thoroughly. There were no such gradual stages to break 
the fall of the elective kingship of Rome as broke the fall 
of the hereditary kingship of Athens. It 15 ἃ mere conjecture 
that a special right to a share in the chief magistracy was 
for a moment reserved to the house of the fallen King (33). 
At all events, Rome had nothing answering to the archonship 
for life or for ten years. Into the place of the King chosen 
for life there at once stepped the two Consuls, or rather 
Preetors, chosen for a single year. But the point is that 
the Consuls did step into the place of the King, and that 
they kept it. Where kingship had nothing specially divine 
about it, where kingly government was put an end to, not 
because of the virtues, but because of the crimes of the 
King, there was no need to deal very tenderly with the 
kingly house or with the kingly office. But, on the other 
hand, there was not at Rome any such wish as there was 
at Athens to do away with the kingly power. At Athens 
the archonship went on, but its duties were gradually cut 
down to a routine of religious and lesser judicial functions. 
The Archons neither commanded the armies of the State 
nor presided in its Assemblies. The Polemarch, with his 
warlike title, became as mere a survival as the βασιλεύς with 
his kingly title (34). But at Rome: the kingly power 
remained ; it was indeed put imto commission, but nothing 
was taken away from its authority, and not much from 
its dignity. On great emergencies, the single kingship 
rose again for a six months’ space in the person of the 
Dictator ; Preetors, Censors, Curule Atdiles, arose by the 
side of the Consuls: as all shared somewhat of kingly 
power, so all shared somewhat of kingly worship. Magistrates 
who still bore about them such badges of dignity as 
“ΤῊ 6 purple gown, 
The axes and the curule chair, the car and laurel crown ;” 

magistrates who presided in the assemblies of Senate and 
People (35), and who commanded the armies of the common- 


IV KINGSHIP IN MACEDONIA AND EPEIROS 101 


~~ 


wealth with all the authority of the ancient Kings, point 
to a far different state of feeling from that which was ever 
Jessening the power of the Athenian Archons. Athens and 
Rome alike abolished the kingly title and office, but at 
Athens the kingly power was abolished as well as the kingly 
office ; at Rome the kingly power went on, held for short 
terms, and divided among many holders, but still never 
wholly swept away. And mark the consequence. In Greece 
the kingly power, and more than the kingly power, came 
back again in many of her cities under the form of the 
tyranny. But the tyranny was ever unlawful; the definition 
of the Tyrant is that he held kingly power in a common- 
wealth where there was no King by law. But just as at 
Sparta the lmgering on of a nominal kingship made 
Kleomenés able to change the shadow into a reality, so 
at Rome it was found that the great powers with which 
the magistrates of the commonwealth were clothed opened 
the way for bringing back the rule of one under another 
form. Had the same man at Athens been at once Archon, 
General, and Prytanis, he would still have been far from 
being King or Tyrant; but at Rome, when all the great 
powers of the State were gathered together in the hands 
of a single man, it was found that their union made an 
Emperor. 
The heroic kingship then died out in Greece, and in 
Italy too, if it ever existed there in its strictly heroic form. 
But it is well to mark that it went on in those kindred and 
neighbouring lands which had so much in common with 
Greece, but in which the fully-developed system of Greek 
city life was never established. The Macedonians, and 
the people of the land vaguely called Epeiros, the Molossians, 
Chaonians, and Thesprotians, are best looked on as unde- 
veloped Hellénes, as Greeks among whom the tribe never 
altogether gave way to the city. Among them then the 
ancient kingship went on in the historic times. But we 
may see how, as they came more and more within the range 
of directly Hellenic influences, they gradually approached to 


102 THE KING LECT, 


ἴ 
Hellenic political life, This might have happened in 
Macedonia, if her great Kings had thought it enough to 
become the pupils of Greece, instead of becoming at once 
her pupils and her conquerors. In Epeiros it did happen. 
By the time of the Peloponnesian war, kingship had been 
done away with both in Chaonia and in Thesproétia. Chaonia 
indeed was passing through a stage through which Athens 
and other Greek states had passed. She chose two annual 
chief magistrates; but she chose them out of a single ruling 
house (36). Among the Molossians kingship lived on, but 
it lived on to supply, in the Epeirote Alexander and the 
more famous Pyrrhos, Hellenic champions against the 
Barbarians of the West. But in the end kingship was 
swept away there also, and in the latest days of Grecian 
freedom, Epeiros, now fully acknowledged as a Greek State, 
holds an honourable place among the Federal Common- 
wealths of Hellas (37). Such a national promotion was 
well deserved by a nation among whom King and people 
met face to face, where the King swore to obey the laws, 
and where the people swore to preserve the kingdom to 
him as long as he obeyed them. In Macedonia itself, 
the kingly power was kept within bounds, if not by so 
well-balanced a constitution as this, yet at least by the 
frequent gathering, whether at set times or only when 
occasion called for them, of armed assemblies of the 
Macedonian people (38). But a Macedonian republic was 
unheard of, till 1t suited the crooked policy of Rome to part 
out the conquered kingdom into four dependent Common- 
wealths (39). But long before that time, Macedonian Kings 
in other lands had set themselves free from the fetters of 
Macedonian kingship, and indeed from most of the restraints 
of European life. In the Macedonian kingdoms of Asia and 
Egypt we see the old hmited kingship of the house of 
Témenos strangely changed into the full despotism of the 
East, and yet more strangely allied with the full intellectual 
culture of Greece, though, save here and there in an outlying 
colony (40), without any trace of her political freedom. 


IV GROWTH OF THE EMPEROR OF THE ROMANS 1038 


But, before Ptolemies and Selevkids had founded their 
lesser thrones, an union of functions no less incongruous had 
been seen in the person of him of whose dominion they were 
glat to part out the fragments, Strange indeed was the 
mixture of powers which Alexander held when he was at 
once King of Kings on the throne of Cyrus, lawful King 
of the free people of Macedonia, and elective chief of the 
Hellenic confederacy by the vote of the Corinthian Synod (41). 

Another union of functions no less strange arose in after 
times, which leads us, in this inquiry into the forms of early 
Aryan kingship, from one main branch of our subject to 
another. The partition of the ancient powers of the Roman 
Kings had formed the various magistracies of the Roman 
Commonwealth. They formed a strong and dignified 
Executive, alongside of which Senate and People alike 
could hold their fitting place. In after days, when Senate 
and People alike had shown themselves unworthy to rule, 
the union of the various powers of the State in a single 
hand again brought back a monarchy, though a monarchy 
now no longer constitutional, but despotic. Czesar, Father 
of his Country, High Pontiff of the Gods, Consul of the 
Commonwealth, Prince of the Senate, Imperator of the 
Army, and himself wielding also that Tribunitian power 
which was meant to be the check on all the other powers, 
was, in truth, master of Rome and of the world (42). By 
his side the old magistracies went on as shadows, and the 
Imperial Consul himself deigned to take one of his own 
subjects as his colleague in that ‘temporary dignity (43). 
That dignity lingered on, till at last it was again by chance 
united with something of real power and honour; and the 
consulships of Theodoric (44), of Boétius (45), of Belisarius 
(46), may at least count for more than the Athenian archon- 
ship of Hadrian and the Athenian generalship of Constantine 
(47). And the master of Rome and of the world could still 
say, like Julius himself, “I am Cesar, not King” (48). He 
might be βασιλεύς in the tongue of his Greek subjects (49) ; 
he might clothe himself with the robes and diadem of 


104 THE KING LECT. 


Eastern kingship ( 50); ven in his own city his dominion 
might be regnum (51), his house might be regia (52), his 
wife might be regina (53), but he himself never dared to 
call himself, ho flatterer ever dared to call him, by the 
forbidden and dreaded title of Rew (54). Since the Regifu- 
gium of the Tarquins, Rome never hada King, till a King 
came to her from quite another stock and in quite another 
guise. Step by step, she took Kings of Teutonic race within 
the pale of her honours; she had Alaric to her general (55); 
she had Chlodwig to her Consul; she had Pippin to her 
Patrician (56); till at last the spell of spells was broken, 
and she had Charles to her Cesar and Augustus. The 
Imperial style of Rome and the kingly style of Germany 
were joined in the hands of the Emperor of the Romans, 
the King of the Franks and Lombards. Still Rome herself 
had not yet a King; it was a later stage still which joined 
into one style the powers which were as yet distinct in the 
same hands, and which gave the world that long line of 
Reges Romanorum which reaches from Henry of Franconia 
to Joseph of Austria, and which there may still be some 
living who remember (57). The Empire of Rome and the 
Kingship of Germany were now fairly merged in one; we 
have traced the one to its ending; we must now trace the 
other from its beginning. 


Nothing can be plainer, both from the description given 
by Tacitus and from the narrative in our own English 
Chronicles, that kingship, in the distinctive sense, was 
not universal, and therefore we may safely infer not imme- 
morial, among the Teutonic nations. He distinguishes those 
tribes which had Kings from those which had none, and 
he distinctly marks one most important difference between 
Kings and lesser chieftains: the Kings. were chosen for 
their nobility, the lesser chieftains, the duces or principes, for 
their personal merit (58). We here see plainly enough the 
practice as to the appointment of Kings which was universal 
among all the Teutonic, and, as far as 1 know, among the 


lV CHARACTER OF TEUTONIC. KINGSHIP 105 


Slavonic nations also, and which seems the most natural 
in an early state of society. On the one hand there is no 
strict law of hereditary succession; on the other hand the 
kingly office is not put up to indiscriminate competition 
among the whole nation. As at Rome, the people have 
a voice in choosing their ruler, but as in Greece, the King 
must come of a special and a divine stock; the ruler of men 
must be the child of the ruler of the Gods; the patriarch to 
whom he traces up his pedigree must be no other than 
Woden himself (59). Thus far our fathers felt with the 
Achaians of the days of Homer. But they felt too with the 
practical mind of the Roman, that the rule of men could not 
be safely trusted to the chances of mere hereditary succession ; 
the sentiment of kingly descent was satisfied if the King 
came of the divine stock, while some degree of fitness for his 
office was secured by a free choice among those in whose veins 
the sacred blood of Woden flowed. The King was the noblest 
among the noble; he was, as his name speaks, the embodi- 
ment of the kin; he was the leader of the nation, the choice 
of the nation, the nation, as it were, itself incarnate in the 
person of a single man. Kingship was an office; it was an 
office which, like any other office, the nation gave and the 
nation could take away (60). But it was something more than 
an office; it was the privilege of the chosen house which 
extended itself beyond the actual holder of the office to all 
the members of the cynecyn, the stock of stocks, the stock 
from which alone Kings could be chosen, and of which every 
member was in some sort kingly (61). A kingship which was 
hedged in by such divinity as this might seem as if 10 must 
have been in the strictest sense immemorial. as if it would 
be wholly impossible to fix the time or the cause of its 
beginning ; and yet, as I just before said, it is certain that 
the Teutonic kingship, as a form of government, was not 
immemorial. In the days of Tacitus, kingship was stall the 
exception among the German nations, and it is quite certain 
that among one great division of the German people kingship 
remained unknown till national independence came to an 


106 THE KING LECT, 


end. The Old-Saxong never had Kings till they had to 
acknowledge one who was King of the Franks and Lombards 
also (62). And among the Saxons who crossed over the sea 
to Britain, as well as among their Anglian and Jutish fellows, 
kingship was unknown till after they were firmly established 
on British ground (63). Mighty and worshipful as was the 
Teutonic King, clothed as he was with the mysterious 
holiness of a child of the Gods, he and his office were still, 
in some sort, novelties. There had been a time when 
kingship had been unknown; there were branches of the 
race in which it always remained unknown. In fact there 
can be little doubt that, wherever a Teutonic King is found, 
his kingship had displaced an earlier government of chiefs 
who bore the lowlier, but more ancient, titles of Haldormen 
or Heretogan. 

The key to this seeming contradiction would seem to be 
found in this, that the King represents the national as 
distinguished from the tribal stage of political developement. 
The lowher chiefs, Ealdormen or Dukes, were the chiefs 
of separate tribes ; as the union of tribes grew into a nation, 
the nation chose a King as the chief of all. They chose him 
perhaps because he was in some sort a King already. Some 
faint signs may be seen in our glimpses of the days of our 
earliest fathers which look as if there were kingly houses 
before there was sucha thing as kingly government. It would 
seem that the kingly house, the cynecyn, the noblest among the 
noble, the house which most truly embodied the whole being of 
the race, was called, when the nation felt the need of a common 
chief, to take its place at the head of all. The house which 
was already kingly in point of descent became kingly in point 
of political power. That is to say, kingship is the rule of the 
noblest, the rule of those who spring from the cynecyn, the rule 
of the cyn itself embodied in its highest members. In this 
way we may say that the King became a King because he was 
a King already. He became Rex, because he was, before all 
men, generosus ; he became the ruler of men, because he was 
already the highest among them. In the far-off Sanscrit a 


IV CHRISTIAN THEORY OF KINGSHIP 107 


kindred line of thought has producec a cognate title, and we 
see in the distant Ganaka a closer approach in name to our 
own Aing than in the nearer Rex and βασιλεύς (64). The 
Teutonic King reigned—rixode—over his rice, his regnwm ; 
but he took his title, not from his office, but from his 
dignity. He was not the mere Rex, the mere ruler; he was 
the King, the chief of the kin on earth, the man who could 
boast of kindred with the powers of Heaven. 

With the introduction of Christianity, the King’s claim to 
reverence as the child of the Gods came to an end. The 
pedigree of the kingly house was still traced up to Woden ; 
but, as the Cretans showed the tomb of Zeus, so it was now 
found out that Woden had been only a mortal man, the 
descendant of Noah and Adam in such and such a degree 
(65). But the King must still have a sacred character 
of some kind about him. The Hebrew rite of anointing had 
come into use as the inauguration ceremony of the Emperors, 
and from them it was extended to Kings of lower degree. 
The King’s commission was still divine; but its divinity no 
longer consisted in descent from the false God of the 
heathen; it was divine, because it was bestowed with 
ecclesiastical rites by the highest ministers of the Church 
within his kingdom. Now, how far did this change affect the 
real nature and extent of the kingly power? It swept away 
one form of mystery and sanctity, but it put another form in 
its stead. We might perhaps say that it swept away the 
sanctity of the race, while it increased the sanctity of the 
person. Of all doctrines the most opposed to any kind 
o: Christian teaching is that which sees any exclusive 
virtue, which acknowledges any exclusive privilege, in 
particular races or families. In a Christian commonwealth, 
the law may decree hereditary succession, whether to the 
Crown or to anything else; but the law decrees it simply 
because such hereditary succession is deemed to work for the 
common good, not because there is any inherent excellence in 
this or that particular line. Christianity has had to struggle 
with exclusive prejudices of this kind, just as it has had 


108 THE KING LECT, 


to struggle with the -vorld-wide sin of slavery, itself only 
another outgrowth of the same exclusive feeling. Under 
Christian influences, the sentiment of birth may remain 
as a sentiment; it may remain in the form of pouitical 
institutions, whether we deem them good or bad; but its 
inherent sanctity passes away. When thelberht plunged 
beneath the waters of baptism, his special privileges, his 
special sanctity, as a son of Woden were washed away for 
ever. The sanctity of the Christian King, the Anointed of 
the Lord, was of another kind; it was a sanctity of person 
and office, not of descent. The King was admitted to 
share somewhat of the official holiness of the priest and 
the Bishop. But that holiness was purely official; it was 
a ‘holiness bestowed and measured according to an acknow- 
ledged law; it was bestowed by a competent authority, and 
by a competent authority 1t might be taken away. The 
change from the son of Woden to the Anointed of the Lord 
clothed the King with even higher personal worship than 
he had held before. But it brought out more strongly the 
notion that the King held an office, a trust, bestowed on 
him for the common good of his people. Christianity there- 
fore made it easier to choose freely within the royal house ; 
it made it easier, in case of need, to choose beyond the 
bounds of the royal house; it made it easier, in case of 
need, to remove by legal form a King who had shown 
himself unworthy of the trust which the law had bestowed 
on him. It was by a later change again that the King 
gradually changed from the chief of the people into the 
lord of the land, that the notion of office began again to 
be lost in the notion of possession, and that the kingdom 
began to be looked on as a personal estate, which must, 
like any other estate, pass on from father to son, according 
to some rule of hereditary succession strictly laid down 
beforehand. A strict law of hereditary succession, if it be 
inconsistent with the theory of popular election of the King, 
is no less inconsistent with the theory of his ecclesiastical 
consecration. The object of the crowning and anointing is 


IV CHANGE FROM EALDORMEN TO KINGS 109 


to make a man full King who up to that moment is at 
most only King-elect. But according to the strict doctrine 
of hereditary right, the King is full King already, and his 
crow.ing and anointing sinks into a mere pegeant, empty 
or edifying, as men choose to look upon it. 

The kingship which went through these stages, heathen 
and Christian, came in, as I have already said, gradually. 
In some lands, the Heretogan or Kaldormen, the Duces, 
Principes, Judices, Satrape, and so forth, of the Latin 
writers, long held their ground. Even the smallest king- 
dom was probably formed by the union of several small 
states of this kind. For this process we may find parallels 
far beyond the range of the Teutonic race and even of the 
Aryan family. The Old Testament history sets before us 
the many Kings of Canaan, reigning each one in his own 
city, much like the Kings of heroic Greece. But it also 
sets before us, in the case of Gibeon, at least one city which, 
though not ruled by a King, was a great city, as one of 
the royal cities (66). It tells us how there were Dukes 
of Edom before there were Kings (67); and the history of 
Israel itself shows, perhaps more clearly than any other, 
how a confederacy of kindred tribes might pass into an 
united nation, and how the Judges of the Hebrews, like 
the Judges of the West-Goths, might pass away before the 
power of a single King over the whole folk. And not only 
were there Dukes, Ealdormen, and Judges before there were 
Kings, but, in some cases, nations which had already tried 
kingly government, fell back upon the earlier rule of Dukes, 
caldormen, or Judges. I leave Agyptologers to say what 
amount of historical truth there may be in the tale 
told us by Herodotus, how the single kingdom of Egypt 
was once split "up among twelve confederate Kings. But 
be the tale true or false, the state of things which it 
describes is one that has several parallels in undoubted 
history. The Lombards, after experience of kingly govern- 
ment through several reigns, fell back upon the government 
of separate Dukes, and, according to one account, the 


110 THE KING LECT. 


same thing happened smong ourselves in the West-Saxon 
kingdom (68). This process must be distinguished from 
another, which has something in common with it, and 
which may be looked on as ἃ sort of transition between 
the government of separate Dukes or Ealdormen and -the 
fully established monarchy of later times. In the view 
which we have taken of the origin and nature of kingship, 
it is plain that kingship does not imply monarchy in the 
literal sense. Indeed it should be remembered that, in 
days when the meaning of words was strictly cared for, 
the words “monarch” and “monarchy” were never applied 
to the rule of ordinary Kings, but were reserved for the 
universal dominion of the Emperor (69). Long after an 
union of tribes had reached a feeling of national unity so 
strong that it bore a common name and was capable of 
something like common action—a feeling strong enough to 
lead them to forsake the rule of mere Dukes or Judges 
for that of Kings—it still did not follow that there should 
be only one King in the nation. It was an easy result 
from the original nature of Teutonic kingship, that, where 
the whole house was kingly, where the kingliness of the 
house was the source of its claim to rule, it should be held 
that every member of it had a right to be kingly in office 
as well as in birth. Hence came the constant subdivision 
of a kingdom among a King’s sons, either at his death 
or during his lifetime—a process which fills up nearly 
the whole history of Frankish kingship under Merwings 
and Karlings alike. Hence too the constitution of the 
West-Saxon kingdom among ourselves, the confederate 
principalities each ruled by an Under-king of the kingly 
house, all of them admitting the superiority of the head 
King of the whole people. The notion of a Heptarchy in 
England has long been cast to the winds, but; had men 
chosen -to talk of a Pentarchy in Wessex, there would have 
been something to say for.the name (70). So again, in the 
Scandinavian North, in almost every great expedition we 
find mention of several Kings and of several Earls—the 


IV MANY KINGS IN THE SAME NATION 111 


Earls of course answering to English Ealdormen or Here- 
togan—joined together as leaders of a confederate host. 
And mark that, among the invaders who fell in the great 
slaughter of Brunanburh, among the seven Eurls and the 
five Kings who stayed to feed the wolves and ravens of 
Northumberland, we are told that the Kings were young ; 
we hear nothing of the age of the Earls. Surely this is 
another form of the distinction drawn long before by 
Tacitus. The Kings were chosen for their birth, for their 
kingliness; they might therefore well be young. The 
Earls, we may well believe, were still chosen for their 
personal strength and valour; they therefore might well 
be δημογέροντες, sentores, Ealdormen, in the literal sense of 
the words. | 

In all this, in the crowd of petty Kings who were dis- 
placed to make room for the great kingdoms of later times, 
be it in the very beginning of English kingship under Ida 
in Northumberland or in its later Northern stage under the 
fair-haired Harold of Norway (71), we see the living image 
of the same state of things as we sec in the many Kings 
within the little isle of Ithaké, or in that other royal crowd 
whom Odysseus dealt with so tenderly in the hour of trial 
before Ilios (72). But, while Greek kingship died out in 
Greece itself, while even in Macedonia it lived on only to be 
swallowed up in the dominion of Rome, the kindred Teutonic 
kingship has gone on and flourished down to our own times. 
It has gone on and flourished in modern Europe, while it 
died out in old Greece, mainly because tribes could be 
g..thered into nations, while cities could not. But its fate 
in different European lands has been widely different. In 
all, kingship itself has been more or less aftected by the 
influences which I have already spoken of as working a 
change in its original Teutonic character. In all it has been 
affected by the ecclesiastical ideas which gather round the 
ecclesiastical rite of consecration; in all it has been affected 
by ideas borrowed from the Roman Civil Law; in all it has 
been affected by feudal and territorial notions which taught. 


112 THE KING LECT. 


men to look on kingship as a property rather than an office ; 
in all it has been affectéd by the developement of those ideas 
which grew out of the union of the Teutonic comitatus with 
the Roman tenure of lands by military service (73), The 
sacred character which the King received from thé new 
religion was perhaps only a fair exchange for the sacred 
character which he lost by the abolition of the old. But 
the Teutonic King was neither a despot nor a constitutional 
abstraction ; he was not a lord of the soil, nor was he a mere 
head of an ascending series of feudal chiefs. In different 
ages and countries he has become all these things. In one 
age he became an absolute master, by dint of clothing the 
hereditary King with those attmbutes with which, in the 
theory of the Civil Law, the Roman people, at each election 
of an Emperor, clothed its Imperial Tribune (74). In 
another age the personal relation of lord and man swallowed 
up the relation in which each member of the commonwealth 
stands to its head. But in all the King changed from the 
chief of a people, wherever that people might be found, into 
the ruler of a certain portion of the earth’s surface, by 
whomsoever that portion of the earth’s surface might be 
inhabited. New-fangled territorial titles—King of England, 
King of France, and the like—displaced those ancient titles 
of national chieftainship which were borne alike by the 
King of the Macedonians and the King of the Medes and 
Persians, by the Emperor of the Romans and the King of 
the West-Goths, by the King of the English and the Duke 
of the Normans (75). And as kingship changed from the 
chieftainship of the people to the lordship of the soil—as Ὁ 
changed from an office to a property—as the territorial 
kingdom came to be looked on as a vast estate—so men 
began to think that it was not enough that the King should 
have about him the sentiment which clave to the descendant 
of former Kings, that it was not enough that he should be 
chosen out of the one kingly house; lawyers and courtiers 
began to dream that the territorial property into which they 
had changed the kingly office ought to pass, like any other 


IV HISTORY OF KINGSHIP IV ENGLAND 113 


'- 2 


territorial property, according to some fixed law of hereditary 
succession. They devised for us ali those lawyers’ subtleties 
of primogeniture, representation, and the like, which gave 
our; Crown for a season to Edward of Cvernarvon and 
Richard of Bourdeaux, but which would have bidden Alfred 
to stand aside, and to forbear from touching the inheritance 
of his brother’s child. All these various influences have 
affected kingship in every European kingdom; but it has 
been affected by these several influences in very different 
degrees in different lands. And, if the nature of kingship 
itself has thus come to differ under different circumstances, 
the degree of power attached to the kingly title has differed 
no less. Kingship has come, in different lands, to wear all 
the different forms with a sketch of which I began the 
present lecture. There is still one European land where, as 
in the days of the old Cesars, what seems good to the Prince 
has the force of law (76). There are other lands in which 
the law still clothes the sovereign with vast, though strictly 
defined, powers, but where some of those powers are exercised 
only through advisers in whose choice the sovereign has 
hardly a personal voice, while there are other powers which 
neither sovereign nor minister would for a moment dream of 
exercising at all. If we look to the history of our own land, 
we find in this matter of the developement of kingship, as in 
most others, a stronger historical continuity than elsewhere. 
At no stage of the process which changed the Ealdorman or 
Heretoga of a corner of Hampshire into the King of the 
English and Lord of the Isle of Britain did he ever wholly 
lose the old character of the chief of the people (77). Every 
change which in other lands affected the primitive nature 
of Teutonic kingship was slower in reaching us, and had 
less effect when it did reach us, than it had elsewhere. The 
coming of the Norman handed over the English Crown to 
Kings of foreign speech; but it did not wholly break the 
continuity of English political traditions. Nay rather, it 
was the firm hand of the great William which put the last 


stroke to the work of Ecgberht and Mthelstan, and which 
I 


114 THE KING LECT. 


er 


“πὰ 


made England for ever a realm which, since his day, no man 
has thought of parting 4sunder. And the Conqueror, who 
claimed the Crown by English Law, who professed to rule 
according to iinglish Law, handed down the tradition of 
English Law to all those who came after him. The King 
has been mighty, but the Law has ever been mightier. The 
Laws of King Eadward grew into the Great Charter; the 
Great Charter grew into the Petition of Right; the Petition 
of Right grew into that fuller establishment of our liberties 
which marked the great day when Englishmen for the last 
time chose themselves a King (78). If we look through all 
the stages of our history, we shall, I think, see that of all 
Kuropean nations we have fallen away the least from the old 
heritage of our fathers, and that, when we have fallen away 
from it, we have in many cases only come back to it in other 
forms. We have never wholly cast aside either the hereditary 
or the elective principle; our sovereign is still crowned and 
anointed with the same rites as Eadward, Harold, and 
William, and is still clothed with those powers, ecclesiastical 
as well as temporal, which William knew how to defend 
against Hildebrand himself (79). Even in so small a matter 
as the descent of the Crown among members of the old 
kingly house, no other land can show a succession of Kings 
so nearly unbroken. Nowhere else, even by help of female 
succession, can any royal house trace up its descent to the 
chiefs who, fourteen hundred years back, led the nation into 
the land in which they still dwell. Under Cerdic and Cynric 
the people of the West-Saxons made their first settlement 
in the Celtic land. And ever since—save when for a moment 
the old stock gave way, twice to foreign conquest, once to 
popular election—the children of Cerdic and Cynric have 
ruled over the people of the West-Saxons and over all into 
which the realm of the West-Saxons has grown. Every 
sovereign of Wessex or of England, before and since the 
age of Cnut, of Harold, and of William, has been, at least 
on the female side, the offspring of the first founder of the 
nation (80). 


IV ENGLISH AND CONTINENTéL KINGSHIP 115 


Among our kinsmen on the mainland kingship has run 
another course. Nowhere but in our own island had the old 
Teutonic kingship, like other old Teutonic institutions, the 
same -chance of growing and improving, of modifying itself 
by a purely native growth, on a soil which the utter sweep- 
ing away of an earlier state of things had made as fully 
their own as the land from which our fathers set forth to win 
it. In our island—a world of its own—the Teutonic State 
and the Teutonic kingship could grow up undisturbed by 
Roman influences, till Roman influences came to show them- 
selves in their later forms, ecclesiastical and feudal. Else- 
where, wherever the Teutonic nation and its King established 
themselves on the conquered Roman soil, they stepped at 
once within the magic circle of Roman influences. Some of 
the Teutonic kingdoms which were thus founded on Roman 
soil fell back again, like those of the Vandals in Africa and 
the Goths in Italy, within the grasp of the reviving Roman 
power. The Goth in Spain, himself for a while cut short by 
the Roman revival (81), lived on to fall beneath the yoke of 
invaders foreign alike to Aryan speech and to Christian faith. 
Others were absorbed one by one into the dominion of a 
kindred people mightier than themselves. Step by step, a 
single Teutonic nation rose to the first place, and united 
under the Frankish sceptre the ancestral land of Germany 
and the conquered land of Gaul. But, in so doing, the 
Frankish kingship lost the power which the English king- 
ship still kept, of handing on the unmixed Teutonic traditions 
of earlier times. The fact that the Frankish power never 
pecame wholly Gaulish, that the Teutonic lands of the 
Eastern Franks and of the dependent Allemani and Bavarians 
still formed part of the Frankish dominion, saved that 
dominion from’ becoming wholly Roman: it saved the Frank, 
even on Gaulish soil, from wholly casting away the speech 
and traditions of his fathers. Still the great territorial 
conquest won by the Franks on Roman ground did not fail 
to do its work. When the nation, King, nobles, freemen, sat 
down in the new homes which they had won among a 


116 THE KING LECT. 


conquered people whose civilization was higher than their 
own, they could not keep their old simple social state, their 
old simple political traditions, free from all foreign inter- 
mixture. Me.e increase of dominion cannot fail to add to 
the kingly power (82), and it adds to it still more when 
increase of dominion takes the form of foreign conquest. 
The King who rules according to his own will over the 
greater numbers of the conquered strangers will insensibly 
take to himself a greater share of power than of old, even 
over his own countrymen. Add to this that, in the Gaulish 
land, the Franks found an elaborate system of law, ecclesi- 
astical and civil, fully established; and the Frankish King 
lent no unwilling ear to the Roman priest or the Roman 
lawyer who taught him that he need not look on his power 
as bounded by the restraints put upon it by the customs of 
his own people. The Lord of Gaul, the Advocate of the 
Orthodox Church, might claim to himself all the powers 
which had been exercised by Constantine and Theodosius, 
which were still exercised before his eyes by Justinian or 
Heraclius. At last, under a new and mightier dynasty, the 
two natures of Roman and Teutonic rule were joined in one: 
the Frankish King became the Roman Cesar. But, step by 
step, the kingship of Germany was crushed in pieces beneath 
the weight of the Imperial dignity, and the Lord of the 
World (83) came, as Lord of the World, to have less of real 
power than the lords of very small portions of its surface. 
Between domestic weakness and foreign aggression, the once 
united German Kingdom broke up into a lax Confederation, 
and out of that lax Confederation the kingdom of Henry ot 
Saxony and Rudolf of Habsburg has again sprung to life 
before our eyes (84). Meanwhile the Western part of the 
old Frankish realm fell away from the common centre, and a 
small principality by the Seine, peopled by a fragment of the 
old Celtic race, grew, under the borrowed name of France, 
into one of the foremost powers of the European world. 
While in the Eastern (85), the German, realm, the Crown 
first became purely elective and then practically hereditary 


Iv KINGSHIP IN MODER! 


+ EUROPE 117 


ἰωωαυνσοντων 
ἢ -- 


under elective forms (86), the Crown of the Western France 
became more purely hereditary than that of any other 
kingdom, because there never was lacking a male heir of the 
first patriarch to claim it. But, perhaps part!y for that very 
reason, when the magic spell of that long succession was 
once broken, it has been found harder than in any other land 
to find a stable government of any kind to take the place of 
the unbroken kingship of eight hundred years. In Germany, 
as I have said, the royal power came to nothing, because the 
kingdom split asunder into states which were virtually inde- 
pendent. In France the same thing happened at an earlier 
time; but the Crown contrived to annex the separate 
principalities one by one, and so to establish, step by step, 
a despotism over the whole land. England, after its final 
union, never split asunder. The policy of William secured 
that, though the Crown might be weaker than the united 
nation, yet each single man in the nation, the very highest 
not excepted, should be weaker than the Crown (87). 


In the constitutional monarchies of modern times, the 
Crown is the Executive power; but its free action as such 15 
more or less hampered by the conventional necessity of acting 
by the advice of Ministers who are approved by a majority 
of the Legislature. Kingship has lost nothing of its dignity ; 
it has lost little of its legal powers; what modern practice 
does is to provide the Sovereign with a Mayor of the Palace 
whom the Legislature can practically remove at pleasure. I 
mention this now, because it is of some importance to 
uistinguish between kingly dignity and kingly power. We 
-have seen how, in the Roman Commonwealth, the ancient 
powers of the Kings were not so much taken away as put 
into commission in the hands of the Consuls and other 
magistrates, Something of the same kind has happened in 
some republican states in later times. It is worth noticing 
how, in popular talk, the notion of a Republic seems natur- 
ally to suggest the notion of a President. That is to say, it 


118 THE KING LECT, 


5] 


is taken for granted that the State must have a personal 
head, even though that personal head may be chosen for a 
definite term, and may be subject to legal punishment in 
the case of proved crime. That such a way of speaking 
leaves out of sight most of the great Commonwealths of 
history, that it leaves out of sight the most successful 
Commonwealth of modern times, is a slight matter. It is an 
established maxim among political talkers that the one State 
in Europe where republican institutions are immemorial, the 
one State where they have been fairly tried and have 
thoroughly succeeded, should be left out of sight in all such 
inquiries. People who would be ashamed not to know all 
about the political condition of every other European nation, 
would deem it beneath them to stop and think whether the 
Swiss Confederation or any of its Cantons is governed by 
King, President, or Council (88). History shows that the 
tendency of republican states in general is against vesting 
the Executive power in any single person. There has indeed 
commonly been a chief magistrate, under some title or other ; 
but he has been only the chief of the Executive ; he has not 
been himself the whole of it. He has been, like the Swiss 
President, a mere Chairman of a Council, not, like the 
American President, an independent power in the State. 
The notion that a republic must have a President at its 
head is simply a shadow of kingship. Men have been so 
accustomed to kingly government, to a personal head of the 
State, that it seems natural, even in getting rid of kingship, 
to keep the personal head, and simply to make him elective 
instead of hereditary, appointed for a fixed time instead οἱ 
for life. The American President, in the original conception 
of his office, is a four years’ King; and the early Presidents 
ruled with far more of personal kingly power than the King 
of any kingdom where the modern theory of constitutional 
government is fully established. The cause is obvious: 
hereditary succession gives no guaranty for any personal 
qualifications in the King. His power is therefore not only 


IV POWERS OF THE AMERICA VW PRESIDENT 119 
| 


limited by law, but it is held that, even in the exercise of 
his legal powers, he is bound to follow the advice of Ministers 
who are practically appointed and removed by the popular 
brarfch of the Legislature. But the President, it might be 
thought, need be bound by no such fetters, He is chosen 
for a fixed time: he is chosen, it might be hoped, on account 
of his personal fitness to rule. It might therefore seem to 
follow that, while his office lasts, his personal power ought to 
be greater than that of a constitutional King; it might seem 
to follow that such authority as the law gives him he may 
use purely according to his personal discretion, and that his 
Ministers should be his servants, and not his masters. But 
it is clear that there is a tendency at work to hamper the 
personal freedom of action of the Presidents of the United 
States, in nearly the same way, so far as the different forms 
of the Constitution allow, in which the personal freedom of 
action of the constitutional Kings of Europe is hampered. 
That is to say, though the President is not a King, though 
his position has nothing of kingly dignity, of kingly mystery, 
or of kingly duration, yet his powers are in themselves so 
essentially kingly that it seems an obvious thing to treat 
him as a King, and to give him, like a King, Ministers who 
shall control rather than obey him. The Executive Council, 
such as we see in the Swiss Confederation, alone avoids 
every tendency of the kind. To a body of seven men, chosen 
by the Legislature for the term of its own being, no scrap or 
rag of kingship can cleave (89). 


There is one feature in which it might seem that the 
modern conception, I will not say of kingship, but of royalty, 
has gone back to the ideas of the very earliest times. In 
fully developed constitutional States, the notion of kingship, 
either strictly as an office or strictly as a possession, has well- 
nigh died out. But the notion of royalty as a dignity belong- 
ing to royal personages, as something which cleaves, not only 
to Kings themselves, but to all their kindred and belongings— 


120 | THE KING LECT. 


the notion that such kindred and belongings form a separate 
class or order apart from other men—is stronger now than it 
ever was since men reverenced in their Kings the son of 
Zeus or of θη. In no time or place was kingship, as an 
office or possession, more highly magnified than in the days 
of Elizabeth and her father. But the notion of royalty in 
the modern sense could have no place where the sovereign 
was the child of an English mother, and could trace back her 
descent to ancient Kings through a long succession of un- 
crowned ancestors (90). We have seen that the notion of 
the kingliness of the race is probably older than kingship, 
either as an office or as a possession. It would seem also to 
be more lasting. The feeling which binds all the royal 
houses of Europe together, as members of one class, would 
hardly have been understood by the followers of Thomas of 
Lancaster or Henry of Richmond. It would perhaps have 
been more intelligible to those who, when a number of tribes 
were welded together into a nation, placed, as a matter of 
course, a son of Woden at its head. It would have been 
least of all intelligible in the days when personal rule was at 
its highest in point of real power, at its lowest in point of 
outward dignity. Men marched off into a distant banish- 
ment, or opened their veins to die without a thought of 
resistance, at the mere bidding of a Ceesar who, in outward 
form, was simply the first magistrate of the Commonwealth. 
The successors of that Cresar, Lords of the World, waited on 
by Kings and sovereign Dukes, commanded no such obedi- 
ence. The notion of mere rank and dignity and the notion 
of real power are in themselves distinct. There are times 
when the two are joined together; there are other times 
when they would seem to be not only distinct, but actually 
hostile. 


I have now dealt with the general notions of the State 
itself in its two great forms: as the city and as the tribe 
growing into the nation. I have dealt with its chief, in his 


IV SUMMARY 12] 


ed 


various forms, sometimes the King sinking into the republican 
magistrate, sometimes the republican magistrate growing 
into the King. The next time I come before you I shall 
have to deal no longer with the head of the S‘ate, but with 
its body, with the Assembly of the city or nation in all its 
forms, from the Agoré of the Homeric Achaians to the 
Parliament of the United Kingdom. 


122 THE ASSEMBLY LEON. 


y 
THE ASSEMBLY 


WE have now dealt with the general idea of the State, 
whether as a tribe growing into a nation or as shut up 
within the walls of a single city. From that general idea 
we have passed to the head of the State, to the King. We 
have seen in old Greece the power of the Kings of particular 
cities vanish away, as those cities changed into common- 
wealths, first aristocratic and then democratic. We have 
seen the powers of the Roman Kings put, as it were, into 
commission among the great magistrates of the Republic, 
and then gathered together again, in far more than their old 
strength, in the hands of the Emperors. We have traced 
the origin and growth of Teutonic kingship; we have seen 
how, as the tribe grew into a nation, its chief grew into 
a King; we have seen how the various forms of modern 
European royalty started off from this primitive source, and 
how strangely the greatest among them became for ages 
allied, or rather identified, with the still abiding dignity of 
the Roman Augustus. We have now to turn from the head 
of the State to its body, from the King to the Assembly of 
the People. The body follows the same law as its head. 
Where the city is the commonwealth and the commonwealth 
never stretches beyond its walls, the Assembly may shrink 
up into, or it may never develope itself beyond, the gather- 
ing of a mere oligarchic body. As the highest franchise of 
the city may be shared by all the citizens, or may be con- 


v NO REPRESENTATION IN CITY CO. {MONWEALTHS 123 


fined to the members of an exclusive order, so the sovereign 
Assembly of the commonwealth may be less or greater in its 
numbers. The sovereign body is the Assembly of all those 
citizens who hold the highest franchise, whetl.er they form 
the narrowest oligarchy or the most open democracy. In 
either case, each member of the ruling body discharges his 
own duty in the Assembly in his own person, and not 
through a representative. In a city commonwealth the idea 
of representation, of choosing certain citizens to act on 
behalf of the whole body, is not likely to come into any 
man’s head. Where all the citizens in a democracy, or all 
the citizens of the ruling order in an oligarchy, can 
habitually come together in their own persons, as in a city 
commonwealth they can, it is not likely that they will 
willingly give up their highest right to a few members of 
their own body. They may entrust greater or less powers to 
smaller Councils and to individual magistrates; and the 
Councils and magistrates of an oligarchy will commonly be 
entrusted with far larger and more independent powers than 
the Councils and magistrates of a democracy. But in either 
case the Assembly of the whole people, or of the whole 
privileged class of the people, remains the sovereign power 
of the commonwealth. And, as the Assembly of the city 1s 
not likely to change itself into a representative body within 
its own walls, so it is not likely to merge its own being as a 
sovereign and independent Assembly in any body beyond its 
own walls. If the city be connected with other cities by a 
Federal tie, it may give up to the general Assembly of the 
whole Confederation, the right of deciding on the relations of 
the Confederation to foreign powers, and all other such 
matters as naturally come within the range of Federal 
authority. But the Assemblies of the several cities did not 
in such a case cease to exist; they did not cease to be 
sovereign and independent within the range of all powers 
which they did not expressly give up to the Federal body (1). 
And, stranger still to our notions, among the Confederations 
of Greece even the Federal body itself did not assume a 


124 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 
ὶ 

representative character; as every citizen of the individual 
city had his place in the sovereign Assembly of that city, 
so each citizen of the Confederation had his place in the 
sovereign Aisembly of the Confederation (2). Wherever 
the independent city is the leading political idea, whether 
the city remain absolutely independent for all purposes or 
it 15 content to yield part of its sovereign rights to a Federal 
authority—whether it strictly confines its citizenship to the 
dwellers in its own walls or freely grants it out to all the 
inhabitants of a large country—in either case alike each 
citizen keeps his personal right to attend and vote in the 
sovereign Assembly of the State of which he is a member. 
It seems to be a law of its being that the primary Assembly 
of the city should never grow into or merge itself in the 
representative Assembly of a nation. 

Where, on the other hand, the tribe and not the city 15 
the leading political idea, the case is widely different. We 
have seen how tribes grew into nations, how, from being 
independent political bodies, they sank into mere divisions 
of a greater body. In this process the Assemblies of the 
State follow the same law as the State itself. The tribe and 
the city start from the same point, for in truth the city 1s 
only a tribe, or more than one tribe, surrounded by a wall. 
In the Assembly of the tribe, no less than in the Assembly 
of the city, every man who enjoys the full franchise, every 
freeman of the tribe, has the right to appear in person. 
But, as the tribe merges itself in a greater whole far more 
easily than the city, so the Assembly of the tribe shares a 
like fate. As the tribe ceases to be the State, and becomes 
a mere division of the State—as the chief of the tribe 
becomes a mere subordinate deputy of the King who is the 
chief of the nation (3)—so in the like sort the sovereign 
Assembly of the tribe merges itself in the sovereign 
Assembly of the nation. It may cease to exist altogether, 
or it may go on as a purely local body; but if so, it has 
ceased to be sovereign; it is merely the Assembly of a 
certain division of the State or of its territory; it does not, 


v ARISTOCRATIC AND DEMOCRAT.C ASSEMBLIES 125 


t 
4 


like the several members of a Confederation, retain its 
independent sovereignty within its own range. It is only 
under the most exceptional of circumstances that the tribal 
Assembly can live on through all changes, and: after having 
sunk into the Assembly of a mere corner of a vast kingdom, 
can come forth again as the sovereign Assembly of an 
independent State. In one lucky corner of the world things 
have taken this exceptional course. We cannot see the 
Démos of Athens on his Pnyx; we cannot see the Comitia 
of Rome in the Forum or on the field of Mars; but any man 
who chooses may, on the first Sunday of next May, see the 
Germans of Tacitus with his own eyes (4). 

It must be constantly borne in mind that the true 
difference between an aristockatic and a democratic govern- 
ment, as those words were understood in the politics of old 
Greece, lies in this. In the democracy all citizens, all who 
enjoy civil rights enjoy also political rights. In the aris- 
tocracy political rights belong to only a part of those who 
enjoy civil rights. But, in either case, the highcst authority 
of the State is the general Assembly of the whole ruling 
body, whether that ruling body be the whole people or only 
a part of it. Two great examples of the aristocratic Assembly 
went on into modern times, the Great Council of Venice 
and those great and tumultuous comitia of the whole nobility 
of Poland which came together for the election of a King. 
This aristocratic Assembly, when it came together, was far 
more truly to be called a mob than the Assembly of demo- 
cratic Athens. But it might be argued in return that, if 
the Polish Assembly was an oligarchy as opposed to the 
excluded classes of the nation, the Athenian Assembly was 
also an oligarchy, as opposed to the excluded classes of 
slaves and strangers. It is certain that,in Athens or in 
any other democratic commonwealth, those who enjoyed 
the political franchise were far fewer in number than those 
who were shut out from it. But, according to Greek ideas, 
this in no way interfered with the democratic character 
of the commonwealth and its Assembly. The shutting out 


126 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


of slaves and strangers was as much a matter of course, 
according to Greek ideas, as the shutting out of women 
and children is according to the ideas of nearly every State 
in the world. The constitution of the city community, 
whether aristocratic or democratic, rests wholly on the 
principle of hereditary burghership. The slave of course 
has no rights; that is involved in the very nature of 
slavery (5); neither has the resident stranger who has not 
been adopted into the burghership, even though he and 
his forefathers for generations may have lived and been born 
in the land. The answer to any claim on his part would 
have been that he had his own hereditary burghership. 
somewhere else—let him go and enjoy his civil and political 
rights there. ‘The slaves and strangers who were shut out 
at Athens were, according to Greek ideas, no Athenians ; 
but every Athenian had his place in the sovereign Assembly 
of Athens, while every Corinthian had not his place in the 
sovereign Assembly of Corinth. But the aristocratic and the 
democratic commonwealth both agreed in placing the final 
authority of the State in the general Assembly of all who 
enjoy the highest franchise. From this point all the political 
assemblies of the world, all at least of that part of the world 
with which we are concerned, take their start, and the 
democratic model is the older and purer of the two (6). 
The ways in which distinctions arise between different classes 
in the same State are various, and of some of them I shall 
have to speak in my last lecture. But it is plain that, 
whether we take the city or the tribe for our starting-point, 
the oldest and purest model is that in which the sovereign 
Assembly takes in all who are members of the State. That 
it shuts out those who from any cause are not members of 
the State must be taken for granted. We must not bring 
in modern ideas, which belong wholly to a state of things 
in which nations have taken the form of territorial kingdoms. 
With us every one born in the land is of right a British 
subject, and the rights of a British subject may be obtained 
with very little trouble by those who are not born in the 


ν IDENTITY OF THE ASSEMBLY AVD THE ARMY 127 


land. The like is the case in most other modern kingdoms 
and commonwealths. This is because they have all become 
territorial, because they have learned to put birth within 
the lend in the place of descent from the original stock. 
In a tribe, as long as it retains the feelings of a tribe, in a 
city, as long as it retains the principle of hereditary burgher- 
ship, naturalization must always remain a matter of special 
favour. No length of residence, not even birth in the land 
of other than citizen parents, can ever give it of right. 

I have wandered to some extent from the subject of 
Assemblies, but it was not foreign to my subject to clear 
away one or two difficulties which might arise from the 
seemingly twofold character of some commonwealths, and 
of their sovereign Assemblies’ In the primitive conception, 
the Assembly is the gathering of the whole people, the 
gathering of all the men of the tribe, of all the citizens of 
the city. Now in all primitive societies the distinction 
between soldier and civilian is unknown. To fight when 
called on is not the special profession of any particular class ; 
it is the duty of all men alike who are able to bear arms. 
And we may add that, in some states of society, fighting 
is not merely every man’s duty when called on; it is some- 
thing very like the chief business of life. From this it 
follows that, in all early states of society, the army 1s the 
Assembly, and the Assembly is the army (7). The same 
body of men, if called together for a peaceful purpose, form 
the political Assembly; if called together for a warlike 
purpose, they form the army. But the men are the same 
in either case, and it is not till political refinement has 
made great advances that any distinction is drawn between 
the members of the State in their civil and in their military 
character. It is plain that such a distinction was likely to 
be first drawn among the greater civilization and more 
complicated relations of city life. As long as the tribe 
remains the ruling idea, nay, even long after the tribe has 
grown into, or merged itself in, the nation, the nation 15 
still the army and the army is the nation. The Assembly 


128 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


j 


meets in arms, ready to act as an army,if need should so 
demand ; and the army, whether under Agamemnén beneath 
the walls of Tlios (8), under Alexander far away in Bactria 
(9), or under our Eadward on the shores of Kent (10), can, 
in the like case of need, discharge the duties of the Assembly. 
But in the city commonwealth it is gradually found that, 
though every citizen is bound to serve in arms when called 
on, yet there is no need for every citizen to be called on 
to serve at the same moment (11). An army, though only 
ἃ temporary army, is thus formed, distinct from the whole 
bady of the people. Those citizens who are in arms give 
up for a while their full mghts as citizens; the authority 
of the General without the city rises far above the restraints 
which fetter the authority of the Magistrate within the city ; 
and the citizens who form the army are content to receive 
orders from the citizens who remain at home and can go 
through the accustomed forms of a peaceful Assembly (12). 
And in the case of a city commonwealth another element 
comes in. In the city everything is local; the Assembly 
must be held in the accustomed place, perhaps within the 
precincts of some revered temple; if it were held elsewhere, 
it would lose all its virtue, and its acts might seem to be 
of no force. Hence, while in other states of society the 
military Assembly is common, among the settled city 
commonwealths of Greece it 1s rare, and under the stern 
discipline of a Roman army it was unknown. Alexander 
brought his traitors before the assembly of his soldiers, but 
Titus Manlius struck off his son’s head by the sole authority 
of the Consul and father. In Athenian history the military 
Assembly is heard of only in cases of some desperate emer- 
gency, when the Mede holds the soil of Athens but when 
Athens herself is in her ships by Salamis (13), or when, in 
the days of the Four Hundred, the fleet at Samos, cleaving 
to the old laws and freedom, declares that the city has 
revolted from them (14). In the Federal period we hear 
more commonly, though still rarely, of military assemblies, 
of the nation in arms on foreign service exercising, under 


V ASSEMBLIES IN HEROIC GREECE 129 


the walls of a besieged city, the authority which, under 
common circumstances, it would have exercised in the 
regular place of Federal meeting (15). The cause of the 
differance is obvious. The citizens of a Confederation were 
used to exercise political powers at a distance from their 
own homes; the place of Federal meeting at Megalopolis or 
Aigion could never become surrounded with the same sacred 
and exclusive associations which to the mind of the Athenian 
gathered round the holy rock of Athéné. To discharge the 
rights of citizens on an unusual spot, or under unusual 
circumstances, was a slighter shock to a body of men gathered 
together from several confederate commonwealths than it 
was to men whose every political idea centred within the 
walls of a single city. 


But we must go back to earlier times, to the very first 
glimpses which we get of the political life of those three 
branches of the Aryan family with which we are now specially 
concerned. If there is anything which we can fairly look 
upon as a common political heritage, as something handed 
on from the days when Greck, Latin, and Teuton were still 
one people, it 1s surely to be seen in the great elements of 
political life which are common to all three, in the general 
Assembly of the people presided over by the King or other 
chief, and guided rather than restrained in its deliberations 
by the working of the smaller Council, whether of hereditary 
nobles, of elders serving for life, or of magistrates or senators 
clothed with a temporary authority by the Assembly itself. 
The exact constitution, the exact limits of the authority, 
of the three great political elements vary from time to time 
and from place to place, but the three elements themselves 
are always there. It may be that the Achaian King in 
Homer exercises a greater control over the course of things 
in the Assembly than the German King in Tacitus. Differ- 
ences of this kind will be found everywhere, but the 
essential elements remain the same under all varieties 


of detail. Everywhere alike we find the general Assembly, 
K 


130 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


a 
‘ 


the smaller Council, and the King himself. In those 
states in which kingship has either not yet arisen or has 
given way to magistrates periodically renewed, we find his 
forerunner or his successor. In every page of the Homeric 
poems, in every gathering which they set before us, political, 
military, festive, or religious, the three elements come before 
us with more or less distinctness, according to the circum- 
stences of the case. The Zeus-born and Zeus-nurtured King 
is ever surrounded by the chiefs, the elders, the lesser Kings, 
who form the nearest circle round him. And these again 
arg surrounded by the wider circle of the whole body of the 
tribe, the city, or the army. We see them, not only 
in the mortal world of Hellas, but in the lands called 
into being by the play of Hellénic fancy, in the mythic isle 
of the Phaiakians and among the Gods themselves on 
Olympos. To the mind of the Greck the Gods whom 
he worshipped were beings who shared the nature and 
the passions of man. They were in truth men: they were 
mightier indeed and happier than the mortal men on earth, 
free from the toils and pains and cares of carthly life, and 
with no doom of coming death before their eyes (16). But 
they were still Gods after the likeness of men, Gods 
who shared the loves, the hates, the counsels, of their 
worshippers, who had spots which they loved on earth, 
and of whose blood the Kings and heroes of mortal birth 
were sprung. The immortal people on Olympos, like 
the mortal people in Ithaké or like the confederate host 
before Ilios, had their supreme King, their smaller Council, 
their general Assembly of the whole divine race. The 
will of Zeus in heaven, like the will of Agamemnon on earth, 
may be a will which it is dangerous to disobey, but it 15 not 
the will of a despot who is obeyed without dispute or criticism. 
(The great Gods and Goddesses who form the inner Council, 
the Senate, the Gerousia, the Arelopagos of Heaven, at 
least speak their minds freely before the Father of Gods 
and Men. And, when need calls for such a gathering, 
once in the course of the Homeric tale, the summons 


ν ASSEMBLY OF THE GODS ΟΥ̓ OLYMPOS 131 


goes forth which gathers the Agoré, the Comitia, the 
Mickle Gemcét of the immortal nation, to come together to 
share the counsels of the Lord of that triple world. From 
that great Himmelsgemeinde, if I may coin a word in the 
one modern speech on which the inheritance of old Hellas 
has fallen, which came together at the summons of Themis, 
none stay away; the river-Gods come, and the nymphs 
from the groves and fountains and grassy meadows, to 
sit in council on the seats which Hephaistos has wrought 
for them in the house of Zeus (17). The same word 
ἀγορή is used to express the divine and the human Assembly ; 
the constitution of the two is exactly alike, unless any 
one should argue that the importance of Héré and Athéné 
in the inner Council, and the marked attendance of all 
the Nymphs in the general Assembly, show that political 
progress had made wider strides in Olympos than it had 
on earth (18). But the overwhelming power of the will 
of Zeus in the Assembly, where Poseidén alone dares to 
question him (19), and where no one ventures ἃ word 
in answer to him, brings me to one point in the character 
of the Homeric Assemblies which has given rise to a 
good deal of discussion, and about which I myself, among 
others, have had my own say elsewhere (20). This is the 
alleged extreme submission of the Assembly, and even 
of the chiefs, to the supreme King, Zeus on Olympos 
and Agamemnon on earth. It is, I think, undoubtedly 
true that the primitive Greek Assembly, as set before 
us by Homer, does show far more of deference to the 
King than is to be found in the primitive Teutonic 
Assembly as set before us by Tacitus. We have seen 
that the whole conception and position of the Greek 
King was something higher than that of the Teutonic 
King. This is the kind of difference which we must always 
expect to meet with between one age and people and 
another. But we may remark that the Agamemnon of 
the Iliad is something more than an ordinary King. The 
King of Mykéné who reigned over many islands and all 


132 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


as Mee Ame 


---- «-- a ....... -- ---- ---ὄ.ὄ.-.-. ὕὦὕὃ-.-.ὄ.----. ee 


Argos was, as it were, the Bretwalda of Hellas, Basileus 
in the later as well as in the carlicr sense (21). And 
when we add that he is general of the confederate army 
on actual service, the fact that the Assembly should 
go on and retain any kind of independence, amid the 
discipline of actual warfare, is in itself no small matter. 
It surely proves more one way than is proved the other 
way by the fact that the King’s power is more arbitrary 
in war-time than it was in time of peace. As for the 
polity of Olympos, the poet was clearly divided between 
twe opposite ideas. Zeus the human God, who shared 
the feelings and passions of man, who hearkened to the 
prayer of Thetis and felt his heart moved with human sorrow 
for the fate of Sarpedén (22), could be conceived only 
as a human King with all the surroundings of a human 
King. But Zeus in the elder conception, Zeus the God 
of the sky, the power spread over all and ruling over 
all, must speak with a voice of command which neither 
men nor Gods can gainsay. And, again to come down 
to earth, if the camp before Ilios might tend to give us 
an overweening idea of the authority of the Achaian King 
in the face of his Assembly, the Odyssey shows us, on 
the other hand, how low Achaian kingship could fall when 
the King himself was absent, and when his person had 
to be represented by the old age of his father and by 
the youth of his son. But it should be marked too that, 
in the anarchy of Ithaké, as long as the kingly power 
is in abeyance, the Assembly is in abeyance also (23). It 
might seem that King and Assembly were the two essential 
elements of lawful government, neither of which could stand 
without the other. But, afterall, I think that the submission 
of the mass of the Achaian freemen to Agamemnon and 
a few other great chiefs has been, if not exaggerated, at 
least misunderstood. It is not the submission of slaves, but 
the submission of children. It is not the submission of men 
who wish to oppose but who dare not; it is the submission 
of men who have not yet formed the wish to oppose. The 


Vv GREEK ASSEMBLIES IN HOMERIC TIMES 133 


speaking, to be sure, is mainly confined to a few great 
chiefs, and the opposition speaker Thersités is roughly 
handled. But this is, I venture to think, not altogether 
pecuuar to the military assembly of the Achaians. The 
real thing to be marked is that there should be any 
opposition speakers at all. There is no formal reckoning 
of votes; but I suspect that any formal reckoning of 
votes 1s a refinement belonging to a much later stage 
of political life. To shout or to clash the arms is the 
primitive way of declaring assent (24). Ages afterwards 
the will of the Spartan Assembly was declared, not br a 
formal vote, but by a shout (25); nay, down to our own day, 
in our Houses of Parliament, in the deliberative Assemblies 
of our Universities, the vote, the division, the scrutiny, is a 
mere secondary refinement; the Assembly first speaks its 
mind in Homeric fashion by a shout, and then it is open 40 
any member to appeal—for an appeal it is in the strictest 
sense—from the primitive decision by the shout to the 
more certain test of actual voting. The Achaian King, to 
put the powers of the Assembly at their very lowest, cannot 
reign without gathering his people together, without 
setting his purposes before them, without at least learning 
whether his own will is the same as the will of his people. 
And herein is the essence of freedom. An Assembly of 
this kind will gather strength as it goes on; men whom 
their King has to persuade will some day refuse to be 
persuaded; men before whom Kings and chiefs speak 
and argue will some day speak and argue for themselves. 
The Assembly which, not in the feeblencss of age but in the 
simplicity of childhood, still cries Aye to whatever is set 
before it will assuredly learn to cry No, whenever the time 
for crying No shall come. 


We should better understand the nature of the Greek 
Assemblies in the Homeric times, if we had fuller accounts 
of the internal affairs of those kindred nations among whom 
the Homeric kingship went on after it had come to an end in 


134 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 
ι 


Hellas itself. The Epeirot and Macedonian Assemblies, 
assemblies which, at different stages of their growth, were 
assemblies, first of tribes and then of nations, but never 
strictly assemblies of cities, must have had more in coinmon 
with the early Teutonic Assemblies than anything to be 
found among the proper Hellénes. But we hardly know 
more of them than that they existed. Of the solemn pledge 
wnich bound together the Molossian king and people in the 
Assembly of Passaroén I have already spoken. The Mace- 
donian Assemblies of which we read in history are either 
mulitary assemblies which come together to hear charges 
brought before them by Alexander, or else they are assemblies 
held in the revolutionary times which followed Alexander's 
death to accept some successful candidate for the Crown, or 
to condemn some one whose career has been less lucky (26). 
ΑἸ] that we know is that there were such Assemblies, and 
that they did exercise a will of their own, since those whom 
Alexander himself accused were sometimes acquitted (27). 
But we must remember that of the internal state of Mace- 
donia and Epeiros we know absolutely nothing. We hear of 
their foreign relations and of their dynastic revolutions, but 
of the ordinary working of government in those countries not 
ἃ word is recorded. The precious notices that we have as to 
the political constitution of the Chaonians and Thesprotians 
come to us only from a short and incidental notice in 
Thucydides, which we should never have had, if he had not 
been called on to describe a military expedition in which 
those nations took a share. Our ignorance on these matters 
is specially to be lamented. It is plain that in these 
countries there was an opportunity for free government on a 
large scale, for the political life of a nation and not of a mere 
city, such as did not arise again for many ages. Of the local 
institutions of those lands and of their every-day working we 
have no account whatever. We know a great deal less of 
the Macedonian monarchy than we should know of the 
Frankish or the Old-English monarchy, if we had only their 
chroniclers, and not a single word of laws, charters, or letters. 


ν THE ASSEMBLY IN ΜΑΟΈΡΟΝΙΑ 135 


But without these last we should have a very vague notion 
indeed even of our own land. We should see that there 
were Kings and that there were Assemblies, but we should 
not see much more. Of the every-day working of local 
institutions we should know absolutely nothing. We are 
therefore quite unable to say what points of likeness or 
unlikeness the internal state of Macedonia or of Molossis 
may have shown to that of medizeval or of modern kingdoms. 
But the mere facts that there was a King, and that there 
was a national Assembly of some kind or other, are enough 
to show that the approach to the state of things in modern, 
or at least in medieval, Europe must have been far nearer 
than anything else to be found in the early history of the 
Greek and Italian lands. It would seem as if the first steps 
had been taken towards a work which was only begun and 
not finished, and which had to be begun again ages after- 
wards. The conquests of Philip and Alexander, the close 
relations into which they brought their kingdom alike with 
the intellectual culture of Greece and with the political 
despotism of the East, doubtless did much to check the 
natural developement of national Macedonian life. The whole 
subject is a disappointing one; we see that something was 
begun and never finished, and we do not see in detail what 
was begun, or what hope there was of finishing it. But we 
do see that Macedonia stood alone among the chief nations 
of the ancient world, as the one which most nearly fore- 
shadowed the political life of modern Europe, as the one 
great nation which had Kings and which is yet allowed to 
have been free (28). 


The chance then of the developement of a constitutional 
government for a whole nation seems to have been lost in 
the one case in the ancient world where there was most hope 
for it. The political civilization of the two great peninsulas 
took the city as its ruling idea, and the political assemblies 
of Greece and Italy were assemblies of cities, or, at most, 
assemblies of confederations of cities. One of these, the 


138 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


most illustrious of all, the Assembly of the Democracy of 
Athens, still lives before us in its minutest details. We 
know the laws which regulated its constitution; we know 
the rules which were followed in its procedure. We have 
living pictures of the course of 105 debates; we can listen to 
the very words by which it was stirred as they fell from the 
lips of the greatest of orators and statesmen. In the 
Ekklésia which listened to Periklés and Démosthenés we 
feel almost as much at home as in an institution of our own 
land and our own times. At least we ought to feel at home 
there; for we have the full materials for calling up the 
political life of Athens in all its fulness, and within our own 
times one of the greatest minds of our own or of any age has 
given its full strength to clear away the mists of error and 
calumny which so long shrouded the parent state of justice 
and freedom. Among the contemporaries and countrymen 
of Mr. Grote it is shame indeed if men fail to see in the 
great Democracy the first state which taught mankind that 
the voice of persuasion could be stronger than a despot’s will, 
the first which taught that disputes could be settled by a 
free debate and a free vote which in other lands could have 
been decided only by the banishment or massacre of the 
weaker side. It was the Democracy of Athens which taught 
the world that there was, in the words of its own great 
historian, such a thing as constitutional morality. The man 
who, in any age or in any land, does aught for the cause of 
right or freedom, may cherish as his brightest thought that 
he is walking in the path in which Soldén, Kleisthenés, 
Aristeidés, and Periklés walked before him. They walked 
before us, but there were none who walked before them. 
The Assembly of Athens, called together and guided in its 
procedure by established and written laws, grew doubtless 
step by step out of the more irregular assemblies of the 
heroic times; but we now for the first time come across 
the personal agency of living men; we now have no longer 
to talk vaguely about growth and tendencies and develope- 
ments : we stand face to face with men who, each in his own 


Ν THE ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY 137 


re mcm ree em ee 


day, wrought a great and noble work for his own age and for 
all ages. That the glory of such a work was too bright to 
last we have already seen. The life of a nation 1s less 
brilliant than the life of a city, but, for that very reason, the 
nation outlives the city. Our national life has been spread 
over fourteen hundred years, and we trust that it 15 still far 
from being run out. The real hfe of Athens lasted at the 
most for two hundred years (29); and yet there are momerts 
in which all that we have won by the toils of so many 
generations seems as if it would be felt to be but a small 
thing beside a single hour of Periklés. 

The Democracy of Athens was in truth the noblest fruit 
of that self-developing power of the Greek mind which 
worked every possession of the common heritage into some 
new and more brilliant shape, but which learned nothing, 
nothing of all that formed its real life and its real glory, 
from the Barbarians of the outer world. Men tell us that 
Greece learned this or that mechanical invention from 
Phoenicia or Egypt or Assyria. Be it so; but stand in the 
Pnyx; listen to the contending orators; listen to the 
ambassadors of distant cities; listen to each side as it 15 
fairly hearkened to, and see the matter in hand decided by 
the peaceful vote of thousands—here at least of a truth 15 
something which Athens did not learn from any Assyrian 
despot or from any Egyptian priest. And we, children of 
the common stock, sharers in the common heritage, as we 
see man, Aryan man, in the full growth of his noblest type, 
we may feel a thmnill as we think that Kleisthenés and 
Periklés were, after all, men of our own blood—as we think 
that the institutions which grew up under their hands and 
the institutions under which we ourselves are living are 
alike branches sprung from one stock, portions of one 
inheritance in which Athens and England have an equal 
right. In the Athenian Democracy we see ἃ popular 
constitution taking the form which was natural for such a 
constitution to take when it was able to run its natural 
course in a commonwealth which consisted only of a single 


138 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


eo 


city. Wherever the Assembly really remains, in truth as 
well as in name, an Assembly of the whole people in their 
own persons, it must in 18 own nature be sovereign. It 
must, in the nature of things, delegate more or less of -yower 
to magistrates and generals; but such power will be simply 
delegated. Their authority will be a mere trust from the 
sovereign body, and to that sovereign body they will be 
re-ponsible for its exercise. That is to say, one of the 
original elements of the State, the King or chief, now 
represented by the elective magistracy, will lose its inde- 
pewdent powers, and will sink into a body of men who have 
only to carry out the will of the sovereign Assembly. So with 
another of the original elements, the Council. This body 
too loses its independent being ; 1t has no ruling or checking 
power; it becomes a mere Committee of the Assembly, 
chosen or appointed by lot to put measures into shape for 
more casy discussion in the sovereign body. As society 
becomes more advanced and complicated, the judicial power 
can no longer be exercised by the Assembly itself, while it 
would be against every democratic instinct to leave it in the 
arbitrary power of individual magistrates. Other Com- 
mittees of the Assembly, Juries on a gigantic scale, with a 
presiding magistrate as chairman rather than as Judge, arc 
therefore set apart to decide causes and to sit in judgement 
on offenders. Such is pure Democracy, the government of 
the whole people and not of a part of it only (30), as carried 
out in its full perfection ina single city. It is a form of 
government which works up the faculties of man to a higher 
pitch than any other; it is the form of government which 
gives the freest scope to the inborn gemius of the whole 
community and of every member of it (31). Its weak point 
is that it works up the faculties of man to a pitch so high 
that it can hardly be lasting, that 1ts ordinary life needs an 
enthusiasm, a devotion, too highly strung to be likely to live 
through many generations. Athens in the days of her glory, 
the Athens of Periklés, was truly “the roof and crown of 
things;” her democracy raised a greater number of human 


ν GREEK ASSEMBLIES IN THE FEDERAL PERIOD 139 


»------ 


beings to a higher level than any government before or 
since ; 1t gave freer play than any government before or 
since to the personal gifts of the foremost of mankind. But 
against the few years of Athenian glory we must set the 
long ages of Athenian decline. Against the city where 
Periklés was General we must set the city where Hadnian 
was Archon. 

On the Assemblies of other Grecian cities it is hardly need- 
ful to dwell. Our knowledge of their practical working 1s 
sight. We have one picture of a debate in the popular 
Assembly of Sparta, an Assembly none the less populay in 
its internal constitution because it was the assembly of what, 
as regarded the excluded classes of the State, was a narrow 
oligarchy. We see that there, as might be looked for, the 
chiefs of the State, the Kings, and yet more the Ephors, 
spoke with a degree of official, as distinguished from personal, 
authority, which fell to the lot of no man in the Assembly of 
Athens (32). Periklés reigned supreme, not because he was 
one of Ten Generals, but because he was Periklés. From 
another cause a greater weight of official authority was placed 
in the hands of the magistrates of the Federal Democracy of 
Achaia than was ever entrusted to the magistrates of the 
single city Democracy of Athens. The meetings of the Federal 
Assembly were far less frequent than those of the Assembly of 
Athens: it was therefore needful to clothe the Senate and 
the magistrates, above all the chief magistrate, the General, 
with far higher powers than were held at Athens by Senators, 
Archons, or even Generals (33). And there is another difter- 
ence which brings the later, the Federal, form of Greek 
democracy into the closest relations with the political develope- 
ments of modern times. The Federal democracy was as far 
from hitting on the subtle device of representation as the 
city democracy was. Every citizen had a right to appear in 
the general Assembly of the League as well as in the local 
Assembly of his own city. But it is plain that such a right 
as this, when applied to a League spread over all Pelopon- 
nésos, and some cities beyond Peloponnésos, was a right which, 


140 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 


-.»--τ- ee 


by the mass of those who held it, could seldom or never be 
exerciscd. The Assembly seems, as a rule, to have been 
attended mainly by those who had wealth and leisure enough 
to take distanf journeys, and by the inhabitants of the par- 
ticular city in which the Assembly was held. Sometimes the 
Senate seems to have acted as the Assembly; it might so 
happen that an Assembly was summoned, and that none but 
Senators came. Those who are familiar with the constitution 
of the University of Oxford know very well that it often 
happens that a Convocation—that is, an Assembly of all 
Doetors and Masters—is really attended by none but mem- 
bers of Congregation, the smaller resident and official body 
(34). In cases of this kind the larger body docs not lose its 
right as long as its members take care to cxercise it on 
occasion; but it may be easily lost, if the right 1s not at least 
occasionally exercised, and, even where it 15 not lost, 105 exercise 
is apt to be looked upon with a certain degree of jealousy on 
the part of the smaller body. Thus we find an unusually 
large meeting of the Achaian Assembly spoken of with a kind 
of surprise, if not of dislike (35); and it is not uncommon to 
hear an outery against the appearance of non-resident mem- 
bers in the academical Convocation. No pretensions of this 
kind on the part of a smaller body could possibly arise in the 
Assembhies of Athens or of Uri. 

In fact the Federal period of Grecian history is one 
which is richer than almost any other in analogies bearing 
directly on the developement of our own constitution. It 
illustrates the law by which, unless the device of repre- 
sentation is brought in, an originally democratic constitution, 
if it 1s applied to a large territory, can never kecp its true 
democratic character. Its citizens cannot come frequently 
and regularly together, so as to carry on an orderly govern- 
ment like that of Athens, Perhaps the Assembly becomes, 
as that of Rome did in the end, an ungovernable multitude, 
incapable of debate, whose meetings are always accompanied 
by acts of violence, and are at last put an end to in the in- 
terests of order, if not of freedom. Or perhaps the democracy 


v SHRINKING UP OF THE ENGLISH WITENAGEMOT 141 


shrinks up,I will not say into an oligarchy, but into an aris- 
tocracy, simply because it is impossible that the mass of the 
nominal members of the Assembly should ever really attend 
its meetings. The Achaian League, in its form as pure a 
democracy as Athens or Uri, became, in its practical working, 
the best model of a liberal aristocracy, ruling by sutferance. 
And a process exactly the same went on in the early Assem- 
blies of England and other Teutonic countries. As marks 
grew into shires and shires into kingdoms, the general body 
of freemen who had been accustomed to attend in the 
Assemblies of the smaller body were not formally deprived 
of their right to attend in the Assemblies of the larger 
body. But as tribes grew into nations and Ealdormen into 
Kings, the Assemblies of their kingdoms grew into bodies 
which were yet more incapable of really coming together 
than the general body of the free citizens of the Pelopon- 
nesian cities. I can see nothing to show that the right 
of the common freeman to take his place in the gencral 
Assembly of the nation was ever formally taken away 
in our own country. But I can see that, in the nature of 
things, it gradually died out. Iocan sce that, as in Achaia 
the Federal Assembly shrank up, as a rule, into an Assembly 
of the Senators and a few other leading men, so in England 
the national Assembly, the Mickle Gemét of the whole nation, 
shrank up into a gathering of few besides the King’s Thegns 
(36). But I can see also, in both cases, that, on special 
occasions, the Assembly again swelled into something far 
greater. The citizens of London or Corinth, of Winchester 
or Aigion, asserted and exercised their old mght when the 
Assembly was held within the walls of their cities. And, on 
a few great days, when the heart of the nation was stirred to 
its depths, we’see armed multitudes which no building, no 
city, could contain, taking part, as of old, in the election of 
Kings, in the banishment of public enemies, in the declara- 
tion of war and peace (37). That in our own land the nght 
was exercised only by fits and starts is simply what was to 
be looked for from the unfixed and informal nature of our early 


142 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


institutions in general. But the right went on; it cannot 
be said to have wholly vanished, as long as the people were 
called on to ery Yea, Yea, even though there was no thought 
of their crying Nay, Nay, at the election and consecration of 
Kings. It must not be forgotten that Henry the Eighth was 
chosen King by the shout of the assembled people as truly 
as Hengest or Cerdic could have been (38). 

What took place in our own land took place also in the 
kindred lands beyond the sea. Among the Franks, as has 
been traced out by the great constitutional historians of Ger- 
many, the old Assemblies, national and local, went on after 
the Frankish conquerors had settled themselves on Gaulish 
soil. And we see, from the language constantly used under 
the Carolingian Emperors and* Kings, that the right and 
duty of the common freeman to attend in the general Assem- 
bly was never formally taken away, that the great gathering 
of the Mirzfeld or the Mazfeld was still in theory the gather- 
ing of the whole Frankish people, deciding the affairs of the 
nation by the voice of the nation itself. But we can see too 
how the general Assembly of the whole Frankish realm lost 
step by step the real life, the practical power, the effective 
control over the royal will, which had belonged to the mili- 
tary Assemblies of the immediate followers of Chlodwig. 
The nght of the Assembly to say Yea or Nay is not taken 
away by any formal act, but it sinks at the outside into 
giving a formal Yea to what the King and his inner Council 
have already decreed (39). In this, as in so many other 
things, there is a real cycle in human affairs. As there is 
aun early time, an early stage, in which the Assembly has 
not yet formed the wish to oppose, so there is a later stage in 
which it has perhaps lost the wish and has certainly lost the 
spirit and the power. So in the lesser Assemblies of the Gaw or 
the Hundred, the judicial functions which had once belonged 
to the whole Assembly came gradually to be vested in a 
select body which grew up through the sheer unwillingness 
of the general mass of the freemen to attend and exercise 
their rights in their own persons (40). ᾿ 


V STARTING-POINT OF POLITICAL SOCIETIES 148 


----..ὄἦὌ--ς 


In short, experience shows that the purely democratic 
system, which does such great things for a wandering band, 
a single city, or a small district, becomes out of place when 
it is apphed to all the inhabitants of a large country. 
Unless the happy device of representation is hit upon, 
the primitive democracy, directly by the working of its 
democratic character, shrinks up into despotism or oligarchy. 
The primary Assembly is the natural form of free govern- 
ment for the wandering band, for the group of households 
settled im their mark, for the tribe gathered within the 
walls of a city. It begins to break down when it is applied 
even toa Gau or Canton of a larger size; it utterly breaks 
down when it is applied to a nation. The representative 
Assembly is as much the natural form of free government 
for the greater society as the primary Assembly is for the 
smaller. 


The analogies which have crowded on me in the course 
of the present lecture have hindered me from following so 
strict a chronological order as I have done at other times. 
I have been dealing with Greek and Teutonic matters at 
once. But it is my special business to poimt out the 
analogies between them. And in no case is the analogy 
more striking than in the point with which we are now 
dealing. All European political socicties start from the 
one common possession, the Assembly of the tribe. This, 
among a people who take to the common life within a 
walled town, goes on as the Assembly of the city. The 
constitution which, under these circumstances, grows out 
of the primitive elements, may be aristocratic or democratic, 
as may happen, but kingship in a city-commonwealth cannot 
last long after the political instincts of the people are fully 
awakened and sharpened. If many cities join together 
in a League, the Federal Assembly of the League will most 
likely be formed after the type of the Assemblies of the 
particular cities, modified by all those consequences which 
flow from the greater distance at which the place of meeting 


144 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 


wo ee Ore .-....,.....- -..-. -.ὕὕ..... -- 
ae anne ne a ee 


will now be from the mass of the citizens. So, among a 
people who do not adopt the city-life, who at least do not 
make it the ruling principle of their political life, the 
old state of things goes on as long as the tribe, the ..nark, 
the hundred, the shire, still keep any distinct political being. 
As the tribes grow into a nation, the national Assembly, 
if by no other cause, yet through the mere working of 
the law of distance, shrinks up into a gathering of a few 
chief men, and the smaller Assemblies go on simply as 
subordinate local bodies, and perhaps themselves die out 
altegether in course of time. But in the system of city- 
commonwealths, there was one means of keeping up a greater 
vitality in the old institutions than could be kept up in 
the tribal or national system. In the general Assembly 
of the Achaian League, each city had a single and equal 
vote (41). In the later Lykian League, by a refinement 
which forestalls some very modern political controversies, 
the vote of cach city, according to its size, counted as one, 
two, or three (42). But in either case the vote of the city 
had its fixed value, which was no way affected by the number 
of its citizens which might happen to appear in any particular 
Assembly. In the Assembly of the League Corinth had one 
vote, whether one Corinthian or a thousand were there to 
give it. This refinement seems never to have been adopted 
in the Teutonic Assemblies; it is in truth a refinement 
far too refined for the stage of things to which they belong. 
But it is plain that this method of voting made the 
Assembly come as near to the nature of a representative 
body as it could come without actually being one. When 
Corinth had a single vote, whether few or many Corinthians 
were there to give it, it might easily be arranged that those 
citizens of Corinth who actually appeared in the Assembly 
might practically be the representatives of the greater 
number of citizens who stayed at home. The lack of 
the real representative system would hardly be felt; the 
grievance, if any, would be one which experience shows that 
the representative system docs not necessarily heal, but 


ν QUASI-FEDERAL ELEMENTS AT ROME 145 


which the Lykian constitution did heal, the grievance that 
Corinth had no greater weight in the Assembly than the 
smallest town in the League (43). Thus, though the 
Assembly might shrink up into a gathering of a small 
body of chief men, those chief men mighu practically be 
the delegates of the local Assemblies of their several cities 
(44). But there is no sign that in the Teutonic Assemblies 
any such refinement was ever thought of as that wh'ch 
gave separate votes to the separate cities of the League. 
It is a refinement far more likely to arise in a system of 
cities, with the sharply-defined separate being of each, 
than under the larger system of tmbes or districts.) When 
therefore a Teutonic Assembly shrank up into an Assembly 
of the King’s Thegns and other chief men, there could 
be no such softening of the oligarchic process as the 
Achaian system allowed. But, for that very reason, the true 
representative system was all the more needful, and, by 
the process inherent in all healthy and really living con- 
stitutions, it grew up as it was needed. 


I have spoken of the allotment of separate votes to the 
separate cities of the Achaian and Lykian Leagues as one 
of the characteristics of the Federal period of Greece. It 
certainly distinguishes the Federal democracy of Achaia 
from the single city democracy of Athens. But it also 
appears in all its fulness in the Assemblies of the Roman 
Commonwealth. In the Comitia of the Centuries, the 
military Assembly, where the People came together in 
military array, where the value of each man’s vote was 
decided by the nature of his military service, and the nature 
of his military service was decided by the amount of his 
property, the votes taken were not the votes of individuals, 
but the votes of the artificial units, the Centuries. So in 
the Comitia of the Tribes, where men were ranged, not 
according to their place in battle but according to the local 
divisions of the State, it was again the votes of the Tribes 


that were taken. So again, in that later form of the Comitia 
L 


146 THE ASSEMBLY LECT 


in which Tribes and Centuries were intermingled, the only 
point which concerns us is that here too the votes were the 
votes of Tribes and Centuries, not of single citizens (45) 
At Rome then, as in Achaia, it was perfectly possible that 
those citizens of a distant tribe who appeared in any 
particular Assembly may have practically been representatives 
of their neighbours who stayed away, commissioned to vote 
or. their behalf. This is one of several points in which the 
Roman Commonwealth, with its city franchise extended 
over so large a territory, has more in common with the 
Federal than with the single commonwealths of Greece 
Another point in which Rome bears more likeness to Achaisz 
than to Athens is to be found in the independent powers 
which were kept to the last by fhe Senate and by the severa. 
magistrates. Nowhere indeed did the three elements—thc 
kingly power, held in commission by the curule magistrates 
the power of the Senate, and the power of the People—stanc 
out more distinctly than they did at Rome down to the last 
days of the Commonwealth. The forms of Roman politica 
partizanship are a witness to their vitality. At Rome we 
hear of a Popular party and of a Senatorial party. At 
Athens such names would have been meaningless. There wa: 
doubtless at Athens an aristocratic, or more truly ar 
oligarchic, party, which would have been well pleased t 
overthrow the popular government altogether. But such <¢ 
party could in no wise profess itself the champion of th: 
yearly Senate of Five Hundred, nor could it shelter itsel: 
under its authority (46). A truer analogy to the Roma 
Senate would be found in the Senate of Areiopagos, whos 
members sat for life, and which was formed, in a manne! 
nearly the same as that in use at Rome, out of those citizen: 
who had held the highest magistracies. But, for that very 
reason, the course of change at Athens gradually brough 
down this ancient Senate to be little more than a venerabl: 
shadow (47). Two facts distinctly show how strong th: 
traditions both of the kingly and the senatorial powe: 
remained at Rome during the whole time of the common 


ν ATHENIAN AND ROMAN ASSEMBLIES CONTRASTED 147 


wealth. A check was needed on the arbitrary powers of the 
Consuls. Rome found the remedy, not in lessening the 
powers of the Consuls, but in setting up an opposition 
magistracy as the embodiment of plebeian rights, the Tribune 
no less powerful to forbid than the Consul was powerful to 
command. Again, it is almost more striking that the 
Senate, made up as it was of men who had been in the first 
instance chosen to their offices by the voice of the Pecvle 
(48), could ever come to be looked on as a power antagonistic 
to the People. In the later days of the Commonwealth, if 
the Senate was an aristocratic body, it was purely by the 
sufferance of the People that it was so. Those who had the 
choice of Consuls, Preetors, Censors, and High Pontiffs had 
the remedy in their own hands. A jealousy of the Senate 
may indeed have lingered on as a mere survival from the 
far-gone days when the Senate was a purely patrician body. 
But I believe also that one most important cause of the 
difference in this respect between Rome and Athens was 
that, as I have before said, Rome was not in the same strict 
sense a city commonwealth, but that it had in it something 
of a Federal element. As long as the Roman Commonwealth 
lasted, the popular Assembly remained the supreme elective 
and legislative body, the highest and final authority of the 
Commonwealth. But it never, like the Assembly of Athens, 
drew to itself all the powers of the State; 1t never brought 
down the Senate to be a mere Committee of its own body, 
and Consuls and Censors to be mere instruments of its 
will. It was not in the nature of things that it should do 
so. Setting aside the effect of any difference between the 
Roman and the Athenian national character, the Roman 
Assembly could not become what the Athenian Assembly 
became. The free inhabitants of so large a district must 
have formed, even in early times, a body too large either to 
be gathered together so often as the Athenian Assembly 
was, or in the same way to discharge the duties of a 
deliberative Assembly when it did come together. It could 
not allow the same free power of debate and amendment. 


148 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


It could not do more than say Yea or Nay to the proposals 
of the magistrate by whom it was summoned. It could not 
possibly exercise the same constant care over all the depart- 
ments of the State. It could not take points of deta: into 
its consideration in the same way that the Athenian Assembly 
did. Ina word the Athenian Assembly was the Government. 
Démos was sovereign; he was, as he rather liked to be 
ca.ted, King or Tyrant (49). The Archons had sunk to such 
mere routine functions as hardly to be political officers at 
all. The Generals were the ministers of the Sovereign 
Assembly; the Prytaneis were merely its chairmen; the 
Senate was merely its committee. The real ruling power 
was the Assembly itself. But at Rome, as in Achaia, the 
Assembly was simply the power which acted for legislative 
and elective purposes, when legislative and elective acts 
were needed. The Senate was the Government, the body 
which carried on the ordinary management of the State, 
with the Consuls and other great magistrates as its 
ministers. At Rome, as at Athens, the power of peace and 
war rested with the Assembly. But its power in this, as in 
other matters, did not go beyond the final power of saying 
Yea or Nay to a definite proposition laid before it. All the 
preliminary steps, the receiving and listening to foreign 
ambassadors, the listening to the arguments of private 
citizens on one side or the other, all which at Athens formed 
such an important part of the business of the Assembly, was 
at Rome part of the business of the Senate. Under the 
Roman system, the great speeches of Periklés and Démo- 
sthenés, like the great speeches of Cicero, might still have 
been addressed to the people. But the debate between 
Kleén and Diodotos (50), between Nikias and Alkibiadés 
(51), between Euryptolemos and the accusers of the Generals 
(52), which at Athens were spoken to the people assembled 
under no roof but the sky, must at Rome, like the debate 
between Cato and Cesar, have gone on only within the walls 
of the senate-house (53). 

The Roman Assembly died of the disease of which every 


Vv ASSEMBLIES FORMED OF ESTATES 149 


primary Assembly in a large country must die. It became 
too large for its functions; 1t became a mob incapable of 
debate, and in which its worst elements got the upper hand. 
But its death-blow came from those pretended popular chiefs 
who made use of the mutual jealousies of Senate and People 
to trample both Senate and People under foot. Yet it is 
to the honour alike of the Roman Senate and of the Roman 
Assembly that the Czsesars dreaded both of them. ἀπὸ it 
is to the special honour of the Roman Assembly that, while 
the Cesars kept on the Senate, which they deemed that they 
could turn to their own ends, they found it needful utterly 
to sweep away the Assembly (54). Be it an aristocratic 
Senate or a democratic Assembly, there must be some good 
thing in any institution which a despot fears. The Teutonic 
Assemblies on the other hand simply died out; there were 
no Juli or Claudii to trample them out. In nearly every 
Western country the old primary Assemblies gave way to 
representative Assemblies founded on the principle of Estates. 
Those Estates were in most countries three—the Clergy, 
the Nobles, and the Commons, the Commons being for the 
most part only the citizens of the chartered towns. In some 
cases however, where there was a numerous and independent 
yeomanry, they also had a share in the representation. 
Thus in Sweden, the four Estates, the House of Peasants 
being one of them, lasted, whenever the genuine constitution 
of the country was in force, down to within a very few years 
past. As in all such cases, the constitution of the Estates 
differed in different countries; there were perhaps hardly 
any two countries where their constitution was exactly the 
same in every detail; but one general principle runs through 
all, the principle that the Assembly should consist of repre- 
sentatives of all the Estates or classes of men of which the 
body-politic is held to consist. In England, on the other 
hand, the course of things was somewhat different; the 
primitive Assembly never died out; it never was trampled 
out; it simply—through the natural working of causes of 
which I have already spoken—shrank up into a narrow 


150 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 


body. Through that law of shrinking up, the old democratic 
Assembly lived on to become the aristocratic element in a 
new form of the constitution. That is to say, I believe that 
the primitive Assembly was, by lineal personal succession, 
continued in the Witenagemot, and that the Witenagemdt 
is, by lineal personal succession, continued in the House of 
Lords. I will not here enlarge on this seeming paradox, on 
wh.ch I have spoken at some length elsewhere (55); but I 
think that, if we grasp this doctrine, we shall better under- 
stand some of the points in which English history differs 
from: the history of most other European nations. The 
doctrine is that, while elsewhere the old Assemblies actually 
died out and the constitution of Estates arose in its stead 
as something new, in England the Assembly, in its contracted 
form, itself lived on to form one of the Estates. That is to 
say, the Lords are simply those among the members of the 
old Assembly—that is, those among all free Englishmen— 
who never lost the mght of personal attendance. These 
were the Bishops and parliamentary Abbots, the Earls, and 
such other persons as the King chose personally to summon. 
This free right of summons in the King has been hampered 
by the strange doctrine of lawyers that, if a man is summoned 
once, his descendants must needs be summoned for ever 
and ever. Alongside of the body so formed another body 
gradually arose, in which those who had failed to keep on 
the right of personal attendance made their appearance by 
representation (56). Hence we better see how it came 
about that in England there is no Nobility, no Noblesse or 
Adel in the foreign sense. Seats in the House of Lords 
have become either official or hereditary; but there is no 
noble class, such as there is or has been in other lands. 
Hence also we can better understand how it came to pass 
that the true system of three Estates never could be 
established in England. Besides other reasons which made 
it hard to establish a real parliamentary Estate of the 
Clergy, one clearly was that the highest members of that 
estate already had official seats in another branch of the 


v BICAMERAL SYSTEM IN FEDERAL ESTATES 151 


Parliament. Through this accident, as I said in my first 
lecture, came the bicameral constitution of the English 
Parliament, the fact that it is a Parliament of two Houses, 
and ‘not of one, three, or four, What arose in England by 
the circumstances of our history has been reproduced in 
other lands by direct imitation. The good or evil of such 
a system is a question which does not belong to Comparative 
Politics, but to the practical politics of our own day. “ut 
it is not out of place to say that we have a great advantage 
in the fact that our system has come down to us through 
the facts of our history and has not been the invention of 
any clever constitution-maker. No one perhaps, if he had 
to make a constitution afresh, would invent exactly such a 
body as our House of Lords. But the fact that our House 
of Lords exists gives it a great advantage over Upper 
Chambers whose constitution may be theoretically much 
better, but which have to be artificially called into being. 
And one thing I think 15 often forgotten when these matters 
are discussed, but which cannot be too constantly borne in 
mind. In an ordinary kingdom or commonwealth the ques- 
tion between one and two Chambers is simply a question in 
which way the Legislature is likely to do its duty best. In 
a Federal State the two Chambers are absolutely necessary. 
Where there is a twofold sovereignty, the sovereignty of the 
united nation and the sovereignty of the States or Cantons 
which make it up, each sovereignty must be represented in 
the Legislature. There must! be the House of Represent- 
atives, the Nationalrath, representing the nation, and with 
its numbers apportioned to the numbers of the nation, and 
there must be the Senate or Stdénderath, representing the 
States, and in which each State, great or small, must have 
an equal voice. To abolish or modify the English or the 
Prussian House of Lords might be a wise or a foolish step; 
but it would not be the utter overthrow of the existing 
political system. Notwithstanding such a change, the 
constitutional monarchy of England or of Prussia might go 
on untouched. But to abolish, or essentially to modify, the 


152 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 


American Senate or the Swiss Stdnderath would be the 
utter overthrow of the existing political system of the 
American or the Swiss Confederation. The House of 
Representatives or the Nationairath standing by itself would 
represent the united nation only, without any representation 
of the independent States. The happy device of the two 
Federal Chambers gets rid of all the difficulties which beset 
all: ‘he ancient confederations and the Swiss and American 
Confederations themselves in their earlier forms. The 
Achaian system distinctly sacrificed the greater cities to the 
smaller. The Lykian system, wonderful step as it was, had 
a tendency to sacrifice the smaller cities to the greater. 
But with the two Federal Chambers, one representing the 
sovereignty of the nation, the other representing the sove- 
reignty of the States, numbers cannot be sacrificed to cantonal 
rights, neither can cantonal rights be sacrificed to numbers. 
Each element in the Federal State 15 a check upon the 
other; each can throw out any measure which would hurt 
its own interests; neither can carry any measure which 
would hurt the interests of the other. The American Senate, 
with the special executive powers which it holds apart from 
the House of Representatives, has a further strength and 
dignity of its own, beyond that which belongs to it as one 
House in the Federal legislature representing one element 
in the Federal State. The Swiss Stdnderath has no such 
special powers; it rests solely on its general position as one 
necessary element of the Federal system. As such, the loss 
of it would at once upset the balance between the two 
elements of the State. In a word the Federal system would 
be destroyed. 

In most parts of the world the primary Assembly, 
democratic or aristocratic, is now a thing of the past. 
Since the kingdoms and commonwealths of Europe began 
to settle down into something lke their present shape, 
the old primary Assemblies have gradually died out or 
have lingered on only in the form of survivals. In this 
form we can still point to them in our own land. It may 


v SURVIVAL OF THE ASSEMBLY OF THE MARK 1538 


be held that the Scirgemdt has come to an end by the 
bill which takes away the ancient election by the show 
of hands, from which the later refinement of taking the 
poll was a mere appeal. The ancient election of the King 
by the voice of the people at his crowning has, since the 
sixteenth century, sunk into the mere form of an acknow- 
ledgement. But, as long as the parish vestry ever comes 
together, the Assembly of the Mark has not utterly died 
away. Older than the Assembly of the Shire and of the 
Kingdom, it has, in its primitive form, outlived both of 
them. In other lands more important traces of the old 
state of things may be seen. But it should be noticed 
that, even in the free cities, though primary Assemblies 
were by no means unknown—the Parliament of Florence 
was one famous example among many—yet they never 
played the same important part which they played in the 
commonwealths of old Greece. No medieval city that I 
know of was regularly ruled by a democratic Assembly in 
the way that Athens was. The form which the democratic 
principle took in most of the Italian cities was rather that 
of making all citizens eligible for office, perhaps of giving 
all citizens a share in the great offices in their turn, rather 
than the Athenian principle of giving the people as a body 
the general direction of the affairs of the Commonwealth. 
Provided magistracies were filled by men freely chosen or 
drawn, by men to whom the people thought that it could 
safely trust its affairs, it did not fear to clothe them with 
very large legal powers, and even to wink at vigorous and 
arbitrary action beyond the letter of the law. The people 
itself in its Parliament met only now and then, when it 
suited those who were in power to call it together. 
And, when it came together, its first and only act most 
commonly was to bestow a special commission with ex- 
traordinary powers on some corporate Pittakos or Sulla 
(57). Where the ancient state of things lingered on 
longest, where it lingers on still, was, not within the walls 
of cities, but in those homes of freedom at either end of 


154 THE ASSEMBLY LECT, 


-...... 


the great Teutonic realm where men never fall away from 
the institutions of their earliest fathers. In the lowlands 
of Friesland and on the heaths of Ditmarsen, the old 
freedom and its embodiment, the old primitive Assemblies, 
lived on till tne fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In the 
mountain dales of Uri and on the hill-sides of Appenzell 
they live on still. Do not suspect me of any yearning for 
tre exploded dreams which once saw in the primitive 
Switzerland a land peopled by a separate race, enjoying 
a separate freedom, altogether distinct from the rest of 
ther brethren around them. Uni, Schwyz, and Unterwalden 
are’ but three small districts—they hardly amount to tribes 
—of the Alemanni in which, through a strange and happy 
combination of circumstances, the ancient freedom never 
wholly died out. The three lands were members of the 
Roman Empire, of the German Kingdom, of the Swabian 
Duchy. Parts of them even were, at various times, in 
subjection to lesser lords. For ages their highest ambition 
was to win the Retchsfrechett, to be released from all such 
intermediate lords, and to be able to boast that they had 
no King but Cesar. But allegiance to inferior lords, much 
less allegiance to the Empire, in no way interfered with 
the popular constitutions of the three lands within their 
own bosoms. By a number of favouring circumstances, 
the mere local freedom of a mark or a hundred grew into 
the absolute freedom of a sovereign commonwealth. As 
such it still abides, modified only by the obligations of the 
Federal tie. Of those primitive Assemblies, which I hold 
it as one of the great privileges of my life to have looked 
on with my own eyes, I have often spoken elsewhere. I 
will now only say that it 1s a moment when all that one 
has read and thought comes before him as a living thing, 
when, beneath the canopy of heaven, he hears the mighty 
voice of an assembled people binding themselves in solemn 
form to obey the laws which they themselves have made (58). 

The democratic Assembly therefore to this day still remains 
in its fulness. Of the aristocratic primary Assembly Europe 


Vv ARISTOCRATIC PRIMARY ASSEMBLIES 155 


now contains no example; but we must remember that, 
in the last century, it too existed in all its fulness. Poland 
and Venice, no less than Sparta and Corinth, still kept 
that form of Assembly in which, not every member of the 
nation, but every member of a privilegea body within 
the nation, had a right to appear in his own person. The 
great meeting of the whole Polish nobility which came 
together to choose the Polish King, oligarchic as it was 
with regard to the excluded classes, came, after all, nearer 
to a primary Assembly of a whole nation than anything 
to be found elsewhere. It was the gathering of a body 
far greater than the whole body of citizens in the small com- 
monwealths where alone the democratic primary Assembly 
still lingered on. Its military character, the fierceness and 
turbulence ascribed to it, its gathering in the open air, all 
form a marked contrast with the otherwise kindred in- 
stitution which formed the supreme authority of the island 
commonwealth. The civic aristocracy, if it was narrow 
and unscrupulous, was at least calm, regular, and orderly. 
No contrast can more plainly point out .the city life as 
the life of the higher civilization. But neither in Venice 
nor in Poland could the aristocratic primary Assembly 
boast of having its roots in any remote past. Both were 
comparatively modern; but both were natural political 
developements of the state of things which gradually grew 
up in the two commonwealths (59). Both are bodies 
which show that, as a democratic Assembly may be re- 
presentative, so an aristocratic Assembly may be primary. 
In fact, as I have before said, the difference between 
aristocracy and democracy is a diiference which simply 
concerns the excluded classes, The ruling order in either 
case, whether it consists of all the citizens or only of part 
of the citizens, may develope every variety of political 
institution within its own bosom. 

The primary Assembly, of whatever kind, is in its own 
nature sovereign. It is the gathering together of the whole 
nation, or of the whole ruling part of the nation. The 


156 THE ASSEMBLY LECT. 


whole power of the nation is therefore vested in it. It is 
only gradually and by slow steps that there arises that dis- 
tinction between legislative, executive, and judicial powers 
on which such stress is laid in the refined political theories 
of modern tinles. And in no country perhaps is the dis- 
tinction fully carried out. It certainly is not so in our 
own. The primitive Assemblies described by Tacitus were 
ec'rts of justice as well as deliberative bodies. So were 
all Assemblies of the kind, great and small. In the 
Frankish Assemblies we have seen that it was only step 
by, step, as the great mass of the freemen began to grow 
slaék in their attendance and to deem their duties a burthen, 
that a separate class of judges arose in order to ensure that 
there should always be some one ready to do justice between 
man and man (60). That great offenders were called upon 
to-answer for their crimes before the general Assembly of 
the whole realm, was a matter of course. So in our own 
land, our ancient Witenagemdts not only made laws, not 
only chose and deposed Kings, Ealdormen, and Bishops, 
but sat in judgement on state offenders and pronounced 
sentences of outlawry or confiscation. And that branch of 
our Legislature which is the personal descendant of the 
ancient Gemot still keeps its judicial authority in matters 
both criminal and civil (61). The newer, the more popular, 
branch shares the judicial authority only in an indirect way. 
It exercises it by its share in Acts which are judicial in 
substance though legislative in form, bills of attainder and 
of pains and penalties. It exercises it too by its share in 
that anomalous jurisdiction by which each House under- 
takes the defence of its own privileges. In the smaller 
local Assemblies, after they had ceased to be sovereign, 
the business must always have been mainly judicial. We 
must remember that, carefully as we now distinguish the 
functions of legislator, judge, juror and witness, it was only 
by slow degrees that they were distinguished. All grew 
out of the various attributes of an Assembly which, as being 
itself the people, exercised every branch of that power which 


Vv JUDICIAL POWERS OF ASSEMBLIES 157 


the people has, at sundry times and in divers manners, 
entrusted to the various bodies which, directly or indirectly, 
draw their authority from that one sovereign source. In 
all times and in all places power can have no lawful origin 
but the grant of the people. The differe.ce between ἃ, 
well and an ill-ordered commonwealth lies in this. Have 
the people wisdom and self-control enough to see that, in 
reverencing and obeying all the powers of the State in 
their lawful exercise, they are in truth doing homage tv 
themselves and giving the fullest proof of their fitness to 
discharge the highest right of men and citizens ? 


158 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


VI 


MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES 


1 HAVE now gone through the main analogies which strike 
us in the chief political instftutions of those three great 
branches of the Aryan family to which our inquiries have 
been mainly given. I have dealt with the general conception 
of the State, with the powers of the King or other chief, and 
with those of the Assembly of the People. On all these 
points I hope that I have made it, to say the least, probable 
that the institutions of the several branches of the family all 
contain traces of a common origin, relics of a common 
primeval stock, which have grown up into various forms 
under the influence of diversities of time, place, and circum- 
stance. In this last lecture I purpose to seek for some other 
analogies in points which come under the general head of 
politics in the wide sense, but which do not exactly come 
under the head of political constitutions. I have now chiefly 
to deal with the various orders and classes of men, a subject 
which is closely connected with the varieties to be found in 
forms of government, but which still is in idea something 
separate from them. The idea of the smaller Council in 
primitive times, the idea of the second or Upper Chamber in 
the refined constitutions of later days, are both of them ideas 
which easily blend with the idea of hereditary distinctions of 
birth. But the two things are in their own nature separate. 
It is quite possible, both in the earlier and in the later state 
of things, that certain families may be acknowledged as noble 


VI CONSTITUTION OF COUNCILS 159 


and may be entitled to whatever honours and privileges the 
custom of the country may attach to nobility of birth, 
without those honours and privileges taking the form of any 
special share in the government. Men may be honoured on 
account of their birth; their birth may even give them legal 
privileges; while at the same time the Council or Upper 
Chamber may be formed of men picked out, not for their 
birth but for their age, their personal merit, or any other 
standard which may be chosen, not shutting out the blind 
working of the lot. But, though the two ideas are in this 
way perfectly distinct, they have a great tendency in practice 
to run into one another. Wherever a noble class, whatc ver 
may be its origin, is acknowledged at all, it always has a 
tendency to win for itself, if uot a legal, at least a practical, 
preference for posts of authority. In fact, this voluntary 
preference for certain families in the disposal of elective 
offices 1s one of several ways in which nobility has grown up. 
It is the most usual way in which what we may call a 
secondary nobility grows up, after an earlier and immemorial 
nobility has lost its privileges. A nobility of birth, of whose 
origin no account can be given, but which must be accepted 
as one of the primary facts of political history, makes way for 
a nobility of office, which again in its turn grows into a 
nobility of birth. Of this process history supplies many 
cases, and the rule applies equally when the offices which are 
the source of nobility are bestowed by the gift of the King 
and when they are bestowed by the choice of the people. 
Of the latter process the most illustrious example is the way 
in which at Rome, after the legal privileges of the patricians 
had ceased, there arose a new nobility composed of patricians 
and plebeians alike. We see the same thing in our own 
land in the way in which the immemorial nobility of the 
Eorls gave way to the later official nobility of the Thegns, 
and that in which the nobility of the Thegns gave way to 
another form of official nobility in the modern peerage. 
Both these cases agree in being cases of a later nobility 
supplanting an earlier one. But exactly the same process 


160 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


may be gone through when a nobility is formed for the first 
time. And it was in this way that the constitutions of not a 
few city commonwealths, that of Venice itself at their head, 
changed step by step from democracies into oligarchies (1). 
t 

The different ways in which a noble class has arisen in 
various nations and cities within historical times may thus 
Felp us to make some probable guesses as to the origin of 
nobility in those cases where nobility is strictly immemorial. 
But we cannot get beyond probable guesses. In a great 
number of cases nobility is strictly immemorial. We see a 
diMtinction within the class of freemen, a distinction which 
marks out certain families as holding a higher rank than the 
rest of their fellows, in the very earliest glimpses which we 
get of the political constitution of the commonwealth. It is 
so in all the three great cases with which we are mainly 
concerned. We cannot tell what was the origin of the 
peculiar privileges which belonged to an Athenian Eupatrid, 
to a Roman Patrician, or to an English Eorl. We may 
conjecture, we may theorize, we may even infer with a high 
degree of probability, but we cannot dogmatically assert (2). 
All that we can say is that, in the first glimpses which we 
get of Grecian, Italian, and Teutonic history, we see the 
distinction between the noble and the common freeman at 
least as clearly marked as the distinction between the 
common freeman and the classes which were beneath him. 
I speak thus vaguely, because, for our present purpose, we 
may put together all who stand below the rank of the 
common freeman, from the mere personal slave upwards. I 
need hardly say that, in all discussions of this kind, slavery 
is to be taken for granted. Slavery has been the common 
law of all times and places till, within a few centuries past, 
it has, among most of the nations of the Western Aryan 
stock, either died out or been formally abolished (3). And 
we must further remember what the earliest form of slavery, 
before slavery has been aggravated by the slave trade, really 
is. The prisoner of war who, according to the military code 


vi CLASSES BETWEEN THE SLAVE AND FREEMAN 161 


of a rude age, might lawfully be put to death—the criminal 
who has forfeited his life to the laws of the State of which he 
is a member—is allowed, whether out of mercy or out of 
covetousness, to exchange death for life in bondage. Then 
the family feeling, so strong in setting up one stock, steps in 
no less strongly for the pulling down of another, and the 
man who has forfeited his own freedom is held to have 
forfeited the freedom of his children also. Thus arises +iie 
class of personal slaves, mere chattels either of the common- 
wealth or of an individual master. And it is no less easy to 
understand how, under the different circumstances of different 
tribes and cities, other classes may arise whose conditio.1 is 
better than that of the mere slave, but still 1s not equal to 
that of the least distinguished among the class that is fully 
free. Of course I am here speaking of personal, not of 
political, freedom. In the sense in which I now use the 
words “fully free,’ a Venetian cittadino, a Lacedemonian 
περίοικος, was as fully free as if he had a voice in the govern- 
ment of the commonwealth. He was subject to laws which 
he had no voice in making; he had to obey magistrates 
whom he had no voice in choosing; but he had no personal 
master either in the commonwealth or in any of its members. 
I am now speaking of the various degrees of personal depend- 
ence, freedmen, Jz, villains, and so forth, who hold a place 
between that of the mere slave and that of the lowest full 
freeman (4). Such classes may be formed in various ways, 
by raising the slave, by pressing down the smaller freemen, 
by admitting strangers or conquered enemies to a state 
intermediate between mere bondage and full freedom. Such 
classes have been formed in these various ways within 
historical times, and we may reasonably conjecture that the 
same processes went on before written history began. But 
we cannot do more than conjecture. The threefold distinc- 
tion between the noble, the common freeman, and the classes 
below the common freeman is one of the primary facts with 
which we start alike in Greece, in Italy, and among our own 


forefathers (5). The fact isa matter of history; its causes 
M 


162 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


we can at the most explain only by reasoning from analogies 
and survivals. 

A class of nobles is clearly implied in the description of 
the Teutonic nations given by Tacitus, even though we 
explain the word principes of clective chiefs (6), who however 
would pretty certainly be, as a rule, chosen from among the 
members of the noble order. And the threefold division of 
tL> noble, the common freeman, and the unfree, appears, 
sometimes drawn out in a formal manner, in many of the 
earliest records of our race. We find it in its most marked 
form in the Scandinavian legend which makes the mythical 
for¥athers of the three classes, Jarl, Karl, and Thrall, the 
offspring of three distinct acts of creation on the part of the 
Gods (7). Among ourselves we find from the very beginning, 
orl and Ceorl, gentle and simple, as an exhaustive division 
of the free population. It is plain that the distinction was 
thoroughly well marked and was universally understood. 
And yet it is utterly impossible to say in what the privileges 
of the Horlas consisted. There is nothing to make us think 
that they were oppressive ; they may well have been purely 
honorary. But all analogy and probability would lead us to 
think that the Horlas would have a practical preference, a 
preference which might even be practically exclusive, in the 
choice of leaders both in peace and war, just as the noblest 
among the noble, the kingly house, had an exclusive prefer- 
ence for the post of the highest leader of all. The same 
marked distinction of a noble class meets us equally in our 
pictures of the earliest Greek society, and we find the same 
distinction living on into the historic ages. In the Greek 
commonwealth of which we know most, that of Athens, our 
earliest historical picture sets before us the rule of the 
nobles, the Eupatrids, as an exclusive and oppressive oligarchy. 
The harshness of its rule was first modified by the reforms 
of Soldn, and all traces of ancient distinctions were swept 
away by the later reform of Aristeidés. We have no historical 
account of the origin of the distinction which parted off the 
Eupatrid gentes at Athens from the excluded plebeian mass. 


vil BREAKING DOWN OF ARISTOCRACY AT ATHENS 168 


But the whole circumstances of the story may lead us to 
think that in this case the patriciate was a body of old 
citizens, as opposed to the new citizens who had gradually 
settled around them. In the history of a city, when either 
history or legend traces it up to its first veginnings, there 
is commonly a stage in which new comers are freely welcomed 
to all the rights of citizenship, which 1s followed by a stage 
in which those rights are found to be far too precious t- be 
thus given away at random. The first stage is well set forth 
in the Roman story by the legend of the Asylum of Romulus. 
The second stage is most probably marked by the exclusive 
dominion of the Athenian Eupatrids and the Roman 
Patricians. The original citizens have kept all privileges 
to themselves, and have thus become an aristocratic order 
in the midst of the unprivileged body of plebeians which 
has gradually gathered round them. To break down, step 
by step, all traces of this original inequality was the work 
of the founders of the democracy. But here again we may 
mark the characteristic difference between Athens and 
Europe. At Athens all distinctions of the kind were utterly 
swept away; every trace of inequality was wiped out; every 
political office without exception was thrown open to every 
citizen. The Eupatrid gentes remained as religious and 
social unions, cherishing the sacred traditions which each 
traced up to its legendary patriarch. Some special priestly 
offices still remained hereditary in particular families. But 
every office which carried with it any shred of political 
power was open to every citizen without distinction of birth 
and fortune. Yet it is no less true that, long after the 
establishment of the pure and perfect democracy, the 
Assembly, which disposed of every office according to its 
sovereign will; did, as a rule, choose men of the ancient houses 
to direct the counsels and command the armies of the 
commonwealth. No more speaking proof can be found of that 
inherent influence of birth and wealth, which survives the 
wiping out of all legal distinctions, an influence which 
legislation cannot give and which legislation by itself cannot 


164 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


take away. The people, of its own will, placed at its head 
men of the same class as those who in the earlier state of 
things had ruled it against its will, Periklés, Nikias, Alki- 
biadés, were men widely differing in character, widely 
differing in the relations to the popular government. But 
all alike were men of ancient birth, who, as men of ancient 
birth, found their way, almost as a matter of course, to those 
hig’> places of the State to which Kledn found his way 
only by a strange freak of fortune. 

At Rome we find quite another story. There, no less 
than at Athens, the moral influence of nobility survived 
its Neal privileges; but, more than this, the legal privileges 
of the elder nobility were never wholly swept away, and the 
inherent feeling of respect for Mlustrious birth called into 
being a younger nobility by its side. At Athens one stage 
of reform placed a distinction of wealth instead of a distinction 
of birth: another stage swept away the distinction of wealth 
also. But the reform, at each of its stages, was general ; 
it affected all offices alike, save those sacred offices which 
still remained the special heritage of certain sacred families. 
At Rome the change was done bit by bit. No one law 
threw open all offices to plebeians. One by one, this 
and that office was thrown open; but some offices were 
never made the subject of any such special enactment ; those 
offices therefore seemed the exclusive possession of the 
patricians. Among the priestly offices, the Pontificate, an 
office held for life and which was indirectly of high political 
importance, was thrown open to plebeians, and was bestowed, 
like the yearly magistracies, by the election of the people. 
So the augurship, as all the world knows, was held by the 
plebeian Cicero. But the Flamens, officers whose religious 
sanctity was great but whose political importance was small, 
remained to the last exclusively patrician. And among 
temporal magistracies, Curule Atdiles, Pretors, Consuls, 
Censors, and Dictators, might all freely be plebeians; but 
that occasional office in which, at moments few and far 
between, the ancient kingship again rose visibly to light 


VI NEW NOBILITY OF OFFICE AT ROME 165 


was never opened to the Commons. Not only was the 
Interrex to the last an exclusively patrician officer, but 
in his election none but the patrician Senators had a share. 
An Interregnum was, in the fully developed commonwealth, 
so rare an event that it perhaps never suggested itself to the 
mind of any reformer to bring forward a special enactment 
decreeing that a plebeian might be Interrex (8). And, in 
default of such special ‘enactment, the office would neces: arily 
remain confined to patricians, Just as much as the consulship 
had been before the Licinian Laws. This way of doing 
things bit by bit, and the occasional anomalies to which 
it gives birth, is eminently characteristic of the Roman 
constitution, just as it is of our own. But it stands in 
marked opposition to the symmetrical democracy of Athens. 

At Rome again we may mark, what we have no sign of at 
Athens, but what has a perfect parallel among ourselves, the 
growth of a new nobility of office after the exclusive privi- 
leges of the old patriciate had come to an end. The Roman 
Plebs, so largely composed of the inhabitants of allied and 
conquered cities who had been admitted in a mass to the 
plebeian franchise, naturally contained many families which 
were, in wealth and in nobility of descent, the equals of the 
proudest patricians. Such a class as this could hardly have 
existed, at least not in anything like the same degree, in a 
Commons like that of Athens. After the union of the Attic 
towns, the civic territory of Athens never grew, and her 
Commons must have been mainly formed of settlers in the 
city itself. We therefore find nothing at Athens answering 
to the plebeian houses of Lutatius, Pompeius, and Octavius, 
of Porcius of Tusculum and Tullius of Arpinum. When the 
great magistracies were opened to the plebeians, it was mainly 
by plebeians of this class that they were filled, and out of 
them, combined with the old patricians, a new nobility arose. 
Every descendant of a curule magistrate, whether patrician 
or plebeian, was nobilis; he had the jus imaginum, the nght 
of exhibiting the images of his forefathers who had held 
high office, the number of which formed the measure of his 


166 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


nobility. Thus grew up a new noble class, clothed with no 
legal privilege, but which gradually became as well marked 
in practice as ever the old patricians had been, and which 
looked on the great offices of the commonwealth as no less 
its own exclusivt right. In the later days of the common- 
wealth the consulship of a new man, a man whose forefathers 
had never held curule rank, though forbidden by no law, and 
thou7h the new man might be Caius Marius himself, seemed 
as strange as the consulship of ἃ Lutatius or a Licimius had 
once been (9). The nobility of birth had given way to the 
nobility of office, and the nobility of office had grown into a 
new Aobility of birth. 

The parallel to this change in our own early history 15 to 
be found in the way in which the old immemorial nobility of 
the Horlas, the origin and the nature of whose privileges are 
both shrouded in the mist of the earliest antiquity, gave way 
to the new nobility of office, the nobility of the Thegnas. 
The £orlas, a nobility patrician in the strictest sense, gave 
way in England to a class who owed their rank to the favour 
of the King, just as at Rome the patricians gave way to a 
class who owed their rank to the favour of the people. But 
the origin of the Thegns itself supplies one of our best 
analogies, if not with Roman, at least with Achaian antiquity. 
This analogy is one of which I have so often spoken else- 
where that I may perhaps be forgiven if I now pass it over 
in a few words. The Comitatus stands out in Tacitus as one 
of the primitive institutions of our race, and the GesSas, 
in later phrase the Thegnas, of Teutonic antiquity, the per- 
sonal following of the King, Ealdorman, or other chief, form 
the exact parallels of the ἑταῖροι and θεράποντες of the 
Homeric Achaians (10). The parallel here is as close as a 
parallel can be; only it does not seem that in early Greece 
the institution of the Comztatus ever rose to the same 
political importance which it reached in England. There is 
no sign that those companions of the chiefs who stand out 
with such prominence in Homer became the source of any 
of the later forms of nobility which we find in the Greek 


vI THE COMITATUS 167 


cities, There is nothing to make us think that the Eupatrid 
Houses of Athens traced their descent in any special way 
from the ἑταῖροι and θεράποντες of Théseus or Menestheus. 
The comitatus is, 1n truth, an institution which is not well 
suited for the atmosphere of a city life. It takes personal 
chieftainship for granted; it needs the personal chief to 
gather around. But the spirit of a civic aristocracy tends to 
equality among its own members; it surrounds the whole 
ruling body with a dependent class, but it does not love to 
surround particular men with personal dependents. The 
same causes which made kingship come so soon to an end 
in the Greek commonwealths hindered the comitatus, ‘the 
natural offshoot of kingship, from filling any great place in 
later Greek history. Among the Teutonic nations the case 
was widely different. “As kingship grew and flourished, the 
comitatus grew and flourished with it, till in some lands the 
King was for a season overshadowed by his own following. 
The comitatus, in one shape or another, became the root of 
every form of nobility in Western Europe, remembering 
that, among the nobilities of Western Europe, one order as 
proud as any of them, the civic patriciate of the island Rome 
on the Venetian lagunes, is not to be reckoned. In our own 
land the King’s Thegns became really the ruling order, till 
the older nobility of the Horlas was forgotten, and their 
name became confined to the rank next to the King, to the 
great officers who in earlier days had borne the more ancient 
title of Ealdormen (11). It shows how completely the notion 
of personal service became the standard of the new nobility 
that the word Thegn itself, in its first meaning simply servant, 
came to have its later force of noble or gentle (12). What 
went on in our own land went on also among our kinsfolk 
beyond the sea. The companions, the antrustions, of the 
Frankish Kings, changed step by step into the later nobility 
of feudal vassals, Under the strong hand of the early 
Karlings, the royal power kept its own, but presently, as 
kingdoms split off from kingdoms, as offices changed into 
fiefs, as the commonwealth changed into a society of Lords 


168 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT, 


and Vassals of various ranks, the sovereign became simply 
the highest lord among them; the new nobility not only 
supplanted the old, but it crushed alike the body of the 
commonwealth and its head; it trampled King and people 
alike under foo$ (13). And it is worth noticing that, just at 
the point of transition, when the old nobility was sinking 
and when the new nobility was as yet hardly rising, there 
wa: a time when birth seems to have been less thought of 
than it ever was before or after, and when men of lowly 
origin seem to have risen with unusual ease (14). But when 
the. time came for the growth of the new nobility, it grew 
fastér, and it more utterly ate out all earlier and healthier 
elements than it did in England. In England, under our 
native Kings, the tendency was to closer union, while in 
Gaul the tendency was to separation. And, if there had 
been any tendencies the other way, the strong hand of the 
Conqueror, even in the act of giving feudal ideas and feudal 
relations a wider scope, took care that they should never 
endanger either the power of the King or the security of the 
Kingdom. 

If we turn to Rome, we shall find there but small traces 
of the Cometatus in its Achaian or its Teutonic shape. It may 
be that the devotion of the Romans to the commonwealth, 
and to the commonwealth only, hindered the growth of any 
institution founded on a tie purely personal, at all events 
between men of equal or nearly equal rank, like Achilleus 
and Patroklos, ike Brihtnoth and the Thegns who fell around 
him at Maldon. Yet we may perhaps see something hke it 
in the special bodyguard of noble youths which legend places 
around the early Kings and Dictators, around Romulus in 
the spot which was to be Rome’s comitia, and around Aulus 
Postumius on the day of slaughter by Regillus (15). The 
client relation too springs from the same personal tie as the 
conitatus ; only there is the wide difference that in this case 
the client stands at an unpassable distance of rank beneath 
his patron. In the Hellenic and the Teutonic system advance 
in age and exploits might raise the man to the level of his 


vi LATER DEVELOPEMENTS OF THE COMITATUS 169 


lord; but nothing could raise the client to the level of his 
patron. No patrician ever stooped to the client relation ; we 
may doubt whether, in the early days of the commonwealth, 
any full citizen did. Yet the lowly clientage of the Roman 
patrician and the noble following of the Helle.ic or Teutonic 
leader may really come from the same source, and may both 
alike be parts of the common primeeval heritage. If this be 
so, 1t shows how easily institutions which are in their oris.n 
the same may, under different circumstances, develope in 
different directions. There is something romantic, chivalrous, 
sentimental—none of these are good words to express the 
idea, but I know of none better—in both the early Hellenic 
and the early Teutonic state of society. Of this there 15 no 
trace in the more purely political society of Rome. It is the 
same kind of difference as that which I have already noticed 
between the Roman King and his Hellenic or Teutonic 
brother. The difference is no doubt partly owing to the fact 
that our first glimpses both of Hellenic and of Teutonic life 
belong to an earlier stage than our first glimpses of Roman 
life. But thisis notall. The institution took utterly different 
courses among the three nations, according to the several 
circumstances of each. In Teutonic Europe it grew and 
flourished ; it became the groundwork of nobility ; 1t became 
one main element in producing the whole fabric of what, for 
want of a better word, we may call feudal society. It grew 
and flourished, because the personal chieftainship which it 
implies grew and flourished. It reached its highest point of 
external splendour, though its real spirit had already passed 
away, at the coronation of a medieval Emperor, when Kings 
and Electors did their personal service to the anointed Lord 
of the World. In Greece, on the other hand, it died out as 
kingship died out. Achilleus and Menelaos had their Thegnas 
and (estSas; none such surrounded Miltiadés or Epamei- 
nondas ; but we see them again in the Companions who fought 
around the Macedonian Alexander (16). Under the stern, 
practical, political, mind of Rome, the institution took another 
and a worse form. The general idea which forms the ground- 


170 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT, 


RCN A ete 


work of the whole thing survived. There was still the 
relation of faithful service on one side, of faithful protection 
on the other ; but they appear in a shape from which all that 
made the Comitatus the groundwork of modern society has 
wholly passed Away. The client is a true Thegn ; the patron 
is a true Hlaford: but his thegnship is of so literal and lowly 
a kind as to be fit only for the frecdman, the stranger, or at 
τὴν st the citizen of the very lowest rank (17). 

Out of this institution of the Comitatus grew the nobility 
of modern Europe, and specially that Old-English nobility of 
Thegns which supplanted the older nobility of the Eorls. 
In England, as at Rome, a nobility of office supplanted the 
nobility of birth: only in the commonwealth of Rome it was 
the nobility of office bestowed by the people, while in the 
English kingdom it was the nobility of office bestowed by the 
King. The King could not in strictness make an Eorl, because 
he could not change a man’s forefathers, but he could make a 
Thegn, as he now can make a Duke. Now what was it that hin- 
dered the nobility thus formed from becoming a real nobility ? 
What saved us from a noblesse or Adel in the foreign sense 7 
For 1 repeat that in England we have, in strictness, no 
nobility ; we have no class which keeps on from generation to 
generation in the possession of exclusive privileges, either 
political or social. Our peerage is not a nobility in the sense 
in which nobility is understood in foreign lands. It 15 not 
only a rank to which any man may rise, but it is a rank 
from which the descendants of the hereditary holders must 
as a matter of course come down. Political privilege belongs 
only to one member of a family at a time; honorary pre- 
cedence does not go beyond one or two generations. This is 
not nobility in the sense which that word bears in those 
lands where all the descendants of a noble are noble for ever. 
Why then did not the Thegnhood of England grow into a 
nobility such as that which in other lands grew out of the 
same elements? One answer doubtless is that the Norman Con- 
quest thrust down the native Thegnhood, the growing nobility 
of England, to a secondary place in the social and political scale. 


VI NATURE OF THE ENGLISH PEERAGE 171 


In so doing it wrought for us one of the greatest of blessings, 
It gave us a middle class spread over the whole country. 
While in most continental lands it was only in the chartered 
towns there was any class intermediate between the noble 
and the peasant, often none between the noble and the 
villain, in England the ancient lords of the soil, thus thrust 
down into the second rank, formed that great body of 
freeholders, the stout gentry and yeomanry of England, wh: 
were for so many ages the strength of the land. But why 
did not a nobility of the foreign type grow up among the 
Norman Conquerors themselves? That great law of William 
which made every man in the land the man of the King hid 
much to do with it; but paradoxical as 1t may sound, I con- 
ceive that the very power and dignity of the peerage has had 
a good deal tou do with it also. Elsewhere nobility was pri- 
marily a matter of rank and privilege, with which political 
power might or might not be connected. But in an English 
peerage the primary idea is political power ; rank and privi- 
lege are a mere adjunct. The peer does not hold a mere 
rank which he can share with his descendants; he holds an 
office, which passes to his next heir when he dies, but which 
he cannot share with any man while he lives. The peer 
then, not a mere noble, but a legislator, a counsellor, and a 
judge, holds a distinct place in the State which his children 
can no more share with him than any one else. Hence in 
England we have but two classes, Pecrs and Commoners, 
those who hold the office and authority of a peer and those 
who do not. The children of a peer come under this last 
head as much as other men; they are therefore Commoners. 
The very existence of the peerage of itself hinders the exist- 
ence of a nobility in the true sense of the word. 

If then the Norman Conquest had never happened, it 1s 
most likely that the native Thegnhood of England would 
have grown up into a nobility of the foreign type. If the 
wisdom of the Norman Conqueror had not preserved our 
ancient institutions, if it had not thus been possible that the 
House of Lords of our later constitution could grow out of 


172 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


the Witenagemét of our earlier constitution, it 15 most likely 
that a nobility of the foreign type would have grown up 
among the Norman conquerors themselves. As it 1s, we 
have had no nobility, but we have had a peerage; I might 
almost say tht we have had an aristocracy. IJ say almost 
and not altogether, because England is a kingdom and not a 
republic. I once heard it said that in a republic there 
ould be no aristocracy except “an aristocracy of wealth.” I 
treasured up the saying as one of the shallowest that I ever 
heard. I put it alongside of another saying, the saying of 
one who argued that ancient Bern must have been a demo- 
οὗλον because it was a republic. I should rather say that it 
is only in a republic that a real aristocracy can exist. 
Corinth and Rome, Venice and Genoa, Bern and Niirnberg, 
bear out what I am saying. The nobles who cringed at the 
court of the Great King at Paris, or at the lesser courts of 
his imitators in the petty despotisms of Germany and Italy, 
had no right to the name of an aristocracy. Aristocracy 1s 
the rule of the best; they were not the best, and they did 
not rule. But in aristocratic commonwealths, in the proud 
city which floats on the waves of the Hadriatic, in the 
hardly less proud city which looks forth from her peninsula 
on the snows of her once vassal mountains, in Byzantine 
Venice and Teutonic Bern, there was for ages something 
which it needed no great straining of language to call the 
rule of the best. Morally best indeed I do not say, but best 
so far as this, that, narrow as was the government of those 
commonwealths, fenced in as the power of the State was 
within a circle of exclusive houses, those houses at least 
knew how to rule, and how to hand on the craft of the ruler 
from generation to generation. Their rule was in itself 
unjust, because it was exclusive, narrow, and selfish. It was 
often oppressive; but it was never oppressive with the 
frantic and purposeless oppression of many a personal despot. 
It was in some respects more galling than the yoke of a 
despot, but it was so simply because the yoke of one master 
is in itself less galling than the yoke of many. But, as 


vi NATURE OF ARISTOCRATIC COMMONWEALTHS 173 


regarded the members of the ruling order, no other form of 
government supplied such a school of rulers. The patrician 
was born to rule; but he was born to rule, not according to 
his own caprice, but according to the laws of the ruling order 
of which he was only one member among many (18). Such 
a system tended to dwarf the powers of men of the very 
highest order; but it tended at once to raise and to regulate 
the powers of all but the very highest class. It checked th 
growth of heroes and of exceptionally great men, but it 
fostered the growth of a succession of men who were great 
enough for their own position, but not too great. In an 
aristocratic commonwealth there is no room for Periklés; 
there is no room for the people that hearkened to Periklés; 
but in men of the second order, skilful conservative adminis- 
trators, men able to work the system which they find 
established, no form of government is so fertile. But such a 
commonwealth, where the power of strengthening the ruling 
order by new blood either does not exist or is but sparingly 
exercised, commonly degenerates in the end, though the 
causes of the degeneracy are not exactly the same as those 
which bring about the degeneracy of democratic common- 
wealths, The day of glory of the aristocratic commonwealth 
may be longer than the day of glory of a democracy, but its 
decay will be even more hopeless. As its ruling families die 
out, as those which survive lose their strength—two processes 
which must sooner or later affect every exclusive body—the 
dregs of an oligarchy become even baser than the dregs of a 
democracy. There was at least some difference in dignity 
and courage between the fall of Venice and the fall of 
Unterwalden. 

I maintain then that aristocracy, in its true sense, is 
something essentially republican, something to which a 
monarchic state can present only.a faint approach. So far 
as a monarchic state is aristocratic, as our own country has 
been at some times, it can only be in proportion to the 
degree that, through the lessening of the powers both of the 
Crown and of the people, it approaches to the nature of a 


174 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


commonwealth in the hands of certain ruling families. A 
government like the old French monarchy, where a noble 
class has hateful social and civil privileges, but where those 
privileges carry with them no political power, is not aristo- 
cratic in any political sense. Where an external power, that 
of the King, can ennoble, and where that external power is 
politically supreme, there is no aristocracy in the sense which 
.he word bore in the mouth of a Greek thinker. Poland, 
and Sweden at some stages of its history, came nearer to 
aristocratic government than any other states which acknow- 
ledged a King. But a Chian or a Venetian aristocrat would 
hardly have owned their constitutions as kindred with his 
own. The true aristocracy, the aristocracy of a common- 
wealth, may, as we have seen, arise in several ways. A body 
of older citizens, ike the original patriciate of Rome, may 
keep—for a time or for ever—all the powers of the common- 
wealth in their own hands to the exclusion of the Commons 
who grow up around them. In a city of late foundation, 
like Bern, where there is a noble element in the population 
from the beginning, a patriciate may grow up which may 
gradually draw all power into its own hands. Or, without 
any reference to earlier nobilityy a patriciate may, as at 
Venice, arise among the citizens themselves, simply by the 
process of confining office, whether by law or only in practice, 
to the descendants of certain families which have gained 
exclusive possession of it. But, when a patriciate has arisen 
by any of these means, it seems essential to its being that no 
new members can be admitted to the body except by its 
own act. Few aristocracies have been so exclusive as never 
to admit any new houses or individuals to a share in their 
own privileges, The Claudian house at Rome, the house of 
Morlot at Bern, were strangers who were received not only to 
citizenship but to nobility. And at Venice and Niirnberg 
new families were, down to the last days of the common- 
wealth, received from time to time within the pale of the 
ruling order (19). But in all these cases the aristocracy 
enlarged itself by its own act and deed, by the exercise of its 


VI RIGHT OF THE AVENGER OF BLOOD 175 


sovereign power. When the noble class can be enlarged by 
the external will of a personal sovereign, it shows that the 
noble class is not, exclusively and by itself, the ruling body 
in the State. In a State which has a King at its head, there 
may be a peerage; there may be a nobility; shere cannot, if 
words are used in their true meanings, be an aristocracy. 


This last lecture must be a desultory one. I have new 
only to point out some of the analogies which are to be 
found among the particular institutions of the nations 
with which we are concerned. Let us take for instance 
the institution of the wergild, the price of blood. This 
is one of those institutions which we have every reason 
to believe are common to che whole Aryan family, and 
which may indeed be traced back beyond the bounds of 
the Aryan family. That criminal jurisprudence which in 
highly civilized societies takes so elaborate a shape grows 
out of that desire of private vengeance which it is one 
of its main objects in its fully developed growth to check, 
and even to punish. A man'is slain; the passion of 
vengeance is awakened; the right—the duty, as 1t seems 
in their eyes—of avenging the slain man naturally falls 
to those who have lost most by his death, to his immediate 
kinsfolk, the men of his own family or household. As 
the social and political circle widens, the right and the 
duty are handed over from the mere household to the 
gens, the tribe, and the nation. And at cach stage, as 
the right and duty of vengeance is thus handed over to 
men who, at each stage, are less and less stirred by the mere 
passion, vengeance loses more and more of its character 
as vengeance, and puts on more and more of the character 
which punishment bears in fully civilized societies, a pre- 
ventive and corrective interference of the public authority 
on behalf of the public good. So with other wrongs; in 
a state of nature each man who is wronged must right 
himself by the strong hand; each man has the nght of 
war and peace in his own person. Again, as the social 


176 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


and political circle widens, the wrong of each man becomes 
something which does not concern himself only, but con- 
cerns also the gens, the tribe, and the nation. Thus, by 
slow degrees, the right of each man to defend himself 
against a wrdhng-doer grows into the right of the State 
to defend itself against the wrong doings of its own members 
by legal punishment and against the wrong doings of other 
s.ates by regular war. But it is only in highly civilized 
communities that the mght of private vengeance is wholly 
taken away, and that the night of defence—that is the 
right of private warfare—is kept within the narrowest 
boands of undoubted necessity. Our law, the law of every 
country, allows that there are extreme cases in which private 
homicide in the form of self-defence is not a crime. That 
is to say, 1t 1s the duty of the citizen to give up to the 
Commonwealth the duty of his protection whenever the 
Commonwealth can protect him: but, in any case where the 
Commonwealth cannot protect him, the natural right revives, 
and it is allowed that he may protect himself. But it 
is only in the highest state of civilization that the natural 
rights of private vengeance and private war can be cut 
down within this very narrow limit. For a long time 
the Commonwealth steps in, not so much to forbid as to 
regulate and soften the natural mght which it admits. 
The Mosaic Law fully admits the mght of the avenger 
of blood: all that it does is to set apart certain cities of 
refuge whither the slayer may flee and be safe. If he is 
overtaken before he can reach the asylum, the law does 
nothing to stay the arm of the avenger (20). Our own early 
laws, the early laws of most nations, do not wholly forbid a 
man to help himself with the strong hand; they only limit 
the nght to certain extreme cases, to certain specially inexpi- 
able wrongs, to certain cases where legal means have been 
tried and have failed. By the law alike of Athens, of Rome, 
and of England, a man might without crime slay the defiler 
of the purity of his own household (21): by the law alike 
of Athens and of Rome every citizen might slay the Tyrant 


VI THE WAGER OF BATTLE 177 


who had trampled the Commonwealth under foot and had 
made law powerless to defend or to avenge (22). In cases 
of wrongs between man and man the State steps in as 
an arbitrator before it steps in as a judge. It tries to 
persuade the injured man to abate somewhat of his wrath 
against the wrong-doer; it strives to make him accept 
something less than the full satisfaction of his vengeance ; 
it gradually fixes the amount of compensation with whic’. 
the injured man shall be satisfied. But it is only waen 
civilization has reached a high pitch indeed that the 
vengeance of the injured man is made wholly to give way to 
the remedial interference of the State, that every crime 
is looked on as a crime against the Commonweath, whose 
punishment is the business of the Commonwealth and of 
the Commonwealth alone. 

The appeal of murder and of other crimes, with its 
accompaniment the wager of battle, was an instance of the 
regulated right of private war which, though it had long 
fallen into disuse, was actually removed from our Statute- 
Book only within the present century. Here the right 
of vengeance was recognized, though it was recognized in 
such a form as gave it somewhat of the nature of a legal 
trial. The appeal was brought by the injured person in his 
own name; he sought for redress for the private wrong, 
and, as the one who had suffered for the wrong, he had 
the right of pardoning the offender. And this mode of 
procedure went on alongside of that with which alone we 
are now familiar, that in which the crime is dealt with as a 
wrong done to the King as head of the Commonwealth, in 
which the prosecution is made in the name of the King, 
and in which the King alone has the right of pardon (23). 
Of that limiting of the right of private war which took the 
form of judicial combat, and which was afterwards corrupted 
back again into the baser form of the private duel, we find 
few or no traces in early Greek or Roman antiquity. This 
is probably another result of the quicker developement of 


things in the city commonwealths of Greece and Italy, as 
N 


178 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


compared with the tribal system of our own forefathers. 
But the old Roman Law allowed the principle of ¢alto, the 
Mosaic doctrine of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, 
and it recognized the right of the injured person either to 
exact the penalty or to admit of some form of compromise 
(24). This brings us at once to the doctrine of the wergild, 
a doctrine common to the Greece of Homer and to the 
Germany of Tacitus, and which, we cannot doubt, is a portion 
of the primitive Aryan inheritance. The wergild is an 
appeal from the passion of vengeance to a less fierce, if more 
sordid, passion, to the love of gain. The man who has 
forgited his life to the vengeance of the injured kinsman 
may perhaps stay his vengeance by offering gifts in its 
stead; he may buy back his own life at a price. In the 
Homeric times, the man whose son or father had been slain 
might—perhaps was bound .to—receive the gifts of atone- 
ment offered by the slayer, and the slayer, when he had paid 
those gifts, could dwell in peace among his people (25) It 
seems here to be implied that custom at least demanded 
that the proffered atonement should be accepted. This was 
an advance on the kindred war-law of the same age, according 
to which the conqueror might accept the bondage of the 
conquered instead of his blood, but might also slay him 
without reproach (26). 

The next step plainly is for the Commonwealth to step 
in, for the law to enforce the duty of accepting the atone- 
ment, and perhaps, as another step, to regulate the amount 
of the atonement, instead of leaving the injured man to 
wring what he could out of the wrong-doer. In our earliest 
glimpse of Teutonic law we seem to see a further advance ; 
the crime is recognized as a wrong done to the commonwealth 
as well as to the individual, and the King or other head of 
the State receives his share of the atonement as well as the 
kindred of the slain man (27). In our own ancient laws the 
subject is gone into with the utmost minuteness. The 
ancient talio has given way to an elaborate scale of prices, 
according to which every form of bodily injury, small or 


VI THE WERGILD IN OLD-ENGLISH LAW 179 


great, may be atoned for by the payment of the appointed 
sum in money (28). And the penalty to be paid by the 
manslayer 1s regulated with a minute regard to the rank 
of the person slain and to his supposed consequent value. 
The life of every man, like the oath of eve'y man, was of 
some value; but the life and the oath of the man of higher 
rank was of more value than the life and the oath of the 
man of lower rank (29). The price of one Thegn was equal 
to that of several churls, and so on in an ascending scale, 
till we reach the mighty penalty which alone could atone for 
the death of the King. Mark too that differences of race 
come in as well as differences of rank; in the lands where 
the Englishman and the Briton dwelled side by side, the 
blood of the Englishman was rated at a higher price than 
the blood of the Briton of his own rank (30). Mark too 
that care was taken that the penalty should be paid to 
those who, in the eye of the law, had undergone the wrong ; 
the price of the slave was paid to his master; the price of 
the freeman was paid to his kinsfolk; but the price of 
kingly blood was not only heavier than the price of other 
men, but it had to be paid twice over, to the kinsfolk who 
had lost one of their house and to the commonwealth which 
had lost its leader. And in this last case the payment of 
the wergild might rise to the rank of an affair between 
commonwealth and commonwealth. War between sovereign 
states is simply the natural right of self-defence, which still 
goes on in a state of things where the contending parties 
have no common superior to decide with authority between 
them. But the vengeance of the Commonwealth, like the 
vengeance of the individual, may be bought off; and we 
have at least two cases in early English history, where an 
invader, seeking vengeance for the blood of a royal kinsman, 
stayed his hand on the payment of the appointed wergild 
which custom had fixed for the shedding of royal blood (31). 
No feature of our ancient jurisprudence plays a more 
important part than this in our earlier laws; none has so 
utterly vanished without leaving any trace of itself in 


180 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


modern legislation. As the Commonwealth, and the King 
as its head, have taken the place of the actual sufferer or 
his kinsman, as—in criminal as distinguished from civil 
jurisprudence—the idea of compensation has given way to 
the idea of pufishment whether remedial or vindictive, the 
notion of vengeance to be bought off by a payment has 
utterly died away. Yet it may be well to remember that, 
as late as the fifteenth century, a private dispute between 
two English noblemen was decided by open warfare on a 
battle-field in Gloucestershire, and the wrong done to the 
wife of one of them by the slaughter of her husband was in 
the end made up by a payment which in earlier times would 
have passed for his wergild (32). 


In this case we have, beyond doubt, an institution which 
is at once Hellenic and Teutonic, and which is at once 
Hellenic and Teutonic, not by borrowing or unitation, not 
by like causes producing like effects, but because Hellén 
and Teuton alike inherited it as part of a common stock, 
a stock, it would seem, not even peculiar to the Aryan 
family. We may end our survey by looking back to some 
points which have more connexion with the subject of the 
early part of this lecture. We may end with a glance at 
some of the striking analogies which are to be seen in the 
political relations of states in ages far distant from one 
another, and which, there can be no doubt, are to be ex- 
plained, not by common inheritance from a common stock, 
but by the operation of lke causes leading to lke effects. 
We have seen that there is every reason to believe that 
the distinctions within the Commonwealth, the noble, the 
freeman, and the slave—perhaps also some of those inter- 
mediate stages which part off the mere slave from the 
common freeman—are really part of the common Aryan 
heritage. At least we cannot go back, by the help either 
of history or of legend, to any stage either of Greek, of 
Teutonic, or of Italian history in which those distinctions 
are not to be found. But the relations which rise up 


VI HEREDITARY BURGHERSHIP 181 


between the Commonwealth and those, whether individuals 
or commonwealths, which lie outside its pale, though they 
present a series of most striking and most instructive analo- 
gies, are necessarily the results of the circumstances under 
which each commonwealth finds itself, and can have no 
claim to be looked on as parts of the common heritage. 
We have already seen that, as cities began to arise in the 
Teutonic lands, and as, through the decline of the royal 
power, those cities began to approach to the character of 
independent commonwealths, many of the phanomena of 
the old city system of Greece were called again into being. 
Many of those analogies were to be seen in full force within 
the memory of men now living; some of them have lingered 
on to our own time. There is commonly a stage in the 
history of a city Commonwealth, that stage which in the 
Roman legend is represented by the Asylum of Romulus, 
in which the new-born city is liberal of its franchise to 
strangers who are ready to throw in their lot to the new 
community, and so to add to its strength. Then comes a 
stage in which citizenship begins to be too highly valued 
to be given to all who ask for it, when the original citizens 
shrink up into an oligarchic body, with a large mass around 
them, who share only an imperfect citizenship, or no citizen- 
ship at all. Gradually, as at Rome, or suddenly, as at 
Athens, the unenfranchised or half enfranchised classes win 
for themselves equality of rights with the old citizens, and 
the work of Kleisthenés or Licinius is done. Or perhaps 
no such revolution takes place; perhaps a change takes 
place the other way, and the mass of the citizens gradually 
lose the rights which they had once enjoyed. That is to 
say, the Commonwealth developes either in an oligarchic or 
in a democratic direction. But, in either case, a time comes 
when its developement seems to stop, when the idea of any 
general extension of citizenship is an idea which 1s no longer 
heard of, when the civic franchise, aristocratic or democratic, 
becomes an hereditary privilege which is at most doled out 
now and then as a special favour, the reward of special merit. 


182 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


Or perhaps, in a meaner state of things, it becomes a matter 
of purchase and sale, and thereby of profit to the privileged 
class. Thus there arises an excluded class, strangers in the 
place where perhaps they were born, where their forefathers 
may even havé lived for several generations. Such a class 
we have seen in the μέτοικοι of the ancient Greek cities; 
they might be seen, perhaps they may still be seen by way 
of e feeble survival, in those whom many an English borough 
distinguished from the hereditary freemen by the name of 
foreigners (33). The two things are essentially the same, 
differing only in the value of the franchise from which the 
stringer is shut out. And that again depends on the differ- 
ence between a community which forms a sovereign common- 
wealth and one which, whatever its internal constitution 
may be, is, as regards all national matters, merely part of a 
greater whole. The μέτοικος at Athens was shut out from 
the privileges of a sovereign commonwealth, while he had 
to bear burthens in which the hereditary burgher had no 
share. He had no voice, he had no means of obtaining a 
voice, in the affairs of the political society in which he lived. 
But the foreigner in an English borough, whether the local 
privileges from wnich he was shut out were precious or 
worthless, lay under a disqualification which was purely 
local. He lay under no disqualification as a member of the 
Commonwealth at large; if he had no share in the election 
of the representatives of his own town, he could at any 
moment, by buying a forty-shilling freehold, become an 
elector of any county in England which he chose. And, 
through later enactments, other franchises, the parliamentary 
franchise among them, franchises dependent on residence 
and careless about descent, have grown up by the side of 
the old franchise of the hereditary freemen. And these new 
franchises have become so much more valuable as to make 
the old burghership seem contemptible. The freemen of an 
English borough are in most places looked upon as an 
inferior class; yet it is they who answer to the Athenian 
Eupatrids and the Roman Patricians; the other inhabitants 


4 


VI NIEDERGELASSENEN ANSWER TO μέτοικοι 188 


are but μέτοικοι or plebeians by their side. The principle 
is the same in both cases; mere residence gives no claim 
to admission to the civic community, whether that civic 
community be a sovereign commonwealth or the pettiest 
municipality. In both cases the franchise, Whatever it may 
be worth and whatever it carries with it, can be had only 
by the appointed means, means easier doubtless in most of 
the English cases than they were in the analogous case in 
Greece. Still in neither case does the civic franchise belong 
to every man who chooses to go and dwell within the civic 
boundary. It may not always be purely a matter of birth; 
but it 1s always something which cannot be taken up at 
the mere will of the stranger. It always requires that 
particular qualification which is fixed by the custom of 
the civic community, be that qualification birth, marriage, 
servitude, special purchase, or special grant. 

All distinctions of this kind have, through later English 
legislation, lost all practical importance, and they have 
become mere materials for inquiries such as that on which 
we are now engaged. But in another part of Europe, in the 
land which among all modern states preserves to us at once 
the most precious relics of the old Teutonic world and the 
most striking analogies with the old Hellenic and Italian 
world, a close parallel to this feature, as to so many other 
features of Greek political life, is still to be seen in its 
fulness. It is naturally among those cities and districts 
which have grown into the Confederation of Switzerland 
that we find the most instructive ilustrations which modern 
political life can give us of the working of city—in many 
cases we should rather say of village—communities. The 
Niedergelassenen in Switzerland, those Swiss citizens who 
are settled in Gemeinden or Communes—parishes or Mark- 
genossenschaften—of which they have not the hereditary 
burghership, answer exactly to the Greek μέτοικοι. And, in 
the late debates on the reform of the Federal Constitution, 
many proposals were brought forward to remedy a state of 
things by which a number not far short of half of the Swiss 


184 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


--«---- 


people are, in many important respects, strangers in the 
places where they themselves dwell, and where it may 
happen that their forefathers have dwelt for many gener- 
ations (34). But this state of things is the exact parallel 
to those which ‘we have just been speaking of in Greece and 
in England. It is of the essence of a Gemeinde or commune, 
of a borough or a village community, one perhaps owning 
a oonsiderable estate in folkland or ager publicus, that the 
stranger should be admitted to membership of the community 
only on such terms as the community itself may think good. 
In a sovereign community the power thus to bind and loose 
calf be relaxed only by its own will and pleasure; in a 
community which forms part gf a greater sovereign whole, 
it may of course be modified or taken away by an act of the 
supreme Legislature. In the old days of the Swiss Con- 
federation, the days of the Staatenbund, when there was no 
common Federal Legislature or Executive, when no part of 
the internal sovereignty of the Cantons had been given over 
to any central power, the citizen of one Canton who settled 
in another Canton must have been as strictly ἃ μέτοικος as 
a Corinthian who settled at Athens. He had no voice either 
in the cantonal or the communal affairs of the place in 
which he lived, any more than if he had settled in a spot 
beyond the bounds of the Confederation. The existing 
Federal Constitution gives every Swiss citizen equal Federal 
and Cantonal rights, in whatever part of the Confederation 
he may settle. But communal matters are left to the 
legislation of the Canton or of the commune itself; all that 
the Federal Constitution provides is that the μέτοικος shall 
not be, as he was at Athens, subject to any special μετοίκιον, 
any special tax laid on the μέτοικος and in which the citizen 
bears no share. The laws of different Cantons, the customs 
of different communes, may of course differ on these points ; 
some communes are more chary of granting or selling their 
franchise than others; but everywhere the Nvedergelassenc 
is still, in communal matters, a μέτοικος ; the mere fact of 
residence and contribution to the local taxes no more gives 


VI NATURE OF THE PERIOIKIC RELATION 185 


him the full communal franchise than it makes him a 
freeman of an English borough. The two higher franchises, 
those of the Confederation and the Canton, he enjoys as 
fully as any native; to the lower franchise of the commune 
he can be admitted only by special grant οἱ by the effect 
of some special enactment. 

In the like sort, as long as the old Confederation lasted, 
some other features of old Greek and Italian political life 
were still to be seen in all their fulness. If there still are 
μέτοικοι In Switzerland, down to 1798 there were περίοικοι. 
Of course we may see a relation equivalent to the periothic 
relation whenever any state, be it Venice or England, helds 
dependencies whose inhabitants have no voice in the general 
government, especially if they have no means of obtaining 
that voice, even by taking up their abode in the ruling 
country (35). But distance makes a great difference both 
in the appearance and in the reality of things. We may 
question the right by which Venice bore rule over Cyprus, 
or that by which England bears rule over India. But, 
granting that such rule exists, it 1s not to be expected that 
the inhabitants of Cyprus or of India should have a voice in 
the affairs of Venice or of England. The full nature of the 
pervoikic relation does not come out except in a state of 
things where the name can be applied geographically as well 
as politically, in those cases where the subjects really dwell 
round about or near the home of their rulers. The dominions 
of Venice on the mainland of Italy present an approach to 
the old pertotkic relation. Still the island city always 
remained isolated from the Continent; Venice never became 
part of continental Venetia in the same sense in which 
Florence was part of Tuscany or Bern part of the Lesser 
Burgundy. It is in medieval Italy, in Switzerland down to 
1798, and, to some extent, also among the free cities of 
Germany, that we see the periotkic relation, just as it stood 
between Sparta and the other Laconian towns. As Sparta 
ruled over Amyklai and Epidauros Liméra, so Florence ruled 
over Pisa and Bern ruled over Lausanne. Nay more, a very 


186 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT. 


few years back, down to the last changes in Germany, the 
cities of Liibeck and Hamburg held the small district of 
Vierlande in Condominium (36). They held it in partner- 
ship as a joint possession, the government of which might be 
exercised conjéintly or alternately as the ruling powers may 
think fit. In the lke sort, in the old state of things in 
Switzerland, various districts were held, not only by this or 
that Canton singly, but’ by two or more Cantons, or by all 
the Cantons of the Confederation, in the same joint owner- 
ship. And mark again that, in all these cases, the internal 
constitution of the ruling State made no difference. As 
Athens had her subjects—though not strictly her περίοικοι---- 
no less than Sparta, so democrgtic Uri had her own subjects, 
and her share in the common subjects of the Confederation, 
no less than aristocratic Bern. In all this we have a lively 
image of the state of things in old Greece, except that I do 
not remember that the condominium, the joint sovereignty 
or rather the joint ownership, has its parallel there. This 
fact is to be taken in connexion with a fact to which Mr. 
Grote has called attention, that the acquisition of dominion 
by purchase, so common in medizval history, is rare in the 
history of Greece (37). I conceive the cause of the difference 
to be that in old Greece and Italy the ideas of property and 
government had not got mixed together in the way in which 
they were mixed together in medieval times. The Roman 
People might make itself the landowner of the soil of a 
conquered commonwealth; it might add the jfolkland of the 
conquered to its own /folkland, or it might part it out as 
bookland among its own citizens; but the mght of govern- 
ment remained a distinct thing from the right of property. 
It remained something which could not be, as in medieval 
times, granted, sold, or enfeoffed, along with the land. But 
we have seen how in medieval times, as the feudal idea took 
root and grew, the right of government came to be looked on 
as a property, while the possession of landed property came 
to be looked on as carrying with it a kind of mght of 
government. When government was thus looked on as a 


VI NOTION OF PROPERTY IN SOVEREIGNTY 187 


possession, there seemed no reason why a rich commonwealth 
might not buy the sovereign rights and powers of a spend- 
thrift prince, just as it might buy his landed estate or his 
manorial privileges. In this way, Bern and other cities 
largely bought out the neighbouring tervitorial nobility, 
besides often conquering them in warfare. The new corporate 
lord, the Commonwealth, stepped into the place of the old 
personal lord; it was clothed with all his authority, and it 
commonly contrived that the authority which thus passed to 
it should grow, rather than lessen, in its hands. So, when 
the same notion of property in sovereignty was fully estab- 
lished, there was no reason why two or more commonwealths 
might not hold the sovereignty of a town or district in 
partnership, just as two or more personal owners might hold 
a field or a house in partnership. In this way the purchase 
of territory, and with it of sovereignty, and the holding of 
sovereignty in partnership, if not absolutely unknown in the 
elder state of things, became at least far more familiar and 
important in the later. And, through the greater complica- 
tion of mediwval jurisprudence—a complication which for 
the most part grew out of this same confusion of the ideas of 
property and sovereignty—there arose an endless variety of 
relations between princes, towns, independent and subject 
districts, to which there is no parallel in the simpler state of 
things in Greece and Italy (38). Still, as often as there 
arose a system of separate towns and districts, independent 
of, or but slightly controlled by, the central power of the 
Emperor, we find in medieval Europe a lively image of the 
relations between a Greek or Italian city and its Greek or 
Italian subjects, an image of the relation of Sparta to her 
Laconian περίοικοι or of Rome to her Italian allies (39). And 
in Switzerland and the neighbouring lands this system went 
on 1n all its fulness till the French invasion came to sweep 
away the old state of things, to sweep away its worst evils 
for ever, its good points only for a moment. The League 
itself, its several Cantons, the allied cities and confederations, 


188 MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT, 


all had their subjects, their Unterthanen, in Greek phrase 
their περίοικοι, It was not only aristocratic Bern or Basel 
that thus ruled, sometimes over men of their own blood and 
language, in all cases over men who were not savages or 
heathens, but sharers in the common faith and civilization of 
Kurope. If the Bear held a firm grasp on the lands from 
the Aargau to the Leman Lake, if fora moment he held— 
and Europe may now sigh that he did not keep—the shore 
which so proudly fronts Lausanne and Chillon (40), the bull 
of Uri had planted his foot no less firmly on the Levantine 
valley. So too the confederate village communities of the 
Uyer Wallis lorded it over their Welsh neighbours lower 
down the river, and the Three Leagues of Retia bore a rule 
perhaps sterner than all over the Italian valley to the south 
of them. The Valtelina alone has failed to rise from bondage 
to the highest freedom of all; yet incorporation with con- 
stitutional Italy, nay, even subjection to France and Austria, 
was a good exchange for the rule of its former masters. In 
all these lands, whether well or ill governed in detail, the 
principle of government was the same. The internal state 
of the subject district might range from something very like 
bondage to a large amount of local self-government; but all 
alike were περίοικοι, in so far as the sovereignty was neither 
vested in the community itself nor in a prince whom it could 
claim as its own. In all alike, the sovereign was a common- 
wealth beyond their borders, a corporate lord, who, whether 
he ruled well or ill, ruled in his own interest and not in the 
interest of his subjects. Such a rule is not necessarily 
oppressive, though there is every temptation to make it so. 
But it is in any case irksome and degrading; it is the story 
of Rome over again; the rule of a single despot, where there 
is at least the chance of the personal virtues of a well- 
disposed despot, is better than the systematically selfish rule 
of an alien commonwealth. The rule of a single man, of a 
man so exalted as to seem like a being of another order, 15 
less irksome than the rule of a body of men who seem to be 


VI COMMONWEALTAS AND THEIR SUBJECTS 189 


in no way privileged above their subjects. And in one 
respect the experience of earlier and later days has been 
reversed. Democratic Athens was at least a better ruler of 
dependencies than oligarchic Sparta (41). But the common 
bailiwicks of Switzerland were always bettey off when the 
bailiff, the Vogt, the harmost, who was sent to rule them 
came from aristocratic Bern or Ziinch than when he came 
from democratic Uri or Unterwalden. A patrician of Bern 
was at least a man who knew men and things; he was one 
of a class who were taught the art of ruling from their birth. 
The peasant harmost from a democratic Canton had too 
often bought his office of his countrymen, and had to revay 
and enrich himself at the cost of his temporary subjects. In 
the Greek case we must remember that Athens wisely sent 
no harmosts at all to her dependent allies, and the little 
evidence that we have tends to show that the foreign 
administration of Sparta was harsher than that of other 
Dorian and aristocratic cities (42). But everywhere we learn 
the same lesson, the inconsistency of commonwealths which 
boast themselves of their own freedom and exalt themselves 
at the cost of the freedom of others. 


I have thus gone through my subject as fully, 1 trust 
as the nature and limits of the course prescribed to me 
would allow. But that is of course very imperfectly. In 
a course of lectures like this no subject can be dealt with 
exhaustively ; no subject can be set forth in all its bearings, 
nothing can be traced in detail from its beginning to its 
end. The object of the lecturer is rather to awaken curiosity 
than to gratify it, rather to show what is to be learned than 
to attempt to teach it in all its fulness. All that he can 
hope to do is to choose a few of the many aspects of his 
subject, and to take care that his treatment of them, though 
necessarily imperfect, shall be accurate as far as it goes. 
Thus much I trust that I have done; to some I may have 
suggested a new line of thought; to others I may have 


1. MISCELLANEOUS ANALOGIES LECT, 


suggested new illustrations of a line of thought on which 
they had already entered. It will be enough if I can, by 
this present line of argument, bring home to any mind the 
great truth which it has been the chief business of all that 
I say or write to set forth by various arguments, the truth 
that history is one, and that every part of it has a bearing 
on every other part. No one, I think, who has followed me 
will deem that the institutions of ancient Greece and Italy 
are at all lowered from their place of dignity, by being 
shown to be the same in their origin, the same in many 
of their details, as the institutions of our own forefathers. 
We. shall not think the less highly of the studies which 
form the groundwork of all our studies, if we give them 
their due place and no more, if we treat them as only 
branches of one great study, records of one great heritage 
in which England and Germany have their share alongside 
of Rome and Athens. I do not shut out the other branches 
of the common family, those who came before us, those 
whose destiny it may be to come after us, those whom, 
after so long a separation, we have again met in the far- 
off Eastern world. 1 do not shut my eyes to the strong 
likelihood that much that is common to the various branches 
of the Aryan family comes from sources common to the 
Aryans along with other divisions of mankind. But I 
leave researches of this kind to inquirers of wider ken 
than my own. It is enough for me to keep myself on 
ground on which I can be sure of my footing, and to trace 
out, at least in the form of a rough, though I would hope 
a suggestive, sketch, the main points of political instruction 
to be gathered from the history of the three branches of 
the common stock which have, each in its turn, held the 
foremost place among civilized men. It is enough if I 
have led any to look on the earlier forms of the institutions 
of our own people, on the kindred forms of the common 
institutions of their kindred races, not as something which 
is utterly passed and gone, not as something which is cut 


VI SUMMARY 191 


—+ ae ee 


off from us by an impassable barrier of time and place, but 
as something which is still living, something in which 
we ourselves share, something of which we still reap the 
fruit, as a heritage which has descended to us from un- 
recorded times, as the still abiding work of the fathers and 
elder brethren of our common blood. 


192 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


THE UNITY OF HISTORY 


THE revival of learning in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
cegturies marks, as is agreed on all hands, one of the great 
epochs in the history of the mind of man. It is easy to 
exaggerate the extent of the revival itself; it is easy to 
dwell too exclusively on the bright side of its results; but 
the undoubted fact still remaims none the less. That age 
was an age when the spirit of man cast away trammels by 
which it had long been fettered; it was an age when men 
opened their eyes to light against which they had been 
closed for ages. A new world was opened; or, more truly, 
a world which men never had forgotten, but which had 
become to them a world of fable, was suddenly set before 
them in its true and living reality. The Virgil, the Aris- 
totle, the Alexander, of legend gave way to the true Virgil, 
the true Aristotle, the true Alexander, called up again to 
life in their writings and in their deeds, We are indeed 
apt greatly to exaggerate the ignorance of earlier times, 
but in one point it is hardly possible to exaggerate the 
importance of the change. It must have been like the 
discovery of a new sense, like the discovery of a new world 
of being, when the treasures of genuine Greek literature 
were, for the first time, thrown open to the gaze of Western 
Christendom. The twelfth century had its classical revival 
as well as the fifteenth; but the classical revival of the 
twelfth century hardly ever went beyond a more accurate 
knowledge, a more happy imitation, of the elder specimens 
of that Latin tongue which was still the tongue of religion, 


LECT, THE REVIVAL OF LEARNING 193 


government, and learning. To William of Malmesbury and 
John of Salisbury the voice of Homer was dumb, and the 
voice of Aristotle spoke only at third-hand with a Spanish 
Saracen to his dragoman. Such knowledge of Greek as 
fell to the lot of Robert Grosseteste and Reger Bacon was 
looked on as a prodigy; and, whatever was its amount, it 
certainly did not extend to any familiar knowledge of the 
masterpieces of Hellenic poetry, history, or oratory (1). 
That revival of learning which brought the men of our 
Northern world face to face with the camp before Ilios 
and with the Agoré of Athens was indeed a revolution 
which amounted to hardly less than a second birth of the 
human mind. 

Yet the revival of learning, rich and manifold as have 
been its fruits, had its dark side. I speak not of its 
immediate results, political and ecclesiastical, in its native 
land of Italy. Better indeed by far was the honest 
barbarism of the darkest age than the guilty splendours of 
Lorenzo and of Leo, where all the blaze of art and poetry 
and learning strive in vain to gloss over the overthrow 
of freedom and the foul abuse of sacred things. I speak 
rather of the effects of the classical revival of those days 
directly on the pursuit of learning, on those studies of 
Greek and Roman literature and art which became the 
all in all of the intellect of the age. It at once opened 
and narrowed the field of human study. It led men to 
centre their whole powers on an exclusive attention to 
writings contained in two languages, and for the most part 
in certain arbitrarily chosen periods of those two languages. 
In its first stage it devoted itself too exclusively to the 
mere literature of those two languages, as opposed to the 
solid lessons of their political history. But, in all its forms 
and stages, it fostered the idea that the languages, the 
arts, the history, of Greece and Rome, at certain stages 
of their being, were the only forms of language, art, and 
history which deserved the study of cultivated men. It 
led to the belief, not perhaps fully put forth in words, but 


O 


194 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


- το ne 


none the less practically acted on, that those two languages, 
and all that belonged to them, had some special privilege 
above all others—that the studies which were honoured by 
the ambiguous name of ‘classical’ were fenced off from all 
others by some mysterious barrier—that they formed .a 
sacred precinct which the initiated alone might enter, and 
from which the profane were to be jealously shut out. 
Such a state of feeling, a feeling which has even now far 
from died out, could not fail to lead to mere contempt, 
and thereby to mere ignorance, of everything beyond the 
sacred pale. And, what is more, it hindered any knowledge 
of the true nature of those things which were allowed a 
place within the sacred pale. It led to a cutting off of 
so-called ‘classical’ studies frofi all ordinary human pursuits 
and human interests. And of this cutting off we still feel 
the evil effects. Men persuaded themselves, not only that 
‘classical’ models in literature and art were amongst the 
noblest and most precious works of human genius, but 
that they were the only possible standards of excellence. 
Whatever did not conform to their pattern was worthless 
and barbarous; the exclusive votaries of classical art and 
literature deemed that they were branding it with the 
heaviest reproach when they called it Gothic. They thus 
cut themselves off from long and stirring volumes of the 
world’s history; they cut themselves off from forms of art 
and language no less worthy of their homage than those 
which they deemed alone worthy to receive it. They learned 
to look with scorn on the works of men of their own land, 
their own blood, and their own faith. They stifled art and 
literature by arbitrary rules drawn from models, perfect 
indeed in their own time and place, but which were utterly 
inappropriate when creeds and tongues and feelings had 
altogether changed. Let any one who would thoroughly 
take in how low the taste of Englishmen had fallen under 
the dominion of the exclusive classical fashion turn to those 
passages in the ‘Spectator’ where Addison chances to speak 
of the history, the manners, the art, the religious belief, 


LECT. EVILS OF EXCLUSIVE ‘CLASSICAL’ STUDY 195 


“ὦ 


of Englishmen in earlier days. Then let him turn, and 
see how even then nature asserted her rights against the 
deadening yoke of fashion, in those passages in which the 
same man called on his astonished age to acknowledge an 
outpouring of the true Homeric spirit in the English lay 
of Chevy Chase (2). 

But, more than all this, the exclusive study of ‘classical’ 
models hindered men from gaining any living knowledge of 
the classical models themselves. It has been wittily said 
that they believed that all ‘the ancients’ lived at the same 
time. Certain it is that the habit of constantly classing 
together Greece and Rome—that 1s, Greece and Rome dur‘ng 
a few arbitrarily chosen centuries of their history—in opposi- 
tion to all other times and places led to an utter forgetful- 
ness of the wide gap by which Greece and Rome were parted 
asunder. Men forgot the difference between the Ionian 
singer and the Augustan laureate; they held up Homer and 
Virgil as poets of the same class, whose merits and defects 
could be profitably compared together. They would have 
been amazed indecd to be told that the true parallel for the 
tale of the wrath of Achilleus was to be looked for in the 
Lay of the Nibelungs or in the stirring battle-songs of 
Saulcourt and Maldon. They would have deemed it a 
degradation to entertain the thought that the vulgar tongues 
of England and Germany were kindred tongues, of equal 
birth and claiming equal honour, with the sacred languages 
of Latium and Attica. They would have deemed it, not 
so much a degradation as an utterance of open madness, 
had they heard that those sacred languages were but dialects 
of one common mother-speech, that its elder offspring was 
to be looked for in the tongues of lands which the Macedonian 
conqueror had barely grazed, and, more wondrous still to 
tell,.in the fast-vanishing speech of a few men of strange 
tongue by the Eastern shore of the Baltic Sea (3). 

On us a new light has come. I do not for a moment 
hesitate to say that the discovery of the Comparative method 
in philology, in mythology—let me add in politics and 


196 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


----ἕ eee coe 


history and the whole range of f human thought —marks a a 
stage in the progress of the human mind at least as great 
and memorable as the revival of Greek and Latin learning. 
The great contribution of the nineteenth century to the 
advance of huenan knowledge may boldly take its stand 
alongside of the great contribution of the fifteenth. Like 
the revival of learning, it has opened to its votaries a new 
world, and that not an isolated world, a world shut up 
within itself, but a world in which times and tongues and 
nations which before seemed parted poles asunder, now find 
each one its own place, its own relation to every other, as 
members of one common primeval brotherhood. And not 
the least of its services is that it has put the languages and 
the history of the so-called ‘classical’ world into their true 
position in the general history of the world. By making 
them no longer the objects of an exclusive idolatry, it has 
made them the objects of a worthier, because a more 
reasonable, worship. It has broken down the middle wall 
of partition between kindred races and kindred studies; it 
has swept away barriers which fenced off certain times and 
languages as ‘dead’ and ‘ancient;’ it has taught us that 
there is no such thing as ‘dead’ and ‘living’ languages, as 
‘ancient’ and ‘modern’ history; it has taught us that the 
study of language is one study, that the study of history 15 
one study; it has taught us that no languages are more 
truly living than those which an arbitrary barrier fences off 
as dead ; it has taught us that no parts of history are more 
truly modern—if by modern we mean full of living interest 
and teaching for our own times—than those which the 
delusive name of ‘ancient’ would seem to brand as some- 
thing which has w holly passed away, something which, for 
any practical use in these later times, may safely be 
forgotten. 


My position then is that, in all our studies of history and 
language—and the study of language, besides all that it is 
in other ways, is one most important branch of the study of 


LECT. DELUSIVE USE OF ‘ANCIENT’ AND ‘MODERN’ 197 


history—we must cast away all distinctions of ‘ancient’ and 
‘modern, of ‘dead’ and ‘living,’ and must boldly grapple 
with the great fact of the unity of history. As man is the 
same in all ages, the history of man is one in all ages. The 
scientific student of language, the student of primitive 
culture, will refuse any limits to their pursuits which cut 
them off from any portion of the earth’s surface, from any 
moment of man’s history since he first walked upon it. In 
their eyes the languages and the customs of Greece*and 
Rome have no special privilege above the languages and the 
customs of other nations. They do but take their place 
among their fellows, as illustrations of the universal laws 
which bear rule over human nature and human speech. 
But let us come to history“more strictly so called, to the 
history of man as a political being, to the history of our 
own quarter of the globe and our own family of nations. 
The history of the Aryan nations of Europe, their languages, 
their institutions, their dealings with one another, all form 
one long series of cause and effect, no part of which can be 
rightly understood if it be dealt with as something wholly 
cut off from, and alien to, any other part. There is really 
nothing in certain arbitrarily chosen centuries of the history 
of Greece and Italy which ought to cut them off, either for 
reverence or for contempt, from any other portion of the 
history of the kindred nations. There is nothing to make 
the so-called ‘ancient’ history a separate study from the 
history of so-called ‘modern’ times. ‘Ancient’ history calls 
for no special powers for its mastery; it calls for no special 
method for its study. The powers which are needed for 
the mastery of ancient history are the same as those that 
are needed for the mastery of modern history. The method, 
the line of thought, the habits of research and criticism, 
which are needed for the one are equally needed for the 
other. Knowledge is, in both cases, gained by the exercise 
of the same faculties, and by the use of the same process 
in their exercise. So too it is with language. There is not, 
as the world in general seems to think, anything special or 


198 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


mysterious about the Greek and Latin tongues, or about 
those particular stages of those tongues which are picked 
out to receive the name of classical. The accurate knowledge 
of one language can be gained only by the same means as 
the accurate knowledge of another. It does not need two 
sets of faculties, but one and the same set, to enable us to 
master the inflexions of the tongue of Homer and the 
kindred inflexions of the kindred tongue of Ulfilas. 

o language, no period of history, can be understood in 
its fulness, none can be clothed with its highest interest and 
its highest profit, if it be looked at wholly in itself, without 
regerence to its bearing on those other languages, those other 
periods of history, which join with it to make up the great 
whole of human, or at least of Aryan and European, being. 
The tie which binds together the Greek and the Latin 
languages is doubtless closer than that which binds either 
of them to any other member of the great family. But 
the tie is simply closer in degree; it 1s in no way different 
in kind. Weare at last learning that our scientific know- 
ledge of the speech of Greece is imperfect unless we add to 
it a scientific knowledge of the speech of England, and that 
our knowledge of the speech of England 15 imperfect unless 
we add to it a scientific knowledge of the speech of Greece. 
We are learning that Greek and Roman history do not stand 
alone, bound together by some special tie, but isolated from 
the rest of the history of the world, even from the history of 
the kindred nations. Weare learning that European history, 
from its first glimmerings to our own day, is one unbroken 
drama, no part of which can be nightly understood without 
reference to the other parts which come before and after it. 
We are learning that of this great drama Rome is the 
centre, the point to which all roads lead, and from which 
all roads lead no less. It 15 the vast lake in which all the 
streams of earlier history lose themselves, and from which 
all the streams of later history flow forth again. The world 
of independent Greece stands on one side of it; the world 
of modern Europe stands on the other. But the history 


a 


LECT. ROME THE CENTRE OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY 199 


alike of the great centre and of its satellites on either side 
can never be fully grasped, except from a point of view wide 
enough to take in the whole group, and to mark the relations 
of each of its members to the centre and to one another. 
As it is with the language, so it’ is with thg history. Our 
knowledge of the history of Greece is imperfect without a 
knowledge of the kindred history of England, and our 
knowledge of the history of England is imperfect without a 
knowledge of the kindred history of Greece. Rome is’ the 
centre; Rome is the common link which binds all together ; 
and yet, while learning this, while learning more truly and 
fully the place and dignity of Rome, we are learning too, to 
cast away the superstition which once looked on her language 
as the one guide and key to-all other languages and to all 
human knowledge. We have learned that all members of 
the great family are alike kinsfolk, entitled to stand side by 
side on equal terms. We have learned that Angul and his 
brother Dan (4) may march boldly and claim of nght to 
speak face to face with their cousin Hellén, and have no 


need to be smuggled in by some back-way through the 
favour of their other cousin Latinus. 


I here stop to answer one possible objection. Is it, I may 
be asked, needful for the student of history or of language to 
be master of all history and of all language? Must he be 
equally familiar with the tongue, the literature, the political 
constitutions, the civil and military events, of all times and 
places? Such an amount of knowledge, it may well be 
argued, can never fall to the lot of man. And some may go 
on to infer that any doctrine which may even seem to lead 
to such: a result must be in itself fruitless) Now to be 
equally familiar with all history and all language is of course 
utterly beyond human power. But it is none the less true 
that the student of history or of language—and he who is a 
student of either must be in no small degree a student of 
the other—must take in all history and all language within 
his range. The degrees of his knowledge of various languages, 


200 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


of various branches of history, will vary infinitely. Of some 
branches he must know everything, but of every branch he 
must know something. Each student will have his own 
special range, the times and places which he chooses for 
his special and minute study. Of these he will know 
everything; he will master every detail of their history 
in the minutest way from the original authorities. The 
choice of such ages and countries for special study will of 
course depend upon each man’s taste and opportunities; one 
may choose an earlier, another a later time; one may choose 
the East, another the West; one may choose a heathen, 
angther a Christian period; but all are fellow-workers, if 
only they all remember that, beyond the something of which 
they must needs know everytning hes the everything of 
which they need only know something. No man can study 
the history of all ages and countries in original authorities. 
To the man who is most deeply versed in historic lore there 
must still be many periods of which his knowledge 15 vague, 
imperfect, and gained at second-hand. When a subject is so 
vast, 1t cannot be otherwise. Some branches must in every 
case be primary and some secondary; which are primary 
and which are secondary will of course differ in the case of 
each particular student. It is enough if each man, while 
thoroughly mastering the branches of his own choice, knows 
at least enough of the other branches to have a clear and 
abiding conception of their relation to his own special 
branches and to one another. And the thorough knowledge 
of one period, the habit of minute research and criticism 
among contemporary authorities, undoubtedly gives a man 
a power which leads him better to see his way through the 
periods which he has to take at second-hand, and to feel by 
a kind of instinct where second-hand writers may be freely 
followed and where they must be used with caution. A 
man who is thoroughly master of the periods which to him 
are primary will readily grasp the leading outlines and the 
true relations of the periods which to him are secondary. 
The one point is that of no period of history worthy of the 


LECT, POSITION OF GRECIAN HISTORY 201 


name, of no part of the record of man’s political being, can 
he afford to know nothing. I have said that a knowledge 
of the history of Greece is imperfect without a knowledge 
of the history of England, and that a knowledge of the 
history of England is imperfect without a knpwledge of the 
history of Greece. But I do not say that the knowledge 
need be in each case the same in amount, or even the same 
in kind. With many men one must be primary and the 
other secondary; one will be a study to be mastered iff its 
minutest detail, while the other will be something of which 
it 15 enough to know the main outlines and to grasp the 
true relations of each period to the others. And as itis 
with history, so it is with language. The philologer will 
have certain languages of which he is thoroughly master, 
with whose literature he is familiar, and in which his tact 
can distinguish the nicest peculiarities of dialects and periods 
and particular writers. Of other tongues he will have no 
such minute knowledge; he may be unable to compose a 
sentence in them, perhaps even to construe a sentence in 
them; yet he may have a very real and practical knowledge 
of them for his own purpose. That purpose is gained if he 
thoroughly grasps their relations to other languages, the 
main peculiarities which distinguish them, and the position 
which they hold in the general history of human specch. 


Looking then at the history of man, at all events at the 
history of Aryan man in Europe, as one unbroken whole, no 
part of which can be safely looked at without reference to 
other parts, we shall soon see that those branches of history 
which are too often set aside as something distinct and 
isolated from all others do not lose but gain in dignity and 
importance, by being set free from an unnatural bondage, 
by being brought into their natural relation to other 
branches of the one great study of which they form a part. 
Let us look at the history of the Greek people and the 
Greek tongue. Some men speak as if that history came to 
an end on the field of Chairéneia, while others will gra- 


202 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


ciously allow that the life of Greece lingered on to be burned 
up for ever among the flames of Corinth. Some speak as if 
the whole life of the Greek tongue was shut up within those 
few centuries which, by an arbitrary distinction, we choose 
to speak of as«‘classical.’ Some indeed draw the line very 
narrowly indeed. There was one Greek historian before 
whose eyes the history of the world was laid open as it 
never was to any other man before or after. There was one 
man who, in the compass of a single life, had been as it 
were a dweller in two worlds, in two wholly different stages 
of man’s being. To the experience of Polybios the old life 
of, Independent Greece, the border warfare and the internal 
politics of her commonwealths, had been the familar scenes 
of his earlher days. His childhood had been brought up 
among the traditions of the Achaian League, among men 
who were tellow-workers with Markos and Aratos. His 
birth would almost fall in days when Megalopolis stood, 
under the rule of Lydiadas, as an independent unit in the 
independent world of Hellas. The son of Lykortas, the 
pupil of Philopoimén, may have sat as a child on the knees 
of the deliverer of Sikyén and Corinth. He could remember 
the times when the tale of the self-devotion of their illus- 
trious tyrant must have still sounded like a trumpet in the 
ears of the men of the Great City (5). He had himself 
borne to the grave the urn of the last hero of his native 
land, cut off, as Anaxandros or Archidamos might have 
been, in border warfare with the rebels of Messéné (6). He 
could remember times when Macedonia, perhaps even when 
Carthage, was still an independent and mighty power, able’ 
to grapple on equal terms with the advancing, but as yet 
not overwhelming, power of Rome. He lived to see all 
swept away. He lived to see Africa, Macedonia, and Greece 
itself, either incorporated with the Roman dominion or 
mocked with a shadow of freedom which left them abject 
dependents on the will of the conquering people. He saw 
the dominion of the descendants of Seleukos, the truest 
heirs of Alexander’s conquests, shrmk up from the vast 


LECT, HISTORIC POSITION OF POLYBIOS 103 


empire of Western Asia into the local sovereignty of a 
Syrian kingdom. He saw Pergamos rise to 105 momentary 
greatness and Egypt begin the first steps of its downward 
course. He saw the gem of Asiatic history, the wise Con- 
federation of Lykia, rise into being after the model of the 
State in which his own youth had been spent. He lived 
to stand by the younger Scipio beside the flames of Carthage, 
and, if he saw not the ruin of Corinth with his own eyes, 
he lived to legislate for the helpless Roman dependency 
into which the free Hellenic League of his youth had 
changed (7). The man who saw all this saw changes 
greater than the men who lived in the days of Theodousic 
and Justinian, or the men who lived in the days of the 
elder Buonaparte. And yet there are scholars, men devoted 
to ‘ancient’ and ‘classical’ learning, who have been known 
to cast away from them the writings of the man who saw 
all this, because forsooth they were ‘bad Greek, because 
they did not conform in every jot and tittle to the standard 
of some arbitrarily chosen point in the history of a language 
which has lived a life of well nigh three thousand years. 
As if the form were more precious than the substance; as 
if the changes in a language were not the most instructive 
part of the history of that language; as if it were not as 
unreasonable to call the Greek of Polybios ‘bad Greek’ 
because it is not the Greek of Thucydides as it would be 
to call the Greek of Thucydides ‘bad Greek’ because it 1s 
not the Greek of Homer. But let us rise above trammels 
such as these; let us take a wider and a worthier view of 
the long history of the most illustrious form of human 
speech. Let us remember that the despised Greek of Poly- 
bios gives us an instance of a law which has gone on from 
his day to ours.. Thucydides, Xenophén, Démosthenés, 
wrote and harangued in the dialect which came most 
naturally to their lips, in the dialect of their daily life. 
The History of Polybios is as little written in the dialect 
which came most naturally to his lips as is the History of 
Trikoupés. The language of an Arkadian inscription 18 


204 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


something wholly different from the language of the con- 
temporary History (8). That is to say, the dialect of Athens 
had already made that complete conquest of Hellenic prose 
literature which it has kept ever since. The classical purist 
may smile when I apply the name of Attic to the long 
succession of writers of Macedonian, Roman, and Byzantine 
date. But so it is; the style and spirit may change; the 
vocabulary may be corrupted by strange and barbarous 
intruders; but the mere forms of words still remain Attic. 
The latest Byzantine writer really differs less from Xenophon 
than Xenophon differs from Herodotus. Even the language 
of, a modern Greek newspaper, in its vain attempts to call 
back a form of speech which has passed away, is Attic to 
the best of its ability. Its aim is to reproduce the Greek 
of Plato and Xenophon, not the Greek of Herodotus or of 
Pindar. What higher tribute can be paid to the great 
writers of the short sunshine of Athenian glory, than that 
the dialect of their one city should for two thousand years 
have thus set the standard of Greek prose writing, that it 
should thus keep up one ideal of Hellenic purity among the 
many and shifting forms of speech which were the native 
dialects of the men who used it? But the full extent, the 
full worth, of such a tribute can never be fully understood 
by those who cast away with contempt whatever does not 
fully come up to an ideal whose full perfection of course was 
unattainable except in its native time and place. The man 
who would fully take in the influence of the Greek tongue 
and the Greek mind on the history of the world must look 
far beyond the narrow range of time and place within which 
classical purism would confine him. Let him see how, in 
the earliest days of Greek colonization, the tongue and the 
arts of Greece found themselves a home on every coast from 
the isle of Cyprus to the peninsula of Spain. Let him look 
on the greater isle of Sicily, twice the battle-field between 
the East and the West, between Africa and Europe, between 
the Semitic and the Aryan man (9). Let him see the native 
tribes gradually absorbed by kindred conquerors and neigh- 


LECT, LONG DURATION OF GREEK LIFE 205 


bours, till the distinction between Sikel and Sikeliot died 
away, till the whole island was gathered into the Hellenic 
fold, a land whose Hellenic life failed not under the rule of 
Carthaginian, Roman, Saracen, and Norman, and where the 
tongue in which the victories of Hierén had, been sung to 
the lyre of Pindar lived on to record the glories of the house 
of Hauteville on the walls of the Saracenic churches of 
Palermo (10). Look again at the Phokaian settlement in 
Gaul; see how, among a race far more alien than the 
kindred Sikel, the arts and letters of Greece held their place 
for ages, and how some glimmerings from the Massalian 
hearth may even have reached, not indeed to our own fore- 
fathers, but to our predecessors in our own island. See the 
long history of the Massalian’commonwealth itself; how the 
spirit of the men who sailed away from the Persian yoke 
lived on in their kinsfolk who withstood the might of Cesar, 
and sprang again to life in later times to withstand the 
sterner might of Charles of Anjou (11). From the western 
extremity of Greek colonization let us look to the eastern; 
let us turn our eyes from the northern shore of the Mediter- 
ranean to the northern shore of the Inhospitable Sea. The 
Greek kingdom of Bosporos and the Greek commonwealth 
of Cherson have passed so utterly out of memory that we 
may doubt whether, when, eighteen years back, those lands 
were in every mouth, there was one among the warriors and 
tourists and writers of a day who knew that, in compassing 
the fortress of Sebastopol, he was treading on the ruins of 
the last of the Greek republics. Yet it is something to 
remember that, ages after Athens and Sparta and Thebes 
had been swallowed up in the dominion of Rome, ages after 
their citizens had exchanged the name of Hellénes for the 
name of Romans, the fire once lighted at the prytaneion of 
Megara still burned on, that one single commonwealth still 
lived, Greek in blood and speech and feeling, the ally but 
not the subject of the lords of the Old and the New Rome 
(12). Thus far we have seen the free Greek settle on 
distant shores, and carry with him the freedom of his own 


906 . THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


land. But we must look also to other times and lands, when 
the Greek tongue and Greek arts were scattered through 
the world, but without carrying Greek freedom with them. 
Yet it was something that, before Greece yielded to her 
Macedonian master, he had himself to become a Greek,-to 
be adopted into the great religious brotherhood of Greece, 
and to be chosen, with at least the outward assent of her 
commonwealths, to be their common leader against the 
Barbarian (13). The arms which overthrew her old _ political 
freedom carried her tongue and her culture through the 
kingdoms of the East. The centres of Grecian intellectual 
life moved from the banks of the Ilissos and the Eurdtas to 
the banks of the Orontés and the Nile. Even the barbarous 
Gaul, the descendant of the invaders of her Delphic temple, 
was brought in his new home within her magic range, and 
his Asiatic land deserved to be spoken of as the Gaulish 
Greece (14). Thus that artificial Greek nation arose, some- 
times Greek in birth, always Greek in speech and culture, 
which so long divided the dominion of the world, and which, 
after ages of bondage, has again sprung to life in our own 
day. It is something too to see how truly Greece led captive, 
not only her Macedonian but her Roman conqueror; to 
remember how the first Roman historians recorded Roman 
legends in the Greek tongue, and how well nigh every 
Roman poet went to Greece as the fount of his inspiration. 
But our view will not stop with the Augustan or with the 
Flavian age. If we would see how truly Grecce conquered 
Rome, we must see the two Imperial saints of heathendom, 
Marcus in his camp by the Danube and Julian in his 
camp by the Rhine, choosing the tongue of Greece, and not 
of Rome, to receive the witness of the time when the prayer 
of the wise man was answered, and when philosophers held 
the dominion of the world. But from them we must turn 
away to the records of the Faith which the one persecuted 
and the other cast aside. Those conquests which made the 
Greek tongue the literary tongue of civilized Asia caused 
that it should be in the Greek tongue that the oracles of 


LECT. THE MODERN GREEK CHURCH AND NATION 207 


- oe ee 


Christianity should be given to the world, and that Greek 
should be the speech of the earliest and most eloquent 
preachers of the Faith. The traditions of Greece and Rome, 
the conquests of Macedonian warriors and of Christian 
Apostles, all came together when the throne and the name 
of Rome were transferred to a Greek-speaking city of the 
Eastern world, and when the once heathen colony of Megara 
was baptized into the Christian capital of Constantine. 
There went on that long dominion of the laws of Rome, but 
of the speech, the learning, and the arts of Greece, the 
dominion of the city which those who scorned and overthrew 
her political power none the less revered as their intellectual 
mistress. We have not gone through the history of Greece 
till we have read the legends’ carved in her tongue on the 
monumental stones of Ravenna, and blazing in all the glory 
of the apses of Venice and Torcello (15). We have not 
taken in how thoroughly Greece leavened the world, till we 
read how the panegyrist of the Norman Conqueror tells us 
that the spoils of England were of such richness that they 
would not have disgraced the Imperial city, and that even 
Greek eyes might have looked on them with wonder (16). 
The Empire of Greece has passed away, but her changeless 
Church remains, the Church which still speaks the tongue 
of Paul and of Chrysostom, the Church which still sends up 
her prayers in the words of the liturgies of the earliest days, 
the Church which still keeps her Creed free from the in- 
terpolations of later times (17), and which, alone among 
Christian Churches, can give to her people the New Testa- 
ment itself, and not man’s interpretation of it. And now 
again the Hellén, disguised for ages under the Roman name, 
has once more stood forth as a nation, a nation artificial 
indeed as regards actual blood, but a nation well defined by 
its Greek speech and its Greek religion. And, if regenerate 
Hellas has in some points failed, what has been the cause 
of her failure? Mainly because regenerate Hellas has, in 
the zeal of her new birth, forgotten her long continuous 
being. It is, above all things, the dream of the irrecoverable 


208 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


ene Ree ee 


past, the dream of the exclusively classic past, which has 
checked the progress of the ransomed nation. A Greece 
which could utterly forget Athens and Sparta, which could 
look on herself simply as one of the Christian races rescued, 
or to be rescued, from the bondage of the Infidel—a Greece 
which could look on herself, and which was allowed to look 
on herself, simply as the yoke-fellow of Servia and Bulgaria 
—would be far more likely to hold up her head among 
the nations of Europe than a Greece that still dreams of 
Thermopylai and Marathon, hard as the lesson must be 
when her strife for freedom was one in which the very soil 
οἷς Thermopylai and Marathén was again dyed with the 
blood of vanquished barbarians. 

Surely in such a view as this we learn how truly history is 
one; surely such a survey teaches us how the whole drama 
hangs together, how ill we can afford to look at any one of 
its scenes as a mere isolated fragment, without referring to 
the scenes before and after it. And surely too we pay the 
highest homage to ‘ancient’ days, to ‘classic’ days, to the 
nation which stood forth as the first teacher of the human 
mind and to the tongue which was the instrument of its 
teaching, not by shutting them up within the prison of a few 
centuries, but by tracing out their influence on the history 
of all time, by showing how close is the bearing of those 
‘ancient’ times upon the modern world around us, and how 
the language which we falsely speak of as ‘dead ᾿ has in truth 
never died, but stall lives on, as it has ever lived through the 
revolutions of so many ages. But we shall feel the oneness 
of history even more, if we turn from Greece and her in- 
fluence on mankind to the influence of the other ‘ ancient’ 
and ‘classical’ people, to the long and abiding life of that 
other tongue which is even more strangely spoken of as 
‘dead.’ Let us look at Rome, not the mere ‘classic’ Rome 
of a generation or two of imitative poets, but the true Eternal 
City, the Rome of universal history. And in this view, it is 
again no small witness to the true oneness of history that 
much that we have already looked at as Greek we must look 


LEcT. PERMANENCY OF THE LANGUAGE OF ROME 209 


eee .....--ς---.-.-.-............ 


at from another point as Roman. The influence of Greece 
on the later world, deep and lasting as it has been, has been 
largely an indirect influence, an influence of example and 
analogy. No modern nation is governed by the laws of 
Lykourgos or the laws of Solén ; no modern state can directly 
trace its political being either to Athenian democracy or to 
Macedonian kingship. But Rome still lives in the inmost 
life of every modern European state. Two abiding signs of 
her rule stand out on the very surface of the modern wérld, 
and need no thought, no searching into records, to bring 
them before the eyes of every man. Three of the foremost 
nations of Europe still speak the tongue of Rome, in forms 
indeed which have parted off into independent languages, but 
which are none the less living witnesses of her abiding rule, 
as not only the conqueror but the civilizer of the Western 
lands. And among all the nations which speak her tongue, 
among many too to whom her tongue 15 strange, the city of 
the Caesars and the Pontiffs is still looked up to as their reli- 
gious metropolis, though no longer as their temporal capital. 
Let us look at the history of Rome and of her language. 
We may say of Rome, in a truer sense even than of Greece, 
that her sound has gone out into all lands, and her words 
unto the ends of the world. In the view of universal history, 
the century o two of its ‘classic’ purity seem but as a 
moment in the long annals of the Imperial tongue. We 
might indeed be tempted to wipe out altogether the days of 
her ‘ classical ’"—that is, her imitative—literature, as a mere 
episode in the history of the undying speech of Rome. We 
might be tempted to say that the genuine literature of Italy 
went into a katabothra when the Camenz wept over the 
tomb of Nevius, and that it came out again when the 
dominion of the stranger Muses had passed away, and when 
the inspiration of Prudentius and Ambrose was drawn from 
sources at least not more foreign than the well of Helikon (18). 
The old Saturnian echoes which sang how it was the evil fate 
of Rome which gave her the Metelli as her Consuls, ring out 


again in those new Saturnian rimes which sing the praises of 
P 


210 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


Imperial Frederick and set forth the reforming policy of Earl 
Simon (19). The truly distinctive character of the Latin 
tongue was not stamped on it by its poets, not even by its 
historians and orators. The special calling of Rome, as one 
of those poets told her, was to rule the nations ; not merely 
to conquer by her arms, but to govern by her abiding laws. 
Her truest and longest life 1s to be looked for not in the 
triumphs of her Dictators, but in the edicts of her Pretors. 
The most truly original branch of Latin literature 15 to be 
found in what some might perhaps deny to be part of litera- 
ture at all, in the immediate records of her rule, in the text- 
boeks of her great lawyers, in the Itineraries of her provinces, 
in the Notitia of her governments and offices. The true 
glory of the Latin tongue is to have become the eternal 
speech of law and dominion. It is the tongue of Rome’s 
twofold sovereignty and of her twofold legislation, the tongue 
of the Church and the Empire, the tongue of the successors 
of Augustus and of the successors of Saint Peter. It has 
been, wherever King or Priest could wrap himself in any 
shred of her Imperial or her Pontifical mantle, the chosen 
speech alike of temporal and of religious rule. In the hymn 
of the Fratres Arvales, in the ‘lex horrendi carminis’ of the 
earliest recorded Roman formula (20), we get the beginnings 
of that long series of witnesses of her twofold rule, as alike 
the temporal and the spiritual mistress of the Western world. 
In the eyes of universal history the truest triumphs of the 
Latin tongue are to be found in lands far away from the 
seven hills, far away even from the shores of the Italian 
‘peninsula. The tongue of Rome, the tongue of Gaius and 
Ulpian rather than the tongue of Virgil and Horace, has 
become the tongue of the Code and the Capitularies, the 
tongue of the false Decretals and of the true Acts of Councils, 
the tongue of Domesday and the Great Charter, the tongue 
of the Missal and the Breviary, the tongue which was for 
ages in Western eyes the very tongue of Scripture itself, 
the tongue in which all Western nations were content to 
record their laws and annals, the tongue for which all those 


LECT. ΠΟΜΕΝΙΟΑΙ, ASPECT OF ROMAN HISTORY 211 


_ -- - 


nations which came within her immediate dominion were 
content to cast away their native speech. It is this abiding 
and Imperial character of the speech of Rome, far more than 
even the greatest works of one or two short periods in its 
long life, which gives it a position in the histery of the world 
which no other European tongue can share with it. But this 
its position in the history of the world can never be grasped 
except by those who look on the history of the world as 
one continuous whole. It is unintelligible to those who 
break up the unity of history by artificial barriers of ‘ ancient’ 
and ‘modern. Much that in a shallow view of things passes 
for mere imitation, for mere artificial revival, was in truth 
abiding and unbroken tradition. Of all the languages of the 
earth, Latin is the last to be spoken of as dead. It was but 
yesterday the universal speech of science and learning ; it is 
still the religious speech of half Western Europe; it is still 
the key to European history and law; and, if it is nowhere 
spoken in its ancient form, it still lives in the new forms into 
which it grew in the provinces which Rome civilized as well 
as conquered. It was a wise saying that the true scholar 
should know, not only whence words come, but whither they 
go(21) The history of the Latin language is imperfect if 1t 
does not take in the history of the changes by which it grew 
into the tongue of Dante and Villani, into the tongues of the 
Provencal Troubadour and the Castilian Campeador, and into 
that later but once vigorous speech which gave us the rimes 
of Wace and the prose of Joinville, and which still lives in 
so many of the statutes and records and legal formule of our 
own. land. 

In truth, as the full meaning and greatness of the Roman 
history cannot be grasped without a full understanding of 
history as a whole, so the history of Rome is in itself the 
great example of the oneness of all history. The history of 
Rome is the history of the European world. It is nm Rome 
that all the states of the earlier European world lose them- 
selves; it is out of Rome that all the states of the later 
European world take their being. The true meaning of 


212 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


we 


Roman history as a branch of universal history, or rather the 
absolute identity of Roman history with universal history, 
can only be fully understood by giving special attention to 
those ages of the history of Europe which are commonly 
most neglected. Men study what they call Greek and 
Roman history; they study again the history of the modern 
kingdoms of England and France. But they end their 
Roman studies at the latest with the deposition of Augus- 
tulus; sometimes they do not carry them beyond Pharsalia 
and Philippi. Their study of English history they begin at 
the point when England for a moment ceased to be England ; 
their French studies they begin at some point which teaches 
them that the greatest of Germans was a Frenchman. In 
every case, they begin both at some point which leaves an 
utter gap between their ‘ancient’ or ‘classical’ and their 
‘modern’ studies. To understand history as a whole, to 
understand how truly all European history is Roman history, 
we must see things, not only as they seem when they are 
looked at from Rome and Athens, from Paris and London, 
but as they seem when they are looked at from Constanti- 
nople, from Aachen, and from Ravenna. In that last-named 
wondrous city we stand as it were on the isthmus which 
joins two worlds, and there, amid Roman, Gothic, and 
Byzantine monuments, we feel, more than on any other spot 
of the earth’s surface, what the history of the Roman Empire 
really was. It is in the days of the decline of the Roman 
power—those days which were in truth the days of its 
greatest conquests—that we see how truly great, how truly 
abiding, was the power of Rome. When we see how 
thoroughly the conquered Roman led captive his Teutonic 
conqueror, we see how firm was the work of Sulla and of 
Augustus, of Diocletian and of Constantine. We see it 
alike when Odoacer and Theodoric shrink from assuming the 
titles and ensigns of Imperial power, and when the Imperial 
crown of Rome is placed upon the head of the Frankish 
Charles. We see it in our own day as long as the cognomen 
of a Roman family, strangely changed into the official 


LECT. ROMAN INFLUENCE ON TEUTONIC NATIONS 218 


designation of Roman sovereignty, still remains the highest 
and most coveted of earthly titles. To know what Rome 
was, to feel how she looked in the eyes of other nations, it is 
not enough to read the hireling strains in which Horace 
sends the living Consul and Tribune to dring nectar among 
the Gods, or those in which Virgil and Lucan bid him take 
care on what quarter of the universe he seats himself (22). 
Let us rather see how Rome, in the days of her supposed 
decay, looked in the eyes of the men who overthrew her. 
Let us listen to the Goth Athanaric, when, overwhelmed by 
the splendours of the New Rome, he bears witness that the 
Emperor is a God upon earth, and that he who dares jo 
withstand him shall have his blood on his own head (23). 
Let us listen to Ataulf in the moment of his triumph, when 
he tells how he had once dreamed of sweeping away the 
Roman name, of putting the Goth in the place of the 
Roman, and Ataulf in the place of Augustus, but how he 
learned in later days that the world could not be governed 
save by the laws of Rome, and how the highest glory to 
which he now looked was to use the power of the Goth in 
the defence of the Roman Commonwealth (24). And so her 
name and power lives on, witnessed in the Imperial style of 
every prince, from Winchester to Trebizond, who deemed it 
his highest glory to deck himself in some shreds of her 
purple ; witnessed too, when her name passes on not only to 
her subjects, allies, and disciples, but to the destroyers of her 
power and faith; when Timour, coming forth from his 
unknown Mongolian land, sends his defiance to the Ottoman 
Bajazet and addresses him by the title of the Cesar of Rome 
(25). But it is not in mere names and titles that her 
dominion still lives. As long as the law of well-nigh every 
European nation but ourselves rests as its groundwork on 
the legislation of Servius and Justinian—as long as the 
successor of the Leos and the Innocents, shorn of all earthly 
power, is still looked to by millions as holding their seat by 
a more than earthly right—so long can no man say that the 
power of Rome is a thing of days which are gone by, or that 


214 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


- 


the history of her twofold rule is the history of a dominion 
which has wholly passed away. 


In tracing out the long history of the true middle ages, 
the ages when Roman and Teutonic elements stood as yet 
side by side, not yet mingled together into the whole which 
was to spring out of their union—in treading the spots 
which have witnessed the deeds of Roman Ceesars and 
Teutonic Kings—many are the scenes which we light upon 
which make us feel more strongly how truly all European 
history is one unbroken tale. There are moments when 
cgntending elements are brought together in a wondrous 
sort, when strangely mingled tongues and races and states 
of feeling meet as it were from distant lands and ages. I 
will choose but one such scene out of many. Let us stand 
on the Akropolis of Athens on a day in the early part of the 
eleventh century of our era. A change has come since the 
days of Periklés and even since the days of Alaric. The 
voice of the orator is silent in the Pnyx; the voice of the 
philosopher is silent in the Academy. Athéné Promachos 
no longer guards her city with her uplifted spear, nor do 
men deem that, if the Goth should again draw nigh, her 
hving form would again scare him from her walls (26). 
But her temple is still there, as yet untouched by the 
cannon of Turk and Venetian, as yet unspoiled by the hand 
of the Scottish plunderer. It stands as holy as ever in the 
minds of men; it is hallowed to a worship of which Iktinos 
and Kallikratés never heard; yet in some sort it keeps its 
ancient name and use: the House of the Virgin is the 
House of the Virgin still) The old altars, the old images, 
are swept away; but altars unstained by blood have risen 
in their stead, afd the walls of the cella blaze, like Saint 
Sophia and Saint: Vital, with the painted forms of Hebrew 
patriarchs, Christian martyrs, and Roman Cesars. It is a 
day of triumph, not as when the walls were broken down 
to welcome a returning Olympic conqueror; not as when 
ransomed thousands pressed forth to hail the victors of 


Lect, TRIUMPH OF BASIL THE SECOND AT ATHENS 215 


Marathon, or when their servile offspring crowded to pay 
their impious homage to the descending godship of 
Démétrios (27). A conqueror comes to pay his worship 
within those ancient walls; an Emperor of the Romans 
comes to give thanks for the deliverance of his Empire in 
the Church of Saint Mary of Athens. Roman in title, 
Greek in speech—boasting of his descent from the Mace- 
donian Alexander and from the Parthian Arsakés, but 
sprung in truth, so men whispered, from the same Slvonic 
stock which had given the Empire Justinian and Belisarius— 
fresh from his victories over a people Turanian in blood, 
Slavonic in speech, and delighting to deck their Kings with 
the names of Hebrew prophets (28)—Basil the Second, the 
Slayer of the Bulgarians, “the restorer of the Byzantine 
power, paying his thank-offerings to God and the Panagia 
in the old heathen temple of democratic Athens, seems as if 
he had gathered all the ages and nations of the world 
around him, to teach by the most pointed of contrasts that 
the history of no age or nation can be safely fenced off from 
the history of its fellows (29). Other scenes of the same 
class might easily be brought together, but this one, perhaps 
the most striking of all, is enough. I know of no nobler 
subject for a picture or a poem. 


We might carry out the same doctrine of the unity of 
history into many and various applications. I have as yet 
been speaking of branches of the study where its oneness 
takes the form of direct connexion, of long chains of events 
bound together in the direct relation of cause and effect. 
There are other branches of history which proclaim the 
unity of the study in a hardly less striking way, in the 
form of mere analogy. Man is in truth ever the same; even 
when the direct succession of cause and effect does not come 
in, we see that in times and places most remote from one 
another like events follow upon like causes. European 
history forms one whole in the strictest sense, but between 
European and Asiatic history the connexion is_ only 


216 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


occasional and incidental. The fortunes of the Roman 
Empire had no effect on the internal revolutions of the 
Saracenic Caliphate, still less effect had they on the 
momentary dominion of the house of Jenghiz or on the 
Mogul Empire in India. Yet the way in which the 
Kuropean Empire and its several kingdoms broke in pieces 
has its exact parallel in those distant Kastern monarchies. 
After all real dominion in the West had passed away from 
the New Rome, Gothic and Frankish Kings bore themselves 
as lieutenants of the absent Emperor. It was by Imperial 
commission that Ataulf conquered Spain and that Theodoric 
corquered Italy, and Odoacer, Chlodwig, and Theodoric him- 
self, bore the titles of Consul and Patrician, no less than 
Boétius and Belisarius. So in later times we see the Duke 
of the French at Paris owning a nominal homage to the 
King of the Franks at Laon, and at the same time attacking, 
despoiling, leading about as a prisoner, the King whom he 
did not dare to deprive of his royal title (30). We see Princes 
f Aquitaine and Toulouse so far vassals of the King of 
Laon as to date their charters by the years of his reign, but 
not caring to speak a word for or against their master in his 
struggle with their rebellious fellow-vassal We see in 
times far nearer to our own a Roman Emperor and King of 
Germany addressed in terms of the lowliest homage, and 
served, as by his menial servants, by princes some of them 
mightier than himself, princes who never scrupled to draw 
the sword against a Lord of the World who, as such, held 
not a foot of the earth’s surface. We see the parallels to 
this when the dominion of Jenghiz is split up into endless 
fragments which still remember the name of their lawful 
sovereign. It is brought in all its fulness before our eyes 
when the Emir Timour, scrupulously forbearing to take on 
him any higher title, thus far respects the hereditary right 
of the Grand Khan who follows him asa single soldier in 
his army (31). We see it when every Moslem prince who 
has grasped any fragment of the old Saracenic Empire 
dutifully seeks investiture from the Caliph of his own sect— 


Lect. HOW TO STUDY GREEK AND LATIN LANGUAGES 217 


when Bajazet the Thunderbolt stoops to receive his patent 
as Sultan from the trembling slave of the Egyptian Mame- 
lukes, and when Selim the Inflexible obtains from the last 
Abbasside a formal cession of the rank and style of Com- 
mander of the Faithful (32). We see it ine events which 
have more nearly touched ourselves. We see it in the 
history of our own dealings with the land where we won 
province after province from princes who owned a formal 
allegiance to the heir of Timour. We see it in the way in 
which we ourselves have dealt with the heir of Timour him- 
self, first as a pampered pensioner, lord only within the walls 
of his own palace, and at last as a criminal and a prisonar, 
sent to a harder exile than that of Glycerius in his bishop- 
rick or of the last Merwing in his cloister. 


One word more. The fashion of the day, by a not un- 
natural reaction, seems to be turning against ‘ancient’ and 
‘classical’ learning altogether. We are asked, What is the 
use of learning languages which are ‘dead’? What is the 
use of studying the records of times which have tor ever 
passed away? Men who call themselves statesmen and 
historians are not ashamed to run up and down the land, 
spreading abroad, wherever such assertions will win them a 
cheer, the daring falsehood that such studies, and no others, 
form the sole business of our ancient Universities. They 
ask, in their pitiful shallowness, What is the use of poring 
over the history of ‘petty states’? What is the use of 
studying battles in which so few men were killed as on the 
field of Marathén (33)? In this place I need not stop for a 
moment to answer such transparent fallacies. Still even 
such falsehoods and fallacies as these are signs of the times 
which we cannot afford to neglect. The answer is in our 
own hands. As long as we treat the language and the 
history of Greece and Rome as if they were something 
special and mysterious, something to be set apart from all 
other studies, something to be approached and handled in 
some peculiar method of their own, we are playing into the 


218 THE UNITY OF HISTORY REDE 


hands of the enemy. As long as we have ‘classical’ schools 
instead of general schools of language, as long as we have 
schools of ‘modern’ history instead of general schools of 
history (34), as long as we in any way recognize the distinc- 
tions implied in the words ‘classical’ and ‘ancient, we are 
pleading guilty to the charge which is brought against us. 
We are acknowledging that, not indeed our whole attention, 
but a chief share of it, is given to subjects which do stand 
apdxt from ourselves, cut off from all bearing on the intellect 
and life of modern days. The answer to such charges is to 
break down the barrier, to forget, if we can, the whole line 
of thought implied in the distinctions of ‘ancient,’ ‘ classical,’ 
and ‘modern, to proclaim boldly that no languages are more 
truly living than those which kre falsely called dead, that no 
portions of history are more truly ‘modern ’—that 18, more 
full of practical lessons for our own political and social state 
—than the history of the times which in mere physical 
distance we look upon as ‘ancient. If men ask whether 
French and German are not more useful languages than 
Latin and Greck, let us answer that, as a direct matter of 
parentage and birth, it is an imperfect knowledge of French 
which takes no heed to the steps by which French grew out 
of Latin, and that it is an imperfect knowledge of Latin 
which takes no heed to the steps by which Latin grew into 
French. Let us answer again, not as a matter of parentage 
and birth, but as a matter of analogy and kindred, that it is 
an imperfect knowledge of German which takes no heed to 
the kindred phzenomena of Greek, and that it 1s an imperfect 
knowledge of Greek which takes no heed to the kindred 
phenomena of German. If they ask what is the use of 
studying the histories of petty states, let us answer that 
moral and intellectual greatness is not always measured by 
physical bigness, that the smallness of a state of itself 
heightens and quickens the power of its citizens, and makes 
the history of a small commonwealth a more instructive 
lesson in politics than the history of a huge empire. If we 
are asked what is the use of studying the events and 


LECT. PRACTICAL STUDY OF ANCIENT HISTORY 219 


institutions of times so far removed from our own, let us 
answer that distance is not to be measured simply by lapse 
of time, and that those ages which gave birth to literature, 
and art, and political freedom are, sometimes only by analogy 
and indirect influence, sometimes by actual cause and effect, 
not distant, but very near to us indeed. Let us give to the 
history and literature of Greece and Rome in their chosen 
periods their due place in the history of mankind, but not 
more than their due place. Let us look on the ‘ancifnts, 
the men of Plutarch, the men of Homer, not as beings of 
another race, but as men of like passions with ourselves, as 
elder brethren of our common Aryan household. In this way 
we can make answer to gainsayers; in this way we can 
convince the unlearned and unbelieving that our studies are 
not vain gropings into what is dead and gone. Let us carry 
about with us the thought that the tongue which we still 
speak is in truth one with the tongue of Homer; that the 
Ekklésia of Athens, the Comitia of Rome, and the Parlia- 
ment of England, are all offshoots from one common stock ; 
that Kleisthenés, Licinius, and Simon of Montfort were 
fellow-workers in one common cause—let all this be to us a 
living thought, as we read the records either of the earlier 
or of the later time—and we shall find that the studies of 
our youthful days will still keep an honoured place among 
the studies of later life, that the heroes of ancient legend, 
the worthies of ancient history, lose not, but rather gain, in 
true dignity by being made the objects of a reasonable 
homage instead of an exclusive superstition. 


NOTES 


I 


(1) Page 4.—Max Miiller, Oxford Essays, 1856, p. 27. “The 
English name for ‘ mill’ is likewise of considerable antiquity, for 
it exists not only in the O. He G. mult, but in the Lithuanian 
malunas, the Bohemian mlyn, the Welsh melin, the Latin mola, 
and the Greek μύλη. Supposing the word not to be found 
beyond the Western branch of the Aryan family, it still seems 
quite impossible that the word could have got into these various 
languages by any means but that of original kindred. Examples 
of wider range might have been found ; but this has the example 
of being so perfectly clear, and of needing no philological practice 
to see the likeness between the different cognate words. 


(2) Page 6.—The connexion between the Greek Charis and 
Charites and the Sanscrit Harits is discussed by Miiller, Science 
of Language, ii. 369-376, 381-383; Cox, Aryan Mythology, 
i, 48,210; 11. 2. Mr. Cox, as usual, goes somewhat further than 
Professor Miiller. 1 can see no difficulty in looking on the Greek 
word χάρις and its Greek cognates as sprung from the same 
original root ghar as the Sanscrit Harits and their Sanscrit 
cognates, and at the same time believing that the mythological 
Charis and Charites arose after the appellative χάρις had received 
its particular Greek meaning. Charis and the Charites would 
thus be strictly personifications, like the other personifications 
compared with them in the text. The Harits and the Charites 
have thus a connexion, the general connexion which exists 
between any two words sprung from the same root. I cannot 
see with Mr. Cox (i. 210) that we are bound to see the same kind 
of connexion between them which there is between Dyaus and 
Zeus. 


222 NOTES ON 


(3) Page 7.—The solar theory has undoubtedly been pressed 
too far ; on the other hand, it has been made the subject of a 
good deal of jesting which is much more foolish than any possible 
vagaries of the theory itself. The true rule seems to be this; it 
is not safe to set down asa solar myth every story which, by some 
ingenious process, may be made to fit in with the requirements 
of a solar story. I believe that this might be done with a little 
trouble with almost every tale in history or fiction. I have myself 
tried (see Fortnightly Review, November, 1870) to do as much 
with the story both of Harold Hardrada and of Harold the son 
of Godwine. One might argue that Augustus the Strong was a 
solar hero, on the strength of the 360 children whom he is said to 
have left behind him. These might fairly pass for the days of the 
year, all the more so as the most famous of them was undoubtedly 
the son of #és or the Morning, in the person of Aurora von 
Konigsmarck. Many of the solar explanations which have been 
put forth seriously seem to me to be of exactly the same kind as 
these sportive ones, The case is changed when philology comes to 
the help of mythology, and when the names and epithets of the 
hero and his attendants show beyond doubt that the story is 
solar, This is the distinction which is more than once drawn by 
Professor Miiller. Thus the solar character of Phoibos-Apollén 
runs through every detail. But I cannot see the same evidence 
for the solar character of Achilleus and Odysseus. 


(4) Page 9.—For the happy name “survivals” we have to 
thank Mr. Tylor. No line of argument can well be more con- 
vincing, and it will be seen that in other lectures I have made a 
large use of it for my own purposes. 


(5) Page 9.—Miiller, Science of Language, i. 223-226. 


(6) Page 10.—Let the science rather go nameless than bear the 
burthen of such a name as, for instance, Sociology. 


(7) Page 14.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 92, 
ed. ii. It can hardly be needful to expose for the thousandth 
time either the notion that the Three Estates are King, Lords, 
and Commons, or the silly joke of calling the newspapers the 
Fourth Estate, 


LECTURE I 223 


(8) Page 14.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
96, 98. 


(9) Page 16.—I must confess that I say this at second hand, 
as 1 have not studied the Crusading Jurisprudence for myself. 
But it is plain that in no other time or place was’there the same 
opportunity for bringing in a system of Feudal Law—if any one 
likes the phrase, of introducing the Feudal System—which was 
supplied by the Frank Conquest of Palestine. Elsewhere feudal 
notions gradually grew up, and they gradually spread from ‘one 
country to another. Thus in England the feudal ideas, which 
were already growing up before the Norman Conquest, were 
greatly strengthened and put into shape through the Norman 
Conquest. But there was nothing like the bringing in of ‘a 
wholly new jurisprudence at a single blow. In Palestine, on the 
other hand, where of course Mahometan law and custom went 
for nothing, the Crusaders had the opportunity of legislating 
afresh from the beginning, and the most perfect of feudal codes 
was the natural result. The lands conquered from the Eastern 
Empire by the Crusaders and other Western adventurers, from 
Apulia to Cyprus, offered a field for feudal legislation only one 
degree less open than the lands conquered from the Mahometans. 
The Assizes of Jerusalem themselves became the law of the 
Kingdom of Cyprus, whose Kings of the House of Lusignan con- 
tinued the nominal succession of the Kings of Jerusalem. See 
Gibbon, c. lviii. vol. xi. p. 91, ed. Milman. 


(10) Page 17.—The magistrates were called in Romance 
‘Capitouls. The name Capitolium is graven in large letters on 
the front of the building itself, a building of no great age. I 
have not specially studied the local history of Toulouse, but I 
can hardly think that the Capitouls, whatever we make of the 
Capitoltium itself, can be a direct inheritance from Roman 
times. Indeed, according to Thierry (Tiers Etat, ii. 1, Eng. 
Trans.), the Consuls of Toulouse were only established in 1188. 
There was also a Capitol at Kiln, the name of which survives in 
the church of Saint Mary Capitoline. 


(11) Page 18.—I learned this from an inscription in the church 
of Saint Salvi at Alby. The style is “ major et consules.”’ On the 
consular governments in the cities of Southern Gaul see the chapter 


224 NOTES ON 


of Thierry just quoted. He speaks of the Mayor as an addition 
to the original consular government which came in first in the 
Aquitanian cities under Norman or English rule. 


(12) Page 19.—On the modern corruption of the German 
language I have said something in my second series of Historical 
Essays, p. 269. 


(13) Page 20.—See Forsyth, History of Ancient Manuscripts, 
p. 25. 


(14) Page 20.—I said something on this matter many years 
ago in the two first chapters of the First Book of my History of 
Aerchitecture ; but I should not now talk about “ Pelasgian.”’ 


(15) Page 21.—See History of Federal Government, 1. 319. 


(16) Page 21.—See Historical Essays, First Series, 401- 
405. 


LECTURE II 225 


11 


(1) Page 25.—See the remarks of Grote, ii. 289-302, on the 
effects of the geographical character of Greece on its history. See 
also the first chapter of Curtius, especially the remarkable passage 
at page 13: . 

‘“Euphrat und Nil bieten Jahr um Jahr ihren Anwohnern 
dieselben Vortheile und regeln ihre Beschaftigungen, deren 
stetiges Einerlei es méglich macht, dass Jahrhunderte iiber das 
Land hingehen, ohne dass sich in den hergebrachten Lebensver- 
hiltnissen etwas Wesentliches indert. Es erfolgen Umwialzun- 
gen, aber keine Entwickelungen, und mumienartig eingesargt 
stockt im Thale des Nils die Cultur der Aegypter ; sie zahlen die 
einférmigen Pendelschlige der Zeit, aber die Zeit hat keinen 
Inhalt ; sie haben Chronologie, aber keine Geschichte im vollen 
Sinne des Worts. Solche Zustinde der Erstarrung duldet der 
Verkehr und geistiges Leben erwacht ist, dasselbe ohne Stillstand 
immer weiter fiihrt und entwickelt.” 


(2) Page 26.—The second chapter of Curtius and the appendix 
to the first volume should be read. But I see no reason to doubt 
the received version, which makes European Hellas the mother- 
land of the Asiatic Hellénes. 


(3) Page 26.—Of the Pheenician occupation of the Aigeean 
islands there seems no doubt. See Thucydides, i. 8; Hero- 
dotus, iv. 147. Thasos, with its gold mines, is a well-known 
case ; the authorities are collected in the article on Thasos in the 
Dictionary of Geography. I venture to think that the Homeric 
Catalogue might enable us to draw a map of the islands as far as 


they had been already wrested from Phenician and other pre- 
Q 


220 NOTES ON 


Hellenic occupants. It appears from vv. 645-680 that Crete, 
Rhodes, Kés, and several other of the southern islands, were 
already Hellenic, though the language used of Rhodes would 
seem to imply that the Hellenic settlement had been made 
not very long kefore. Chios and Samos were clearly not yet 
Hellenic, and Lesbos is a conquest of Achilleus himself. (Iliad, 
ix, 271.) 

The Hellénes were doing in these islands in pre-historic times 
wha" they afterwards did in Sicily and Cyprus. They were 
fighting the battle of the Aryan against the Semitic man; and 
ull the more so because the Pheenicians had doubtless established 
themselves in all these islands, except perhaps Cyprus, at the cost 
of. Sikels, Karians, and other nations more or less akin to the 


Greek, 


(4) Page 26.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 90. 


(5) Page 26.—The exact limits of Greek colonization should be 
noted. It spread gradually over the whole coast of the Mediter- 
ranean Sea and its great gulfs, except when there was some mani- 
fest hindrance. Thus, on the eastern and southern coasts of the 
Mediterranean the Greeks were cut off from colonization by the 
presence of Pheenicians and Egyptians, except in the lands 
between Egypt and the Carthaginian dominions, which did 
receive Greek colonies in the form of the Kyrénaic Pentapolis. 
It will be at once seen that, while no part of the Mediterranean 
coast was more thickly set with Greek colonies than Southern 
Italy, Northern Italy contained few or none. The Greek origin 
of Piss on the one coast and of Spina on the other is at best 
doubtful, and in no case did they play any part as Greek cities 
worthy to be compared with the famous cities which won the name 
of Magna Grecia. This plainly shows that, in the days of Greek 
colonization, the occupants of Northern Italy— Etruscan, Gaulish, 
Umbrian, or Latin-—were much stronger than those whom the 
Greek colonists foundin the South. Another point to notice is 
that Greek colonization succeeded best in those lands where the 
former inhabitants were more or less closely akin to the Greeks. 
Thus Sicily and the Augean coast became really Greek countries, 
while in Libya and on the Euxine the Greek colonies always 
remained mere scattered settlements in a barbarian land. 


LECTURE II 227 


(6) Page 26.—Notwithstanding all that has been said about 
Egypt and the East, I see no more reason than I did five-and- 
twenty years ago to derive the origin of Greek architecture from 
any barbarian source. The Ionic capital indeed may perhaps 
come from the East. But if so, the Greeks made it thoroughly 
their own, and they were the first to give it any form which, in 
the words of the text, really deserved the name of art. 


(7) Page 26.—That is of course the κτῆμα és ἀεὶ of Thicy- 
dides himself (i. 22). The fact that such a history as that of 
Thucydides could be written at such an early stage of prose 
literature is in itself one of the greatest facts in Greek or in 
human history. The man himself was of course above his coh- 
temporaries ; but in no other cpntemporary society could room 
have been found for such a man. I may refer to the third Essay 
in my second series of Historical Essays. 


(8) Page 27.—I have said something on this head in the fifth 
and sixth essays of the same series. But the real witness to the 
lasting results of Alexander’s career is to be found in the 
Histories of Mr. Finlay. An inhabitant of modern Athens seeks 
to trace out the causes of the state of things which he sees around 
him and of the events in which he had himself played a part, 
and he has to go back to the conquests of Alexander as his 
beginning. 


(9) Page 27.—It must always be remembered that, till the 
modern Hellenic revival, the name of Ἕλλην was altogether 
unknown as the name of the Greek nation. All through Byzan- 
tine, Frank, and Ottoman times, their one name was Ῥωμαῖοι--- 
Romans by virtue of the unrepealed law of Antoninus Caracalla. 


(10) Page 27.—I accept the legend so far as this, that it 
expresses, in a legendary form, a policy by which Rome grew 
from the beginning—the policy of incorporation. 


(11) Page 28.—“ The reign of Cesar and of Christ was restored,” 
says Gibbon (6. lii., vol. x., 86, Milman), in recording the recovery 
of Antioch by Niképhoros Phékas, This exactly expresses the 
state of the case. 


228 NOTES ON 


(12) Page 28.—The phrase of ‘“‘Urbs eterna” is common in 
Ammianus. See xiv. 6, and a note of Lindenbrog for other 
instances. 


(13) Page 29.-—I believe that there are still people—perhaps 
those who talk about “Goths, Huns and Vandals” as if they 
were all the same—who fancy that the Goths were destroyers. 
Let them study the famous passage of Cassiodorus (vii. 15) ; only 
let tuem not fancy that the description there given has anything 
to do with Gothic architecture in the technical sense. 


vo Page 29.—See Growth of the English Constitution, p. 9, 
ed. 2. 


(15) Page 30.—It should always be remembered that the three 
Scandinavian kingdoms, like the two Nether-Dutch kingdoms of 
Belgium and the Netherlands, were among the few European 
states which passed undisturbed through the storms of 1848. 
From 1660 to 1848 Denmark was the one country where 
despotism was really lawful; and in 1848 Frederick the Seventh 
had, as his first act, given his people a constitution of his own 
free will, before revolutions had began elsewhere. The wars and 
negotiations which have gone on since 1848 have had nothing to 
do with the state of Denmark itself, but wholly with its relations 
to the two border Duchies. And it should be further remarked 
that the discontent in those Duchies came to a head at the very 
moment of the proclamation of free institutions in Denmark. 
The cause is obvious. Under the despotism Kingdom and 
Duchies fared alike, and there were even times when the German 
element seemed to be preferred to the Danish. In a Parlia- 
ment representing both the Kingdom and the Duchies the 
German element would always have been out-voted. The like 
would be the case with the Romance Cantons of Switzerland, if 
their equality as sovereign States did not protect them. Hence 
the strong opposition of those Cantons to the proposed changes in 
the Federal Constitution. 


(16) Page 30.—I assume this here; I have gone more fully 
into the matter in my Growth of the English Constitution, of 
which this position is the main argument. 


LECTURE ITI 229 


(17) Page 30.—For Ailfred’s description of the modest way in 


which he laid his laws before his Witan, see Norman Conquest, 
1. Ol. 


(18) Page 30.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 34. 
Φ 

(19) Page 30.—I have elsewhere collected some instances of 
the notion of Britain as another world (Norman Conquest, 1. 
556). It may be well to give some more instances from earlier 
writers. The form of speech begins with Virgil’s ‘‘ Penitus*toto 
divisos orbe Britannos.” (Kel. i. 67.) So Velleius (ii. 46) 
sperks of Cesar as going into Britain, ‘‘alterum pene imperio 
nostro ac suo querens orbem.” Lucan probably means the same 
thing less directly, when he speaks (ii. 294) of “ diductique frefgis 
alio sub sidere reges.” So Florys (ili. 10): “Quasi hic Romanus 
orbis non sufficeret, alterum cogitavit.” (We hear again of 
“Romanus orbis” and even of “ Imperator Romani orbis,” 
in Vopiscus, Aurelian, 26, 28.) So Jornandes (11) also speaks 
of Cesar: ‘Pene omnem mundum sue ditionis subegit, omnia- 
que regna perdomuit, adeo ut extra nostrum orbem in 
Oceani sinu repositas insulas occuparet.” So elsewhere (5) he 
opposes “ Britannia” to “‘noster orbis.” We find the same way 
of speaking in Greek authors also. Josephus (Bell. Jud. ii. 16, 4) 
makes Agrippa, when enlarging on the Roman power, say, 
σκέψασθε δὲ καὶ τὸ Βρεττανῶν τεῖχος, οἱ τοῖς ‘leporodvpuv τείχεσι 
πεποιθότες" καὶ γὰρ ἐκείνους περιβεβλημένους ὠκεανὸν καὶ τῆς Kal’ 
ἡμᾶς οἰκουμένης οὐκ ἐλάσσονα νῆσον οἰκοῦντας, πλεύσαντες ἐδουλώσαντο 
Ῥωμαῖοι. So Plutarch, Cesar, 28, προήγαγεν ἔξω τῆς οἰκουμένης 
τὴν Ῥωμαίων ἡγεμονίαν. Didn, on the other hand (lxii. 4), puts 
language of the same kind into the mouth of Boadicea: τοιγαροῦν 
νῆσον τηλικαύτην, μᾶλλον δ᾽ ἤπειρον τρόπον τινὰ περίῤῥυτον, νεμόμενοι, 
καὶ ἰδίαν οἰκουμένην ἔχοντες, καὶ τοσοῦτον ὑπὸ τοῦ ὠκεανοῦ ἀφ᾽ 
ἁπάντων τῶν ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων ἀφωρισμένοι, ὥστε καὶ γῆν ἄλλην καὶ 
οὐρανὸν ἄλλον οἰκεῖν πεπιστεῦσθαι. So, at a later time, we find 
Orderic (723 c.) saying that the preaching of the Crusade 
‘Angliam quoque, aliasque maritimas insulas nequivit latere, 
licet undisoni maris abyssus illas removeat ab orbe.” (The monk 
of St. Evroul, born in Shropshire, and who afterwards visited 
Crowland, is perhaps describing his own feelings in his several 
voyages over the abyss.) And, as the Archbishop of Canterbury 
is several times called “alterius orbis papa”’ or “ apostolicus,” so, 


230 NOTES ON 


ΡΝ 


in a passage of Εδάτηον (Hist. Nov. 1. 1. p. 422, Migne) the con- 
viction of William Rufus that the Bishop of Rome had no 
jurisdiction in his realm of England takes this form, ‘‘ Nec enim 
putabat apostolicum orbis posse in regno suo esse cujuslibet juris, 
nisi permissus a 560. Britain was out of the world, and the 
‘¢ Pope of the werld ” had therefore nothing to say to it. 

All this is much more than rhetoric ; it is more even than 
national or territorial feeling. Our insular position has been one 
of the greatest facts of our history ; it has caused a distinction 
between us islanders and our neighbours on the Continent which 
is independent of all distinctions of race, language, or religion, 
and which is often found at cross purposes with all of them. We 
feel at once that there are some points, great and small, in which 
wt stand by ourselves in opposition to continentals, simply as 
continentals. This is a fact which should carefully be borne 
in mind, because some points of difference between ourselves and 
our kinsfolk on the mainland, which are really owing simply to 
our geographical isolation, have been set down as proofs of 
imaginary Roman or British influences in England. 


(20) Page 31.—See Norman Conquest, i. 279. 


(21) Page 31.—On this head see note B in the Appendix to 
the first volume of the Norman Conquest. The particular titles 
which the English Kings took, in order to set forth their in- 
dependence of the continental Empire, were doubtless borrowed 
from that Empire. But the general conception of Britain as a 
separate Empire was the natural result of its geographical 
position. 


(22) Page 32.—It will be remembered that the great moment 
of triumph in the life of Charles the Great was when the 
Ambassadors of the Eastern Emperor Michael addressed him 
according to the full Imperial style (Eginhard, Annals, 812): 
“ Aquisgrani, ubi ad Imperatorem venerunt ...... more suo, 
id est Greeca lingua, laudes ei dixerunt, Jmperatorem eum et 
Basileum appellantes.” Charles was strong and Michael was 
weak. Three generations later, when the tables were rather 
turned between Basil the Macedonian and Lewis the Second who 
reigned in Italy only, the Imperial titles became the subject of a 
long dispute. The controversy is given at length in the Chronicle 


LECTURE ITI 231 


of Salerno (Pertz, iii, 521). Basil is offended because Lewis 
had called himself “Imperator Augustus” in a letter. The 
Carolingian Emperor, in his answer, goes to the root of the 
matter. His salutation runs: ‘“ Lodoguicus, divina ordinante 
providentia, Imperator Augustus Romanorum, dilectissimo 
spiritualique patri nostro Basilio, gloriosissimo et piissimo atque 
Tmperatori Nove Rome.” He says that it does not matter what 
either of them is called, but rather what either of them is. Still, as 
his brother Basil has raised the question about the title of Emperor 
(‘‘ quia de imperatorio nomine multa nobis scripsisti’’), he aygues 
the point at length. The Byzantine position is ‘ neminem 
appellandum Sasilea nisi eum quem in urbe Constantinopoli 
Imperii tenere gubernacula contigisset.”” The Western Emperor 
answers that a study of Greek books will show him that all 
manner of Kings, good and bad, from Melchizedek to the Kings 
of the Goths and Vandals, all bore the title of PBasileus. He 
objects to be called merely Azxc—-a form which throws some light 
on the difference of sound which must already have arisen between 
the Latin Mec and the Greek pyg—and then argues the point 
minutely : 

‘“‘ Postremo scito, quia qui Liga quemquam appellat, quid dicat 
nec 1086 novit. Siquidem etiam si linguis omnibus more aposto- 
lorum, immo angelorum, loquaris, cujus lingue sit Mec, vel cui 
dignitati sonus ille barbarus congruit quod δὲ dicitur, inter- 
pretari non poteris, nihil enim est hoc, nisi forte ad idioma 
proprie lingue tractum, Riga regem significare monstraveris. 
Quod si ita est, quia non jam barbarum sed Latinum est, oportet 
ut, quum ad manus vestras pervenerit, in linguam vestram fidell 
translatione vertatur. Quod si factum fuerit, quid aliud nisi hoc 
nomine BacvAevs interpretabitur? Quod non solum Veteris sed 
et Novi Testamenti omnes interpretes attestantur. Unde si in 
alienis personis hoc detestaris vocabulum, stude et omnibus tam 
Latinis libris quam Grecis sive Rigis sive βασυλεὺς nomen 
eradere, nam nihil 2ex in lingua Latina resonat, quam quod 
Greca dicitur BacvAevs.” [The spelling of βασυλεὺς with an v is 
another illustration of Greek pronunciation. In modern Greek 
the two sounds are the same. | 

I need hardly say that the same controversy went on in one 
form or another for several ages. Thus John Kinnamos (lib. 
iv. pp. 247, 248, a.p. 1652) calls Frederick Barbarossa only ῥήξ 
᾿Αλαμανῶν, but speaks of him as wishing to be thought Emperor 


292 NOTES ON 


wer ee ee ee ae «----- ---- --..ϑ...-....... -.-ὕ. eee ---- 


(τοῦ Ρωμαίων αὐτοκράτορος προσαρμόσειν αὐτῷ τὸ ἀξίωμα οἰηθεὶς... 
τῇ αὐτοκράτορος πάλαι ἐποφθαλμίζων ἀρχῇ). He goes on to tell us 
that none but the Emperor had any right to appoint the Pope 
(οὐδενὶ yap ἄλλῳ, ὅτι μὴ βασιλεῖ Ρωμαίων, ἀρχιέρεα περιβεβλῆσθαι τῇ 
Ῥώμῃ ἐφεῖται) ; but that, through the contempt into which the 
Empire had fallan (ἐξ ὅτου ὀλιγωρία τῶν ἐν Βυζαντίῳ βασιλέων τὸ 
τοιοῦτον ἀπεσβήκε ἔθος), this was now the case no longer. One of 
the oddest forms of the dispute is when the Council of Basel in 
1437 addresses the Emperor John Palaiologos as “ Imperator 
Rom.zorum’’ (Letters of Thomas Beckington, ii. 19, et al.). I 
conceive that this use of the Greek form was to avoid calling him 
‘‘Imperator Romanorum”’; somewhat in the same way as I 
have known strict Anglican theologians who would not have 
calied the ecclesiastical Establishment of Scotland a Church, 
according to the Saxon pronunciation, but who had no scruple 
against calling it by the Anglian or Danish form Kirk. In an 
earlier letter in the same series (i. 285) Richard the Second 
addresses Manuel Palaiologos as “Imperator Constantinopoli- 
tanus.” 


(23) Page 32.—Besides the important part which the Servians 
and Bulgarians—for the Bulgarians may be practically reckoned 
as a Slavonic people—played in the affairs of the Eastern 
Empire, the modern history of Russia is very like its history in 
the ninth and tenth centuries acted over again. Then, as in 
later times, Russian fleets covered the Euxine and threatened 
Constantinople. A variety of causes, crowned by the Mogul in- 
vasion in the thirteenth century, broke up the Russian power and 
directed its chief energies elsewhere. The wars of the Russians 
with their Tartar enemies, and their final recovery of the Euxine 
coast, form the exact parallel to the advance of the Christians 
in Spain and the recovery of Granada. And besides Russia, we 
must remember the great European position held by Poland 
under the House of Jagellon in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries. 


(24) Page 33.—All these stories are familiar from the legend- 
ary history of Rome in the first book of Livy and elsewhere. 
It is hard to say how far they are strictly native Italian legends, 
how far they were devised after the Romans had become familiar 
with Greek literature. The story which makes Numa a pupil of 


LECTURE II 2333 


eam em a ..--- 


Pythagoras is of course only an unlucky guess, the chronological 
absurdity of which is exposed by Livy himself. 


(25) Page 33.—Tacitus, Germania, 3: ‘“ Fuisse apud eos et 
Herculem memorant, primumque omnium virorum fortium ituri 
in preelia canunt . ... Ceterum Ulyssem quilam opinantur, 
longo illo et fabuloso errore in hune Oceanum delatum, adisse 
Germaniz terras, Asciburgiumque, quod in ripa Rheni situm 
hodieque incolitur, ab illo constitutum nominatumque. Aram 
quinetiam Ulyssi consecratam, adjecto Laerte patris nomine, 
eodem loco olim repertam, monumentaque et tumulos quosdam, 
Grecis litteris inscriptos, in confinio Germanize Rhetieque adhuc 
exstare ; que neque confirmare argumentis, neque refellere in 
animo est: ex ingenio suo quisque demat, vel addat fidem.” 


(26) Page 34.—I have here tried to bring together a few of 
the most obvious words which all, or many, of the Aryan lan- 
guages have in common. On tember and ear see Miiller, Oxford 
Essays, 1856, 25-27. The former word, in the form timbrian, 
is the word commonly used in Old-English for building, whatever 
be the material used. So Cnut “ferde to Assandune and let 
timbrian Sar an mynster of stane and lime;” and so Eadward 
‘‘ setimbrode ” the West Minster itself. (From the etymological 
connexion of this word with tunber some people have oddly 
argued that all buildings built in England up to sunset on St. 
Calixtus’ Day, 1066, must have been made of wood.) Tae, 
hound, deer, the two latter of which are words which have come 
down from a wider to a more special meaning, are good examples 
of common Aryan words. The bul/—I was thinking of him in 
his noblest office, as furnishing the standard and the war-horn 
of Uri—-does not appear by that name in Greek or Latin, but I 
believe that he is to be found in the primitive speech of Lithuania. 
One may doubt too whether the name of the lion is to be looked 
on as wholly borrowed from the South; the beast himself is 
certainly a genuine European animal, whose “retreat” has been 
traced out by a happy union of historical and physical evidence 
in the hands of Mr. Dawkins. 


(27) Page 34.—With the words of Herodotus (ix. 62) before 
us—Ajpare μέν νυν Kal ῥώμῃ οὐκ ἔἕσσονες ἦσαν οἱ Mépva.—followed 


up by the marked way in which he ptesently speaks of the 


234 NOTES ON 


native Persians as the only trustworthy part of ‘the barbarian 
host, we may be tempted to infer that, as between Aryan and 
Aryan, the struggle between Greek and Persian was not so 
unequal, and that the armies of the Great King were rather 
weakened than strengthened by the mixed multitude which 
cumbered the action of the real men of Iran. By the time of 
Alexander, as Mr. Grote truly says, the Persian infantry seem 
to have lost their old personal prowess, but the cavalry still meet 
the mounted Companions of Alexander on equal terms. The 
regenerate Persians of the Sassanid period—all the stronger 
because their dominion was so much smaller, and therefore more 
strictly national, than that of the Achaimenids—were, as I need 
not stop to show, the one foe that met Rome on really equal 
tarms. 


(28) Page 34.—The death of the sun is an obvious form of 
the “ daily tragedy” of his course. The home of the sun in the 


West comes out in the well-Known verses of Stesichoros (see 
Mure, ili. 251) ; 


᾿Αέλιος δ᾽ Ὑπεριονίδας δέπας ἐξκατέβαινε 
χρύσεον, ὄφρα δ᾽ ὠκεανοῖο περάσας, 
ἀφίκοιθ᾽ ἱερᾶς ποτὶ βένθεα νυκτὸς épeuvas: 
ποτὶ ματέρα κουριδίαν τ’ ἄλοχον 

παῖδάς τε φίλους. 


(29) Page 34.—Setting aside the relations of language, and 
looking only to the political and geographical state of Europe, 
the position of the Aryan Celts and that of the non-Aryan 
Iberians is almost exactly the same. Each forms the main 
element in one of the great nations of Europe; France is essen- 
tially Celtic; Spain is essentially Iberian. But the Celtic and 
Iberian essence is in both cases covered over by a varnish which 
is mainly Roman but partly Teutonic. The true Celt, unmixed 
and unaltered, keeping his own language and his unbroken 
national being, is to be found only in certain corners of Gaul and 
Britain, just as the Iberian, unromanized and unteutonized, is 
found only in certain corners of Gaul and Spain. The case of 
the Fins is somewhat different. One independent European 
nation, that of the Hungarians, is of Finnish descent, while the 
other Fins linger only in corners, like the unmixed Celts and 
Iberians. But the Hungarians are not, like the Romanized 
Celts and Iberians of France and Spain, a nation which came 


LECTURE II 235 


weer -.--. 


into Europe in the course of pre-historic migrations, and which 
has exchanged its language for that of conquerors of historic 
times, They are a race of non-Aryan conquerors, who have 
made their way into Europe at a comparatively late time, and 
who still keep their non-Aryan language. 


(30) Page 35.—On the upper course of the Rhine we find the 
Swiss Cantons and their allies, and specially the Reetian Con- 
federacy of the Three Leagues, now forming part of the greater 
confederation as the Canton of Graubiinden. At the other,end 
of the stream we find the Confederation of the Seven United 
Provinces, now turned into the Kingdom of the Netherlands. 
Each confederation alike was a mere off-shoot from the Empire 
und the Kingdom of Germany, which circumstances enabled to 
win and keep a fuller degree of independence than the other 
members of the Empire. The two were formally recognized as 
independent of the Empire at the same time, namely by the 
Peace of Westphalia. And, placed thus at the two ends of the 
Empire, the two confederations represent severally the two great 
branches of the Teutonic race, High and Low. The point to 
be remembered is that neither Switzerland nor Holland was a 
separate state from the beginning. But there is this difference 
between them: the United Provinces became independent of the 
Empire by virtue of the great and independent position which 
had been won by their sovereigns the Dukes of Burgundy ; it is 
therefore less unnatural that their republican constitution has 
changed back again into a monarchy. But the independence of 
the Old League of High Germany arose through the casting off 
of all immediate princely rule, and the owning of no King but 
Cesar till the time came when Cesar himself could be cast off 
also. Thus the republican freedom of the cities and lands 
(Stdédte und Ldénder) on the borders of Germany, Italy, and 
Burgundy has lived on, under various forms, to our own day. 


(31) Page 36.—I have quoted the passage from Prokopios 
which records this early English—most likely Kentish—- 
embassy to Constantinople at vol. i. p. 30 of the Norman 
Conquest. 


(32) Page 36.—The position and extent of the Empire under 
Justinian and his immediate successors is one of those points 


236 NOTES ON 


which cannot be too often insisted on. People have their heads 
so full of the vulgar confused notions about ‘“‘Greeks of the 
Lower Empire,” that they find it hard to understand the fact 
that in the sixth century the Roman Emperor—Imperator 
Cesar Flavius Justinianus Augustus—though he held his court 
in the New Rome and not in the Old, ruled in fact as well as in 
name over the whole Mediterranean coast of Europe, Asia, and 
Africa, saving some parts of Gaul and Spain. Gades, Carthage, 
and Antioch again obeyed a single master. It was a great lack 
in tie old edition of Spruner’s Hand-Atlas that there was no 
general map of the Empire at this time. This defect is fully 
made up in the new edition which is now publishing. 


.(22) Page 36.—Of Aétius, him to whom the groans of the 
Britons were sent, Jornandes (34) gives this account :—‘‘ Aetius 
ergo patricius tunc preerat militibus, fortissimorum Mesiorum 
stirpe progenitus, in Dorostina civitate, a patre Gaudentio, 
labores bellicos tolerans, Reipublice Romane singulariter natus, 
qui superbiam Suevorum Francorumque barbariem immensis 
cedibus servire Romano Imperio coegisset.” Prokopios himself 
also (Bell. Vand. 1. 3) gives us his panegyric, along with the 
contemporary Bonifacius : 

Στρατηγὼ δύο 'Ῥωμαῖοι ἤστην, ᾿Αέτιός τε καὶ Bovidarios, καρτερώ 
τε ἐς τὰ μάλιστα καὶ πολλῶν πολέμων ἐμπείρω τῶν γε κατ᾽ ἐκεῖνον τὸν 
χρόνον ovdevos ἧσσον. τούτω τὼ ἄνδρε διαφόρω μὲν τὰ πολιτικὰ 
ἐγενέσθην, ἐς τοσοῦτον δὲ μεγαλοψυχίας τε καὶ τῆς ἄλλης ἀρετῆς 
ἠκέτην ὥστε, εἴ τις αὐτοῖν ἑκάτερον ἄνδρα Ρωμαίων ὕστατον εἴποι, οὐκ 
ἂν ἁμάρτοι: οὕτω τὴν Ῥωμαίων ἀρετὴν ξύμπασαν ἐς τούτω τὼ ἄνδρε 
ἀποκεκρίσθαι τετύχηκε. 

We are apt to look upon the West-Gothic kingdom as some- 
thing specially Spanish. But, till the conquest of Aquitaine by 
Chlodwig, it was at least as much Gaulish as Spanish. The 
Gothic capital was the Gaulish Tolosa ; and there were more 
truly “no Pyrenees” then than at any time before or since. 


(34) Page 36.—Jornandes, 36. “A parte vero Romanorum 
tanta patricii Aetii providentia fuit, cui tunc innitebatur respub- 
lica Hesperis plage, ut undique bellatoribus congregatis adversus 
ferocem et infinitam multitudinem non impar occurreret. His 
enim adfuere auxiliares Franci, Sarmatze, Armoritiani, Litiani, 
Burgundiones, Saxones, Riparioli, Ibriones, quondam milites 


LECTURE IT 237 


one 


Romani, tunc vero jam in numero auxiliariorum exquisiti, alix- 
que nonnull Celticse vel Germanice nationes.”’ 

There is something very strange in the appearance of the 
Sarmatians ; but it is not for me to dispute the assertion of the 
historian that they were there, especially as it is convenient for 
my argument that they should have been there. 

The grievous thing 1s that in this great struggle between 
Aryan and Turanian men, there were Aryans, Teutons, Goths, 
on the Turanian side. 


(35) Page 37.—On Alaric’s march to Athens, see Zésimos, 
v. 6. 


(36) Page 38.—On the influence of Massalia on the neigh- 
bouring Gauls, see Strabo, iv. 1. His words are very strong :— 
ν ) ε 4 “ XN 4 “A , 9 A 7 
Os? ἡ πόλις μικρῷ μὲν πρότερον τοῖς βαρβάροις ἀνεῖτο παιδευτήριον, 
καὶ φιλέλληνας κατεσκεύασε τοὺς Γαλάτας, ὥςτε καὶ τὰ συμβόλαια 
Ἑλληνιστὶ γράφειν" εὖ δὲ τῷ παρόντι καὶ τοὶ ΐ 

n yp y D παρόντι Kal τοὺς γνωριμωτάτους 
Ῥωμαίων πέπεικεν, ἀντὶ τῆς εἰς ᾿Αθήνας ἀποδημίας ἐκεῖσε φοιτᾶν 
φιλομαθεῖς ὄντας. He speaks no less strongly of the Roman 
influence on the Gaulish tribes in that neighbourhood :—’Emuxpa- ᾿ 
tet δὲ τὸ τῶν Καουάρων ὄνομα, Kal πάντας οὕτως ἤδη προςαγορεύουσι 

‘ , , IQ 4 Υ ΨΚ > N , 
τοὺς ταύτῃ βαρβάρους, οὐδὲ βαρβάρους ἔτι ὄντας, ἀλλὰ μετακειμένους 
τὸ πλέον εἰς τὸν τῶν Ρωμαίων τύπον, καὶ τῇ γλώττῃ καὶ τοῖς Blots, 
τινὰς δὲ καὶ τῇ πολιτείᾳ. 

Elsewhere (iii. 2) he sets forth the progress of Roman influ- 
ences among the tribes of Southern Spain :—oi μέν τοι Τουρδιτανοὶ, 
καὶ μάλιστα οἱ περὶ τὸν Βαῖτιν, τελέως εἰς τὸν Ρωμαίων μεταβέβλην- 
ται τρόπον, οὐδὲ τῆς διαλέκτου τῆς σφετέρας ἔτι μεμνημένοι. Λατῖνοί 
τε οἱ πλεῖστοι γεγόνασι, καὶ ἐποίκους εἰλήφασι Ῥωμαίους ᾿ ὥςτε μικρὸν 
ἀπέχουσι τοῦ πόντες εἶναι Ῥωμαῖοι. 


(37) Page 39.—Any questions of this kind I should wish to 
leave open till philologers have determined the exact degree of 
affinity, if there be any, between the two great groups of in- 
flexional languages, the Aryan and Semitic. Till then we shall 
do wisely to collect and classify facts, but to abstain from theories, 
and, above all things, we must take care not to be led away by 
particular likenesses here and there, which may turn out to be 
accidental. The only scientific process is to find out what is the 
common possession of the Aryan nations, what is the common 


238 NOTES ON 


em ee - 


possession of the Semitic nations. When we have done this, we 
shall be able to see what the two great families have in common, 
but not before. 


(38) Page 42.—Annals, iv. 33. ‘Nam cunctas nationes et 
urbes populus, 4ut primores, aut singuli regunt: delecta ex his 
et consociata Reipublice forma laudari facilius quam evenire, 
vel, si evenit, haud diuturna esse potest.” Yet a large part of 
the argument of Aristotle, in the fourth book of the Politics, 
goes on the assumption that the best form of government will 
be something of a mixed kind. The ideal πολιτεία described in 
his ninth chapter is a mixture of aristocracy and democracy, and 
he lays down (iv. 12. 6) the exactly opposite doctrine to that of 
Tacitus,—oow ἂν ἄμεινον ἡ πολιτεία μιχθῇ τοσούτῳ μονιμωτέρα. 
So, at an earlier stage of his argument (ii. 6), he says, ἔνιοι 
μὲν οὖν λέγουσιν ὡς δεῖ τὴν ἀρίστην πολιτείαν ἐξ ἁπασῶν εἶναι τῶν 
πολιτειῶν μεμιγμένην, διὸ καὶ τὴν τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων ἐπαινοῦσιν" and 
he goes on to describe the way in which the three forms of 
government were held to be united in the constitution of Sparta. 
Isokratés too, throughout the Areiopagitic and Panathenaic dis- 
courses, where the object is to contrast what he looks on as the 
corrupt democracy of his own time with the truer democracy of 
a past time (ἐκείνην τὴν δημοκρατίαν, ἣν Ξόλων μὲν ὃ δημοτικώτατος 
γενόμενος ἐνομοθέτησεν, Α. 17 ; ἡ βεβαιωτέρα καὶ δικαιοτέρα δημο- 
κρατία, A. 30, &. &c.), which he conceives (II. 159) to have 
lasted for a thousand years, once or twice uses the same kind 
of formula more than once. Thus in II. 139, κατεστήσαντο yap 
δημοκρατίαν οὐ τὴν εἰκῇ πολιτευομένην . . . . ἀλλὰ THY τοιούτοις μὲν 
ἐπιτιμῶσαν, ἀριστοκρατίᾳ δὲ χρωμένην, and again IT. 165, he speaks 
of Lykourgos, &c., τήν τε δημοκρατίαν καταστήσαντος παρ᾽ αὐτοῖς 
τὴν ἀριστοκρατίᾳ μεμιγμένην, ἥπερ ἣν παρ᾽ ἡμῖν, καὶ τὰς ἄρχας οὐ 
κληρωτὰς ἀλλ᾽ αἱρετὰς ποιήσαντα. This last seems to be Isokratés’ 
great distinction between a good democracy and a bad one. Yet 
at Athens all the really important offices were filled by election. 

On the other hand it is possible, as in the old Polish constitu- 
tion, to make a mixed government which shall combine the bad 
points, without the good, of all the three forms by themselves— 
a King without real power, but with large means of irregular 
influence ; a people brought down to serfdom ; a nobility forming 
a narrow oligarchy as regards the rest of the nation and a frantic 
mob among themselves. 


LECTURE ITI 239 


a ee — 


(39) Page 42.—It is now hardly needful to prove that the 
Germania of Tacitus, though it doubtless contains sarcastic 
touches here and there, is no mere dream of a Roman dissatisfied 
with the state of things at Rome, but an essentially faithful 
description of the Teutonic race when it first made its appearance 
in history. The deeper we search into Teutonic antiquities, 
whether on our own island or on the mainland, the more fully 
do we find the statements of the Roman historian borne out. 
The best commentary on the Germania is the first volume of 
Waitz’s Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte. 


(40) Page 44.—I do not remember finding the word ἄναξ any- 
where in Greek prose, except in the Evagoras of Isokratés, 88, 
where he uses dvag and dvacoa almost like the vulgar use of 
the words prince and princess. τῶν ἐξ αὐτοῦ γεγονότων οὐδένα 

, 3 ἊἉ 3 4 / 9 Ν \ Ν , 
μετέλιπεν ἰδιωτικοῖς ὀνόμασι προςαγορευόμενον, ἀλλὰ τὸν μὲν βασιλέα 
καλούμενον, τοὺς δὲ ἄνακτας, τὰς δὲ ἄνασσας. 


(41) Page 44.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
32, 171, and below. 


(42) Page 45.—The Old-English rice, the same as the High- 
Dutch veich, seems now to survive only in the ending of the 
word bishopric; but in Northern English cynerice, in various 
spellings, went on till avery late time. icsian, rimian, is the 
Old-English verb = revere. 


(43) Page 45.—See Max Miiller, Oxford Essays, p. 24, and 
see below, note 64 on Lecture IV. 


(44) Page 45.—Massmann (Ulfilas, 728) explains the Gothic 
reiks by “ein Michtiger, Oberster, Herrscher ; vornehm, angesehen, 
michtig.”’ 


(45) Page 46.—The Athenian ἡλιαία, which Greek etymolo- 
gists (see Suidas in ἡλιαστής) were tempted to connect with 
ἥλιος, is of course the same word as dAia, connected with ἁλής 
and other kindred words. 


(46) Page 46.—On the various names, ἀγορά for one of them, 
by which the Achaian Federal Assembly is called by Polybios, 
see History of Federal Government, i. 263. 


240 NOTES ON 


(47) Page 46.—The Latin frater and English brother seem at 
first sight to have no Greek cognate, as its place in the literal 
sense has been usurped by ddeAdds. But the word appears, in 
the form of φράτηρ or φράτωρ, to express a member of one of 
the union of gentes known as φράτραι or dparpia, of which I have 
said more at p. 66. It might almost be in either sense that 
Nestér (Iliad, ix. 63) uses the negative word ; 


ἀφρήτωρ, ἀθέμιστος, ἀνέστιός ἐστιν ἐκεῖνος, 
( ὃς πολέμου ἔραται ἐπιδημίονυ ὀκρυόεντος. 


But when in 11. 362 he bids Agamemnén— 


κρῖν᾽ ἄνδρας κατὰ φῦλα, κατὰ pphrpas, ᾿Αγάμεμνον, 
ὡς φρήτρη φρήτρῃφιν ἀρήγῃ, φῦλα δὲ φύλοις᾽ 
Ἢ 
we could not better express κατὰ φῦλα, κατὰ φρήτρας, than by 
saying ‘according to shires and hundreds.” 


(48) Page 46.—Besides ἵππος and equus, there once was a 
Teutonic cognate in the Old-English eoh, Old-High-Dutch ehu, of 
which the former form is found in the song of Maldon; but 1 
am not aware that any words answering to eques or chevalier 
were formed from it. 


(49) Page 47.—On this class of words see Norman Conquest, 
vol. 1. pp. 74, 172, 582. To those there collected I may add the 
feminine “seniorissa’’ from a document quoted by Waitz, Deutsche 
Verfassunysgeschichte, iv. 207. See also Thirlwall, History of 
Greece, 1. 134. A most curious case of the way in which words 
of this sort have become mere survivals is shown in the poem in 
the English Chronicles which I have quoted at i. 625 of the 
History of the Norman Conquest. There Eadward the Martyr 
is spoken of in the same breath as “cild unweaxan,” and as 
“eorla ealdor.” 


(50) Page 47.—The chief of the Assassins, “rex Accinorum, 
id est de Assasis” (Roger of Howden, iii. 181; “ Assisini Sara- 
ceni,” Roger of Wendover, iii. 46), appears in Brompton (1268), 
as ‘‘Senex de monte, non pro etate sic dictus sed pro sapientia 
et gravitate, Princeps gentis orientalis quam Hassisinos vocant ;” 
and he is made (see also Rymer, i. 62) to write a letter beginning 


LECTURE IT 241 


“Vetus de monte Principibus Europe et omni populo Christiano 
salutem.” 


(51) Page 47.—Of these two forms the earlier expresses the 
sentiment, the later the mere fact. We might compare the 
difference between chieftain and captain. 


(52) Page 47.—See Norman Conquest, iv. 694. 


(53) Page 47.—See Norman Conquest, i. 269, ii. 388, iii, 4.72. 


242 NOTES ON 


Til 


(1) Page 50.—The definition of aristocracy given by Aristotle 
(Pol. iv. 7. 2-5)—riv yap ἐκ τῶν ἀρίστων ἁπλῶς κατ᾽ ἀρετὴν 
πολιτείαν, καὶ μὴ πρὸς ὑπόθεσίν τινα ἀγαθῶν ἀνδρῶν, μόνην δίκαιον 
προςαγορεύειν apioroxpariav,—disti.ictly shuts out any such ὑποθέσεις 
ἀγαθῶν ἀνδρῶν as age, wealth, or birth. But he clearly feels that 
such a government of the actually best is something merely 
ideal; and he seems to hold the best form of government to 
be that form of zoAcreta—his πολιτεία being the same as the 
δημοκρατία of Polybios and others (see Growth of the English 
Constitution, p. 166)—which leans towards aristocracy. In this 
offices are filled by election and not by lot, and they are filled 
with regard not to riches only but to merit: ὅπου ye μὴ μόνον 
πλουτίνδην ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀριστίνδην αἱροῦνται τὰς ἀρχάς. Aristocracy, 
in Aristotle’s idea, was something wholly distinct from oligarchy, 
the government of the few, the government of mere wealth or 
birth, without regard to merit. Still the tendency of even the 
ideal aristocracy would unavoidably be to give predominance to 
birth and wealth ; for, without ruling whether there is or is not 
such a thing as strictly hereditary capacity, it is certain that 
some kinds of capacity, especially political capacity, are not only 
likely to be more easily recognized, but are likely really to be 
thicker on the ground where birth and wealth afford special 
opportunities for their culture. Aristotle’s definition of εὐγένεια 
is ἀρχαῖος πλοῦτος καὶ ἀρετή (iv. 8, 9), and again (iii. 13, 3), 
εὐγένειά ἐστιν ἀρετὴ γένους : oligarchy, the corruption of aris- 
tocracy, looks. only to birth or wealth without regard to merit. 
So, to turn to a writer of a time when all questions about 
aristocracy and democracy had become mere speculative talk, 
Dién Chrysostom, in his discourses addressed to Trajan, has his 
definition of aristocracy and of oligarchy. He follows Aristotle in 


LECTURE Π|Ι 243 


the doctrine of the three forms of government, each of which 
has its corruption, and he thus defines aristocracy (i. 47): δευτέρα 
de ἀριστοκρατία καλουμένη οὔτε ἑνὸς οὔτε πολλῶν τινων, ἀλλὰ ὀλίγων 
τῶν ἀρίστων ἡγουμένων, πλεῖον ἀπέχουσα ἤδη τοῦ δυνατοῦ καὶ τοῦ 
συμφέροντος. He then defines oligarchy as ὀλιγαρχία, σκληρὰ Kai 
ἄδικος πλεονεξία, πλουσίων τινῶν καὶ πονηρῶν ὀλίγων ἐπὶ τοὺς πολλοὺς 
καὶ ἀπόρους σύστασις. Plutarch (περὶ Mov. κιτιλ. 3) makes the 
threefold division μοναρχία, ὀλιγαρχία, δημοκρατία, of which the 
corruptions are τυραννὶς, δυναστεία, ὀχλοκρατία. 

I need hardly say that the vulgar use of the word “ aristocracy,” 
to mean, not a form of government but a class of society, has no 
countenance from Aristotle or from any other writer who attends 
to the meaning of the words which he uses. A kindred vulgarism 
has lately crept in, with still less excuse, by which the word 
“democracy ” also is used to express, not a form of government 
but a class of society. 


(2) Page 50.—Livy, ii. 1. ‘‘Libertatis originem inde magis, 
quia annuum imperium consulare factum est, quam quod de- 
minutum quidquam sit ex regia potestate, numeres. Omnia jura, 
omnia insignia, primi consules tenuere ; id modo cautum est ne, 
si ambo fasces haberent, duplicatus terror videretur.” Dionysios 
(iv. 73) very clearly brings out the nature of the consulship as a 
continuation of kingship. He makes Brutus counsel the Romans 
μεταθέσθαι τοὔνομα τῆς πολιτείας... . καὶ τοὺς μέλλοντας ἕξειν 
τὴν ἁπάντων ἐξουσίαν, μήτε βασιλεῖς ἔτι μήτε μονάρχους καλεῖν, ἀλλὰ 
μετριωτέραν τινὰ καὶ φιλανθρωποτέραν αὐτοῖς θέσθαι προςηγορίαν' 
ἔπειτα μὴ ποιεῖν γνώμην μίαν ἁπάντων κυρίαν, ἀλλὰ δυσὶν ἐπιτρέπειν 
ἀνδράσι τὴν βασιλικὴν ἀρχήν. Inc. 75 (ef. below, note 30 on 
Lecture IV.) he distinctly calls the consular power βασιλείαά. 1 
see that the phrase of putting the kingly power in commission 
has occurred also to Sir Henry Maine. 


(3) Page 50.—Something of this divided kingship belonged to 
all the curule magistrates, all of whom shared in some degree 
in the outward insignia of the kingly office. These are discussed 
at length by Dionysios, iv. 74. The doctrine of the Jmpervum 
and the Lex regia, handed on from the days of the Kings 
through the whole time of the Commonwealth, undoubtedly 
made the transition to the Empire more easy. 


244 NOTES ON 


(4) Page 50.—Tacitus, Annals, 1. 2. ‘ Posito Triumviri no- 
mine, consulem se ferens, et ad tuendam plebem tribunicio jure 
contentum ; ubi militem donis, populum annona, cunctos dul- 
cedine otii pellexit, insurgere paullatim, munia Senatus, magis- 
tratuum, legum, in se trahere, nullo adversante.’’ 

a 


(5) Page 50.—No doubt there were cases in which the powers 
of the Senate were purposely lessened in particular points ; as, 
for instance, by the Lec Hortensia of B.c. 286 (“ Lex Hortensia 
lata est, qua cautum est, ut plebiscita universum populum 
tenerent, itaque eo modo legibus exequata sunt,” Gaius, 1. 2). 
But there was no tendency at Rome seriously to interfere with 
the position of the Senate as the government of the Common- 
wealth, as distinguished from its legislature. This is a marked 
point of difference between Rome and Athens, and one of which 
I have said something in a later lecture. See p. 147. 


(6) Page 51.—Arnold’s Rome, 11. 388. ‘“‘ And thus the event 
seems to have given the highest sanction to the wisdom of the 
Hortensian laws: nor can we regard them as mischievous or 
revolutionary, when we find that from the time of their enact- 
ment the internal dissensions of the Romans were at an end 
for a hundred and fifty years, and that during this period the 
several parts of the constitution were all active ; it was a calm 
not produced by the extinction of either of the contending forces, 
but by their perfect union.” 


(7) Page 51.—Arnold’s Rome, iii. 63. ‘Twice in history 
has there been witnessed the struggle of the highest individual 
genius against the resources and institutions of a great nation, 
and in both cases the nation has been victorious. For seventeen 
years Hannibal strove against Rome ; for sixteen years Napoleon 
Buonaparte strove against England. The efforts of the first 
ended in Zama, those of the second in Waterloo.” 

This is the opening of the noblest historical narrative in our 
language, Arnold’s narrative of the Hannibalian War. I may 
perhaps be doing a good service by reminding the present 
generation that such a narrative exists. Of course the comparison 
between Hannibal and Buonaparte applies solely to the genius 
of the two men, not at all to their objects: Hannibal fought for 
Carthage, Buonaparte fought for himself. 


LECTURE III 245 


— 


(8) Page 51.—No Roman, no Latin—that is, no full citizen 
and no one who had a reasonable hope of citizenship—turned 
against Rome, though more than once both Romans and Latins, 
individual citizens and individual colonies, seemed inclined to 
shrink from the struggle. This is a marked contrast to the 
state of things in the Greek cities, where a part™ is so constantly 
found in league with the enemy. It is of course not fair 
to compare the warfare between one Greek city and another 
with the struggle of Rome against the wholly alien power 
of Carthage. But even in the Persian War there was in ‘most 
Greek cities either a medizing party or, at all events, a 
Hippias or a Démaratos ready to seek his own restoration 
by the help of the Barbarian. The weakness of Rome lay in 
that she was, in the words of Tiberius in Tacitus (Annals, 
iii. 6), an “imperator populus.”” The subject states of Italy, to 
say nothing of the Gauls, were naturally ready to join Hannibal. 


(9) Page 53.—See Norman Conquest, i. 128. 


(10) Page 53.—To seek for barbarian aid against fellow Greeks 
was a thing which was often done, but it was a thing which 
might always be turned to the discredit of those who did it. It 
was like Francis the First and Lewis the Fourteenth joining with 
the Turks against the Empire. And the real feeling of common 
Greek brotherhood which underlay all occasional dealings of this 
kind comes out very strongly on occasion. We see it through 
the whole history of the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, both in 
the tie which kept the army together and in the fellow-feeling 
shown between them and the various Greek cities to which they 
come on their march. We see it again in the Athenian decree 
against Arthmios of Zéleia; while it is the pervading spirit 
of all the discourses of Isokratés. Take, for instance, his oration, 
or rather letter, to Philip, the whole tone of which assumes the 
Greeks as forming one whole, and the Barbarians as another, 
while the Macedonians, under their Greek King, are rightly 
enough looked on as something between the two. One passage 
(150) is very strong. Philip is called on to look on all Greece as 
his country, and to risk everything on its behalf—dracay τὴν 
Ἑλλάδα πατρίδα νομίζειν, ὥςπερ ὃ γεννήσας [Héraklés] ὑμᾶς, καὶ 
κινδυνεύειν ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς ὁμοίως ὥς περ ὑπὲρ ὧν μάλιστα σπουδάζξεις. 
Isokratés indeed was little more than a dreamer; still he is a 


246 NOTES ON 


good witness when it is a sentiment of which we are speaking. 
But the sentiment comes out in a much more practical shape in 
the two noble declarations of Kallikratidas, that no Greek should 
be enslaved by his means, and that he would do his best to 
reconcile the contending Greek powers, that they might no longer 
cringe to the parbarian. Xen. Hell. i. 6, 7. Καλλικῥατίδας 
ἀχθεσθεὶς τῇ ἀναβολῇ Kai ταῖς ἐπὶ τὰς θύρας φοιτήσεσιν, ὀργισθεὶς 
καὶ εἰπὼν ἀθλιωτάτους εἶναι τοὺς "Ἕλληνας, ὅτι βαρβάρους κολακεύουσιν 
ἕνεκα ἀργυρίου, φάσκων τε, ἣν σωθῇ οἴκαδε, κατά γε τὸ αὑτῷ δυνατὸν 
Siar? afew ᾿Αθηναίους καὶ Λακεδαιμονίους, ἀπέπλευσεν ἐς Μίλητον. 
1, 6. 14.---Καλλικρατίδας οὐκ ἔφη, ἑαυτοῦ γε ἄρχοντος, οὐδένα 
Ἑλλήνων ἐς τοὐκείνου δυνατὸν ἀνδραποδισθῆναι. 


((1) Page 54.—The whole argument of Aristotle assumes that 
the commonwealth will be a cify, and neither more nor less 
—neither a mere village nor yet a nation. The three are 
contrasted together in several places. Thus we read in the 
Politics (1, 2, 8)---διοίσει δὲ τῷ τοιούτῳ Kal πόλις ἔθνους, ὅταν 
μὴ κατὰ κώμας ὦσι κεχωρισμένοι τὸ πλῆθος, ἀλλ’ οἷον ᾿Αρκάδες. So, 
again (ill, 3, 5), when he is discussing the definition of πόλις, he 
Says οὐ yap δὴ τοῖς τείχεσιν' εἴη yap ἂν Πελοποννήσῳ περιβαλεῖν ἕν 

ω , >” 9 Ἁ ν ‘ \ A 9 » Ν 
τεῖχος. τοιαύτη δ᾽ ἴσως ἐστὶ καὶ Βαβυλὼν καὶ πᾶσα ἥτις ἔχει περιγραφὴν 
μᾶλλον ἔθνους ἦ πόλεως. And again, when he is discussing the 
possible size of a commonwealth (vii. 4, 11) ὁμοίως καὶ πόλις ἡ 
μὲν ἐξ ὀλίγων λίαν οὐκ αὐτάρκης (ἡ δὲ πόλις αὔταρκες). ἡ δὲ ἐκ πολλῶν 
¥ 9 “ N 3 4 > , “, ” > ) > “4 
ἄγαν ἐν τοῖς μὲν ἀναγκαίοις αὐτάρκης, ὥςπερ ἔθνος, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ πόλις: 
πολιτείαν γὰρ οὐ ῥᾷδιον ὑπάρχειν: τίς γὰρ στρατηγὸς ἔσται τοῦ λίαν 
J / 4 » , on \ , 
ὑπερβάλλοντος πλήθους, ἡ Tis κῆρυξ μὴ Στεντόρειος ; 

The opposite idea to that of Aristotle is found in a glossary 
of the tenth century in Eckhart (Res Francie Orient. ii, 999), 
where “ pagus ”’ is defined to be “ provincia absque muro.” 


(12) Page 54.—There is a certain shade of difference between 
‘oppressed nationalities’ and “oppressed nations.” A people 
suffering under an oppressive government of their own race and 
speech would no doubt be an “ oppressed nation,” but they would 
not be what is called an ‘‘oppressed nationality.” By an 
‘oppressed nationality’ I conceive is meant a people who are 
under a government which not only is oppressive but is oppressive 
in a particular way. The “oppressed nationality’ deems itself 
wronged, because the government under which it finds itself 


LECTURE III 247 


refuses its claim to count as a nation. In this sense Poland 
is, and Hungary once was, an “oppressed nationality.” But 
though the home government of Russia or of Austria might be 
never so bad, no one would speak of Russia or of Austria as 
an “oppressed nationality.” An “oppressed nationality” then 
is a nation whose oppression takes the particuar form of not 
dealing with it as a nation. The distinction is a real one; but 
the use of the abstract word “nationality,” which has quite 
another meaning, 1s a very awkward way of expressing what 
is meant. 


(13) Page 54.—This is one of the points in ancient politics 
which, with our ideas, we find it hardest to understand. In 
modern times conquest, or submission of any kind, almost always 
involves more or less of incorp: ration with the conquering state. 
The country which is conquered or otherwise annexed may be 
allowed to retain its laws; in the case of actual conquest it may 
retain them as a matter of sufferance ; in the case of voluntary 
union, like that of England and Scotland, it may retain them 
as a matter of treaty; but in either case the difference of law 
is a mere local difference between two parts of the same state. 
In modern politics there is hardly such a thing as a state which 
retains its separate government untouched in all its branches, 
which is capable of legislating for itself, perhaps even of changing 
its form of government at pleasure, but which has no will of 
its own in international concerns, which is bound at the very 
least to follow the lead of another state in matters of peace and 
war, perhaps is even bound to contribute men or money at the 
bidding of the ruling state. But this was the case between 
Athens and her allies in the fourth century B.c.; αὖ was the 
relation between Rome and her Italian allies down to the Social 
War ; and the relation between Sparta and her Peloponnesian 
allies did not widely differ from it, though their position was 
certainly more favourable. The state still remains a state; it 
is absolutely untouched in all that forms a separate state; only 
it is hindered from exercising the ordinary powers of a state in 
relation to other states. Such a relation need not involve any 
practical oppression towards any member of the inferior state, 
though it gives occasional opportunities for such oppression on 
the part of officers of the ruling state. A city in this case could 
of course at any moment act for itself, and refuse to obey the 


248 NOTES ON 


---- -.-..  - ee ee ee - -.- - - --- ee 


~ Re -.-ς...-.. ........ oe 


commands of the ruling city, at the risk of being conquered 
afresh and being brought down to a worse bondage. We better 
understand the case of more complete subjection, where the 
subject state is ruled by a harmost, proconsul, satrap, bailiff, or 
other officer of the ruling state. But, even in this case, the 
whole machinery of the subject state often went on as something 
more than a mere municipality ; it was still a city which was 
subject to the ruling city. In modern ideas, the inhabitants of 
the conquered or annexed country become subjects of the govern- 
ment of the ruling state, fellow-subjects of its older members. 


(14) Page 55.—The incidental expressions of Isokratés bring 
thes out strongly. The Greeks of some unknown, and most 
likely mythical, time were (Paneg. 90) ἴδια μὲν ἄστη τὰς αὐτῶν 
πόλεις ἡγούμενοι, κοινὴν δὲ πατρίδα τὴν Ἑλλάδα νομίζοντες εἶναι. 
So, in the discourse addressed to Philip (150; see above, note 
10), he tells him, προςφήκει τοῖς μὲν ἄλλοις τοῖς ἀφ᾽ Ἡρακλέους 
πεφυκόσι καὶ τοῖς ἐν πολιτείᾳ καὶ νόμοις ἐνδεδεμένοις ἐκείνην τὴν πόλιν 
στέργειν ἐν ἡ τυγχάνουσι κατοικοῦντες, σὲ δ᾽, ὥςπερ ἄφετον γεγενημένον, 
ἅπασαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα πατρίδα νομίζειν. ἸΠατρίς, in Isokratés’ own 
day, was not the word which was commonly applied to all Hellas, 
but only to each man’s own city. He uses it in that sense in 
several places in this same discourse (111, 121, and elsewhere) ; 
and still more strikingly when, in his discourse to Philip (72), 
he says that Konén τὰ τείχη τὰ τῆς πατρίδος ἀνώρθωσεν. But 
there had been, or ought to have been, a time when all Hellas 
had been the πατρίς of every Greek. 


(15) Page 55.—Livy (xxxviii. 53), in recording the departure 
of Scipio to Liternum, only speaks of the ‘‘ necessitas aut subeundi 
judicii aut simul cum patria deserendi.” But Seneca (Epist. 
xiii, 1) distinctly uses the word οὐδ. ‘Quidni ego admirer 
hanc magnitudinem animi, qua in exsilium voluntarium secessit 
et civitatem exoneravit? Eo perducta res erat, ut aut libertas 
Scipioni aut Scipio libertati faceret injuriam. Neutrum fas erat: 
itaque locum dedit legibus, et se Liternum recepit, tam suum 
exsilium reipublice imputaturus quam MHannibalis.” So of 
Tiberius, Tacitus (Ann. iv. 58) says, “neque enim tam incredi- 
bilem casum providebant, ut undecim per annos libens patria 
careret.”? See Merivale, v. 251. 


LECTURE [II 249 


»«-.-.. ----- . -.-.ς-ν...... ae . “-- 


(16) Page 56.—This is one of the most striking points of 
difference between France and England, and one of the best 
signs of the difference between the Frankish conquest of Gaul 
and the English conquest of Britain. As a rule, the chief towns 
of France have continued their uninterrupted existence and 
importance from Roman and Gaulish times. ‘They have not 
always kept their relative position to one another ; still Paris, 
Lyons, Marseilles, Bourdeaux, Rouen, and a crowd of others, 
have always kept up their importance as the capitals at least 
of their surrounding districts, The older city has very sellom 
been outstripped by a younger rival, in the way in which the 
local capitals of Yorkshire, Lancashire, Warwickshire, and 
Staffordshire, have been outstripped among ourselves. The old 
Celtic post became the Roman city, and the Roman city has 
lived on uninterruptedly to our own time as the chief place in 
its own district. And of these cities a large proportion—most 
of those fvhich do not, like Paris or Chalons, lie in or beside a 
river—occupy the high sites where the Gaulish hill-fort was first 
placed. Such are Bourges, Chartres, above all, Laon. We may 
say the same of Gaulish cities beyond the limits of the French 
kingdom, as Geneva, Lausanne, and Sitten. In England the 
phenomena are quite different. The Roman towns in Britain 
do not seem to have so universally occupied Celtic sites as they 
did in Gaul; and it would also seem that the Celt of Britain 
did not feel that special attachment to high places which was 
felt by the Celt of Gaul. We have a few cities, like Lincoln 
and Exeter, in which a lofty site has been successively occupied 
by Briton, Roman, and Englishman ; and among these we may 
reckon London, where the original city, with the cathedral 
crowning the hill, is really a nearer approach, though a very 
feeble one, to Bourges or Chartres, than is at all common in 
England. And there are many hill sites which the Briton 
occupied, but which did not grow into Roman cities. In Gaul 
the great camp of Uleybury might have grown into a city like 
Laon, and Dorchester might have been built on the top of 
Sinodun instead of at its foot. But that the tendency to occupy 
lower sites is not only Roman, but also British, ts shown by the 
sites of at least two of the episcopal churches of Wales. No 
greater contrast can be thought of to Bourges and Chartres than 
the sites of Llandaff and Saint David’s. Then too, owing to the 
destroying nature of the English Conquest, the occupation of the 


250 NOTES ON 


—_——— -------ὔ-ὕ.....ςἘςἘ.... ee .... - --- wee ----Ο-.-. - ---- «αὕ......... 


a ne eer _ 


English towns has scarcely ever been continuous. Some of the 
Roman towns, like Wroxeter and Silchester, were destroyed, and 
their sites were never again occupied. Others, like Bath and 
Chester, were occupied afresh, after having lain waste for several 
centuries. In everything the contrast between English and 
French towns igone of the most striking witnesses to that utter 
gap between one state of things and another, which was caused 
in Britain by the character of the English conquest, but which 
has nothing answering to it in the history of Gaul. 

e 

(17) Page 56.—Thucydides, 11, 15, τὸ δὲ πρὸ τούτου ἡ ἀκρόπολις 
ἡ νῦν οὖσα πόλις ἦν. On the whole subject of the change from 
the hill-sides to lower positions, see Grote, ii. 144-148. In 
Western Europe there cannot be a better study of the general 
change than is to be found at ie Mans, where the Gaulish fort, 
the Roman, and the medizval city, may all be traced, each being 
an enlargement of its predecessor, and each coming lower down 
from the top of the hill. 


(18) Page 56.—I have ventured to quote the well-known 
Homeric contrast between Dardanié and Ilios, as illustrating the 
change from Old to New Salisbury. Norman Conquest, 1. 318. 


(19) Page 56.—Sophoklés, Cid. Col. 694. ἐν τᾷ μεγάλᾳ Δωρίδι 


νά- ῳ Πέλοπος. 


(20) Page 56.—See Grote, ii. 147. So Maine, Ancient Law, 
125. “It may not perhaps be an altogether fanciful idea when 
I suggest that the Cyclops is Homer’s type of an alien and less 
advanced civilization; for the almost physical loathing which 
& primitive community feels for men of widely different manners 
from its own usually expresses itself by describing them as 
monsters, such as giants, or even (which is almost always the 
case in Oriental mythology) as demons.” Cf. Arist. Pol. 1. 2-6. 
The Kyklépes of course are an extreme case ; and the traditions 
about them, as about other beings of the same kind, most likely 
refer, like the stories of the Trolls of the North, to some memory 
of the earlier non-Aryan races whom the Hellénes most likely 
found in the land. But the references in the Homeric poems to 
the nations on the west coast of Asia, kindred as they undoubtedly 
were, are all tinged by a certain feeling of superiority, though 


LECTURE III ' 251 


how slight that feeling is cannot be fully understood, except by 
comparing Homer’s way of speaking with that of the tragedians. 
We get notices also (see Odyssey, xiv. 315; xv. 426-452) of 
European neighbours, the friendly Thesprotians and the hostile 
Taphians, conceived in the same spirit. So the preface of 
Thucydides throughout conceives the earlier stete of Hellas as 
being something lower than that described in the Homeric poems 
(see Grote, ii. 47), but as something of which traces still 
remained in his own time among the ruder members of the 
Greek nation. J 


(21) Page 56.—Ajpos in Homer constantly means the land, 
πίων δῆμος and the like, and it is not uncommonly distinguished 
from πόλις, or perhaps used as including πόλις---ποληΐ τε πάντι ve 
δήμῳ. 


(22) Page 56.—On the Attic Démoi, see below, p. 269. 
(23) Page 57.,—See History of Federal Government, 1. 133. 


(24) Page 57.—See the well-known notice of the Lokrians, 
AMtolians, and Akarnanians in Thucydides, i. 5, and cf, ili, 94. 


(25) Page 57.—The foundation of Megalopolis (see History 
of Federal Government, i. 200) is a matter of history, and the 
names of the towns which contributed inhabitants to it are given 
at length by Pausanias, viii. 27. Xenophén (Hell. iii. 2, 27) 
mentions that Elis in his time was still unwalled, and Diodéros 
(xi. 54) gives the date of its foundation in the archonship of 
Praxiergos, B.c. 471. His words are ᾿Ηλεῖοι πλείους καὶ μικρὰς 
πόλεις οἰκοῦντες εἰς μίαν συνῳκίσθησαν τὴν ὀνομαζομένην Ἦλιν. 
Strabo (viii. 3) is more precise, and he extends the remark to 
many others among the Peloponnesian cities. Ἦλις δὲ ἡ νῦν 
πόλις οὕπω ἔκτιστο καθ᾽ “Ὅμηρον, ἀλλ᾽ ἡ χώρα κωμηδὸν ᾧὠκεῖτο 
wee ὀψὲ δέ ποτε συνῆλθον els τὴν viv πόλιν τὴν Ἦλιν, μετὰ τὰ 
Περσικὰ, ἐκ πολλῶν δήμων. σχεδόν δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους τόπους τοὺς 
κατὰ Πελοπόννησον πλὴν ὀλίγων, obs κατέλεξεν ὁ ποιητὴς οὐ πόλεις, 
ἀλλὰ χώρας ὀνομάζει, συστήματα δήμων ἔχουσαν ἑκάστην πλείω, ἐξ 
ὧν ὕστερον αἱ γνωριζόμεναι πόλεις συνῳκίσθησαν οἷον τῆς ᾿Αρκαδίας 
Μαντίνεια μὲν ἔκ πέντε δήμων ὑπ᾽ ᾿Αργείων συνῳκίσθη: Τεγέα δ᾽ ἐξ 
ἐννέα" ἐκ τοσούτων δὲ καὶ Ἡραία ὑπὸ Κλεομβρότου, ἢ ὑπὸ Κλεωνύμου’ 


252 NOTES ON 


-- poe 


ὡς δ᾽ αὕτως Αἴγιον ἐξ ἑπτὰ ἢ ὀκτὼ δήμων συνεπολίσθη" Πάτραι δὲ ἐξ 
ἑπτὰ, Δύμη δὲ ἐξ ὀκτώ: οὕτω δὲ καὶ ἡ Ἦλις ἐκ τῶν περιοικίδων 
συνεπολίσθη μία τούτων. The different words used by Strabo to 
express the earlier state of things, δῆμοι, κωμηδὸν, περιοικίδες, are 
worth noticing. The last at least could hardly be applicable. 
Elis, in the Hemeric Catalogue, is the name, not of the city, 
but of the district ; nor is the word πόλις applied to the Arcadian 
communities, but neither is χώρα. 

Kemble (Saxons in England, i. 49) remarks that “generally 
spesking in Greece the origin of the πόλις lies in what may be 
called the compression of the κῶμαι. The ἀγορά is on the space 
of neutral ground where all may meet on equal terms.” He 
makes the remark to illustrate the growth of the Teutonic Gau 
(See below, note 72 on Lect. III.) out of component marks. He 
also refers to the formation of Rome out of the three local tribes. 


(26) Page 57.—The four or five earlier communitirs by the 
union of which the city of Mantineia was said to have been 
founded were heard of again when it suited the policy of Sparta 
to break up a powerful neighbour. Xenophén tells the story, 
Hell. v. 3, 7. ἐκ δὲ τούτου καθηρέθη μὲν τὸ τεῖχος, διῳκίσθη δ᾽ ἡ 
Μαντίνεια τετραχῆ; καθάπερ τὸ ἀρχαῖον ῴκουν. He goes on to say 
how each village (κώμη) sent its separate contingent to the 
Lacedemonian army, and how well the Mantineian oligarchs 
liked the change, as delivering them from democracy and 
demagogues. But in the Homeric Catalogue (ii. 607) both 
Tegea and Mantineia appear as integral wholes. 


καὶ Τεγέην εἶχον, καὶ Μαντινέην ἐρατεινήν. 


That the same was the case with Sparta is well known from the 
words of Thucydides, i. 10, when he speaks of Sparta as xara 
κώμας τῷ παλαιῷ τῆς Ἑλλάδος τρόπῳ οἰκισθεῖσα even in his own 
day. The names of the original five villages seem to be given 
by Pausanias, iii. 16, 9, but the words of the Catalogue (581) 
seem rather to point to Lakedaimén and Sparté as having once 
been separate communities. 


οἱ δ᾽ εἶχον κοίλην Λακεδαίμονα κητώεσσαν, 
Φάρην τε, Σπάρτην τε, πολυτρήρωνα τε Μέσσην. 


All these cases, in which a city was formed by the union of 
several villages, must be carefully distinguished from the union 


LECTURE III 253 


ee -.. .. ..... .......,...-.  ..ὕ.. -..-..... awe - “ 
~ - -- - --- 


of the Attic towns. Elis, Mantineia, and the rest were formed 
either by actually joining together neighbouring villages, or by 
causing the inhabitants of more distant places to remove their 
dwellings to the new city. In Attica nothing of the kind 
happened. The towns went on as they did before, only they 
ceased to exist as political communities, and a!! their citizens 
received the franchise of Athens. 


(27) Page 58.—That there were Macedonian cities which had 
made progress enough in city life to be enrolled as members, 
though perhaps in some degree as dependent members (see His- 
tory of Federal Government, 1. 193), of a Greek confederation is 
plain from the description which Xenophon (v. 2, 12) gives of the 
steps taken by Olynthos in the formation of the league which tha 
Spartans put down. ἐκ τούτου ἐπεχείρησαν καὶ τὰς τῆς Μακεδονίας 
πόλεις ἐλευθεροῦν ἀπὸ ᾿Αμύντου tov Μακεδόνων βασιλέως. But the 
local divigions of Macedonia and Epeiros are all tribe divisions 
(see Thue. ii. 99), and the village life which went on even among 
the purely Greek neighbours of the Epeirots was clearly the 
ruling life in both countries. 


(28) Page 58.—Of the analogy between the Greek μέτοικοι, 
the Niedergelassenen in Switzerland, and the “foreigners,” as 
they were often called, in many English boroughs, I have spoken 
more at large in another lecture (see p. 183). The main point 
is that mere residence in all cases goes for nothing. How little 
it counted for in the ideas of Greek political thinkers is shown 
by the incidental words of Aristotle (Pol. ui. 1, 3), ὁδὲ πολίτης 
οὐ τῷ οἰκεῖν που πολίτης ἐστίν’ Kal yap μέτοικοι καὶ δοῦλοι κοινωνοῦσι 
τῆς οἰκήσεως. He goes on to speak of those μέτοικοι who, by the 
terms of special treaties, enjoyed special rights, the connubsum 
and commercium or any others. οὐδ᾽ οἱ τῶν δικαίων μετέχοντες 
οὕτως ὥςτε καὶ δίκην ὑπέχειν καὶ δικάζεσθαι: τοῦτο yap ὑπάρχει καὶ 
τοῖς ἀπὸ συμβόλων κοινωνοῦσι: καὶ γὰρ ταῦτα τούτοις ὑπάρχει. 
πολλαχοῦ μὲν οὖν οὐδὲ τούτων τελέως οἱ μέτοικοι μετέχουσιν, ἀλλὰ 
νέμειν ἀνάγκη προστάτην. This last is the well-known disqualifica- 
tion of the μέτοικοι at Athens, which forbade them from suing in 
any court in their own names, and required them to appear 
through a citizen patron. 


(29) Page 58.—Something of this kind happened at some 
stage or other of the history of most Grecian cities. I quote 


--- -- ας πὶ Ore nen κα re COTE en -...- 


254 NOTES ON 


the most illustrious case of all (Arist. Pol. iii. 2, 3): ὅσοι μετέσχον 
μεταβολῆς γενομένης πολιτείας, οἷον ᾿Αθήνησιν ἐποίησε Κλεισθένης 
μετὰ τὴν τῶν τυράννων ἐκβολήν: πολλοὺς γὰρ ἐφυλέτευσε ξένους 
καὶ δούλους μετοίκους. τὸ δ᾽ ἀμφισβήτημα πρὸς τούτους ἐστὶν οὐ τίς 
πολίτης, ἀλλὰ πότερον ἀδίκως ἢ δικαίως. 
ε 

(30) Page 58.—Take the case of the orator Lysias at Athens, 
a μέτοικος Who had shown himself as good an Athenian patriot 
as if he had come ina straight line from Erechtheus, who first 
had full citizenship voted to him, and then lost it on the ground 
of an informality in the vote. Phétios 262 (p. 490, Bekker) ; 
γράφει μὲν μετὰ τὴν κάθοδον Θρασύβουλος πολιτείαν αὐτῷ, ὁ δὲ δῆμος 
ἐκύρωσε τὴν δωρεάν. ᾿Αρχῖνος δὲ, διὰ τὸ ἀπροβούλευτον εἰςαχθῆναι τὸ 
ψήφισμα, γράφεται παρανόμων τὴν δωρεὰν: καὶ ἐπεὶ κατεγνώσθη τὸ 
ψήφισμα, τῆς μὲν πολιτείας ὃ Avoias ἀπελαύνεται, τὸν λοιπὸν δὲ 
χρόνον κατεβίω ἰσοτελὴς ὦν. That is to say, he remained a μέτοικος, 
shut out from the political franchise, but exempted from the 
special burthens laid upon his class, and paying only the same 
tax as the citizens. That there could be any doubt or question 
about granting full citizenship to such a man shows how high 
a privilege the grant was held to be. On the other hand there 
is an early case of the way in which grants of citizenship, which. 
must have been practically honorary, were made to foreign 
princes in the enfranchisement of the Thracian Sadokos, son of 
Sitalkés, which is recorded by Thucydides, ii. 29. ὃ Νυμφόδωρος 
τήν τε TOD Σιτάλκου ξυμμαχίαν ἐποίησε καὶ Sddoxov τὸν υἱὸν αὐτοῦ 
᾿Αθηναῖον. So ii. 67, τὸν Σάδοκον τὸν γεγενημένον ᾿Αθηναῖον. All 
this is made sport of by Aristophanés, Acharn. 145: 


ὁ δ᾽ vide, ὃν ᾿Αθηναῖον ἐπεποήμεθα, 
ἤρα φαγεῖν ἀλλᾶντος ἐξ ᾿Απατουρίων, 
καὶ τὸν πατέρ᾽ ἠντιβόλει βοηθεῖν τῇ πάτρᾳ. 


We hear much more of this in later times. 

In oligarchic Sparta the grant of citizenship was of course 
far more rare and precious than in democratic Athens. Yet we 
find an instance in Herodotus (ix. 33) where the full Spartan 
citizenship is granted to the Eleian prophet Tisamenos and his 
brother Hégias. But the story shows how rare such a favour 
was, and with what difficulty the Spartans brought themselves 
to grant it: Σπαρτιῆται δὲ πρῶτα μὲν ἀκούσαντες δεινὰ ἐποιεῦντο. 
There is a later instance in the case οἵ Didn of Syracuse. 


LECTURE TIT 255 


ee ---- -«ὕὃὸὌὈ0..--.0.:.:..... oe 


Plutarch, Didn, 49) which shows how completely such artificial 
‘itizenship, when once granted, was looked on as the same thing 
is citizenship by birth. Heérakleitos sets up Gaisylos as fitter 
io command the Syracusan forces than Diin, on the ground 
f his being a Spartan. Didn, who had, like Tisamenos, been 
idmitted to Spartan citizenship, answers ὡς εἰσὶν ἄρχοντες ἱκανοὶ 
"οἷς Συρακουσίοις, εἰ δὲ πάντως δέοι Kal Σπαρτιάτου τοῖς πράγμασιν, 
ιὐτὸς οὗτος εἶναι κατὰ ποίησιν γεγονὼς Σπαρτιάτης. Compare also 
she jest of Gorgias οἵ Leontinoi (Arist. Pol. iii. 2, 2) on the ease 
vith which citizens were made at Larissa ; ἔφη, καθάπερ ὅλμους 
εἶναι τοὺς ὑπὸ τῶν ὁλμοποιῶν πεποιημένους, οὕτω καὶ Λαρισσαίους τοὺς 
πὸ τῶν δημιουργῶν πεποιημένους" εἶναι γάρ τινας λαρισσοποιούς. 
We cannot help contrasting all this with the ease with which 
strangers are naturalized both in European kingdoms and 
American commonwealths. But this is part of the difference 
setween a city anda nation. The true parallel to the citizenship 
of Athens or Sparta is not naturalization as a British subject, but 
vdmission to the local freedom of a borough. 


(31) Page 58.—On this ξυνοίκισις of Attica, one of the great 
events in the history of Greece and of the world, see Historical 
Essays, Second Series, p. 119. 


(32) Page 59.—On the momentary union of Argos and 
Corinth in B.c. 393, see Xenophon, Hell. iv. 4, 6, and the remarks 
of Grote, ix. 462. The expressions of Xenophon are remarkable, 
even though they may express only the feelings of an oligarchic 
party, as they show the natural repugnance of the Greek mind 
to any such union of separate cities. αἰσθανόμενοι ἀφανιζομένην 
τὴν πόλιν, διὰ TO Kal τοὺς ὅρους ἀνασπάσθαι καὶ “Apyos ἀντὶ Κορίνθου 
τὴν πατρίδα αὐτῶν ὀνομάζεσθαι, καὶ πολιτείας μὲν ἀναγκαζόμενοι τῆς 
ἐν ΓΑργει μετέχειν, ἧς οὐδὲν ἐδέοντο, ἐν δὲ τῇ πόλει μετοίκων ἔλαττον 
δυνάμενοι, ἐγένοντό τινες αὐτῶν, οἵ ἐνόμισαν οὕτω μὲν οὐκ ἀξιοβίωτον 
εἶνα.. Certainly there is no other case in Grecian history where 
two commonwealths were fused together in this way; and we 
should be glad to have some details of the process, momentary as 
the union proved. One can hardly understand an actual union 
of two cities so far apart from each other, and there cannot well 
be such a thing as a confederation of two. Mark again the 
complaint of the discontented Corinthians that they were no 
better than μέτοικοι in their own city. 


256 NOTES ON 

(33) Page 59.—I have traced out the early history of these 
two Leagues in my History of Federal Government. Among 
the A‘tolians we have seen that Greek city life was hardly at all 
developed. The Achaian League, on the other hand, was from 
the beginning a League of cities in the strictest sense; but then 
they were citiexso small that they had no chance of maintaining 
their independence as perfectly independent commonwealths. 


(34) Page 59.—See History of Federal Government, 1. 630. 
The annexation of Sparta, which made the League take in the 
whole of Peloponnésos, must have held out temptations too strong 
for human nature to withstand. But from that time the history 
of the League is largely made up of secessions, and movements 
16. the direction of secessions, on the part of Sparta, and of com- 
plaints against the Federal power brought by Sparta before the 
Roman protector. 


(35) Page 60.—The distinction in German political language 
between Staatenbund and Bundesstaat is one which Greek itself 
might envy. In the Staatenbund, such as the American Union 
was up to 1789 and the Swiss Confederation up to 1848, the 
members of the League are joined together on such terms and 
for such purposes as may be agreed on, and their common affairs 
are administered by a Federal Diet or Congress. Still each State 
remains perfectly independent in all its internal concerns, and 
each may even keep the right of separate dealing with foreign 
Governments. There is nothing which can be strictly called a 
Federal Government. In the Bundesstaat, on the other hand, 
though each State remains sovereign and independent within the 
range of such powers as it does not hand over to the Federal 
authority, yet, within the range of those powers which are handed 
over to the Federal authority, the whole body forms a single 
commonwealth under a Government, with its executive, legisla- 
tive, and judicial branches, acting asa sovereign and independent 
power within its own range. Most of the Greek confederations 
in the later days of Greece seem to have been fairly entitled to 
the name of Bundesstaat. 


(36) Page 60.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 146. 


(37) Page 62.—Veii seems to have been as large as Rome, but 
then Veii was the great march city of Etruria, just as Rome was 


LECTURE III ᾿ 257 


ne 


the great march city of Latium. So Megalopolis was founded on 
the Spartan march of Arcadia. But certainly, setting Etruria 
aside, Capua is the only Italian city at all on a level with Rome, 
till we get down to the great Greek cities of the South. The 
nearness of the great Greek cities to one another is brought 
forcibly home to us by the story of Philolaos and Dioklks, told 
by Aristotle (Politics, 11. 12. 8, 9). Philolaos was buried at 
Thebes, on a spot from which the Corinthian territory could be 
seen. Aigina, as all the world knows, was the eyesore of Peiraieus. 
But perhaps the clearest picture of the physical smallness— that 
is, in truth, the moral greatness—of the Greek commonwealths 
is that drawn by Servius Sulpicius in his letter to Cicero (Ep. 
ad Div. iv. 5)—“Ex Asia rediens quum ab Atgina Megaram 
versus navigarem, ccepl regiones circumcirca prospicere. Pc3t 
me erat Aigina, ante Megara, dextra Pirzeus, sinistra Corinthus.” 
His comment is “que oppida quodam tempore florentissima 
fuerunt, nunc prostrata et diruta ante oculos jacent.” We 
might have looked for the reflection that all had once been in- 
dependent commonwealths, but that they now all formed parts 
of the Roman dominion. The truth is that they did not all as 
yet form part of the Roman dominion. See Note 40. 


(38) Page 62.—This is clearly set forth in the third chapter of 
Mommsen’s History of Rome. He gives a vivid picture of the 
origin of the old Italian towns. The story is essentially the 
same in Italy, Greece, and Gaul; only Italy lagged behind 
Greece, while Gaul, till the Roman civilization was brought in 
from without, lagged behind Italy. The Latins began with a 
Markgenossenschaft, and the town, like the British opmdum, was 
at first a mere place of defence in case of the attacks of enemies. 
‘Diese Platze, die natiirlich auch zugleich die heiligen Stitten 
der Markgenossen einschlossen und die wir uns iibrigens als 
regelmissig unbewohnt oder schwach bewohnt zu denken haben, 
begegnen uns unter den Namen der ‘ Berge’ (montes) und 
‘Bauten’ (pagi, von pangere), der ‘Burgen’ (arces, von arcere) 
und ‘ Ringe’ (urbes, von urvus, curvus, orbis), und sie sind die 
Grundlage der vorstadtischen Gauverfassung in Italien geworden, 
welche in denjenigen Italischen Landschaften, die zum stidtischen 
Zusammensiedeln erst spat und zum Theil noch bis auf den heu- 


tigen Tag nicht vollstandig gelangt sind, wie im Marserland und 
Β 


258 NOTES ON 


we 


in den kleinen Gauen der Abruzzen, noch einigermassen deutlich 
sich erkennen lasst.” 

Even Rome itself was, from the beginning, a place of meeting 
rather than a place of dwelling to the greater part of its citizens. 
So far Rome and Athens are alike; but the Athenian franchise 
could not, from,a whole crowd of causes, be extended beyond the 
original towns of Attica, while circumstances allowed the Roman 
franchise to be, in the end, extended as far as the Roman dominion 
was. Long before Rome had become the head even of Italy, 
distvicts had been admitted to citizenship which were further 
from Rome than any part of Attica was from Athens. 


(39) Page 62.—I here accept Mommsen’s view as to the origin 
οὗ Rome. On the tendency of these border districts and states 
to become ruling states over their neighbours and kindred, see 
Historical Essays, First Series, p. 220. 


(40) Page 62.—The great legal division is into cives and pere- 
grint. The peregrin, up to the Social War, included, first, the 
Latins—no longer, of course, the old confederacy of that name, 
but the communities which enjoyed the Jus Latw in any part of 
the Roman dominion ; these were half citizens who had a right, 
under certain circumstances, to claim citizenship ; secondly, the 
Socit, the allied states of Italy, of which we have already spoken, 
and which received citizenship after the Social War ; thirdly, 
the Provincials, the subjects of Rome out of Italy, who were 
placed under the rule of Roman Proconsuls or other governors, 
and whose earlier institutions, though seldom wholly swept away, 
remained as the institutions of mere municipalities and no longer 
of distinct commonwealths. It must always be remembered that 
both the full citizenship of Rome and the inferior Latin and 
Italian franchises could be conferred either on individuals or 
communities in any part of the Roman dominions. And we 
should also remember how many principalities and commonwealths, 
though surrounded by Roman territory and practically dependent 
on Rome, retained their formal independence till very late times. 
Thus the Lykian League lived on till the reign of Claudius, and 
the commonwealths of Rhodes and Byzantion till the reign of 
Vespasian. 

Gaius i. 28, remarks that “ Latini multis modis ad civitatem 
Romanam perveniunt.” The peculiarity of the Latin condition 


LECTURE TUT 259 


is, that the Latins, though not citizens, could, if the necessary 
conditions were fulfilled, claim citizenship of right, while Italians 
and Provincials, like the Greek μέτοικοι, could receive it only of 
special favour. 


(41) Page 63.—We have the speech of Claudius in favour 
of a larger extension of citizenship among the Gauls, as it is 
reported by Tacitus (Ann. xi., 25), and we have the fragments 
of the actual speech, found on a brass tablet at Lyons, and 
printed at the end of the eleventh book in Orelli’s edition. Lhe 
difference between the two versions is instructive, as it helps to 
show how far the speeches in the classical writers are to be taken 
as real reports of what was actually said. The general drift of 
the argument is the same ; but the language is altogether different, 
and even the particular examplcs chosen are different. As the 
genuine speech is imperfect, it may, in its complete state, have 
contained more than it now does of the matter which is found 
in Tacitus ; but it is singular that Tacitus should have left out 
the very curious story which makes Servius Tullius the same 
person as the Etruscan Mastarna, which is found in the original 
speech. Both however alike set forth the policy of Rome in 
gradually extending her citizenship to her allies and subjects. 
The passage which I had specially in my eye may come from 
Claudius ; it certainly comes from Tacitus. ‘‘ Quid aliud exitio 
Lacedemoniis et Atheniensibus fuit, quaamquam armis pollerent, 
nisi, quod victos pro alienigenis arcebant? At conditor noster 
Romulus tantum sapientia valuit, ut plerosque populos eodem 
die hostes, dein cives habuerit.” The last sentences in Tacitus, 
which are also much to our purpose, are undoubtedly Claudian 
in substance, though Tacitus has put them into much better 
language. “Omnia, Patres Conscripti, que nunc vetustissima 
creduntur, nova fuere ; plebei magistratus post patricios ; Latini 
post plebeios ; ceterarum Italiz gentium post Latinos. Invete- 
rascet hoc quoque: et quod hodie exemplis tuemur, inter exempla 
erit.”’ 

As for the edict of Antoninus Caracalla, by which all the 
free inhabitants of the Empire became Roman citizens, I am glad! 
to find Sir Henry Maine (Ancient Law, 144) protesting against 
the common tendency to underrate its effects. ‘I may be per- 
mitted to remark that there is little foundation for the opinion 
which represents the constitution of Antoninus Caracalla. con- 


260 NOTES ON 


~ -_ -“- eee - --« 


ferring Roman citizenship on the whole of his subjects as a 
measure of small importance.” To Sir Henry Maine the edict 
is of importance chiefly as having “enormously enlarged the 
sphere of the Patria Potestas.” To me it comes more home as 
having extended the Roman name to all the inhabitants of the 
Empire. The wame Romanus, as opposed to Barbarus, in the 
Teutonic codes, and the name of ‘Pwxatos, still the true name of 
the people who have only latterly revived the name of Ἕλληνες, 
are the direct results of the edict. And, but for that edict, 
Roderic the West-Goth would not have appeared in Saracenic 
eyes as the King of the Romans; the Seljuk Sultans of Ikonion 
would not have called themselves Sultans of Roum; nor would 
the Roman name have still remained the received name of the 
Ottomans and their empire in the further East. That edict 
created a territorial Romania, instead of a mere local Roma. 
The edict, in short, is a great landmark in the history of the 
world ; still, as far as any political privilege went, the franchise 
bestowed by it was altogether worthless. 


(42) Page 63.—I need not show that, as long as the common- 
wealth lasted, the vote of the Roman citizen, in whatever comitia 
it was to be given, could be given nowhere but in the proper 
place, in or close to Rome. It has been perhaps less commonly 
remarked that, when the vote had become of very little worth, 
Augustus devised a means by which citizens at a distance might 
give their votes at home and have them sent them to Rome by 
something, I suppose, like sealed voting-papers. So Suetonius tells 
us (Aug. 46) “Italiam .... jure ac dignatione urbi quodam 
modo pro parte aliqua adequavit : excogitato genere suffragio- 
rum, que de magistratibus urbicis decuriones colonici, in sua 
quisque colonia ferrent, et sub diem comitiorum obsignata Romam 
mitterent.” 

Of this way of voting one would gladly have some further 
details. One would like to know what the mechanical process 
was, and whether any means were taken to hinder any tampering 
with the votes on the part of the decurions. The device may 
be looked on as a sign of the decay of public spirit ; for it is no 
bad test of the worth of a man’s vote whether he will take a 
little trouble to give it. Still the possibility of voting about 
laws and magistrates elsewhere than at Rome, like the discovery 
which was made somewhat later, that it was possible to choose 


LECTURE III 201 


an Emperor elsewhere than at Rome, is one of the signs of the 
gradual pulling down of the supremacy of the local city. 


(43) Page 64.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, pp. 
264, 321. 
The verses of Mecenas are preserved by Seneca, Epistles, 
xvii. 1. 
‘¢ Debilem factito manu, 
Debilem pede, coxa, 
Tuber adstrue, gibberum, 
Lubricos quate dente : 
Vita dum superest, bene est, 
Hane mihi, vel acuta 
Si sedeam cruce, sustine.”’ 


The philosopher calls this “ turpissimum votum,” “ miserrimum,” 
‘‘contemptissimum.” The last :ines, as well as the commentary 
of Seneca which follows, should be noticed as throwing light 
both on the familiarity and the nature of crucifixion. 


(44) Page 65.—Aristotle however (Pol. i, 25) fully recognizes 
the village—that is, as we shall presently see, the yévos—as ἃ 
natural stage intermediate between the family and the city. “H 
μὲν οὖν εἰς πᾶσαν ἡμέραν cuvertyKvia κοινωνία κατὰ φύσιν οἶκός 


3 a > 9 , 3 “ , / , ¢ ‘ 
ἐστιν. . .. ἣ δ᾽ ἐκ πλειόνων οἰκιῶν κοινωνία πρώτη χρήσεως ἕνεκεν μὴ 
9 , , ἢ N \ , ” es 9 , 2? 
ἐφημέρου κώμη" μάλιστα δὲ κατὰ φύσιν ἔοικεν ἡ κώμη ἀποικία οἰκίας 
A / 
εἶναι... . .. ἣ δ' ἐκ πλειόνων κωμῶν κοινωνία τέλειος πόλις. But 


throughout his treatise in general we hardly hear so much as we 
might have expected about the γένος as a distinct element in-the 
commonwealth. 


(45) Page 66.—The Celtic clans seem to be distinguished 
from the other forms of the common institution by the strength 
and permanence of the family and hereditary feeling. Among 
the Teutonic nations the notion of kindred seems to have died 
out very early, as it no doubt died out early in fact, among the 
marks or gemeinden; and at Rome, though the gens always 
remained a gens, the feeling of kindred was much slighter than 
in the Celtic clan. Above all, there was nothing at Rome which 
in any way answered to the chief of the clan. 


(46) Page 66.—For village communities in the East I must 
refer to the second and fourth lectures in Sir Henry Maine’s book. 


262 NOTES ON 


~ .--.. ee 


Of the Western form of the institution we shall find more to say 
as We go on. 


(47) Page 66.—I know of no name for the village community, 
either in English or in German, which at all translates the 
Greek and Latix names. The Geschlechter of the German towns 
of course answer admirably, in the history of those towns, to 
the Greek γένη and Latin gentes, but then they belong wholly 
to that after-growth of Teutonic municipality of which I shall 
havé to speak towards the end of this lecture ; they have nothing 
to do with the early state of political developement of which we 
are now speaking. 


‘ (48) Page 67.—On the patronymic names of marks in England 

see Kemble, Saxons in England, 159, and Appendix A at the 
endof the volume. The principle of formation is this : the epony- 
mous hero, say Dodda, gives his name to the gens, the Loddingas, 
exactly ag Alkmaién does to the Alkmaiénidai; the Teutonic 
patronymic ty answers exactly to the Greek uns. Then a 
settlement of the Doddingas most commonly forms its name 
by adding one of the common-place endings, as ham or tun, 
Doddingaham, Doddingatiin, which last is actually found in the 
various places named Doddington. Sometimes, however, as 
Tooting, Woking (Totingas, Wocingas), &c., the name of the 
yens is found without any ending, just like the Greek Bpay ida. 
The names which come directly from the name of an ἐπώνυμος, 
as Finsbury (Finnesburh), are rarer. These last must of course 
not be confounded with places which are named after mere 
mortal owners, These are common enough, but they are not so 
common among the original Saxon and Anglian settlements 
us they are among the Danes of Lincolnshire and the Flemings 
of Pembrokeshire. And, as Kemble points out, the zg form, 
being so common, has sometimes thrust itself in where it has 
no right; as Abzngdon and Huntingdon for Abbandun and 
Huntandun. 

The same patronymic tng, in various shapes, is also found in 
many Continental names. One most interesting class is that 
which has been worked out by Bluntschli (Staats- und Rechts- 
yeschichte der Stadt und Landschaft Ziirich, i. 25, referred to by 
Mr. Grote, iii. 16), who shows, by tracing the names through 
various forms, that the ending zkon, or ikem, common in the old 


LECTURE III 263 


Ziirichgau, is a corruption of inghoven ; as Dellikon, for Telling- 
hoven, exactly answering to our Gillingham and Doddington. 
Another set will be found in Dithmarschen among the gentes 
or Geschlechter by whom the land was settled. See the Chronicle 
of Johann Adolfi, surnamed Neocorus (edited by Dahlmann, 
Kiel, 1827), 1. 224. Some of the names have che ing form, as 
Dickbolingmanschlecht, Wittengmanschlacht, ἄτα. 
See also Norman Conquest, 1. 562, f. 


(49) Page 67.—On this matter should be read the essay 
of Mommsen, Die Romischen HKigennamen, in his Romische 
Forschungen. But I cannot follow him when he makes the 
addition of the name of the d/mos at Athens (Δημοσθένης 
Δημοσθένους Παιανιεύς, for example) equivalent to the nomen 
or gentile name at Rome. Παιωνιεύς is not a gentile name as 
such. It may happen to be so, inasmuch as many of the d/moi 
answered to gentes; but in itself it 1s not gentile but local. 
Παιανιεύς in truth is not a name at all; it is merely a 
description, while the gentile name Claudius or Julius is 
strictly the women of its bearer. Except that the membership 
of the d’mos was strictly hereditary, Δημοσθένης Δημοσθένους 
Παιανιεύς would exactly answer to Morgan ap Morgan of 
Llanfihangel or to John Johnson of SBeckington, at that 
stage of nomenclature when only the son of a John could be 
called Johnson, and when the son of Robin Johnson would be 
called Richard Robinson. A Roman was never described by his 
local tribe or other local description, unless through the chance 
of a local description becoming a cognomen, such as Maluginensis 
and such like. The Athenian again was never spoken of as 
Παιανιεύς, except as a mere description by which he was 
introduced. No one would go on saying that Δημοσθένης 
Παιανιεύς, still less that Παιανιεύς, did so and so; while we 
do say in Latin that “Caius Julius,” and even that “Julius,” 
did so and so. The arrangement again of the names at Athens 
and at Rome shows the difference. At Athens a man is Anpoo- 
θένης Δημοσθένους Παιανιεύς. At Rome he is not “Caius 
Lucii filius Julius,” but “Caius Julius Lucii filius.” Then the 
cognomen, if he have one, is added: ‘ Caius Julius Lucii filius 
Cesar.” It is the Caesar, in short, not the Julius, which 
answers to the Παιανιεύς. The only difference is that at Athens 
every man had a demotic name, and the demotic name was 


264 NOTES ON 


eee ... 


necessarily local, while at Rome a man had not necessarily a 
cognomen, and the coynomen was not necessarily local. The 
difference is really implied in Mommsen’s own remark (p. 7) : 
‘Bei den Griechen schwankt noch das gentilische Ethnikon : 
es findet sich -evs, -ίδης, -cos neben einander; die Italiker, vor 
allem mit der ihnen eigenen Strenge die Rémer haben das Suffix 
-ius im gentilischen Ethnikon ausschliesslich durchgefiihrt.” 
That is to say, the demotic description, not being a nomen 
or gentile name, but a legalized local cognomen, takes various 
endings according to the name of the démos from which it is 
formed ; the nomen or gentile name, being strictly gentile, takes 
always the one ending in ius, answering to the Greek ίδης and 
to the Teutonic ag. 
~Mommsen makes a remark just before (pp. 5, 6) which is 
striking, and, to say the least, worth looking into, This is that, 
in such phrases as “Marcus Marci,” Δημοσθένης Δημοσθένους. 
there was at first no ellipsis of fi/ius or vids. The name in the 
genitive case is simply the genitive expressing property ; it is, as 
he calls it, a Herrenname, pointing out under whose potestas or 
mund the person spoken of was. That which is under the potestas 
may be wife, son, slave, ox, or field, and the formula is the same 
for all. Cecilia Marci, Marcus Maret, are the same form 
(“ sprachlich und rechtlich gleichartig”) as ager Marci, or, I 
suppose, as Marci por. If it be so, it would be worth finding 
out whether the formula which names the grandfather as well 
as the father, “Caius Julius Lucii filius Sexti nepos,’’ came 
in through those cases where the father was himself still in the 
potestas of the grandfather. 


(50) Page 67.—See the passages collected by Niebuhr (i. 327, 
i. 606 of the English translation), passages which undoubtedly 
prove that there was not necessarily any real kindred among 
all the members of a gens. So too there is force when he says 
that, if Cicero had believed all the members of a gens to have 
a common origin, he would hardly have thought it enough to 
say, aS he does in the Topica, 6, “Gentiles sunt qui inter se 
eodem nomine sunt.” Adoptions and enfranchisements, even 
if the gens was never enlarged in any way but these two, would 
be enough to hinder there being any real connexion by blood 
among all the members of the gens. But Niebuhr is clearly 
wrong in inferring from this that the gentes were purely artificial 


LECTURE III 265 


— + ----..-.... ee 


divisions. Mr. Grote puts the case far better when he says (iii. 
74) :—‘ The basis of the whole was the house, hearth, or family— 
a number of which, greater or less, composed the gens or genos. 
This gens was therefore a clan, sept, or enlarged, and partly 
factitious brotherhood.’ The description given by Curtius, 
7rvechische Geschichte, i. 250, would very well describe the nature 
of a gens, if he had not made the Stammvater and the Sippschaft 
alternative. He begins by saying, “Jedes Geschlecht umfasste 
eine Gruppe von Familien, welche entweder wirklich von einem 
Stammvater herriihrten oder sich in alter Zeit zu einer Sipprchaft 
vereinigt hatten.” He then mentions the chief ties, religious 
and civil, and adds, ‘ Es war ein grosses Haus, eine enggeschlos- 
sene heilige Lebensgemeinschaft,” The well-known passage 
of Varro, “ab ASmilio homine orti A‘milii ac gentiles,”’ expres.es 
the idea of the whole thing, snd it matters not whether the 
supposed /Kmilius, or rather Atmilus, was a real man or not 
A gens may even have invented a forefather for itself, as 
pedigree-makers donow; butif so, they did it simply in imitation 
of gentes which had real known forefathers, Every Julius was 
not necessarily descended from either a real or a mythical Julus, 
but the yens Julia had none the less for its kernel a body of real 
kinsmen who either were, or pretended to be, descended from 
a Julus, but who admitted, by adoption or naturalization, some 
members who neither were nor pretended to be his descendants. 

In the passage referred to in the Topica, Cicero adds to his 
definition of gentiles, ‘Qui ab ingenuis oriundi sunt” and 
“Quorum majorum nemo servitutem  servivit.” But this 
definition is given simply as the definition of the gentile right 
to inheritance. In a wider sense, the freedman who bore the 
name of the gens was surely a member of it. Compare the 
dispute between the patrician and plebeian Claudii in Cicero de 
Oratore, i. 39, and the remarks of Mr. Long in the Dictionary of 
Antiquities, 568. In other parts of the article he follows the 
notion of Niebuhr. 


(51) Page 67.—On the importance of legal fictions, especially 
in an early state of society, see the second chapter of Sir Henry 
Maine’s Ancient Law. 


(52) Page 67.—In the cases of adoption we commonly find 
that the adopted son was already a kinsman of his artificial father, 


266 NOTES ON 


--.--ο 


a sister’s son or the like. But, on the one hand, there was no need 
that there should be any such connexion ; and, if there was, the 
nephew or other kinsman was as much a stranger to the gens, 
his admission to its legal and religious rites was as purely 
artificial, as when the adopting parent chose some one who had 
nothing to do with himself. But in either case the adopted son 
became, as far as a fiction of law could make him, the real son 
of his new parent. He became such for every purpose legal, 
social, and religious, That is to say, the gens was an institu- 
tion originally founded on community of blood, but in certain 
cases an artificial kindred was allowed to take the place of a 
natural one. 

The orations of Isaios, the second and third, for instance, 
theow great light on the process of adoption at Athens. In the 
second, Περὶ rod Μενεκλέους κλήροι", the adopted son describes the 
process (18); ποιησάμενος εἰςάγει με εἰς τοὺς φράτορας παρόντων 
τούτων, καὶ εἰς τοὺς δημότας με ἐγγράφει, καὶ εἰς τοὺς dpyewvas. SO 
in vil. 17, 20, another claimant describes his adoption ; ὡς ἐμὲ 
ἐποιήσατο υἱὸν ζῶν αὐτὸς καὶ κύριον τῶν αὑτοῦ κατέστησε καὶ εἰς TOUS 
γεννήτας καὶ εἰς τοὺς φράτορας ἐνέγραψε. . .. καὶ ἐπειδὴ θαργήλια 
NY, ἤγαγέ με ἐπὶ τοὺς βωμοὺς εἰς τους γεννήτας τε καὶ φράτορας. The 
ὀργεῶνες mentioned in one of theabove extracts, were the religious 
officers of the dparpia. See Suidas iz voce, who says, περὶ τῶν 
ὀργεώνων γέγραφε καὶ Φιλόχορος" τοὺς δὲ φράτορας ἐπάναγκες δέχεσθαι 
καὶ τοὺς ὀργεῶνας καὶ τοὺς ὁμογάλακτας ods γεννήτας καλοῦμεν. It 
does not seem clear whether the bodies among whom the adopted 
son was to be admitted to membership had the power of rejecting 
him. Probably they would have it at first, but it would sink 
into a mere form. This, as is well known, actually happened at 
Rome, where the adoption needed the formality of a lex curiata. 


(53) Page 67.—See note 47 on Lecture II. 


(54) Page 68.—There can be no doubt that the political 
effects of the Roman practice of using the gentile name as 
the real nomen were most important. The nomen stamped a man 
as belonging to a certain gens. He could not be spoken of 
without himself and others being reminded of the gens to which 
he belonged. At Athens an Alkmaionid himself knew, and 
everybody else knew, that he was an Alkmaionid, but they were 
not in the same way reminded of it every time he was spoken of. 


LECTURE IIT 267 


-.-.- ee ------ - .-.------.-. «ὦ . te er ee -----. 


There can be no doubt that this had a great effect on the here- 
ditary character which we see so strongly marked on the great 
Roman families. We know beforehand the policy which a 
Fabius, a Valerius, or a Claudius must follow. The same thing 
revives in the Middle Ages, when surnames revive. The truth 
is that there is nothing so really aristocratic as 1 surname. And 
this bears on a remark which I have made in the last lecture, 
that a real aristocracy can exist only in a republic. When the 
title of a peer is changed in each generation (sometimes, as in 
the case of the first Duke of Leeds, several times i. the 
same lifetime), the gentile sentiment may possibly live on 
within the family itself, but it is quite lost among the outer 
world, who have to ask at each stage who he is. No doubts of 
the kind can arise when a man, instead of a mere title, inherits 
the name of Fabius, Erlach, or ‘teding. 


(55) rage 68.—See above, note 26. 


(56) Page 69,—On the Doric tribes see Grote 11. 479, O. 
Miiller, Dorians ii. 76 (Eng. Gr.). The point is that, as the 
three tribes, Hylleis, Pamphyloi, and Dymanes, seem to have 
been found in all Dorian settlements everywhere—a point which 
seems to be fully proved by Herod. v. 68—it would follow that 
these tribes are older than the migrations which took the 
Dorians into Peloponnésos and Crete. In this last we must 
remember that the threefold division was recognized in the time 
of Homer, witness the Δωριέες τε τριχάϊκες of the Odyssey 
(xix. 174), That is to say, these tribes must be as old, or older, 
than the occupation of the primitive northern Doris; and we 
may be inclined to suspect that they were older, because their 
names bear no relation to the names of the four old Dorian 
towns. We are thus led to look upon these tribes as the oldest 
known elements of the Dorian people, and it would seem that 
in every Dorian settlement members of each of these tribes 
took a share. And the name of the Pamphyloi would seem 
to show that that tribe at least was an aggregate made 
up of smaller tribes. These tribes, or at least the ὠβαί 
of which they were formed, went on to the very latest times. 
The local divisions, handed on from the pre-Dorian time, went 
on alongside of them, like the Attic δῆμοι, or like the local tribes 
of Rome alongside of the gentes. The difference, of course, was 


208 NOTES ON 


that in this case the divisions of the conquerors and of those 
of the conquered went on together, while at Athens we have 
no sign of conquest. The ὠβαί answered to dparpia and curie. 
O. Miiller refers to Athénaios, iv. 19, for the use of the word 
φρατρία to express a Spartan dBc. Démétrios of Sképsis there 
speaks of oxiddes et the Karneian festival, each of which contained 
three ὠβαί. Ido not know that this proves much. But I must 
go with O. Miiller against Mr. Grote in holding that the famous. 
ῥήτρα in Plutarch, Lyk. 6, proves that the wBai were thirty. I 
can get no other meaning out of it. The whole passage is 
remarkable, as giving the technical Spartan names for the 
different parts of the Spartan State; φυλὰς φυλάξαντα καὶ ὠβὰς 
wBagavra τριάκοντα, γερουσίαν σὺν ἀρχαγέταις καταστήσαντα, ὥρας ἐξ 
wpas ἀπελλάζειν. .. . δάμῳ δ᾽ ἀγορὰν εἶμεν καὶ κράτος. Plutarch 
goes on to explain that ἀρχαγέται means the Kings, and that 
ἀπελλάζειν means ἐκκλησιάζειν ; but he cannot avoid the belief 
that Lykourgos divided the Spartan people into tribes wad ὠβαί, 
just as it is a common English belief that Alfred divided England 
into shires and hundreds. 


(57) Page 69.—I think I can see something of the kind 
in the story of the Pelasgian inhabitants of Attica in Herod. 
vi. 137, Thucydides 11. 17 (where see Arnold’s note), Pausanias i. 
28, 3, Strabo ix. 1 (11. 241). εἴρηται δ᾽ ὅτι κἀνταῦθα φαίνεται τὸ 
τῶν Πελασγῶν ἔθνος ἐπιδημῆσαν᾽ καὶ ὅτι ὑπὸ τῶν ᾿Αττικῶν Πελαργοὶ 
προςηγορεύθησαν διὰ τὴν πλάνην. The use of the rare word 
᾿Αττικοί reminds one of the remarkable distinction drawn by 
Dikaiarchos or Athénaios (Geographi Greci Minores, 1. 99) 
between ᾿Αττικοί and ᾿Αθηναῖοι; but that would not seem 
necessarily to point to any difference in race. 


(58) Page 69.—On the Ionic tribes, and the question of their 
being castes, compare Thirlwall 11. 6, Grote 111. 69. But there 
seems nothing to connect these tribes with the local political 
parties of which we hear in the time of Solén and Peisistratos. | 


(59) Page 69.—See Grote iv. 177, Curtius i. 311, who ap- 
propriately calls them Ortsgemeinden. He contends for, or 
rather takes for granted, the strict decimal system which has 
been inferred from the well-known passage in Herodotus v. 69, 
δέκα δὲ τοὺς δήμους κατένεμε ἐς τὰς φυλάς. To me it seems 


LECTURE III 269 


ene ee -.-ὄ ..ὄ ce --- ---- “τ π ---- ce ee eee ee Se ep i .. .-.-. ........ .. 


+a oe 


that Herodotus meant to assert a decimal system, but that he 
was mistaken in his fact. It is a kind of fact about which it 
is very easy to go wrong, as in the memorable case when a 
Parliament of Edward the Third fancied that there were fifty 
thousand parishes in England. The point is that, though the 
new Ten Tribes were artificial, made by Kleisthenés for the 
occasion, yet they were made up of Démoi which were not arti- 
ficial, but which existed already. It was the evils which had 
arisen a little time before from prevalence of local party-divisions 
in Attica which made Kleisthenés determine that the Tribes 
which were now to form the component elements of the common- 
wealth should be made up of districts which did not he close 
to one another. The tribes are therefore not examples of local 
contiguity (though the Démoi of which they are formed aie; 
see above, note 22), but as exvmples of the opposite principle, 
they assume its existence. 


(60) Page 69.—Curtius, (riechische Geschichte, 1. 311. ‘Sie 
[the new tribes] hatten mit Abstammung und Herkunft nichts 
zu thun, Sie waren nichts als die Einheiten, welchen gewisse 
Gruppen landlicher Bezirke (Demen) untergeordnet wurden. 
Diese Bezirke oder Ortsgemeinden hatten langst bestanden: es 
waren zum Theil alte Zwolfstidte Atticas, wie Eleusis, Kephisia, 
Thorikos, oder sie trugen ihre Namen von den Geschlechtern, 
welche vorzugsweise in denselben begiitert waren, wie Butadai, 
Aithalidai, Paionidai.” 


(61) Page 70.—That is to say, in all political arrangements 
the Tribe formed an unit, without any reference to the Démoi 
contained in it. The analogy of Rome would lead us to think 
that this had not been the case with the old Tribes; for at 
Rome the Curia remained a political unit, with its distinct 
vote in the Comitia of the Curie. For military purposes too 
the Tribe formed an unit, though the men from each Démos may 
likely enough have been ranged together. 


(62) Page 70.—See Mommsen’s treatment (Aimuische Ges- 
chichte, i. 33) of the traditions about the three original Roman 
tribes, Ramnes, Titienses, and—if they be original—Luceres. 
The original legend, the topography of which at least there 
seems no reason to doubt, comes out in Dionysios 11. 50. οἱ 


210 NOTES ON 


δὲ περὶ τὸν Ρωμύλον καὶ Τάτιον τήν τε πόλιν εὐθὺς ἐποίουν μείζονα, 

’ e 9 > A 4 ’ 4 4 / N Ν 
προςθέντας ἑτέρους αὐτῇ δύο λόφους, τόν τε Κυρίνιον κληθέντα καὶ τὸν 
Καιλίον: καὶ διελόμενοι τὰς οἰκήσεις χωρὶς ἀλλήλων, δίαιταν ἐν τοῖς 
ἰδίοις ἑκάτεροι χωρίοις ἐποιοῦντο. Ῥωμύλος μὲν τὸ Παλάτιον κατέχων, 
καὶ τὸ Καίλιον ὄρος" ἔστι δὲ τῷ Παλατίῳ προςεχές. Τάτιος δὲ τὸ 
Καπιτώλιον, ὅπερ ἐξ ἀρχῆς κατέσχε, καὶ τὸν Κυρίνιον ὄχθον. It 
will be remembered that the space between the two was the 
Comitia, and that the gate of Janus was opened in time of war 
to allow the allied communities to give help to one another. 


(63) Page 70.—The difference between genealogical and 
local tribes is well brought out by Dionysios, iv. 14, when he is 
describing the changes made by Servius:—O δὲ Τύλλιος.. . . 

3 / / δ Ν , 4 9 , ‘ 

εἰς τέσσαρα μέρη διελὼν τὴν πόλιν. . .. τετράφυλον ἐποίησε τὴν 
πόλιν εἶναι, τρίφυλον οὖσαν τέως, “αἱ τοὺς ἀνθρώπους ἔταξε τοὺς ἐν 
ἑκάστῃ μοίρᾳ τῶν τεττάρων οἰκοῦντας, ὥσπερ κωμήτας, . . .. καὶ οὐκ 
ἔτι κατὰ τὰς τρεῖς φυλὰς τὰς γενικὰς στρατιωτικὰ, ὡς πρότεμυν, ἀλλὰ 
κατὰ τὰς τέσσαρας τὰς τοπικὰς, καὶ τὰς ὑφ᾽ ἑαυτοῦ διαταχθείσας 
3 a ς 9, ὁ ν) 3 4 ΄ ΝᾺ 
ἐποιεῖτο, ἡγεμόνας ἐφ’ ἑκάστης ἀποδείξας συμμορίας, ὥσπερ φυλάρχους 
ἢ κωμάρχας. 


(64) Page 70.—The usual version of the coming of the 
Claudian tribe places it a few years after the driving out of the 
Kings. Mommsen, however (Rimische Forschungen, 72), refers 
it to a much earlier time, following the tradition preserved by 
Suetonius, Tib. 1. ‘Inde [Regillis] Romam recens conditam 
cum magna clientum manu commigravit, auctore Tito Tatio 
consorte Romuli.’”” Mommsen’s words are :— 

“Das Factum selbst scheint glaubwiirdiger als die meisten 
iibrigen Angaben in diesem Adlteren Theil der Annalen, aber 
natiirlich war dasselbe urspriinglich zeitlos itiberliefert und ist nur 
von dem spitern falschen Pragmatismus mit dem Sabinerkrieg 
des Poplicola verkniipft worden—die Einwanderung des claud- 
ischen Stammes muss viel ἔν που fallen, dass eine der Landtribus 
altester Einrichtung nach ihn benannt ist und das Geschlecht, 
obwohl es in den alteren Fasten keine hervorragende Rolle spielt, 
doch bereits im J. 259 in der Consulartafel erscheint.” 

It might be said in answer to this that family vanity would 
be likely to thrust back the incorporation of the Claudii with the 
Roman State to an earlier time, while, if the Claudii had been 
Sabines simply in the sense of being Titienses—the statement in 


LECTURE III ' O71 


------ὔ-. . --- 


Suetonius, as it stands, is clearly a mixture of two stories—it is 
not easy to see how the tale of their later origin could arise. 
Anyhow the accounts given by Livy and Dionysios set clearly 
before us the kind of process which would happen in such a case 
—the addition at once of a Patrician gens and of a local tribe. 
Livy (ii. 16) thus tells the story; “ Attus Clausus, cui postea 
Ap. Claudio fuit Rome nomen... . ab Regillo, magna clientium 
comitatus manu, Romam transfugit. His civitas data agerque 
trans Anienem; vetus Claudia tribus, additis postea novis 
tribulibus, qui ex eo venirent agro, appellata.’”’ The migrat‘on is 
again referred to in speeches in iv. 3, x. 8. So Dionysios, v. 40, 
ἀνήρ τις ἐκ τοῦ Σαβίνων ἔθνους πόλιν οἰκῶν 'Ῥήγιλλον, εὐγενὴς Kal 
χρήμασι δυνατὸς, Τίτος Κλαύδιος, αὐτομολεῖ πρὸς αὐτοὺς, συγγένειάν 
τε μεγάλην ἐπαγόμενος, καὶ φίλους καὶ πελάτας συχνοὺς αὐτοῖς μετανα- 
στάντας ἐφεστίοις, οὐκ ἐλάττους πεντακιςχιλίων τοὺς ὅπλα φέρειν 
δυναμένους . . .. ἀνθ᾽ ὧν ἡ βουλὴ καὶ ὃ δῆμος εἴς τε τοὺς πατρι- 
κίους αὐτὴν ἐνέγραψε, καὶ τῆς πόλεως μοῖραν εἴασεν ὅσην ἐβούλετο εἰς 
κατασκευὴν οἰκιῶν: χώραν τ᾽ αὐτῷ προςέθηκεν ἐκ τῆς δημοσίας τὴν 
μεταξὺ Φιδήνης καὶ Πικεντίας, ὡς ἔχοι διανεῖμαι κλήρους ἅπασι τοῖς 
περὶ αὐτὸν, ad ὧν καὶ φυλή τις ἐγένετο σὺν χρόνῳ, Κλαυδία καλουμένη. 

The other new local tribes, formed out of allies or subjects 
admitted to citizenship, were added pretty constantly down to 
B.c. 299, when the Tribes Aniensis and Terentina were added 
(Livy, x. 9). There is then a gap till 5.06. 241, when the last 
two Tribes, Velina and Quirina, were added (Livy, Epit. 19). 
This marks a stage in the history of commonwealths in general, 
the stage when they feel that they have no further need 
of fresh citizens, and when the selfish and exclusive feeling 
begins to prevail (see p. 163). But in this case it should be 
remembered that these successive additions had made the ager 
Romanus reach, and indeed outstrip, the fullest extent of territory 
which could be occupied by a single city-community. 


(65) Page 72.—See Norman Conquest, iv. 415. The whole 
history of the word is drawn out by Gibbon, chap. 21 (vol. 111. p. 
402, Milman). 


(66) Page 73.—It is a certain trial of faith to believe that 
the word “heathen” has nothing to do with the Greek ἐθιικός :— 
but it is, in its different forms, good English, good High-German, 
and good Gothic ; AcdtSno from λεί δ. 


272 NOTES ON 


(67) Page 74.—I have discussed this elsewhere at some length. 
— Norman Conquest, ii. 587. 


(68) Page 74. --- Even Anselm is “ Anglorum Archiepi- 
scopus,” at least in the mouths of Irishmen and of the Pope. See 
Eadmer, Hist. Nov. Lib. ii. pp. 393-414, Migne. On the speci- 
ally territorial style of the Bishops of the South-Saxons see 
Norman Conquest, 1). 592. 

The territorial styles of many American and colonial Bishops 
are therefore, from an English or British point of view, more 
primitive than those which are taken from cities. 


(69) Page 75.—I have touched somewhat slightly on the 
nature of the Mark in the History of the Norman Conquest, 1. 
84, and still more slightly in the Growth of the English Con- 
stitution, p. 10. The great English authority on the subject 1s, 
of course, Mr. Kemble’s chapter on the Mark, in the first volume 
of his Saxons in England. Before that, the nature of vhe early 
Teutonic settlements had been worked out by various German 
writers, from Jacob Grimm (Deutsche Rechtsalterthiimer, 495, et 
seqg.) onwards, especially in the chapter of Waitz in the first 
volume of his Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte, Das Dorf, die 
Gemeinde, der Gau. Since Mr. Kemble wrote, the subject has 
been dealt with more at large, though, on the whole, from a 
somewhat different point of view, in the great works of Maurer, 
Einleitung zur Geschichte der Mark-, Hof- und Stadtverfassung 
(Miinchen, 1854), Geschichte der Markenverfassung vw Deutsch- 
land (Erlangen, 1856), Geschichte dev Dorfverfaussung in Deutsch- 
land (Erlangen, 1866), for which works Sir Henry Maine, in his 
Village Communities, has become a sort of sponsor to English 
readers. The Mark, in its strictness, is of course the boundary, 
the strip of uncultivated land left between the land occupied by 
one settlement and the land occupied by its neighbour. The 
Markgenossenschaft is the body of settlers, that 1s, in my view, the 
yens or clan, by whom the land was first occupied. Here we 
have the lowest territorial and political unit, to be found alike 
in India, Greece, Italy, Germany, and England, and out of the 
union of which with other marks, cities, tribes, and nations 
gradually grew. 


(yo) Page 75.—The common occupation of land by the 
members of the Markgenossenschaft has been the. point which, 


LECTURE III 273 


since the researches of Maurer (see Einleitung, 40), and more 
lately of Nasse and Sir Henry Maine, has drawn to itself most 
attention. This concerns me only as being the earliest form of 
Jolkland—a name which should never be uttered without a feeling 
of thankfulness to the memory of John Allen—of which I have 
said a word or two in the History of the Nor aan Conquest, i. 
pp. 83, 94, 589, and on the political aspect of which I have found 
something to say at p. 139 of the Growth of the English 
Constitution. 


(71) Page 75.—The original kindred between the members 
of the Markgenossenschaft, allowing, of course, for adoptions and 
admissions (on which see Maurer, Dorfverfassung, 1. 175, ct. 
Einleitung, 13), is strongly set forth by Mr. Kemble, i. 56. 

“T represent them to myself as great family unions, com- 
prising uouseholds of various degrees of wealth, rank, and 
authority : some, in direct descent from the common ancestors, 
or from the hero of the particular tribe ; others, more distantly 
connected, through the natural result of increasing population, 
which multiplies indeed the members of the family, but removes 
them at every step further from the original stock; some, 
admitted into communion by marriage, others by adoption ; others 
even by emancipation ; but all recognizing a brotherhood, a kins- 
manship or sibsceaft ; all standing together as one unit in respect 
of other, similar communities ; all governed by the same judges 
and led by the same captains; all sharing in the same religious 
rites, and all known to themselves and to their neighbours by 
one general name.” 

Mr. Kemble refers to the passage of Cesar, vi. 22, “ Neque 
quisquam agri modum certum, aut fines habet proprios; sed 
magistratus ac principes in annos singulos gentibus cognationt- 
busque hominum qui una coierint quantum et quo loco visum est 
agri attribuunt, atque anno post alio transire cogunt.’”’ This 
passage is, of course, of importance as bearing on the history of 
the occupation of land. I am concerned with it as distinctly 
pointing to the Markgenossenschaft as an association founded on 
kindred, and as actually using the word gens in what can be 
meant only for its technical Roman sense. There is also the 
passage of Tacitus (Germania, 7), ‘Non casus, nec fortuita con- 
globatio turmam aut cuneum facit, sed familie et propinquitates,” 


274 NOTES ON 


which is referred to by Waitz (Deutsche Vernfussungsgeschichte, i. 
44), whose own words are :— 

“ Doch auch innerhalb der Gemeinde konnte die Familie ihre 
Bedeutung haben ; Nachwirkungen des altern Zustandes finden 
wir auch noch in spiterer Zeit. Tacitus sagt, dass im Heer 
der Deutschen die einzelnen Haufen sich nach Familien und 
Verwandtschaften bildeten; wahrend schon die Eintheilung 
nach Hundertschaften bestand, die vorherrschende war, hatte 
doch auch diese alteste natiirlichste Verbindung ihre Geltung, 
und das war moglich, da die Familienglieder leicht zur gemein- 
schaftlichen Ansiedelung sich verbanden, Kinder und Vettern 
zusammenblieben, wenn sie nicht zur Auswanderung oder zum 
Ausbauen gendthigt wurden. Weiter aber werden wir auch nicht 
gelangen ; wir werden unten sehen, dass die Familie in den 
Verhialtnissen des Rechts noch von grosser durchgreifender Wich- 
tigkeit war; aber alles nur innerhalb der Gemeinde.” Waitz 
quotes a passage from the Lex Alamannorum (tit. 84, col. 232, 
Georgisch), “Si qua contentio orta fuerit inter duas genealogias 
de termino terre eorum,’’ where the two “genealogie” are to 
come before the “comes de plebe ista ” (the Gaugraf ?) and settle 
the matter by single combat. In England we have the meg% in 
its narrower sense, on which Lappenberg (to whom Waitz also 
refers) has a remarkable passage (p. 583), which I must quote in 
full in the original, because it 1s so strangely cut short in Mr. 
Thorpe’s Translation, ii. 328. 

‘Zu den altesten Districtsbenennungen, welche der Shire vor- 
angingen, gehorte noch die ‘Maegthe,’ ein Land, welches die 
Genossen eines Geschlechtes oder Stammes, eine Magenschaft, 
wie sie im Kriege zusammen gefochten und erobert hatten, so im 
Frieden’ zusammen erhielten.” [He here refers to the passages 
from Cesar and Tacitus quoted above.| ‘‘ Wir finden diese 
Bezeichnung gewoéhnlich schon auf die gréssern siichsischen, nicht 
aber auf die von den Angeln besetzten Provinzen angewandt, 
doch zuweilen noch im iltern Sinne, wie bei der Maegthe 
der Meanwaren. Dass sich eine wirkliche, bei den Angel- 
sachsen jedoch nur in seltenen Spuren noch nachzuweisende 
Verwandtschaft unter diesen neben einander siedelnden Gesch- 
lechtern durch Erbrecht, Wergeld, politische Biirgschaften, 
Naherrechte und andere mit jenen verkniipfte Einrichtungen 
lange erhalten konnten, zeigen uns viele Beispiele, selbst noch 
des spatern Mittelalters, in den Kluften, Vetterschaften und 


LECTURE Il 275 


ahnlichen Familienverbindungen germanischer Stimme, um nicht 
auf entfernteres hinzuweisen ; woraus wir gleichfalls wahrnehmen, 
wie zuletzt, bei grésserer Beweglichkeit der Habe und selbst des 
Landeigenthumes, die Verwandtschaft nur als Bezeichnung einer 
politischen Verbindung iibrigblieb.” 

See also the articles Mearc, Mey, and Mage.schaft, in Schmid 
(Gesetze der Angelsachsen), who however seems wholly to cast 
aside Kemble’s notions about the mark. But it would, I think, 
be hard to get over Kemble’s fact (i. 55, 56) that there was a 
Mearemot and a Mearcbeorgh, the hill where the gemét of the 
mark was held. So Sir Henry Maine (Village Communities, 
175) says of the marks in the East: “At the outset they seem to 
be associations of kinsmen, united by the assumption (doubtless 
very vaguely conceived) of a common lineage. Sometimes the 
community is unconnected witu any exterior body, save by the 
shadowy bond of caste. Sometimes it acknowledges itself to 
belong to a larger group or class. But in all cases the community 
is so organized as to be complete in itself.” 

I need hardly enlarge on the mund of our forefathers, and its 
analogy with the Roman potestus. But the Teutonic filrus 
familias did not, like the Roman, remain for ever under the mund 
of his father. When he himself became a member of the State, 


a citizen and a soldier, emancipation took place of itself. See 
Waitz, i. 39. 


(72) Page 76.—The Tithing and the Hundred are parts of the 
ancient constitution which are much more perplexing than the 
mark and the gaw. I will only refer to Zopfl, Geschichte der 
Deutschen Rechts-Institute, 97, 112, 121; Waitz, i. 57 ; Lappen- 
berg, i. 585 of the original, ii. 329 of the English translation ; 
Kemble’s chapter on the Tithing and Hundred; Bluntschli, 
Staats- und Rechtsgeschichte der Stadt und Landschaft Zurich, 1. 
54. Maurer, Hinleitung, 59, and the article Hundred, in Schmid, 
where it is strange to see him quoting the false Ingulf. Waitz 
suggests that the passages in Cesar and Tacitus which speak of 
centum pagi have arisen out of some misconception, and 1 can- 
not help fancying that where Tacitus (Germania, 12) speaks of 
the “‘centeni singuli ex plebe comites”” who were attached to the 
princes for judicial purposes, there is also some confusion, and that. 
Tacitus misunderstood a statement that there were some men 
present from each hundred. 


276 NOTES ON 


~ 


(73) Page 76.—The yaw is treated of by all our authors ; 
Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthiimer, 496; Eichhorn, Deutsche 
Staats- und Rechtsgeschichte, 49 ; Zopfi, Geschichte der Deutschen 
Rechts-Institute, 95, 108, 121, 148; Maurer, Linleitung, 54 (Com- 
parative Philology will hardly allow us to believe that gaz is the 
same as the Greek yéa or y7)—and for the history of a particular 
gau, and its breaking up into several smaller gawen, see Blunt- 
schli, i. 20. Waitz (1, 49) gives the definition of a gau—“ Nicht 
von dem Boden, der Vertheilung des Territoriums ist dies ausge- 
gangen, sondern so weit die Vilkerschaft wohnte, reichte ihr 
Gau. So nothwendig wie mit dem deutschen Volk ein deutsches 
Land, Deutschland, gegeben ist, so nothwendig entstehen mit 
der Zertheilung des Volks nach Stimmen und der Stamme in 
Volkerschaften auch jene territorialen Abtheilungen, die wir Gaue 
nennen,”’ 


(74) Page 76.—I suppose that no one will dispute this as to 
the formation of the gaw out of marks and the kingdom out of 
gauen. Those are the two essential elements ; about the hundred 
the case may be less clear, and Waitz (1, 48) seems to look on it 
as a division of the gauw. Yet, as we seem everywhere to find 
something between the gau and the tribe, it seems not unlikely 
that the intermediate association, φρατρία, curta, or hundred, may 
also have been strictly an association, and not a division. But I 
do not care to insist upon this point, as long as it is understood 
that in the other cases the greater unit is made up by the union 
of the smaller units, and that the smaller units are not formed by 
the division of the greater. Kemble has a vigorous passage on 
the way in which the smaller groups grew into the larger, “a 
process repeated and continued until the family becomes a tribe 
and the tribe a kingdom.” 


(75) Page 77.—On Haldormen and Heretogan, see Norman 
Conquest, i. 579. Cf. the note on AXthelred of Mercia, i. 563. 
Ealdorman is the word used by ΖΕ ρα to express the Satrape of 
Beda, v. 10. There can, I think, be no doubt that Heretoga, the 
High-Dutch Herzog, is the word which Tacitus meant to express 
by Dua. 


(76) Page 78.—The well-known passage of Beda, describing 
the Old-Saxons, which I have quoted elsewhere (see Norman Con- 


LECTURE IIT 277 


quest, i. 579), gives a vivid picture of a people who choose a 
single chief in war-time only. The Satraps or Ealdormen put one 
of their own body at their head in war-time—“ peracto autem 
bello, rursum squalis potenti omnes fiunt.” I shall have to 
speak of this state of things again in my next lecture (see p. 
105), but I will meanwhile give a description of the Old-Saxon 
constitution from the Life of Saint Lebuin (Pertz, ii. 361), by an 
author of the tenth century, which, if it can be trusted, gives 
a distinct picture of a true Federal government. But the strange 
thing about it is that, not only the nobles and the common free- 
men are, as we should have expected, represented in the Federal 
Assembly, but also the class below the common freemen, a c’ass 
of whom I shall have to speak in a later lecture (see p. 161 and 
note 5 on Lect. VI.). But, even if the writer should be mistaken 
on this point, the whole picture can hardly be imaginary. It 
will be at once noticed that we have here, what is not to be found 
in any “ther contemporary assembly, a case of real representation ; 
but this is only what we might have expected in a constitution 
so strictly federal. The whole passage stands thus :— 


6 Erat gens ipsa, sicuti nune usque consistit, ordine tripartito 
divisa. Sunt denique ibi, qui illorum lingua edlingi, sunt qui 
frilingi, sunt qui lassi dicuntur, quod in Latina sonat lingua, 
nobiles, ingenuiles, atque serviles. Pro suo vero libitu, consilio 
quoque, ut sibi videbatur, prudenti singulis pagis principes pre- 
erant singuli. Statuto quoque tempore anni semel ex singulis 
pagis, atque ex iisdem ordinibus tripartitis, singillatim viri duo- 
decim electi, et in unum collecti, in media Saxonia secus flumen 
Wiseram, et locum Marklo nuncupatum, exercebant generale 
concilium, tractantes, sancientes, et propalantes communis com- 
moda utilitatis, juxta placitum a se statute legis. Sed etsi forte 
belli terreret exitium, si pacis arrideret gaudium, consulebant ad 
heee quid 5101 foret agendum.” 


(77) Page 78.—On the kindred Frisian Seelands and their 
liberties, see the account in Eichhorn, § 2850 (vol. iii. pp. 265-- 
271), and on Dithmarschen itself (Maurer, Hinlestung, p. 289). 
It was said of its people, in good Nether-Dutch, which ought not 
to need a translation for any Englishman, “ De Didtmarschen 
leven sunder Heren and Hovedt, unde dohn wadt se willen.” 
Dithmarschen was conquered by Frederick the Second of Den- 
mark and his uncle Duke Adolf of Holstein, in 1559. In 1499 


278 NOTES ON 


the free people of that land had utterly driven back the invasion 
of King John and Duke Frederick. The history of both these 
events may be read in the native tongue of the district in the 
Chronicle of Johann Adolfi. Adolfi lived in the latter half of 
the sixteenth century, so that he was contemporary or nearly so 
with the latter of, the two events with which we are concerned. 
The heading of the book which records the victory (i. 447) runs 
thus : ‘“‘Datt Veerde Boock Dithmerscher Historischer Geschichte, 
belangende eigentlicken uund wahrhafften Bericht der herlichen 
unde gunderlichen Victorien der Dithmerschen, unde der erb- 
ermlichen unde schrecklichen Nedderlage Koning Johans uth 
Dehemarken unde seines H. Broders Frederichen, Hertogen tho 
Holstein.” The sadder narrative of 1559 (11. 151) is ushered 
in thus, “ Dat Soste Bock geloff- unde denkwerdiger Geschichte, 
so sich im Ditmerschen begeven unde thogedragen, alleine de 
lateste Beide unde Eroveringe des Landes belangende.”” He adds 
the m.*+o from Sallust, ‘‘ Potior visa est periculosa ‘ibertas 
quieto servitio,’”’ and ends with the chronogram, “ DIthMarslae 
Libertas rUIt.” 


(78) Page 78.—When I come to go on with my History of 
Federal Government, I trust to deal—far better than I could 
have dealt ten years back—with the traces of the old Teutonic 
constitution as it was, partly preserved, partly won back, both in 
the original Three Lands, and among the confederate Gemeiulen 
in Graubiinden and Wallis. These two countries, as not being 
surrounded with such a blaze of mythical glory as the Three 
Lands, have drawn to themselves far less attention, but their 
political history is perhaps even more instructive. 


(79) Page 79.—This change makes the difference between the 
subject of the first book of Zeuss (Die Deustchen und die Nach- 
barstrimme), headed Das Alterthum, and the second headed Die 
neuen Umgestaltungen. The novelty is the gathering together of 
the various scattered branches of the German nation of which we 
read in Cesar and Tacitus, into those greater wholes—whether 
we call them nations or confederations—Franks, Allemans, 
Saxons, &e., which play the chief part in the history of the third 
century B.c. Zeuss’s words (303) are :— 

‘Im westlichen Germanien weichen seit dem Anfang des 
dritten Jahrhunderts nach und nach die alten Namen der Volker 


LECTURE III 279 


anderen wenigen, aber ausgebreiteten. Die einzelnen Theile des 
vielgegliederten Stammes haben sich hier in grissere Kiorper 
vereinigt, deren Unterschied fiir die folgende Zeit bleibend wird. 
Zu dieser Umgestaltung im Innern kommt ein Fortdrangen gegen 
die dusseren Umgebungen; die neuen Vilker haben auch ihre 
friiheren Sitze gedndert und in erweiterndem Streben nach Aussen 
sich in neue Stellungen fortbewegt.”’ 


(80) Page 79.—Besides our own island, this description would 
apply to the lands between the Alps and the Danube, and to all 
the Teutonic lands on the left bank of the Rhine. The Roman 
cities lived on, and the neighbourhood of the Romance-speakir.g 
lands must have had some influence ; otherwise the pheenomena of 
these lands must have been nearly the same as those of Britain 


(81) Page 79.--Something has been done on this head by Sir 
Henry Paine, in the lecture on the Process of Feudalization, the 
fifth in the Village Communities. But the growth, both of the 
manor and of the ecclesiastical parish, needs thoroughly working 
out. Both of course are innovations; but lawyers deal with the 
mark just as they deal with the kingdom, and assume the lord, as 
they assume the King, to be the root and source of everything, 
instead of being a comparatively late intruder, who has crept in 
unawares. But the process by which the parish priest came to 
be the president of the JWearcyemot—for such, one cannot doubt, 
the parish vestry really is—must be stranger still. 


(82) Page 80.—We have the fact that the word Gaw is not 
found in English of any date. And we have the facts that the 
word shire, which answers to it, does not mean an association, but 
a division (from sciran, shear), that it is applied to other and 
smaller divisions besides gawen or counties, and that in the sense 
of gwu, it is found as early as the Laws of Ine, 36-39. On the 
other hand, the shire is called in Latin pagus, the same word 
which expresses the Continental gau,; and it forms, like the gau, 
the division out of the union of which the kingdom is made up. 
If I rightly understand Mr. Kemble’s chapter on the “ Ga or 
Scir,” the yaw and the shire are the same division looked at from 
two different points of view. The gaw becomes a shire when it 
becomes part of a larger whole ; or again when, as happened to 
inany of the Continental gauen, a yaw is cut up into several 


280 NOTES ON 


smaller yawen, or has its boundaries otherwise altered. Thus, 
when the great Thurgau was divided, the Ziirichgau, and the 
other smaller gawen which were made out of it, would be literally 
shires—parts shorn off from a greater whole. It is certain too 
that, though we find the word sci as early as the time of Ine, it 
is only from about the tenth century that we find it actually 
added to the names of districts. It is certain also that there 
are many English counties to which the name sfive has never 
been applied down to our own times. [0618 further certain, as 
Mr. Kemble has shown, that we have traces of earlier divisions 
—dlivisions earlier than the tenth century—which sometimes 
axree with, and sometimes differ from, our present divisions. (See 
Kemble, 1. 78-84.) The inference I make from all this is the 
seme which I made in Appendix E to the first volume of the 
Norman Conquest, namely that those shires which are not called 
after a town, but which have a territorial name of their own, 
are sttetly gauen, or, when they are mediatized kingdom , groups 
of yauen. Thus, in Kent and Sussex, the lathe and the rape, 
divisions between the hundred and the county, would answer to 
the gau. Elsewhere, where the county is called after a town, 
it is strictly a shire, something shorn off or otherwise divided 
afresh, Thus, as I have tried to show in the Appendix already 
referred to, the Mercian counties are strictly shires, divisions 
mapped out afresh by Eadward the Elder, after the recovery of 
the country from the Danes. Thus again, we do not hear of 
Yorkshire by that name till the second half of the eleventh cen- 
tury. It was a shire, shorn off from the original Northumberland, 
part of which still kept the elder name. And it is a shire which 
was further shorn into smaller shires, one of which, Richmond- 
shire, could not have borne that name till the foundation of Rich- 
mond Castle after the Norman Conquest. But, on the other hand, 
looking on Yorkshire in its older estate as the kingdom of Deira, 
we may look on it as made up of earlier gauen, Elmet, Craven, 
Cleveland, and so forth. The gau, in short, is a natural associa- 
tion ; the shire is an artificial division. The two may or may not 
coincide. But they very often do, and, in any case, the shire is 
the division which answers to and represents the yaw, even when 
it represents it only by way of supplanting it. 

In the Appendix of which I have already spoken I have said 
something about the names of particular counties. I have not 
mentioned there, though I think I have mentioned it elsewhere, 


LECTURE IIT 281 


--.-.. -.-.--ὄ. a ..------.:.:... ----------. - ... ....ὕ....... , 


wee eee 


that in the Chronicles and in the Exchequer Domesday, Devon- 
shire is always spoken of as a shire (Defenasciz), while Somerset 
and Dorset keep the tribal names (on Sumorsetan, on Dorscetun), 
And this is the more remarkable, because in the Exeter Domes- 
day we do sometimes find such a name as ‘‘ Summerset syra,’’ so: 
that the use of the tribal form in the Exchequer Domesday has 
the force of a correction. 

Wherever, as I think really is the case in one or two instances, 
a modern French Department exactly answers to an ancient 
duchy or county, the distinction between the two would be exxctly 
the same as that between the σαν and the shire, and in the other 
‘ase, When an ancient province was shorn into. several depart- 
ments, we see the creation of shires in the literal sense. 


(83) Page 81.—See above, note 79. 


(84) “age 81.—See Norman Conquest, i. 25-27. 7 have 
there quoted the description given by Henry of Huntingdon of 
the growth of East Anglia and Mercia; but the passage of 
William of Malmesbury (i. 44) there referred to is worth giving 
at length :—‘ Annis enim uno minus centum, Northanhimbri 
duces communi habitu contenti, sub imperio Cantuaritarum pri- 
vatos agebant ; sed non postea stetit hec ambitionis continentia, 
seul quia semper in deteriora declivus est humanus animus, seu 
quia gens illa naturaliter inflatiores anhelat spiritus. Anno itaque 
Dominicee incarnationis quingentesimo quadragesimo septimo, post 
mortem Hengesti sexagesimo, ducatus in regnum mutatus, regna- 
vitque ibi primus Ida, haud dubie nobilissimus, eetate et viribus 
integer ; verum utrum ipse per se principatum invaserit, an aliorum 
consensu delatum susceperit, parum definio, quia est in abdito: 
veritas : ceterum satis constat magna et vetere prosapia orlun- 
dum, puris et defeecatis moribus multum splendoris generosis con- 
tulisse natalibus.” 


(85) Page 82.—The truth that the Teutonic element in French 
exactly answers to the Romance element in English is somewhat 
disguised by the fact that, for some centuries past, it has been. 
the fashion for English to borrow a crowd of French or Latin 
words, while the number of German, English, or other Teutonic 
words which have found their way into French during the same 
period is comparatively small. But, if we look to those words 


282 ᾿ NOTES ON 


rr ee ee -- --.-- ---------ὄ.. i ea ----- .-.- --ο ee -----.-.Ὀ 


which make up the real substance of the two languages, we shall 
see that the analogy is a perfectly true one. There is however 
this difference. In English we have two, perhaps three, classes 
of Romance words which have become thoroughly naturalized— 
μέτοικοι Admitted to the full franchise—while in French there is 
only one such class of Teutonic words. The number of Teutonic 
words which made their way into the Latin of Gaul during the 
time of the Gothic, Burgundian, and Frankish conquests, and 
which survive in the modern Provencal and French tongues, is 
really very large, far larger than any one would think at first 
sight, far larger than the number of Celtic words which have 
crept in on the other side from the native languages of the 
country. Still, large as the infusion is, it is merely an infusion, 
aud it in no way affects the essentially Latin character of the 
two modern languages of Gaul. But this Teutonic infusion into 
the Romance of Gaul answers to a threefold Romance infusion 
into υἱ.. Teutonic of Britain. There is, first of all, the h_.1f-dozen 
words which the Romans left behind them, and which the 
English took up, just as we now take up native names for native 
things in India and elsewhere. Secondly, there is the larger 
group of Latin words, either ecclesiastical or expressing some 
foreign idea, which came in between the coming of Augustine and 
the coming of William. These two together would be outnum- 
bered over and over again by the Teutonic—that is the Frankish 
—-infusion in French. This is the natural result of the difference 
between a destroying conquest, lke that of the English in 
Britain, and a colonizing conquest, like that of the Franks in 
Gaul. But the tables are turned the other way by the third, the 
Norman, infusion, under which I reckon those Romance words 
which it needs historical or philological knowledge to recognize for 
Romance words, as distinguished from those which, by their 
endings or otherwise, betray their foreign origin at first sight. 
All these three classes must be looked on as thoroughly natural- 
ized in English, just as the Frankish words are naturalized in 
French. But one of the gradual results of the Norman Conquest 
and of the establishment of French for a while as the polite 
speech in England—events to which there is no parallel in 
France after it became France—has been to set a fashion of 
bringing in Romance words, and even Romance endings, into 
English, while nothing has ever set the fashion of bringing a 
German or English—as distinguished from an Old-Teutonic— 


LECTURE 11Π 


283 


nfusion into French. For instance, we do not scruple to add ἃ 
Yomance ending to a Teutonic root, and thus to make sucha 
aongrel word as starvation, while French adopts such a word as 
veeting, but it does not add on the ending iny to roots of its own. 
‘till the greater Romance infusion in English, and the lesser 
‘eutonic infusion in French, both remain infusions, and do not 
ffect the substance of either language. With a little care, 
‘eutonic words may be avoided in French, and with somewhat 
nore care, Romance words may be avoided in English. The 
pposite process in either language is impossible. 


(86) Page 82.—The transitional days of European history, the 
lays of the Wandering of the Nations and of the Frankish 
lominion, will not be fully understood as regards Italy, unless 
ve bear in mind that Venice ‘elongs, in all but geographical 
yosition, to the eastern side of the Hadriatic, and not to the 
vestern, The Venetian islands are the one piece of the earlier 
Vestern Empire which escaped Teutonic conquest. They re- 
nained part of the Eastern Empire—1pets δοῦλοι θέλομεν εἶναι τοῦ 
Ρωμαίων Bacrtréws—till they were strong enough to build up a 
lominion of their own at the expense of both Empires. 


(87) Page 83.—See the Essay on Ancient Greece and Medieval 
-taly, in Historical Essays, Second Series. . 


(88) Page 83.—Nomenclature alone, without any help from 
‘ecorded history, is commonly enough to tell us which of our 
owns are of purely English origin. A Roman site most com- 
nonly makes itself known, if not by some corruption of its earlier 
1ame, at any rate by the word Ceaster in its various shapes. Of 
nost of our purely English towns, like Bristol or Oxford, all we 
‘an say is, that we first hear of them at a given time, without 
laving any record of their foundation. Of others, like Taunton 
n the eighth century, like the long string of places fortified by 
Hadward and Aithelfled in the tenth century, we know when 
hey became fortresses, but it does not follow that that was the 
ime when they first became dwellings of men. Another class of 
owns grew up round some great monastery, or, more rarely, as 
it Wells and Waltham, round a secular church. In the cases of 
Durham in the tenth century and New Salisbury in the thirteenth, 
thurch and city were founded together. But we have few towns 


284 NOTES ON 


in England of which we can safely say that they were called into 
being, like the cities founded by the Successors of Alexander, at 
the personal bidding of a King. Such however is Kingston-on- 
Hull, the work of the great Edward, and such also are several of 
the Welsh towns. In Bluntschli, Staats- wad Rechtsgeschichte der 
Stadt und Landgchaft Ztirich, we can trace out the steps by which 
a city arose out of a royal house, a monastery, a church of secular 
canons, and a primitive Jlarhgenossenschaft, all standing side by 
side. 


(89) Page 84.—On the Five Boroughs, see Norman Conquest, 
i.61; and on Lincoln, the greatest of them, iv. 208 ; on Exeter, 
ἃ the chance which it had in 1068 of becoming the head of 
s confederation of boroughs, see iv. 138. 


(90) Page 84.—The whole history of Bern, the greatest 
exalu,.2 in modern times of an inland city ruling ove. a great 
collection of subject towns and districts, is throughout eminently 
Roman. Liibeck, on the other hand, the head of the great 
commercial confederacy, as naturally suggests Carthage. 


(91) Page 84.—On this phrase, the proper title of the old 
Swiss Confederation, see Historical Essays, First Series, 352. 
The name “Swiss” and “Switzerland,” though they had long 
been in familiar use, did not form part of the formal style 
of the Confederation till 1803. 


(92) Page 84.—Verona, I need hardly say, is Dvetrichsbern ; 
and I have seen the Burgundian Bern called ‘ Verona in monti- 
bus.” The two names must surely have the same origin. The 
identification can hardly be so purely artificial as that which has 
turned Bormio into Worms. But what is the real origin? One 
thing alone is certain, that Bern has etymologically nothing to 
do with bears. 


(93) Page 85.—This is a subjeet which I must some day 
find an opportunity of discussing at length. I trust that I 
have shown, in a paper in Macmillan’s Magazine (July 1870), 
that the handing of Roman institutions to our own forefathers 
is simply impossible; but I find that, since then, the writer 


LECTURE Π|Ι 285 
against whom I then argued, Mr. H. C. Coote, has again revived 
the notion, and supported it with the same curious plausibility 
against Dr. Brentano, in a paper on the Ordinances of some 
Secular Guilds of London, reprinted from the Transactions of 
the London and Middlesex Archeological Society. 


(94) Page 87.—See Historical Essays, First Series, pp. 153, 
154, 


286 NOTES ON 


IV 


(1) Page 89.—See above, note 22 on Lecture IL, and Bryce, 
Holy Roman Empire, 192. 


(2) Page 89.—Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, 233. 


(5) Page 90.-—-This is the way in which the comparrtive and 
superlative βασιλεύτερος and βασιλεύτατος are used in the Iliad. 
Thus, 1x. 69 :— 


᾿Ατρείδη, σὺ μὲν ἄρχε, σὺ γὰρ βασιλεύτατός ἐσσι. 
καὶ μοὶ ὑποστήτω, ὕσσον βασιλεύτερός εἰμι. (1x. 160.) 


ἐς γενεὴν ὁρόων, μηδ᾽ εἰ βασιλεύὐτερός ἐστιν. (x, 240.) 


I do not profess to say off-hand that these forms are not to 
be found elsewhere in Homer ; but it is certainly worth noticing 
that these three passages all come from the undoubtedly sus- 
picious tenth book, and from the ninth, which Mr. Grote 
suspects, though I hold that Mr. Gladstone has made a good 
defence for it. The Homeric phrase is copied by Tyrtaios, 
Fragment ill. 7, οὐδ᾽ εἰ Tavradidew Πέλοπος βασιλεύτερος εἴη. 


(4) Page 90.—Wiirttemberg, as not being the name of any 
nation or tribe, or territorial division, nor even, like Hannover 
and Naples, of a city, is surely the strangest royal title that ever 
was heard of. As for the true Saxony and Bavaria, one might 
be inclined to call them, not so much divisions of the German 
nation, as nations whose union went towards forming the 
German nation. But it should always be remembered that even 
modern Bavaria in no way answers to ancient Bavaria, while the 
modern kingdom of Saxony has not a rood of ground in common 
with the Saxony which was subdued by Charles the Great. 


LECTURE IV 287 


(5) Page 90.—It must be remembered that the origin of the 
German and of the Italian kingdoms was quite different. 
The four strictly German kingdoms, Hannover, Saxony, Bavaria, 
and Wiirttemberg, arose within living memory by the breaking 
up of the ancient Kingdom of Germany. But the kingdoms 
of Sardinia and the Two Sicilies, though part of what had 
come popularly and practically to be looked on as Italy, and 
though the continental Sicily actually contained the oldest Italy, 
were not formed by any dismemberment of the Italian kingdom. 
They arose in lands beyond its borders. The crowns of Sicily 
and Sardinia, as distinct kingdoms, helped, along with those of 
Rome, Germany, Italy, Burgundy, and Jerusalem, to make up 
the sevenfold diadem of Frederick the Second. Sardinia and 
Sicily answer rather to Bohemia and Prussia, kingdoms form .d 
beyond the bounds of the prover German kingdom ; and the 
application of the Sardinian name to the continental possessions 
of the f'ardinian King, which was not uncommon befe- Pied- 
mont grew into Italy, answers very closely to the process which 
has carried the Prussian name to the shores of the Elbe and the 
Rhine. In both cases the King’s title was taken from a small 
and outlying part of his dominions. 


(6) Page 90.—A King for a term seems unheard of, except 
in the case of those mere survivals of kingship of which I have 
spoken further on. The reason no doubt is that it is felt that 
kingship, from the reason mentioned just below, conveys a sort 
of character inderbilis. The King might be deposed, but his 
deposition, though legal, was an extreme and unusual measure 
which was not contemplated on his admission to his office. He 
holds his office for life, subject to the unlikely chance of this 
extreme power being exercised. Such a tenure as this is some- 
thing different in kind from a tenure for a term, or during 
pleasure, or even ‘ quamdiu bene se gesserit.” 


(7) Page 91.—On Cesar’s desire to be a King, see Merivale, 
ii. 465. The dictatorships of Sulla and Cesar would answer to 
what Aristotle calls (Pol. iii. 14) αἰσυμνητεία, and defines as 
αἱρετὴ τυραννίς, and which forms one of the various kinds of 
kingship which he reckons up: but the αἰσυμνητεία was not 
necessarily held for life; ἦρχον δ᾽ οἱ μὲν διὰ βίου τὴν ἀρχὴν ταύτην, 
οἱ δὲ μέχρι τινῶν ὡρισμένων χρόνων ἢ πράξεων. So Dionysios (v. 73), 


288 NOTES ON 


ewes we em 


when he is trying to compare the Roman dictatorship to the 
Greek αἰσυμνητεία, οἱ yap αἰσυμνῆται καλούμενοι παρ᾽ Ἕλλησι τὸ 
ἀρχαῖον, ὡς ἐν τοῖς περὶ βασιλείας ἱστορεῖ Θεόφραστος, αἱρετοί τινες 
ἦσαν τύραννοι: ἡροῦντο δ᾽ αὐτοὺς αἱ πόλεις, οὔτ᾽ εἰς ἀόριστον χρόνον, 
» a 3 Ν Ἁ \ ‘ e , “ f \ > 
Οὔτε συνέχως; ἀλλὰ πρὸς τοὺς καιροὺς, ὁπότε δόξειε συμῴερειν, καὶ εἰς 
πόσον χρόνον. In his next chapter he goes on to discuss other 
cases of a temporary revival of kingly power under other names ; 
3 ἢ ? tA Ν λ Ἁ ‘\ N 9 ’, > 
ἠναγκάζοντο παράγειν πάλιν τὰς βασιλικὰς καὶ τυραννικὰς ἐξουσίας εἰς 
μέσον, ὀνόμασι περικαλύπτοντες αὐτὰς εὐπρεπεστέροις. Θετταλοὶ μὲν 

Ν 3 ‘ h , oe, ὃ , de ε A a 
yap épxovs, [w y not ταγούς 5 | Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ἁρμοστας καλοῦντες, 

, " “ἡ a 3 \ - ε 99) ψφῳ , 

φοβούμενοι τυράννους ἢ βασιλεῖς αὐτοὺς καλεῖν" ὡς οὐδ᾽ ὅσιον σφίσιν 
ὑπάρχον, ἃς κατέλυσαν ἐξουσίας ὅρκοις καὶ ἀραῖς ἐπιθεσπισάντων θεῶν 
ταύτας πάλιν ἐμπεδοῦν. In either case, whether the office was 
hold for a time or for hfe, the holder of it was not necessarily 
succeeded by another αἰσυμνήτης In truth the Roman Empire, 
down at least to Diocletian, was in form, as being in each case 
the s... eet of a special grant, a government of the sa.ie kind. 
A regular magistracy for life, such as that of the perpetual 
Ctonfaloniere in the reformed Florentine Constitution of 1502, 
is by no means usual. The Spartan Kings and the Venetian 
Doge are not exceptions. The King and the Doge were not 
mere magistrates, but princes, though cut down to the lowest 
amount of power. Priesthoods, both at Rome and elsewhere, 
were commonly held for life; but that was because they were 
not magistracies. 


(8) Page 91.—See Allen on the Royal Prerogative, 93-98, 


(9) Page 91.—Waitz, Deutsche Verfassunysgeschichte, i. 61. 
‘‘ Bei den germanischen Volkern, kinnte man sagen, erlangte sie 
fiir den christlichen Konig eine uhnliche Bedeutung, wie in 
heidnischen Zeit die Zuriickfihrung des koniglichen Geschlechts 
auf die Gotter gehabt hatte.”’ 


(10) Page 92.—Inquiry into the Rise and Growth of the 
Royal Prerogative in England. By John Allen. New edition, 
London, 1849. 


(11) Page 92.—See Allen, pp. 14, 172. 


(12) Page 93.—See the well-known verses in the Iliad (ii. 
102) about the descent of the sceptre, which, if they do nothing 


LECTURE IV 289 


---.---.... ..--..ὄὄ .-.’.-....,..---.-.. ae —~ = re α -- --.--.. 


else, show distinctly to my mind that the story of the Lydian 
origin of Pelops is no real primitive legend. Cf. i. 277 :— 


μῆτε σὺ, πηλείδη, θέλ᾽ ἐριζέμεναι βασιλῆϊ 
ἀντιβίην, ἐπεὶ οὔ ποθ᾽ ὁμοίης ἔμμορε τιμῆς 
σκηπτοῦχος βασιλεὺς, ᾧτε Ζεὺς κῦδος ἔδωκεν, 
11. 205: 
εἷς βασιλεὺς, ᾧ ἔδωκε Κρόνου παῖς ἀγκυλομήτεω. 
[σκῆπτρόν τ᾽ ἠδὲ θέμιστας, ἵνα σφίσιν βασιλεύῃ.] 


But the whole [liad is full of such passages. | 

It is curious to read the comments of Dion Chrysostom on the 
Homeric words. They are thoroughly characteristic of an age 
when Homer and everything else had become a subject of mere 
rhetorical display. His words G. 3) are: πάνυ yap οὖν καλῶς σὺν 
ἄλλοις πλείοσιν “Ὅμηρος, ἐμοὶ don tv, καὶ τοῦτο ἔφη, ὡς οὐχ ἅπαντας 
παρὰ τοῦ Διὸς ἔχοντας τὸ σκῆπτρον οὐδὲ τὴν ἀρχὴν ταύτην, ἀλλὰ μόνους 
τοὺς ἀγανούς. He goes on with a description of what a Kia, ought 
to be. When one finds the Homeric doctrine of the transmission 
of the royal authority from Zeus confined to good Kings only, 
one is tempted to wonder at finding the Wickliftite tenet of 
dominion being founded on grace already set forth in a discourse 
addressed to Trajan. 

I need hardly add that the succession of Jewish Kings from 
father to son, from David to the sons of Josiah, and of French 
Kings from Hugh Capet to Lewis the Tenth, are the most 
striking examples im history of direct succession In any royal 
house. 


(13) Page 93.—It is worth while to read the account which 
Plutarch (Théseus, 32) gives of the accession of Menestheus at 
Athens, and how he stirred the people up during the absence of 
Théseus. Le was himself sprung from the stock of Hrechtheus ; 
but he was, according to Plutarch’s story, the earliest demagoguce ; 
πρῶτος, ὥς φασιν, ἀνθρώπων ἐπιθέμενος τῷ δημαγωγεῖν Kat πρὸς 
χάριν ὄχλῳ διαλέγεσθαι. Cf. Pausanias, i. 16, 5, ὁ, But in 
the Homeric Catalogue (ii. 552, and in iv. 328) he appears as 
a διοτρεφὴς βασιλεύς no less than anybody else. Presently 
we find another break in the hereditary succession of the Attic 
Kings through the accession of Melanthos ; but here too the 
reigning King Thymoitcs is described as being deposed or driven 
out (Paus. 11. 18, 9: Μέλανθος τὴν βασιλείαν ἔσχεν, ἀφελόμενος 

U 


290 NOTES ON 


Θυμοίτην τὸν ᾿Οξύντου). In both cases the break in the suc- 
cession seems to be irvegular or revolutionary. I know of no 
case of orderly election of a Greek King in the Roman fashion. 

(14) Page 93.—Aristotle (Pol. iii. 13) describes the heroic 
monarchies as ἑκούσιωζ te καὶ πάτριαι γιγνόμεναι κατὰ νόμον, and 
directly after (14), αὕτη δ᾽ ἣν ἑκόντων μὲν, ἐπί τισι δ᾽ ὡρισμένοις, 
στρατηγὸς γὰρ ἦν καὶ δικαστὴς ὃ βασιλεὺς, καὶ τῶν πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺφ 
κύριος. 


(15) Page 94.—Qdyssey, 1. 99. 
ἀλλ᾽ ἦτοι βασιλῆες ᾿Αχαιῶν εἰσὶ καὶ ἄλλοι 
πολλοὶ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ ᾿Ιθάκῃ, νέοι ἠδὲ παλαιοί, 
So amongst the Phaiakians (Odyssey, viii. 390) :--- 


δώδεκα yap κατὰ δῆμον ἀριπρεπέες βασιλῆες 
ἀρχσὶ κραίνουσι, τρισκαιδέκατος δ᾽ ἔγὼ αὐτός. 


And they had already been spoken of as σκηπτοῦχοι βασιλῆες, 
vil. 40. = Tfesiod too (Works and Days, 200, 246, 259, 261) 
speaks of βασιλῆες rather as a class of whom there would be 
several in one state, than as holding a monarchy in the strict 
sense. 


(16) Page 95.—We get the account of the Interrex, and of 
his special mode of election by the patrician Senators, in Livy, 
iv. 43. He does not use the name in describing the first election 
of Consuls, but Dionysios (iv. 75, 76) gives the title to Spurius 
Lucretius, who, according to the story, presided at the Comitia. 
The words which he puts into the mouth of Brutus are remark- 
able: μεσοβασιλέα ἑλοῦμαι τὸν ἀποδείξοντα τοὺς παραληψομένους τὰ 

Ν N 3 Ν 3 ’ Ν. A 4 3 4 € Ἁ 
κοινὰ, καὶ αὐτὸς ἀποθήσομαι τὴν τῶν ἹΚελερίων ἀρχήν, ὃ δὲ κατασταθεὶς 
ς ) 9 A \ \ Ν aA 3 , 9 / 
im ἐμοῦ μεσοβασιλεὺς, συναγαγὼν τὴν λοχῖτιν ἐκκλησίαν, ὀνομασάτω 
τε τοὺς μέλλοντας ἕξειν τὴν μέλλουσαν βασιλείαν. On this last word 
see above, p. 210. 


(17) Page 95.—NLivy, ii. 2. “Rerum deinde divinarum 
habita cura; et quia quiedam publica sacra per ipsos reges 
factitata erant, ne ubiubi regum desiderium esset, regem sacrifi- 
culum creant. Id sacerdotium pontifici subjecere, ne additus 
nomini honos aliquid hbertati, cujus tune prima erat cura, 
officeret.” He appears also as “rex sacrificulus” in Livy vi. 41, 
nnd as “rex sacrificus” in xl. 42; but that his real title was 
“rex sacrorun,” appears from Livy himself (XXVil. 6), from 


LECTURE TV 291 
Gellius (xv. 27), and Cicero (Pro Domo Sua, 14), who shows 
also that the ‘‘ rex sacrorum,” like the Interrex, always remained 
a patrician. That is to say, as the magistracies were thrown 
open to the plebeians one by one (see above, p. 164), it did not 
occur to any particular reformer to propose a law to throw open 
the office of “rex sacrorum,” which was of no political import- 
ance. Dionysios (iv. 74) is emphatic on this last head. ἵνα δὲ καὶ 


τοὔνομα τῆς βασιλικῆς ἐξουσίας πάτριον ὑπάρχον ἡμῖν, καὶ σὺν οἰωνοῖς 
αἰσίοις θεῶν ἐπικυρωσάντων παρεληλυθὸς εἰς τὴν πόλιν, αὐτῆς ἕνεκα 
τῆς ὁσίας φυλάττηται, ἱερῶν ἀποδεικνύσθω τις ἀεὶ βασιλεὺς, ὁ τὴν 

A 4 ia on ὃ AQ / 7 3 λ 7 ne 9 7 
τιμὴν ταύτην ἐξων OLA βίου, πάσης ἀπολελύυμένος πολεμικῆς ἀσχολίας, 
ἕν τοῦτο μόνον ἔχων ἔργον, ὥςπερ ὁ βασιλεὺς, τὴν ἡγεμονίαν των 
θυηπολιῶν, ἄλλο δ᾽ οὐδέν. So Plutarch, Quest. Rom. 69. : διὰ τί 
τῷ καλουμένῳ ῥῆγι σακρώρουμ, (οὗτος δέ ἐστι βασιλεὺς ἱερῶν) ἀπεί 

L Μμ ᾿ PNY ρ ρ pe O ς 0€ ἐστι ασίλευς ἱερῶν) ATELPYT AL 
καὶ ἄρχειν καὶ δημογορεῖν ; ἢ τοπ’ λαιὸν ot βασιλεῖς τὰ πλεῖστα καὶ 
μέγιστα τῶν ἱερῶν ἔδρων, καὶ τὰς θυσίας ἔθυον αὐτοὶ μετὰ τῶν ἱερέων ; 
ἐπεὶ δ᾽ bx ἐμετρίαζον, ἀλλ᾽ ἦσαν ὑπερήφανοι καὶ βαρεῖς, 2, μὲν 
ΠΣ ᾽ὔ e as Ν 5 ( 4 5 “ / , Ν 
EAAnvwv οἱ πλεῖστοι τὴν ἐξουσίαν αὑτῶν περιελόμενοι, μόνον τὸ 

7 A ww 3 7 e σὰ Ν / \ “ 
θύειν τοῖς θεοῖς ἀπέλιπον. Ρωμαῖοι δὲ παντάπασι τοὺς βασιλεῖς 
4 ’ ¥ > Ν Ν ’ ¥ - » ) yy Pd »Ἤ 
ἐκβαλόντες, ἄλλον ἐπὶ τὰς θυσίας ἔταξαν, οὔτ᾽ ἄρχειν ἐάσαντες, οὔτε 
δημαγωγεῖν, ὅπως μόνον ἐν τοῖς ἱεροῖς βασιλεύεσθαι δοκῶσι, καὶ 
βασιλείαν διὰ τοὺς θεοὺς ὑπομένειν. ἔστι γοῦν τις ἐν ἀγορᾷ θυσία 

δ A A J / a ΄ ε Ν Ν 
T pos TW λεγομενῷ Κομητίῳ πατρίος, 14 θύσας O βασιλεὺς, KQTOL 
τάχος ἄπεισι φεύγων ἐξ ἀγορᾶς. 

A more instructive case of political survival can hardly be 
conceived. A King is so needful for the religious part of his 
office, while a King clothed with any shred of political power is 
so hateful, that a King is made whose kingship seems to shut 
him out from the common rights and duties of citizens. (Cf. 
Livy, xli. 42.) A more speaking symbol of his exclusion could 
hardly. have been devised than his offering his sacrifice, and then 
running from the Forum as from a place with which he had no 
further concern. We have a parallel to such a King in the 
Bishops who were kept at Jona and other Scottish monasteries, 
for the sole purpose of ordination, Bishops without any shadow 
of authority, and who were under the command οὗ their 
ecclesiastical superior the Abbot. 

Aristotle (Pol. iii. 14) speaks of this practice of cutting down 
the King to purely priestly functions as something usual in the 
Greek commonwealths :—vorepov δὲ τὰ μὲν αὐτῶν παριέντων τῶν 

, Ν Ν “ »” 4 9 Q ~ ¥ , 
βασιλέων, τὰ δὲ τῶν ὄχλων παραιρουμένων, ἐν μὲν ταῖς ἄλλαις πόλεαε 


292 NOTES ON 


ee 


4 ἴω ἴων ¢ ‘ ~ 
θυσίαι κατελείφθησαν tots βασιλεῦσι μόνον, ὅπου δ᾽ ἄξιον εἰπεῖν εἶναι 
’ a ~ ~ 
βασιλείαν, ἐν τοῖς ὑπὲρ ὁρίοις TOV πολεμικῶν τὴν ἡγεμονίαν μόνον εἶχον. 
On this last clause sce below, note 20. 


(18) Page 95.—A still stronger proof would be that the 
Emperors themselves so constantly held the actual consulship, 
always once at least in each reign, and often much oftener ; that, 
when they were not Consuls, they were invested with consular 
power; and that—though they could not be actual Tribunes 
becé.use of the adoption of the plebeian Octavius into the patrician 
gens Julia—they not only held the tribunician power, but they 
looked on it as the main source of their authority. See below, 
note 42, 


(19) Page 95.—The Spartan kingship was, in the ideas of 
Aristotle (Pol. 11. 14), a real kingship, not a mere survival, like 
the priestly kingships already mentioned. Tt is rath cr, in his 
eyes, the best example of a lawlul kingship: ἡ yap ἐν τῇ Λακωνικῇ 

, “A Ν ’ ων Ν 4 3 μὴ Ν 
πολιτείᾳ δοκεῖ μὲν εἶναι βασιλεία μάλιστα τῶν κατὰ νόμον, οὐκ ἔστι δὲ 
κυρία πάντων, ἀλλ᾽ ὅταν ἐξέλθῃ τὴν χώραν, ἡγεμών ἐστι τῶν πρὸς τὸν 
πόλεμον, ἔτι δὲ τὰ πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς ἀποδέδοται τοῖς βασιλεῦσιν. αὕτη 

\ εν ς / / 3 / \N sh) 9 3 
μὲν οὖν ἡ βασιλεία οἷον στρατηγία τις αὐτοκρατόρων καὶ ἀϊδιός ἐστιν. 
Afterwards he calls it στρατηγία διὰ βίου, and as εἰπεῖν ἁπλῶς 
στρατηγία κατὰ γένος ἀΐδιος. But, on the other hand, there is 
something remarkable in the way in which Herodotus (v1. 
56-58) sums up the privileges of the Spartan Kings, without 
noticing that they do not take in anything which comes 
under the ordinary idea of government. Thucydides, on the 
other hand (i. 131), notices it as something strange that the 
Ephors had the power of arresting the King (és μὲν τὴν εἱρκτὴν 
9 ’ δ “ e Ν ~ 3 , . WE Oe “ 9 , \ 
ἐςπίπτει TO πρῶτον ὑπὸ τῶν Eehopwvr ἐξεστι O€ τοῖς ἐφόροις τὸν 
βασιλέα δρᾶσαι τοῦτο), ἐν comment which is the more remarkable 
as Pausanias was not King, but Regent. Xenophdn too looks 
on the Spartan kingship as a real, though lmited, kingship. 
Thus, at the beginning of the Agésilaos (i. 1), he speaks of it as 
the only government which had really lasted, and that (see 
Growth of the English Constitution, p. 228) because the Kings 
did not seek for more power than the law gave them: ἡ yap 
πόλις οὐδειώποτε φθονήσασα τοῦ προτετιμῆσθαι αὐτοὺς, ἐπεχείρησε 

A Ἁ 3 Ν ae v “ 3 / / 
καταλῦσαι τὴν ἀρχὴν αὐτῶν, ot te βασιλεῖς οὐδεπώποτε μειζόνων 
ὠρέχθησαν ἢ ἐφ᾽ οἷςπερ ἐξ ἀρχῆς τὴν βασιλείαν παρέλαβον. τοιγαροῦν 


LECTURE TV 293 


—, ee ane a+ -- ee - ~ ---.-... .. --.--.. an 


ἄλλη μὲν οὐδεμία ἀρχὴ φανερά ἐστι διαγεγενημένη ἀδιάσπαστος οὔτε 
δημοκρατία οὔτε ὀλιγαρχία οὔτε τύραννις οὔτε βασιλεία: αὕτη δὲ μόνη 
διαμένει συνεχὴς βασιλεί. The same fact is also insisted on in 
the treatise on the Lacedemonian Commonwealth (15) which 
goes by his name, and he adds the custom of the monthly oath— 
like that of the Molossians—exchanged between the Kings and 
the Ephors on behalf of the city; 6 δὲ ὅρκος ἐστὶ, τῷ μὲν βασιλεῖ 
κατὰ τοὺς τῆς πόλεως κειμένους νόμους βασιλεύειν, τῇ δὲ πόλει 
ἐμπεδορκοῦντος ἐκείνου ἀστυφέλικτον τὴν βασιλείαν παρέξειν. He 
adds—atrat μὲν οὖν αἱ τιμαὶ οἴκοι [as opposed to his miliary 
command] ζῶντι [as opposed to the extravagant honours which 
he recoived after death.] βασιλεῖ δέδονται, οὐδέν τι πολὺ ὑπερφέ- 
ρουσαι τῶν ἰδιωτικῶν" οὐ γὰρ ἐβουλήθη οὔτε τοῖς βασιλεῦσι τυραννικὸν 
φρόνημα παραστῆσαι οὔτε τοῖς πολίταις φθόνον ἐμποιῆσαι τῆς 
δυνάμεως. Dionysios, in the speech assigned to Brutus, which 
I have quoted several times, makes the deliverer speak of the 
consulship as following the model of the Spartan kingship. The 
power of the Roman Consul was certainly greater than that of 
the Spartan Kings. But an hereditary office is essentially 
different from one held by yearly clection. The Spartan 
kingship was real kingship with 1ts powers cut very short: the 
consulship was the kingly power put into perpetual commission. 


(20) Page 96.—We have several notices of the Argeian 
Kings. Pausanias (ii. 19, 1) mentions that, from the reign of 
a certain King Médon, the royal power became merely nominal, 
and that after Meltas, who is placed (Clinton. Fast. Hell. 1. 249) 
in the days of Kleisthenés of Sikyén, kingship was abolished 
altogether ; ᾿Αργεῖοι δὲ, ἅτε ἰσηγορίαν καὶ TO αὐτόνομον ἀγαπῶντες 
3 4 Ν on 3 , “ ὕὔ > 5 , , 
ἐκ παλαιοτάτου, τὰ τῆς ἐξουσίας τῶν βασιλέων és ἐλάχιστον προήγαγον, 
€ 4 ~ J Ν “A 3 J Ν 5 ω ω 
as Μήδωνι τῷ Κείσου καὶ τοῖς ἀπογόνοις τὸ ὄνομα λειφθῆναι τῆς 
βασιλείας μόνον. Μέλταν δὲ τὸν Λακίδου τὸν ἀπόγονον Μήδωνος τὸ 
παράπαν ἔπαυσεν ἀρχῆς καταγνοὺς ὁ δῆμος. It is plain however 
that kingship went on much longer. There is a story told by 
Plutarch in his treatise περὶ τῆς ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τύχης ἢ ἀρετῆς 
(ii. 8), according to which kingship had such a hold at Argos 
that, when the old Hérakleid line died out, another King was 
chosen, in obedience of course to divine signs ; ἐξέλιπεν ᾿Αργείοις 
ποτὲ τὸ Ἡρακλειδῶν γένος, ἐξ οὗ βασιλεύεσθαι πάτριωον ἣν αὐτοῖς. 

΄“ ι δὲ Ν ὃ θ t e θ Ν ” 9 Ν ὃ / ν 
ζητοῦσι δὲ καὶ διαπυνθανομένοις 6 θεὺς ἔχρησεν ἀετὸν δείξειν: καὶ 
μεθ᾽ ἡμέρας ὀλίγας ἀετὸς ὑπερφανεὶς καὶ κατάρας ἐπὶ τὴν Δἴγωνος οἰκίαν 


591 NOTES ON 


— 


ἐκάθισε, καὶ βασιλεὺς ἡρέθη, Αἴγων. He has another reference 
to this election of Aigén in his treatise on the Pythian oracles 
(5), where he speaks casually of χρησμοῦ τινος ἐμμέτρου λεχθέντος, 
οἶμαι, περὶ τῆς Alywvos τοῦ ’Apyetov βασιλείας. But the most 
important notice is that in the well-known passage of Herodotus 
(vii. 148, 149), vwthere he tells us how, on the coming of Xerxes, 
the Argeians claimed, if they joined in the defence of Greece, 
to have an equal share in the command with the Lacedemonians. 
The Lacedemonians answered that, as they had two Kings, 
while the Argeians had only one, the command could not be 
ecually divided. Neither of the Spartan Kings could be deprived 
of his vote, but they were ready to allow the Argeian King a 
third vote along with their own two (λέγειν σφὶ μὲν εἶναι δύο 
βασιλῆας, ᾿Αργείοισι δὲ eva’ οὔκων δυνατὸν εἶναι τῶν ἐκ Σπάρτης 
οὐδέτερον παῦσαι τῆς ἡγεμονίης" μετὰ δὲ δύο τῶν σφετέρων ὁμόψηφον 
τὸν t Apyetov εἶναι κωλύειν οὐδέν). It would scem from this passage 
that the Argeian King, whatever his position may have been 
in other ways, at least retained the military command. The 
Spartans would never have proposed to give an equal vote 
with their own Kings to a magistrate whose functions were 
merely civil or priestly. The Argeian King would thus be 
one of the class spoken of by Aristotle in the extract in Note 17. 


(21) Page 96.—We get a vivid mention of the King-archon 
at Athens and his functions in the opening of the oration of 
Lysias against Andokidés, He puts the possible case of so 
impious a person as Andokidés drawing the successful lot for 
this archonship: ἂν νυνὶ ᾿Ανδοκίδης ἀθῶος ἀπαλλαγῇ ἡμῶν ἐκ τοῦδε 
τοῦ ἀγῶνος καὶ ἔλθῃ κληρωσύόμενος τῶν ἐννέα ἀρχόντων καὶ λάχῃ 
βασιλεύς. He goes on to speak οἵ a great number of religious 
duties which the King had to discharge. but presently he has 
to bring in the word in its more usual sense ; for he goes on to 
say that Andokides, in the course of his travels, had been a 
flatterer of many Kings, among which class Dionysios of Syracuse 
is reckoned by implication (βασιλέας πολλοὺς κεκολάκευκεν, ᾧ ἂν 
ξυγγένηται, πλὴν τοῦ Συρακουσίου Διονυσίου). Dionysios, according 
to the orator, was a match for Andokidés, and would not be 
taken in by him. 

The wife of the King-archon was βασίλισσα, as the wife 
of the Roman “rex sacrorum” was called “yvegina.” (CE. 


Pseudo-Dem. ο. Newer. 98.) 


LECTURE IV 295 


Besides the Hang-archon, there was another survival of 
kingship at Athens in the form of the Phylobasilets, who seem 
to be the same as the βασιλεῖς spoken of in the law of Solén 
quoted by Plutarch (Solén, 19). Plutarch scems directly after- 
wards to speak of them as πρυτάνεις. Very little seems to be 
known about the nature of their duties, but it is with their 
kingly title alone that we are now concerned. They must, one 
would think, have been the Kings of the four Ionic tribes before 
they were thoroughly fused into one commonwealth, something 
like the local Under-kings of the West-Saxons. In any case, 
they are another instance of the kingly title continumg to be 
held after all kingly power bad passed away, and that by 
magistrates who held no very important place in the common- 
wealth. 


(22) Page 97.—Momunsen, probably with truth, looks on the 
whole .egend of Romulus as comparatively late. she real 
ancient name of the city lurks in that of the Ramnes, and the 
ἐπώνυμος betrays his late origin by having his name formed 
from the later name of the city. However this may be, the 
legend which makes Romulus the son of Mars clearly shows an 
intermixture of Greck ideas. In the genuine Italian religion, 
not only is no man the son of a God, but there does not seem to 
be anything like generation or birth among the Gods themselves. 
The deities appear in pairs, male and female, and that is all; 
they are called “ Patres ” and “ Matres ” directly in their divine 
character. See Preller, Romische Mythologie, 50. The story of 
Numa and Egeria probably comes from the same _ hellenizing 
mint as the story of his having been a pupil of Pythagoras. 


(23) Page 97.—I mean that there is nothing strictly mythical 
about these stories; the institutions of Ancus and Servius are 
real; their authors, and the dates assigned to them, may be 
fabulous, but there is nothing of divine or heroic legend about 
the story. We know, from the example of undoubtedly real 
lawgivers like Solén and Atlfred, that such lawgivers constantly 
draw, as it were, to themselves all manner of institutions, both 
earlier and later than their own times. On this ground we 
distrust the accounts of the legislations of Ancus and Servius ; 
but, though they may not be historical, they are at least quase- 
historical. Sce Historical Essays, First Series, p. 4. 


296 


- 


NOTES ON 


(24) Page 97.—Whatever we make of the historical value 
of the stories of the Tarquini and Servius, to say nothing of 
Numa, it is plain that they could have arisen only among a 
people who paid no regard whatever to birth in the appointment 
of their Kings, and among whom the choice of a stranger, or 
even of a slave, was at least theoretically not impossible. It 
will of course be remembered that Claudius got hold of an 
altogether different account of the origin of Servius; still, 
though he is not described as a slave, he 1s described as a 


stra: ger. 


(25) Page 97.—There was a gens Ronulia at Rome, but it was 
of little eminence and never produced a curule magistrate. I do 
not know that there is any evidence that its members claimed 
descent from the founders of the:city. 


(20) Page 98.—See the account in Ierodotus (vi. 67’ of the 
bitterness of the taunt addressed by Leotychidés to Deémaratos, 


when he asks him ὁκοῖόν τι εἴη τὸ ἄρχειν μετὰ τὸ βασιλεύειν. 
(27) Page 98.—See Fed. Gov. i. 499. 


(28) Page 99.—I am not able to lay my hand on any better 
authority than that of Justin (Gi. 7): “ Post Codrum nemo 
Athenis regnavit, quod memoriw nominis ejus tributum est.” 
If any such motive was avowed, 16 must have been a mere 
pretext, as the abolition of kingship was a step which was 
unavoidable sooner or later. Still we have the fact that the 
Roman story represents the last King as a hateful tyrant who 
was driven out for his crimes, while the Athenian story repre- 
sents the last King as one who devoted his life for the safety of 
his country, and whose memory was ever after cherished with 
the deepest reverence. In short, the civic kingship was so 
impossible to last that neither a good nor a bad King could 
save it, and either the crimes or the virtues of a King might 
be assigned as a reason for getting rid of 1. 


(29) Page 99.—I seo no reason to doubt the common story 
as to the gradual fall of the archonship at Athens from the old 
hereditary kingship to a magistracy needing so little either of 
personal qualification or of the charm of illustrious ancestry that 


LECTURE IV 297 


ne re ee — ---Η- ee -..-.-. a te aes - - 


any citizen of decent character was held to be fit to hold it. 
First we have the single Archon for life out of the old royal 
fainily ; then the single Archon for ten years, still out of the 
old royal family ; then the board of nine yearly Arehons, aristo- 
cratic or democratic, chosen or taken by lot, according to the 
gradual stages in the developement of the commonwealth. The 
interposition of a δυναστεία, a single family from which 
magistrates were chosen, seems to have been a common stage 
between kingship aud the fully developed commonwealth, first 
aristocratic, then democratic. The Corinthian Bacchiads pre a 
well-known instance ; but perhaps the most interesting example is 
that of the Chaonians in Epeiros (see below, note 90). We migut 
also compare the tendency, even where there are no legal 
distinctions, to keep the great magistracies in certain dis 
tinguished families, as was fo-merly the case with the Swiss 
democracies (see Growth of the Kneglish Constitution, p. 27). 
The difference, of course, is that in this last case the δυναστεία 
had no acknowledged existence. Tschudi or Attinghausen might 
practically be an ἀρχικὸν γένος ; but this was simply because 
the electors habitually chose from among them: they had no 
privilege by law. 


(30) Page 99.—In the Parian Chronicle (Boeckh, ii. 301) the 
Archons for lfe appear as Kings. It is only when the archon- 
ship becomes annual that the style is changed. The 48th entry 
stands thus: βασιλεύοντος ᾿Αθηνῶν Αἰσχύλου ἔτους εἰκοστοῦ Kat 
ἑνὸς, ἀφ᾽ οὗ κατ᾽ ἐνιαυτὸν ἦρχεν ὁ ἄρχων: while in the 49th we 
have the usual forin, ἄρχοντος ᾿Αθήνησι λησί. So Pausanias 
(vii. 2, 1) describes the sons of Kodvos as disputing about the 
succession after his death, and uses the word βασιλεύειν ---οὐκ 
ἐφασκὲν 6 Νειλεὺς ἀνέξεσθαι Bactrevopevos ὑπὸ τοῦ Μέδοντος. 
What then was the difference between the Archon who was 
still called a King and the undoubted Kings who had gone 
before him? I conceive it to be that the King or Archon 
now became strictly responsible, as we have seen (see note 19) 
that the Spartan Kings were. In Greek ideas, the lack of 
responsibility scems to have been the essence of truce kingship. 
Thus in the Persians of Afschylus (213), Atossa speaks of her 
son Xerxes as οὐχ ὑπεύθυνος πόλει, aud we find this responsibility 
given as the actual definition of kingship by two later writers. 
Suidas, for instance, under the word βασιλεία, thus defines it—- 


298 NOTES ON 


-.-- ~ ee Ὁ. — eee a — ---...ὄ.ὄἕψᾧ. —— ee ee ~ 


βασιλεία ἐστὶν ἀνυπεύθυνος apxy οὐ μόνον δὲ ἐλευθέρους εἶναι τοὺς 
σπουδαίους ἀλλὰ καὶ βασιλέας. ἡ γὰρ βασιλεία ἀρχὴ ἀνυπεύθυνος, 
ἥτις περὶ μόνους ἂν τοὺς σόφους συσταίη. So Didn Chrysostom 
(i. 46): βασιλεία δὲ ἀνυπεύθυνος ἀρχὴ, ὁ δὲ νόμος βασιλέως δόγμα. 
In this last we have a forestalling of the great doctrine of. the 
Civil Law, though the Greek rhetorician does not stop to trouble 
himself with any theories about the “lex regia.” I conceive 
that, though the King or Archon was still appointed for life, 
yet he became subject, ike the magistrates who came after him, 
to the obligations of the formal δοκιμασία and εὐθύνη. This is 
quite another thing from a possible power of deposition, which, 
even if legally recognized, must always be something extra- 
ordinary and unusual. Some confusion between this state of 
things and the King-archon of the confirmed democracy may 
be traced in the words of the Pseido-Demosthenés against Neaira 
(98) : ἐπειδὴ δὲ Θησεὺς συνῴκισεν αὐτοὺς Kal δημοκρατίαν ἐποίησε καὶ 
ἢ πόλις .. λυάνθρωπος ἐγένετο, τὸν μὲν βασιλέα οὐδὲν ἧττον ὃ δῆμος 
ἡἠρεῖτο ἐκ προκρίτων Kar ἀνδραγαθίαν χειροτονῶν. This last state- 
ment leaves out of sight the fact that the kingship or archonship 
was confined to the single house of Kodros. In fact, at this 
stage of the Athenian constitution, the King or Archon, hereditary 
or at most chosen out of a single family, holding his office for 
life, but responsible for its administration, must have been 
exactly like the Spartan King, except that he had no colleague. 


(31) Page 99.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 126. 


(32) Page 99.—Didn Cassius (Ixix. 16). “Adptavos . . . . τὰ 
Διονύσια, τὴν μεγίστην παρ᾽ αὐτοῖς ἀρχὴν ἄρξας, ἐν τῇ ἐσθῆτι τῇ 
ἐπιχωρίῳ λαμπρῶς ἐπετέλεσε. ‘That is to say, he was the ἄρχων 
ἐπώνυμος Of the year. 


(33) Page 100.—Sce Niebuhr, Romische Geschichte, i. 544, 
i. 509 of the English translation. 


(34) Page 100.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 127. 


(35) Page 100.—The Presidency of the Senate and of the 
Assembly, the right of putting the question and deciding points 
of order, forms of itself an important distinction between the 
Roman Consuls and the Athenian Archons. The Archons, at all 


LECTURE IV 299 


events after the establishment of the full-grown democracy, never 
presided in the Assembly. That function belonged to the 
Prytaneis of the tribes in turn, as comes out strongly in the 
famous case of the presidency of SdEratés in the debates after 
Arginousai. At Sparta, on the other hand, the debate recorded 
by Thucydides (i. 87) shows that this power was vested in the 
Kphors. It is plain that, if the powers of the Prytaneis and of 
the Archons had been in the same hands, the position of the 
Imagistrates who held those conjoint powers would have been 
far higher than that of either Prytaneis or Archons separetely. 
It would have been inconvenient to place it in the hands of the 
Generals, the really highest executive magistrates of the Common- 
wealth, because it was perhaps already beginning to be felt that 
the position of Speaker and that of Leader of the House ought 
to be distinct. This came out 5011] more strongly in the Achaian 
Assembly, where the Démiourgoi acted as Speakers, while the 
Genera, acted as Leader of the Lfouse. See History ο΄ Federal 
Government, 1. 296. 1 may perhaps be allowed to add that 
some remarks on this matter will be found ina letter from Sir 
George Lewis, the last which I had from him, which appears at 
p. 427 of his published Letters. My answer to that letter led 
to some changes in Sir George Lewis’ views, which were 
embodied in the last thing which he wrote, the article on the 
Presidency of Deliberative Assembles, which is referred to at 
p. 480 of the Letters. I could have wished that all three, lis 
letter and mine and that article, had appeared together. 

The Roman magistrate also, the Consul in his Assembly and 
the Tribune in his, had a right of yet further importance, 
namely that he alone could make proposals to the Assembly. 
This, perhaps more than anything else, marks the far grewter 
power of the Roman magistrates as compared with those of 
Athens. 


(36) Page 102. Thue. 11. 8 Xdoves ἀβασίλευτοι, ὧν ἡγοῦντο 
ἐπ᾽ ἐτησίῳ προστασίᾳ ἐκ TOU ἀρχικοῦ γένους Φώτυος καὶ Νικάνωρ. See 
above, note 29. 


(37) Page 102.—On the Epeirot League, see Hist. Fed. Gov. 
1. 150. I have there spoken of the oath of the Molossian Ivings, 
as also in the Growth of the English Constitution, p. 229. 


300 NOTES ON 


(38) Page 102.—Of the Macedonian Assemblies I shall have 


more to say in the next lecture. 


(39) Page 102.—On the four Macedonian Commonwealthsg, 
see Hist. Fed. Gov. 661. 


(40) Page 102.—Scleukeia, as the chief Eastern outpost of 
Western civilization, remained a free city with a republican 
constitution till a very late time. The decline and fall of the 
Seleukid monarchy no doubt did much to strengthen its inde- 
pendence. In the time of Tiberius, Tacitus (Annals, vi. 42) 
speaks of Seleukeia as a free commonwealth, with a Senate of 
three hundred and a popular Assembly. But usually the two 
oiders did not agree, and the Parthian Kings sometimes stepped 
in to support the oligarchic i:terest. ‘“Seleucenses, civitas 
potens, septa muris, neque in barbarum corrupta, sed conditoris 
Seleuci actinens. Trecenti, opibus aut sapientia delecti, ut 
Senatus ; sua populo vis: et, quoties concordes agunt, spernitur 
Parthus ; ubi dissensere, dum sibi quisque contra szmulos subsi- 
dium vocant, accitus in partem, adversum omnes valescit. 
Id nuper acciderat, Artabano regnante, qui plebem primoribus 
tradidit ex suo usu: nam populi imperium juxta libertatem ; 
paucorum dominatio regi libidini propior est.” Pliny too 
(Ποὺ. Nat. vi. 30) speaks of it as “libera hodie ac sui juris 
Macedonuimque moris.” 


(41) Page 103.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, pp. 
180, 184. 


(42) Page 103.—On the importance of the “ potestas tribunitia ” 
Tacitus speaks strongly, when he says (Annals, 111, 56): “14 
summi fastigil vocabulum Augustus repperit, ne Regis aut 
Dictatoris nomen adsumeret, ac tamen adpellatione aliqua cetera 
imperia premineret.”’ He goes on to explain that the grant of 
the tribunttia potestas to Drusus was the same thing as naming 
him successor to the Empire. On the way in which the union 
of all powers grew into a power greater than any of them, 
compare the words put into the mouth of Tiberius himself a 
little before (iii. 53), “quia non Addilis, aut Pretoris, aut 
Consulis partes sustineo: majus aliquid et excelsius a Principe 
postulatur,” a 


LECTURE IV 221 


--.--- ..-..... 


--ὰὦἪ..-......--.---... --...ὕ...,....-.ὄ. 


σα .ᾳᾳΟΝ 


There is a most curious discussion in John Lydus (De Magis- 
tratibus, i. 3) of the distinction between τύραννος, βασιλεύς, and 
αὐτοκράτωρ, and (in 11. 1-3) there is also a description of the 
powers granted to both the elder and the younger Casar, The 
passages are much too long to quote in full; but it should be 
noted that this writer, writing in Greek in the sixth century 
but in a thoroughly Roman character, distinctly denies the 
power of the Kmpcrors to be cither βασιλεία or τυραννίς. ἔστι 
yap βασιλέως μὲν τρόπους ὃ νόμος, τυράννου δὲ νόμος ὁ τρόπος. τὸ 
γὰρ τῶν Καισάρων ἤγουν αὐτοκρατόρων ἐπώνυμον οὐδὲ βασιλείας ἀλλ’ 
οὐδὲ τυραννίδος ἐστὶ σημαντικόν, αὐταρχίας δὲ μᾶλλον καὶ αὐθεντίας 
τοῦ διοικεῖν τοὺς ἐξανισταμένους κατὰ τῶν κοινῶν GoptBous ἐπὶ τὸ 
κάλλιον. ἐπιτάττειν τε τῷ στρατεύματι πῶς ἂν δέοι μάχεσθαι τοῖς 
ἐναντίοις" imperare γὰρ τὸ ἐπιτάττειν παρ᾽ ᾿Ιταλοῖς λέγεται, ἔνθεν ἐμ..ε- 
ράτωρ. ΑἹ] this has the force of a protest, when we reinember how 
familiarly the name of βασιλεύς had for ages been apphed to the 
Emper rs. Lydus very naturally sets down Marius ar? Sula as 
Tyrants : but, what we should hardly have looked for, he sets 
down Romulus as a Tyrant also, and argues at some length that 
the Latin Ree answers to the Greek τύραννος. There is not a 
glimmering to be seen of the great dispute about pyg and 
βασιλεύς three hundred years later. 


(43) Page 108.—See above, note 18. 


(44) Page 103.—Theodorie was undoubtedly Consul, though 
his patriciate stands out more conspicuously in history. Both 
he and Odoacer were Patricians by Imperial commission, For 
the patriciate of Odoacer see the fragment of Malchos in the 
Bonn edition, p. 235. The Senate asks Znén to bestow that 
rank-on Odoacer ; πατρικίου τε αὐτῷ ἀποστεῖλαι ἀξίαν, καὶ τὴν TOV 
Ἰταλῶν τούτῳ ἀφεῖναι διοίκησιν, and the Emperor does so accord- 
ingly, βασίλειον γράμμα περὶ ὧν ἠβούλετο πέμπων τῷ ᾿Οδοάχῳ, 
πατρίκιον ἐν τούτῳ τῷ γράμματι ἐπωνόμασε. Of Theodoric the 
anonymous writer printed at the end of Ammianus (717) says ; 
“Zeno recompensans Theodoricum, quem fecit patriciuin et 
consulem, donans ei multum et mittens eum ad Italiam.” He 
goes on calling him “ Patricius” in a marked way. But 
Jornandes (57) emphatically brings out the consulship of 
Theodoric ; “factus est consul ordinarius, quod summum bonum 
primumque in mundo decus edicitur.” 


392 ! NOTES ON 


- Ὄσσαν a 


(45) Page 103.—It was held to be the peculiar good luck 
of Bottius that he was not only Consul himself but saw his sons 
Consuls. See the Consolatio, 11. 3, 4. 


(46) Page 103.—Jornandes (60) tells us pointedly how “ Justin- 
ianus Linperator per fidelissimum Consulem vicit Belisarium, et 
perductum Witigim Constantinopolim Patricil honore donavit.” 
So Prokopios (Bell. Goth. i. 5) pointedly marks that he was still 
Consul at the time of his conquest of Sicily, and that his year 
of office came to an end on the very day on which he entered 
Syracuse, τῷ δὲ Βελισαρίῳ τότε κρεῖσσον λόγου εὐτύχημα ξυνηνέχθη 
γενέσθαι. τῆς γὰρ ὑπατείας λαβὼν τὸ ἀξίωμα ἐπὶ τῷ BavdiAovs 
νενικηκέναι, ταύτης ETL ἐχύμενος, ἐπειδὴ παρεστήσατο Σικελίαν ὅλην, 
τῇ τῆς ὑπατείας ἐσχάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ ἐς τὰς Συρακούσας ἐξήλασε. He goes 
on to say, οὐκ ἐξεπίτηδες μέντοι .αὐτῷ πεποίητο τοῦτο, ἀλλά τις τῷ 
ἀνθρώπῳ ξυνέβη τύχη πᾶσαν ἀνασωσαμένῳ τὴν νῆσον Ρωμαίοις ἐκείνῃ 
τῇ ἡμέρᾳ ᾿ς τὰς Ξυρακούσας ἐςεληλακέναι, τήν τε τῶν ὑπάτε -’ ἀρχὴν, 
οὐκ ἤπερ εἰώθει ἐν τῷ Βυζαντίου βουλευτηρίῳ, ἀλλ᾽ ἐνταῦθα καταθεμένῳ 
ἐξ ὑπάτων γενέσθαι. 

(47) Page 103,—That Constantine held the office of General 
at Athens is recorded by his nephew Julian in his first oration, 
addressed to Constantius (8) : βασιλεὺς γὰρ ὧν, καὶ κύριος πάντων, 
στρατηγὸς ἐκείνων ἠξίου καλεῖσθαι, καὶ τοιαύτης εἰκόνος τυγχάνων μετ᾽ 
ἐπιγράμματος, ἐγάννυτο πλέον ἢ τῶν μεγίστων τιμῶν ἀξιωθείς. He 
goes on to speak of the gifts of corn which Constantine made to 
the Athenians, ἀμειβόμενος ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ τὴν πόλιν. See Finlay, 
Greece under the Romans, 340. 


(48) Page 103.— Plutarch, Cesar, 60, ἐκεῖνος οὐκ ἔφη βασιλεὺς 
ἀλλὰ Καῖσαρ καλεῖσθαι. 


(49) Page 103.--- Τὸ is hardly needful to collect examples of 
this usage from the New Testament onwards, and indeed one or 
two have come incidentally in the extracts which I have already 
given, But it is worth noticing how completely the orations of 
Didn Chrysostom addressed to Trajan assume the dominion of 
the Emperors to be a βασιλεία, though βασιλεία is throughout 
pointedly opposed to τυραννίς. In one place in the third oration 
(i. 46), after describing the oppressive ruler, Dién says, οὐκ ἄν 


»¥ \ A Ν xn 3 , Ἅ , Ν " 
ποτε εἴποιμι τὸν τοιοῦτον ἄρχοντα ἢ αὐτοκράτορα ἢ βασιλέα, πολὺ δὲ 


LECTURE [Vv 


503 


ΓΝ 


a 5 .,........... oe 


μᾶλλον τύραννον καὶ λευστῆρα, ws ποῖε προςεῖπεν ὃ Απύλλων τὸν 
"Σικυώνιον τύραννον. In another place in the second oration (i. 37), 
he incidentally brings out that solitary position of the Roman 
ruler which was so strikingly enforced by Mr. Goldwin Smith at 
the end of his famous review of Mr. Congreve. The good King 
is to do this and that for the public good, πρὸς δὲ τοὺς ἄλλους 
βασιλέας, εἴ tives dpa εἶεν, ἁμιλλᾶσθαι περὶ τῆς ἀρετῆς. The 
difference between this writer and one so much later as John 
Lydus is the difference between a Greek rhetorician speaking in 
n loose way of things as he practically found them, and a Roman 
lawyer, who happened to write in Greek, but who still dealt with 
the legal and historical side of things from a purely Roman point 
of view. 


(50) Page 104.—John Lydur (i. 4) points out the wearing of 
the diadem and the royal robes as an innovation of Diocletian, 
adding chat he thereby ἐπὶ τὸ βασιλικὸν ἢ τἀληθὲς εἶ". εἶν ἐπὶ τὸ 
τυραννικὸν ἔτρεψεν. Compare Aurelius Victor, Cresares, 39. 


(51) Page 104.—The word regnem is applied to the imperial 
rule, even by Tacitus, though it would seem always with some- 
what of sarcasm. Thus in the Annals (xii. 66) Locusta is said 
to have beon “diu inter instrumenta regni habita,” and again 
(xiii, 14) it is said of Pallas that “velut arbitrum regni agebat.” 
But much earlier (Annals, i. 4) Tacitus speaks of the house of 
Augustus as ‘domus regnatrix ” seemingly without any sarcastic 
meaning, 


(52) Page 104.—The name regia is more than orce applied by 
Tacitus to the Imperial dwelling. Thus in the Annals (xi. 29) 
Callistus, the former favourite of Caius, is described under 
Claudius as “ prioris quoque regiw peritus,”’ and in xiv. 13 it is 
said of the palace of Nero “deterrimus quisque, quorum non 
alia regia fecundior exstitit.” Here again there probably is 
sarcasm, but we must remember that the house of the Emperor 
was formally regia in his character of High Pontiff. If we leap 
from Tacitus to the next Latin writer who deserves the name of 
historian, we find, in the very first chapter of Ammianus which 
is preserved to us, the word regia, and pretty well every other 
derivative of rex, used as a matter of course, but rex itself never. 


901 NOTES ON 


(53) Page 104.—In the opening chapter of Ammianus (xiv. 1) 
the name regina is twice apphed to the Empress Eusebia. So 
again xvi. 10. So in xiv. 1 we read of “regia stirps,” and in 
xix. 11 of ““ sella regalis.”’ 


(54) Page 104.—-It is quite certain that no Emperor is ever 
called rex by any Latin writer. That the title was given to 
Hannibahianus the nephew of Constantine 1s also quite certain 
(sce the opening chapter of Aimmianus and the Article in the 
Dictionary of Biography). At any time before the decree of 
Antoninus Caracalla, one would have said that he was meant to 
Le King, not over Rome or Romans, but, like the sons of the 
Triumvir Antonius, over some of the provinces of the Roman 
Kmpire. but this secins hardly to apply, now that all the 
subjects of the Kmpire werealike Romans. Still this title stands 
quite by itself, and it 1s most striking to find the word rex never 
appued to the Emperor, though all its derivatives are so frecly 
applied to his belongings. 


(55) Page 104.—For the Roman appointments of Alaric see 
Zoisimos, v. 5, 31, vi. 7. 


(56) Page 104.—The consulship of Chlodwig comes from 
Gregory of Tours, 11. 38 “ Tgitur Chlodovechus ab Anastasio 
imperatore codicillos de consulatu accepit, et in basilica beati 
Martini tunica blatea indutus est et chlamyde, imponens verticl 
diadema.”” He was saluted by the people “tanquam consul aut 
Augustus.” The confusion between Consul and Augustus, in 
the mind either of Chlodwig or of Gregory, may remind one of 
the like confusion in the mind of Rienzi, when he ealled himself 
“candidatus Spiritis Sancti miles, Nicolaus severus et clemens, 
Liberator Urbis, Zelator Italix, amator Orbis, et Tiibunus 
Augustus.” Cronica Sanese, 1947. Muratori, xv. 118.  Chron- 
icon Kstense, ib. 441. 


(57) Page 104.—See Bryce, Holy Roman Empire, 404, Joseph 
the Second was the last who bore this title, having been elected 
in 1764, during the lifetime of his father, and becoming Emperor- 
elect on his death the next year. 


(58) Page 104.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
17, 169. 


LECTURE IV 305 


(so) Page 105.—So the Peterborough Chronicle, 449. “ Fram 
pan Wodne awoc eall ure cynecynn, and SuSanhymbra eac.”’ 
The contrary process seems to be set forth by King Atlfred when 
he tells the story of Odysseus and Kirké ; “ pa wees per Apollines 
dohtor, Iobes suna, se [ob wes hiora cyning, and licette pet he 
sceolde bion se hehsta god, and pet dysige fole him gelyfde, 
forpam Se he wes cyne-cynnes, and hi nyston neenne operne god 
on pene timan, buton hiora cyningas hi weorpodon for godas. 
Da sceolde pees Iobes feeder bion eac god, bes nama wees Saturnus, 
and his swa ilce el cine hi hefdon for god.” 


(60) Page 105.—See Norman Conquest, i. 593. 


(61) Page 105.—See Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte, 1. 
68, 166. 


(62) Tuge 106.—See above, note 76 on Lecture III. 


(63) Page 106.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
34, 171. 


(64) Page 107.—AlIl people, save those who fancy that the 
name Azny has something to do with a Tartar Ahan or with a 
“canning” or “cunning” man, are agreed that the English 
Cyning and the Sanscrit Ganaka both come from the same root, 
from that widely spread root whence comes our own cyn or kin 
and the Greek yévos. The only question is whether there is any 
connexion between cyning and ganaka closer than that which is 
implied in their both coming from the same original root. That 
is to say, are we to suppose that cyning and ganaka are strictly 
the same word, common to Sanscrit and Teutonic, or is it enough 
to think that cyning is an independent formation, made after the 
Teutons had separated themselves from the common stock? The 
former view is maintained by Professor Max Miiller, in the later 
aditions of the Science of Language (ii. 285), with an array of 
German scholarship which it is hard to resist. On the other 
hand it is equally hard for an Englishman, looking to his own 
language only, to resist the obvious derivation of cyning as the 
lirect offspring of cyn. See Norman Conquest, 1. 583, Growth 
of the English Constitution, 171. The difference between the 


two derivations is not very remote, as the cyn is the ruling idea 
x 


906 NOTES ON 


in either case; but if we make the word immediately cognate 
with ganaka, we bring in a notion about ‘“‘the father of his 
people,” which has no place, if we simply derive cyning from 
cyn. 


(65) Page 107.—See the pedigrees of Aithelwulf in the 
Chronicles under the year 855. They go straight up to Woden, 
and thence to Noah and Adam; but Woden is not made to 
spring from Shem, Ham, or Japheth, but from Sceaf the son of 
Noah, who was born in the ark. 


(66) Page 109.—Joshua ix. 2. 


(67) Page 109.—Genesis xxxvi. 14. The Hebrew AWS, from 
FY ON yens, answers however better to cyning than to heretoga. 


‘68) Page 110.—See the instances which I have collected in 
Note K in the Appendix to the first Volume of the Norman 
Conquest, and at page 172 of the Growth of the English Con- 
stitution. Another passage about the Goths will be found in 
Zésimos, iv. 34. Frithigern is ἡγεμών, while he speaks of 
᾿Αθαναριχόν τε πάντος τοῦ βασιλείου τῶν Σκύθων ἄρχοντα γένους. 


(69) Page 110.—This is the argument assumed throughout 
Dante’s great treatise De Jlonarchia. See Historical Essays, 
First Series. 


(70) Page 110.—See Norman Conquest, i. 26. Compare for 
Mercia also the account of the battle of Winfield, where Penda 
fell ‘and xxx cynebearna mid him, and pa weeron sume ciningas.”’ 
This last notice comes from the Peterborough Chronicler only. 
We may again compare the description given by Ammianus (xvi. 
12) of the Alemanni at the battle of Strassburg. Chnodomarius, 
the Bretwalda, so to speak, comes first; then some other chiefs 
by name; ‘“‘Hos sequebantur potestate proximi Reges numero 


quinque, Regalesque [probably Athelings] decem.” The Batavians 
also in the same account have several Kings. 


(71) Page 111.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
172. 


(72) Page 111.—See the famous passage in the Iliad, 11. 188, 


LECTURE IV 307 


(73) Page 112.—I shall have to speak more fully of this in 
my last lecture. 


(74) Page 112.—According to the famous doctrine of the Civil 
Law (Inst. i. 2. 6.) “quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem ; 
quum lege regia, que de ejus imperio lata est, populus ei in 
eum omne imperium suum et potestatem conc.dat.”’ With this 
lawyers’ theory of the origin of the Empire one may well com- 
pare the pithy account given by Tacitus (Ann. i. 2) of its real 
origin: “ Cesar dux reliquus, posito Triumviri nomine, Consulem 
se ferens et ad tuendam plebem tribunicio jure contentum ; ubi 
militem donis, populum annona, cunctos dulcedine otii pelle: it, 
insurgere paullatim, munia Senatus, magistratuum, legum, in se 
trahere, nullo adversante.” 


(75) Page 112.—See Norman Conquest, 1. 584. It is worth 
while to compare the definition given by Suidas under the word 
βασιλευς. Βασιλεὺς μέγας, 6 τῶν Περσῶν. τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους προςετί- 
θεσαν καὶ τῶν ἀρχομένων τὰ ὀνόματα, οἷον Λακεδαιμόνιοι, Μακεδόνες. 
He then goes on to distinguish βασιλεύς and τύραννος, and to 
point out how Pindar and others had applied the name βασιλεύς 


to tyrants. 


(76) Page 113.—I suppose that Russia is now the only 
European State to which this description would apply, the only 
one where the sovereign can legislate by himself, without even 
the form of consulting a national assembly of any kind. 


(77) Page 113.—See Norman Conquest, 1. 23, 78, and Growth 
of the English Constitution, 37. 


(78) Page 114.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
153, 


(79) Page 114.—See Norman Conquest, iv. 430. 
(80) Page 114.—See Norman Conquest, 1. 24. 


(81) Page 115.—The recovery of Southern Spain to the Empire 
in the wars of Belisarius must always be borne in mind, if we 
wish to have an accurate notion either of the map of Europe or 
of the position of the Empire in the sixth and seventh centuries. 
See above, note 32 on Lecture II. 


908 NOTES ON 


(82) Page 116.—See Norman Conquest, i. 78. 


(83) Page 116.—‘ Mundi Dominus” was always the title of 
the medieval Emperors. Take for instance the poem on Frederick 
Barbarossa published by Grimm (9), which begins “ Salve, mundi 
domine ; Cesar noster, ave.” 


(84) Page 116.—The kingdom of Henry of Saxony and Rudolf 
of Habsburg, the greatest among the German Kings who never 
received the Imperial crown; not, in any strictness, the Hmpire 
of Charles and Otto. Yet the use of the title of Emperor by the 
head of a confederation of princes can hardly be wondered at. 


(85) Page 116.—On the various names of the kingdoms which 
sprang up out of the divisions of the Frankish Empire, see 
Appendix T in the first volume of the History of the Norman 
Conyuest ‘“ Names of Kingdoms and Nations.” 


(86) Page 117.—I mean that, up to the extinction of the 
Hohenstaufen, the Empire followed that mixture of election 
and hereditary descent which was the law of all the Teutonic 
kingdoms. Then came a time during which birth was hardly 
regarded at all, though there was some faint approach to a 
dynasty in the Liizelburg Kings of Bohemia. Then came the 
long period which begins in the middle of the fifteenth century, 
during which, though other candidates were often talked of, yet 
the Electors always chose an Austrian prince, commonly the heir 
of the Austrian Duchy, or, as in the case of Charles the Seventh, 
an unsuccessful claimant of that Duchy, or, as in the case of 
Francis the First, the husband of its Archduchess. 


(87) Page 117.—See Norman Conquest, iv. 1699. 


(88) Page 118.—I cannot be said to be speaking too strongly 
on this point, when it is remembered that, in a book on Italy 
by Lord Chief Justice Whiteside, Switzerland was spoken of as 
‘a, Confederation of small Kingdoms.” It matters very little 
whether the writer really believed that there were twenty-two 
or twenty-five Kings in Switzerland, or whether he merely 
thought that the difference between kingdoms and common- 
wealths was of so little consequence that either word might be 


LECTURE IV 309 


we eee 8 Se πὸΛὐἋ-΄ -.-....-.-... ὠ--........ « -- 


used indiscriminately for the other. In either case it is an 
extreme illustration of the common ignorance and carelessness 
about such matters. In the common notices of Swiss matters in 
the newspapers, the cantonal Government of Geneva—because 
it is from Geneva that the telegrams come—seems always to be 
confounded with the Federal Government. Would the same 
writers mistake the Governor of the State of New York for the 
President of the United States ? 

Besides the Commonwealths of Switzerland, we must not 
forget the Commonwealth of Andorra, now looking calmly, 18 a 
steady elder sister, on the commotions of the younger and less 
successful commonwealths on either side of her. 


(89) Page 119.—On all these matters I would refer to th» 
Essay on Presidential Government which stands last in my First 
Series of Historical Essays. 


(90) Page 120.—The legitimate descent of Queen Elizabeth 
from Edward the Third through the house of York takes in nine 
generations of ancestors, two only of whom, her father and his 
grandfather Edward the Fourth, were Kings. And of them, 
only Henry himself came in by quiet succession. Her descent 
by the other line, that of Henry the Seventh, through the legiti- 
mated children of John of Gaunt, is still less kingly. 


310 NOTES ON 


ee -- - we ee 


V 


(1) Page 123.—On the relations of the Achaian cities to the 
League, see History of Federal Government, i. 256. 


(2) Page 124.—On the constitution of the Achaian Federal 
Assembly, see History of Federal Government, 1. 263. 


(3) Page 124.—We may see this process in England, as the 
small independent Kings and Ealdormen in Mercia sink into 
Ealdormen named by the central King of the Mercians, and 
again as the West-Saxon Under-kings of the royal house are also 
supplanted by Ealdormen. And the same process goes on as the 
several kingdoms are merged in one kingdom. The stages of 
this process are well marked in the cases of Mercia. From 
independent and conquering Kings like Penda and Offa, we 
come, in the days of Atlfred, to a King like Burhred, who is the 
man of the King of the West-Saxons; and then, between this 
sort of kingship and absolute incorporation, comes the stage 
represented by Aithelred and AXthelfled. See Appendix F in the 
first volume of the Norman Conquest. 


(4) Page 125.—The first Sunday in May is always the day of 
meeting for the Landesgemeinde of Uri, and the regular days of 
meeting for all the other Landesgemeinden come at the same 
time of the year. The distinctive peculiarities of all the Zandes- 
gemeinden of which I have seen those only of Uri and Appenzell- 
Ausserrhoden are described at length by M. Rambert in an 
article in the Bibliothéque Universelle in the course of 1872. 


(5) Page 126.—The mere slave, the servus, δοῦλος, or peow, 
has, by the nature of the case, no political rights, because he has 


LECTURE V 3lt 


not ven the common rights of humanity. But, besides the 
actual slave and the free μέτοικος who 1s a citizen of some other 
commonwealth, there is the large class of the w/e, filling up 
in various degrees the space between the mere slave and the full 
citizen. At Sparta we might reckon the περίοικοι, burghers of 
a subject township, and the Helots, slaves of the commonwealth 
but not slaves of individual masters, as representing severally 
a high and a low stage of this intermediate position. The 
Thessalian πενέσται, perhaps the Roman clients, would be other 
examples. So in the Teutonic system we find the liberti of 
Tacitus (Germ. 25), that is the Letas, Liten or Lazzen (see page 
161), on whom see Waitz (i. 179) and the chapter in Kemble on 
the Unfree. The class revives again at a later time in England 
in the form of the villeins reyardant of our lawyers, a class formed 
on the one hand by raising thc mere slave, the peow, the servus 
of Domesday, and on the other hand by lowering the free ceor, 
the vil’..wus of Domesday. 

One would have thought that it was inherent in this class to 
be without political rights, yet we have the strange statement 
about the Federal Diet of the Old-Saxons which I have quoted 
above. 

Kemble (i. 185) defines slavery as “‘dependence, the being in 
the mund of another, and represented by him in the folemdt.” 
This of course would take in classes much better off than the 
mere peow. 


(6) Page 126.—That is to say, the aristocratic commonwealth 
was democratic at its first starting. The Roman patricians, the 
populus or old citizens, of course began as a democracy among 
themselves, and their democratic character would not be affected 
by the’ presence of any class of the unfree, whether clients or 
mere slaves. They became an aristocracy, as there grew round 
them, in the form of the plebs, a body of men personally as free 
as themselves, but possessing only a lower political franchise. 


(7) Page 127.—Waitz i. 36. ‘Wie das Heer nur das im 
Kriege befindliche Volk darstellt, so sind auch alle militirischen 
Verhiltnisse nirgends von den iibrigen Zustinden des Lebens 
zu trennen; immer befinden sich kriegerische und richterliche 
Gewalt in Einer Hand ; wie das Volk Heer ist, die Versammlung 


812 NOTES ΟΝ 


des Volks Gericht, so ist der Richter auch Heerfiihrer. Eine 
Kintheilung des Heers setzt daher stets eine gleiche des Volks 
voraus, die des Volks muss mit der des Landes identisch sein.”’ 


(8) Page 128.—It is hardly needful to point out that the famous 
Assembly of the Achaians in the second book of the Iliad is, in 
the nature of thé case, a military assembly. But it is worth 
marking that it is ἀγορή in verse 51, 93, 96, λαός in 97-100, 
στρατός and ἀγορή both, in 207, and πληθύς in 278. 


(9) Page 128.—The Macedonian military assembly is spoken 
of: by Arrian, 111. 27, 2, 27, 3, as πλῆθος and Μακεδόνες, in 27, 
4, 1b 18 ἐκκλησία. 


| (10) Page 128.—See Norman Conquest, 11, 103. 


(rt) Page 128.—I mean the Athenian process by which the 
Generals chose ἐκ καταλόγου, from the list of citizens of the 
military age, such as they thought good to call upon for the 
particular expedition. 


(12) Page 128,—This comes out very strongly in the history 
of the Athenian siege of Syracuse. The army in Sicily, though 
forming so large a part of the Athenian people, waits for and 
obeys the orders of the citizens who remained at home as sub- 
missively as the subjects of a despot could do. 


(13) Page 128.—See the action of the Athenian Senate and 
People at Salamis in Herodotus, ix. 4 et seq. It is worth noting 
that the violence done to the Senator Lykidas, who proposed 
submission to the Persians, and still more the violence done 
by the Athenian women to his wife and children, are things 
altogether without parallel within the city itself. 


(14) Page 128.—Thucydides, viii. 76, where the army at 
Samos acts for itself, and maintains the democracy after the 
oligarchic revolution in the city. Thrasyboulos and Thrasylos 
are made tosay ὡς οὐ det ἀθυμεῖν ὅτι ἡ πόλις αὐτῶν ἀφέστηκε. They 
had just been elected Generals by the army, much as Camillus 
(Livy v. 46) is elected Dictator by the Roman Assembly at Veii, 
though the circumstances of the Roman migration to Veii are 
more like those of the Athenian migration to Salamis. 


LECTURE V 313 


(15) Page 129.—For the Atolian Federal Assembly held 
under the walls of the besieged city of Mededn in 8,6. 231, see 
History of Federal Government, 1. 413. 


(16) Page 130.—In the Teutonic mythology a God might die, 
as appears from the famous case of Balder. In the Greek 
mythology there is no case of the death of a God, though the 
possibility of such a thing seems implied in one passage of the 
Tliad (v. 388), where Arés is spoken of as running a chance of 
being killed by the sons of Aldeus. 

καί νύ κεν ἔνθ᾽ ἀπόλοιτο “Apys, τος πολέμοιο, 
εἰ μὴ μητρνιὴ, περικαλλὴς ᾿Ηερίβοια, 

Ἑρμέᾳ ἐξήγγειλεν, ὁ δ᾽ ἐξέκλεψεν “Apna 

ἤδη τειρόμενον᾽ χαλεπὸς δέ ἑ δεσμὸς ἐδάμνα. 


In the same speech both Héré and Aidés are spoken of as being 
wounded by Héraklés, and in the same book both Aphrodité and 
Arés a.e wounded by Diomédés (336, 855). 


(17) Page 131.—Tliad, xx. 10. 


ἐλθόντες δ᾽ ἐς δῶμα Ards νεφεληγερέταο, 
ξέστῃς αἰθούσῃσιν ἐφίζανον, ἃς Διὶ πατρὶ 
Ἥφαιστος ποίησεν ἰδυίῃσι πραπίδεσσιν. 


It was as needful in the divine as in the human Assembly 
that its members should be seated ; when men began to stand 
up, there was then, as now, an end to all order. Iliad, xviil. 
246. 


ὀρθῶν δ᾽ ἑσταότων ἀγορὴ γένετ᾽, οὐδέ τις ἔτλη 
ἕζεσθαι, πάντας γὰρ ἔχε τρόμος. Cf. ii. 96-100. 


(18) Page 131.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
168.: 

(19) Page 131.—Iliad, xx. 13. 

(20) Page 131.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, 83. 


(21) Page 132.—For this comparison I might quote no less 
an authority than King A#lfred, who looked on Odysseus as a 
King under the Emperor Agamemnén. “Hit gebyrede gio 
on Troiana gewinne pet per wes an cyning pes nama Aulixes, 
se hefde twa pioda under bam kasere. a Sioda weron hatena 
TSacige and Retie, and pees kaseres nama wes Agamemnon.” 


314 NOTES ON 


--........... 


----- ee ------- - ---- - a ee. 


(22) Page 132.—lIliad, xvi. 434. 


(23) Page 132.—Odyssey, ii. 26. 


οὐδέ ποθ᾽ ἡμετέρη ἀγορὴ γένετ᾽ οὐδὲ θόωκος, 
ἐξ οὗ ᾽Οδυσσεὺς δῖος ἔβη κοίλῃς ἐνὶ νηυσί. 
ε 


(24) Page 133.—Tacitus, Germania, 11. ‘Si displicuit sen- 
tentia, fremitu adspernantur ; sin placuit, frameas concutiunt. 
Honoratissimum adsensus genus est, armis laudare.”’ 

{ 


'(25) Page 133.—Thucydides, i. 87. κρίνουσι yap βοῇ καὶ od 
ψήφῳ. 


(26) Page 134.—I will refer only to two examples, one of 
an Assembly which was held, and another of one which was 
not held, but which proves almost more than any of those 
which were held. Kassandros, having Olympias in his power, 
but having promised to spare her life, first holds an Assembly 
in which she is condemned to death in her absence; then, when 
she still demands a public trial, he shrinks from the effect which 
he knew that her presence would have upon the Assembly, 
and causes her to be put to death privately. Diod. xix. 51. 
ὁ δὲ Κάσσανδρος. . . . προετρέψατο τοὺς οἰκείους τῶν ἀνῃρημένων ὑπ᾽ 
᾿Ολυμπιάδος ἐν κοινῇ τῶν Μακεδόνων ἐκκλησίᾳ κατηγορεῖν τῆς 
προειρημένης γυναικός. ὧν ποιησάντων TO προςταχθὲν, καὶ τῆς ᾿᾽Ολυμ- 
πιάδος οὔτε παρούσης οὔτε ἐχούσης τοὺς ἀπολογησομένους, οἱ per 
Μακεδόνες κατεγίνωσκον αὐτῆς θάνατον... . εὐλαβεῖτο γὰρ ἅμα καὶ 
τὸ περὶ αὐτὴν ἀξίωμα καὶ τὸ τῶν Μακεδόνων εὐμετάβολον. τῆς δ᾽ 
᾿᾽Ολυμπιάδος οὐ φαμένης φεύξεσθαι, τοὐναντίον 8 ἑτοίμης οὔσης ἐν 
πᾶσι Μακεδόσι κριθῆναι, ὁ Κάσσανδρος φοβηθεὶς μήποτε τὸ πλῆθος 
ἀκοῦον τῆς βασιλίσσης ἀπολογουμένης καὶ τῶν ᾿Αλεξάνδρου καὶ 
Φιλίππου πρὸς ἅπαν τὸ ἔθνος εὐεργεσιῶν ἀναμιμνησκόμενον μετανοήσῃ. 
κιτιλ. 


(27) Page 134.—Thus in Arrian, 111, 26, Philétas is accused 
by Alexander before the Macedonian Assembly and is con- 
demned, while in the next chapter Amyntas and several others 
are accused and acquitted. 


(28) Page 135.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, 189. 


LECTURE V 315 


-----. -- arnt, 


(25) Page 137.—If we reckon from the legislation of 
Kleisthenés in B.c. 508 to the narrowing of the franchise by 
Antipatros in Β.0. 322, the time is less than two hundred years ; 
if we go back as far as Solén in 594, we are still a good way 
under three hundred. 


(30) Page 138.—See the definition of democracy given by 
Athénagoras in Thucydides, Growth of the English Constitution, 
158. Most of the characteristics of democracy of which I have 
spoken in the text I have worked out more fully in the Essay 
on the Athenian Democracy in my Second Series of Historical 


Essays. 


(31) Page 138.--One of the merits of democracy, accordirg 
to Periklés in the Funeral Ora‘ion (Thuc. i. 37), was the room 
which it gave to the developement of individual character and 
ability, as opposed to the unvarying routine to which very man 
had to submit at Sparta. ὄνομα μὲν διὰ τὸ μὴ ἐς ὀλίγους ἀλλ᾽ ἐς 
πλείονας οἰκεῖν δημοκρατία κέκληται, μέτεστι δὲ κατὰ μὲν τοὺς νόμους 

Α ‘ »” / a) \ Ν Ν ν 9 4 € Ὁ 
πρὸς τὰ ἴδια διάφορα πᾶσι τὸ ἴσον, κατὰ δὲ τὴν ἀξίωσιν, ὡς ἕκαστος 
ἔν τῳ εὐδοκιμεῖ. .. ἐλευθέρως δὲ τά τε πρὸς τὸ κοινὸν πολιτεύομεν 

ἃ 3 Ἁ Ν 3 / “ ) e / 2 , ε , 
καὶ ἐς τὴν πρὸς ἀλλήλους τῶν καθ᾽ ἡμέραν ἐπιτηδευμάτων ὑποψίαν, 

3 3 3 ~ Ν / 3 ) ¢ a“ ¥ IZA 3 ΄ 
οὐ δι’ ὀργῆς τὸν πέλας, εἰ Kal’ ἡδονήν τι δρᾷ, ἔχοντες, οὐδὲ ἀζημίους 
μὲν λυπηρὰς δὲ τῇ ὄψει ἀχθηδόνας προςτιθέμενο. He then goes 
on to speak of obedience to the laws and magistrates as one 
of the consequences of popular government. Modern writers 
very often charge democracy with doing the exact opposite 
to all these things, and especially with moulding all men accord- 
ing to one pattern. But it is commonly very hard to make 
out what modern writers mean by democracy, and it seems likely, 
on the whole, that Periklés knew best. 


(32) Page 139.—I have referred to the debate in the Spartan 
Assembly recorded by Thucydides, i. 67-88. The body debating 
is the general Assembly of the Spartan citizens (ξύλλογος σφῶν 
αὐτῶν ὁ εἰωθώς), as distinguished both from the smaller bodies 
in the Spartan Commonwealth and from the general Assembly 
of the Lacedemonian allies which appears in ὁ, 119. The 
Corinthians and others are heard, and the Athenian Ambassadors 
are heard in answer. Then the Spartans debate among them- 
selves; but the narrative seems to imply that no one spoke 


916 NOTES ON 


except the two great official persons, the King Archidamos 
and the Ephor Sthenelaidas, and the latter seems to wind up the 
debate somewhat suddenly by his official authority. It should 
be noticed that, after the cry of Aye and Nay (see above, note 
25) the Ephor professed—the historian hints that he merely 
professed ( βουλόμενος αὐτοὺς φανερῶς ἀποδεικνυμένους τὴν γνώμην ἐς 
τὸ πολεμεῖν μᾶλλον ὁρμῆσαι)---ἴο be unable to distinguish which 
side ‘‘had it,” and therefore he made the House divide. The 
words which I have quoted in the original should be noticed. 
Before the Ballot became law, one used sometimes to hear shallow 
people ask why, if electors were to vote by ballot, members of 
Parliament should not vote by ballot also. They forgot that 
it does not concern either of two electors to know how the other 
votes, while it does concern both of them to know how their 
representative votes. But in ayrimary Assembly there can be 
no objection to secret voting, if it be thought good on other 
grounds. And the story sounds as if Sthenelaidas had so:-ewhat 
unfairly made men vote openly, in order to carry his own purpose. 
It should be remembered that secret voting is the theory of the 
Oxford Convocation, that again being a primary Assembly. 

In all our accounts of Athenian Assemblies we hear of 
many more speakers than in this at Sparta, and we never 


hear of any magistrates stepping in in the authoritative way as 
Sthenelaidas did. 


(33) Page 139.—On the powers of the Achaian General see 
History of Federal Government, i. 287. 


(34) Page 140.—I have quoted this analog gy and one or two 
others at p. 308 of the same work. In one of the cases there 
referred to, that of the non-residentiary members of the Cathedral 
Chapters, there is a clear tendency at work to bring about a 
better state of things. 


(35) Page 140.—See History of Federal Government, i. 263. 
(36) Page 141.—See Norman Conquest, i, 100-109. 


(37) Page 141.—See History of Federal Government, i. 698. 
Norman Conquest, i. 592, ii. 330. 


(38) Page 142.—See Norman Conquest, iii. 623. 


LECTURE V 317 
(39) Page 142.—The changes in the Frankish Assemblies 
under the Merwings and Karlings are set forth in two chapters 
of Waitz, one in the second volume, headed Die Gerichts-, Heer- 
und Reichs-Versammlungen, the other in the third volume, headed 
Der Hof und die Reichs-Versammlung. The general result seems 
to be that the Assemblies greatly decayed under the Merwings, 
but that a new life was put into them by the Teutonic revival 
under the Austrasian Mayors and Kings. But, even under 
the Merwings, the old local assemblies seem to have gone on 
in their full vigour among the dependent nations (ii. 419; 439 ; 
444; 455). That under the Karlings the Assembly retained, 
in theory at least, its old popular character is plain from a crowd 
of passages collected by Waitz, 111. 468 et seq.; and his general 
conclusion (ili, 486) is: “ Man kann nicht zweifeln, dass cs 
ein allgemeines Recht der Fre-en blieb, sich auf der grossen 
Jahresversammlung einzufinden: eben darum heisst sie die 
allgem ine, und von der Gesammtheit oder Menge de: Volks ist 
ofter die Rede.” 


(40) Page 142.—Among the Bavarians and Allemans we find 
provisions enforcing attendance at the Assemblies. But these 
were not unknown even at Athens, as we see from the graphic 
description of Aristophanes in the opening scene of the 


Acharnians— 
ὡς νῦν, ὁπότ᾽ οὔσης κυρίας ἐκκλησίας 
ἐωθινῆς ἔρημος ἡ Πνὺξ abril, 
οἱ δ᾽ ἐν ἀγορᾷ λαλοῦσι, κἄνω καὶ κάτω 
τὸ σχοινίον φεύγουσι τὸ μεμιλτωμένον. ᾿ 


The appointment of special Schoffen, Scabini, Echevins, seems 
to have arisen from the necessity of insuring that some one 
should be ready to discharge the duties of the Assembly. See 
Waitz, iii. 487, iv. 325, and especially the chapter headed Die 
Schiffen in Savigny’s Geschichte des Romischen Rechts. Savigny’s 
distinct conclusion (i. 197) is that “der Unterschied lag nur 
darin, dass die Scabinen, als dffentliche Personen, die Verp- 
flichtung hatten, als Schéffen den Gerichten beyzuwohnen, 
wihrend es in der Willkiihr der iibrigen Freyen stand, zu 
erscheinen wenn sie wollten, nur mit Ausnahme der drey 
grossen Versammlungstage im Jahr, an welchen alle erscheinen 


mussten.” 
In the first page of Domesday, we find that in Kent those 


318 NOTES ON 


--- me rere ee ~ - .-.-- -- - - 


who were summoned to the Scirgemét and failed to appear were 
liable to forfeiture, provided the Assembly was held in the 
ancient place on Pennenden Heath. They were not bound to go 
further. “Si fuerint premoniti ut conveniant ad sciram, ibunt 
usque ad Pinnedennam, non longius. Et si non venerint, de hac 
forisfactura et de aliis omnibus rex 6. solidos habebit.” 


(41) Page 144.—See History of Federal Government, i. 211, 
271. So Thucydides (i. 125) remarks that in the Assembly 
of the Lacedemonian Confederacy—which, though not a true 
confederation, made some approach to it as being an Assembly of 
independent states—each city great and small had an equal 
vote. ψῆφον ἐπήγαγον τοῖς ξυμμάχοις ἅπασιν ὅσοι παρῆσαν ἑξῆς, 
rat μείζονι καὶ ἐλάσσονι πόλει, καὶ τὸ πλῆθος ἐψηφίσαντο πολεμεῖν. 


(42) Page 144.—This fact is preserved to us by Strabo and 
quoted ir History of Federal Government, 1. 209. 


(43) Page 145.—See Hist. Fed. Gov. i, 272 and compare the 
enfranchisement of the smaller Arcadian towns by Philopoimén, 
1, 626. 


(44) Page 145.—Compare Hist. Fed. Gov. 1. 270. 


(45) Page 146.—So Livy (1. 43) remarks of the Comitia 
Centuriata of Servius: “non, ut ab Romulo traditum ceteri 
servaverant reges, viritim suffragium eadem vi eodemque jure 
promiscue omnibus datum est; sed gradus facti, ut neque 
exclusus quisquam suffragio videretur, et vis omnes _ penes 
primores civitatis esset.” This passage takes for granted that 
the votes given in the Assembly will not be the votes of indi- 
viduals but those of tribes or centuries, otherwise the word 
viritim might be misunderstood. In the Comitia of the local 
Tribes one man’s vote was as good as another’s within the tribe. 
So in the Comitia of the Centuries one man’s vote was as good 
as another’s within the century. But in the local tribes there 
was no distinction of birth or rank; while in the Comitia of 
Centuries care was taken that the vote of the few rich men 
who formed one century should be equal to the vote of the 
many poor men who formed another century. In this way 
it might be said that in the Assembly of the Tribes—and in that 


LECTURE V 319 


— 


of the Curie also—votes were taken virttim; one man’s vote 
was as good as another’s 1n a sense in which it was not so in the 
Assembly of the Centuries. One man’s vote really did count 
for as much as another’s, except so far as one tribe or curia might 
contain more citizens than another, a distinction which had 
nothing to do with birth or wealth. 


(46) Page 146.—On the other hand, the yearly Senate is 
always spoken of as one of the specially democratic institutions 
of Athens, and, when the Four Hundred take possession of the 
government, one of their first acts is to turn out the Senate 


by force. See Thucydides, vil. 69, 


(47) Page 146.—On the lessening of the powers of the Areio- 
pagos see Grote, v. 480 et seaq. The truth is that, in a body 
elected for life, a feeling which may be called aristocratic, though 
not necessarily oligarchic, can hardly fail to grow up. ach 
member, as he enters it, is gradually brought within the influence 
of the general sentiment. 


(48) Page 147.—The Censors named the Senators, but it was 
usual for them at each census to place on the roll of Senators 
those whom the people had chosen to magistracies since the 
last census. The people thus indirectly chose the Senate. 


(49) Page 148.—See the passages collected in a note at 1. 264 
of the History of Federal Government. 


(so) Page 148.—Thuce. iil. 36-49. 

(51) Page 148.—Thue, vi. 8-28. 

(52) Page 148.—Xen. Hell. i. 7. 

(53) Page 148.—Sallust, Bell. Cat. 50-53. 


(54) Page 149.—Under Augustus and Tiberius the comitia 
gradually became a mere name. Caius professed to restore the 
Assembly to its old powers, but after a while he took away his 
own gift. The words in which Didn Cassius (lix. 20) describes 
this change are worth quoting; ἀπέδωκε μὲν γὰρ τὰς ἀρχαιρεσίας 
αὐτοῖς: ἅτε δὲ ἐκείνων τε ἀργοτέρων ὑπὸ τοῦ πολλῷ χρόνῳ μηδὲν 


920 NOTES ON 


ἐλευθέρως κεχρηματικέναι és τὸ δρᾶν τι τῶν προςηκόντων σφίσιν ἄντων, 
καὶ τῶν σπουδαρχιώντων μάλιστα μὲν μὴ πλείονων ἢ ὅσους αἱρεῖσθαι 
ἔὸ 4 λλ , 3 ὃ Ld \ € NA Ν 3 θ Ν , ὃ 
ει ἐπαγγελλόντων, εἰ δέ ποτε καὶ ὑπὲρ τὸν ἀριθμὸν γένοιντο, διομολο- 
γουμένων πρὸς ἀλλήλους, τὸ μὲν σχῆμα τῆς δημοκρατίας ἐσώζετο, 
> ϑδὼν 59. ο΄ νυν» \ ὃ \ a er» » a φ a . 
ἔργον δ᾽ οὐδὲν αὐτῆς ἐγίγνετο, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ὕπ᾽ αὐτοῦ αὖθις τοῦ Γαΐου 
7 9 ’ ‘ Ν ¥ , XN 3 \ a“ ’ 
κατελύθησαν: κἀκ τούτου τὰ μὲν ἄλλα καθάπερ καὶ ἐπὶ τοῦ Τιβερίου 


,ὔ 
καθίστατο. 


(55) Page 150.—See Growth of the English Constitution, 
162. 


{ 


(56) Page 150.—Ib. 82. Norman Conquest, i. 102. 


(57) Page 153.—Such for instance as the Parliaments which 
appointed the Bale which banished and restored Cosmo de’ 
Medici. Sismondi, ix. 39, 44. — 


(58) Page 154.—See Norman Conquest, ii. 339. Growth of 
the English Constitution, 7. 


(59) Page 155.—On the steps by which the Great Council of 
Venice, from its foundation in 1172, finally became, between 
1286 and 1319, the primary Assembly of an aristocratic body, 
see Sismondi, ui. 289; Daru, Histoire de Venise, vi. 11—14. 
After this process, called serrar del consiglio, the Council con- 
sisted of all who were then members and their descendants. 
By this means several ancient families were shut out. As this 
oligarchic body grew, the older democratic Assembly, without 
being formally abolished, gradually went out of use. 

I do not know enough of the history of Poland to be able 
to trace out in detail the steps by which the election of the King 
became vested in the general Comitia of the nobles, to the 
exclusion both of the Diet and of the rest of the nation. But 
it certainly was so from the extinction of the house of Jagellon. 


(60) Page 156.—See above, note 40. 


(61) Page 156.—The most important branches of the judicial 
power of the House of Lords seem likely to come to an end. 
That is to say, the separation between the legislative and the 
judicial branches of the Government will at last be fully 
carried out. 


LECTURE VI ᾿ς 22] 


VI 


(1) Page 160.—See note 59 on Lecture V. 


(2) Page 160.—I do not mean that I have any doubt that 
both the Eupatrids at Athens and the Patricians at Rome really 
had their origin in a body of old citizens, because there is quite 
proof enough in the way of inference and analogy to ma. it 
plain that such was the case. I mean that it is only from 
inference and analogy that we can say anything about the 
matter, that we have no records, such as we have of later times, 
nor even the witness of an intelligent observer from outside, 
such as we have in the case of the early days of our own 
forefathers. 


(3) Page 160.—I1t should net be forgotten that both actual 
slavery, the state of the beow, and the milder state of the villain 
died out in England, and was never formally abolished. Every- 
body knows this in the case of villainage, but I suspect that 
many people do not fully understand that actual slavery ever 
existed in England. When the Judges in the last century 
declared that there could not be a slave on English ground, 
they made an excellent piece of legislation, but it was essentially 
a piece of legislation, and its authors would perhaps have been 
amazed to hear of the Bristol slave-trade in the eleventh century 
and of Saint Wulfstan’s labours to put it down. 


(4) Page 161.—On the litt or lazzi see note 5 on Lecture V. 


(5) Page 161.—See the description of the Old-Saxons quoted 
in note 76 on Lecture ITI., and compare the earlier description 
of the same people in Nithard, iv. 2: ‘“ Quze gens omnis in tribus 


ordinibus divisa consistit ; sunt enim inter illos qui edhilingi, 
Y 


922 NOTES ON 


.-- -ο..ὕὔὖ0 ee νας... ---- 


sunt qui frilingi, sunt qui lazzi illorum lingua dicuntur ; latina 
vero lingua hoc sunt: nobiles, ingenuiles, atque serviles.” He 
goes on to speak of “frilingi lazzique, quorum infinita multi- 
tudo est.”’ 


(6) Page 162.—This is the view of Waitz, i. 86: “ Die 
Fiirsten sind vont dem Adel durchaus verschieden. Ich setze 
das deutsche Wort, wo Tacitus ‘principes’ nennt. ‘ Nobiles’ 
habe ich Adlige, ‘ nobilitas’ Adel iibersetzt...... Die Fiirsten 
(principes) werden in den Volksversammlungen gewihlt.”’ 


71) Page 162.—See Norman Conquest, i. 81. 
(8) Page 165.—On the Interrex, see above, p. 94. 


(9) Page 166.—I have referiz2d to this story in Historical 
Essays, Second Series, ii. 92, The whole description in Sallust 
(Bell. Jug. 63, 64) is most remarkable. Fully to take it in, 
three things must be borne in mind. First, that the Consulship 
was in the free gift of the people themselves, Secondly, that 
Metellus was a plebeian. Thirdly, that Marius had risen from 
one post to another till he had reached the Pretorship, the 
office next in rank to the Consulship itself. Also it should 
be noticed that Sallust uses the word Plebes, no longer in 
opposition to Patrica, but in opposition to WNobilitas. Sallust 
tells us how Marius was elected to the post of military tribune 
and then goes on: “ Deinde ab eo magistratu, alium post alium 
sibi peperit: semperque in potestatibus eo modo agitabat ut 
ampliore quam gerebat dignus haberetur ; tamen is ad id locorum 
talis vir (nam postea ambitione preceps datus est) consulatum 
appetere non audebat. Etiam tum alios magistratus plebes, 
consulatum nobilitas, inter se per manus tradebat. Novus nemo 
tam clarus neque tam egregiis factis erat, quin is indignus illo 
honore et quasi pollutus haberetur.” He then goes on to tell 
how Metellus tried by friendly remonstrances to persuade Marius 
not to stand for the Consulship: “ne tam prava inciperet, neu 
super fortunam animum gereret, non omnia omnibus cupienda 
esse, debere illi res suas satis placere: postremo caveret id petere 
a populo Romano quod illi jure negaretur.” At last he is be- 
trayed into an insult: it would be time enough for Marius to 
stand for the Consulship when his own son the young Metellus 
could be his colleague ; ‘“‘ Seepius eadem postulanti fertur dixisse, 


LECTURE VI 323 


ne festinaret abire ; satis mature illum cum filio suo consulatum 
petiturum. Is eo tempore in contubernio patris ibidem mili- 
tabat, annos natu circiter xx.’ 

This language, in the mouth of one who was himself a plebeian, 
shows how thoroughly the new notion of nobility had supplanted 
the old. Metellus speaks to Marius as Appius Claudius might 
have spoken to a forefather of Metellus. It shows also how com- 
pletely a mere customary prescription often seems to some minds 
to have more than the force of law, to be almost part of the 
order of nature. 


(10) Page 166.—See Norman Conquest, i. 85 et seqq. Growth 
of the English Constitution, 42 et seqq. 


(11) Page 167.—Lorl or Jarl is now held to be a contraction 
of Kaldor (see Max Miiller, Science of Language, ii. 280, 7th ed.). 
It is Guite in agreement with this that the shorter fo.m should 
prevail among the Danes, among whom names commonly appear 
in a shorter form than they do in English. And it would seem 
to follow from this derivation that the familiar jingle between 
Korl and Ceorl is simply a jingle. But this is one of those facts 
which are simply philological. Historically, Hor/—that is, as 
the name of a particular office, as distinguished from the general 
sense of noble—is a distinct title from Haldorman, the place of 
which it took. We first hear of Horlas in the Danish hosts 
against which Atlfred fought. Then the title was borne, as 
might be expected, by the Danish chiefs who settled in North- 
umberland ; lastly, under Cnut, it was extended to all England 
and supplanted Haldorman. See Norman Conquest, i. 76, 277, 
405, 646. 

The word Thegn, as far as we are concerned, starts from the 
meaning of servant, and thence rises to its higher political and 
social meaning. But it would seem that the primary meaning 
of all was rather man, and thence servant, much like the word 
man itself in its relation to dord. Other cases are our knave, 
Knabe, and the Greek παῖς ; or again entht, kneht, which, starting 
from the notion of youth, has passed through that of service into 
the opposite meanings of the modern German Knecht and the 
English knight. Though Thegn seems never on the Continent 
to have received the same fixed meaning as it did in England, 
yet the word in various forms is familiar enough, as we see from 


324 NOTES ON 


-- eee .... . --- -- «--.-..-.-... 


eee ey, 


the Degene in the second stanza of the MNibelungen-Lied A 
number of forms and uses of the word are collected in the old 
Thesaurus of Schilter (1738) under the word Diu. 


(12) Page 167.—This meaning perhaps comes out most strongly 
in the use of the adjective pegeni/ic. Thus in the Song of Maldon 
(see Growth of English Constitution, p. 46) Offa is said to lie 
thane-like by his lord Brihtnoth ; 


He leg Segenlice 
dSeodne gehende. 


And ina very remarkable document in Kemble’s Codex Diplo- 
maticus (iv. 54), describing the doings in a Scirgemoét in Here- 
furdshire, 1 woman named Eanwéne, whose son Eadwine was 
trying to dispossess her of some iands, says to three Thegns who 
are sent to her, “DoS pegenlice and wel.” That is, in modern 
language, “ Act like gentlemen.”’ 


(13) Page 168.—The word vassal is, according to Waitz (iv. 
205), of Celtic origin, and it seems to have started from the 
same point, and to have risen in much the same way, as our 
word theyn. In some cases (Waitz, iv. 229) “serviens,” “ servi- 
tium,” and other cognate words are used as equivalents to it. 
But I must venture wholly to dissent from this great scholar 
when he says (210) that the vassalage of the Carolingian age 
had nothing whatever to do with the old conutatus. 

‘Mit der alten Gefolgschaft hat die Vassallitat nichts zu 
thun; ohne Grund hat man in alterer und neuerer Zeit beide 
zusammengeworfen oder doch an einander gekniipft. Die Vas- 
sallitiit wird anders begriindet, hat andere Folgen, hat zugleich 
eine viel weitere Ausdehnung als jene.”’ 

To me it seems that the difference between the two things 
is exactly the same as the difference between the Frankish king- 
ship, while the Franks were still a wandering people, and the 
Frankish kingship, when its Kings held a territorial dominion 
over a large part of Europe and had begun to deck themselves 
with the Imperial titles of Rome. The character of the institution 
has in each case greatly changed, but it is still the same in- 
stitution modified by change of circumstances. Indeed Waitz 
himself says pretty much what I mean when he says (198): 
‘‘Dariiber kann nach allem was vorliegt kein Zweifel sein, dass 


LECTURE VI 325 


— - ------- 
tee 


der “Ympfang von Beneficium an sich ein Verhaltniss naher 
personlicher Verbindung, von Verpflichtung und Ergebenheit 
begriindete, dem Konig gegeniiber den allgemeinen Pflichten der 
Staatsangehorigen ein engeres persdnliches Band _hinaufiigte. 
Dies aber erhielt in dieser Zeit seinen bestimmten Ausdruck, 
seine feste Form durch die Commendation oder den Eintritt in 
die Vassallitit, die, urspriinglich auf andern Grundlagen er- 
wachsen, jetzt in die engste Verbindung mit den Beneficien ge- 
treten, ja zu dem eigentlich charakteristischem Merkmal fiir diese 
geworden ist.” I had not read this later part of Waitz’s work 
when I wrote the second chapter of the History of the Norman 
Conquest, and, though it supplies a vast mass of illustration in 
detail, I see no reason to give up the view which I have there 
set forth after Palgrave and Kemble. 

Waitz remarks (iv. 242) thas the system of vassalage grew 
much faster in the Romance than in the purely Teutonic lands, 
This v suld naturally follow if, as I hold, the fully developed 
feudal relation arose by the union of a Roman and a Teutonic 
relation in the same person. 

The way in which the feudal idea, the personal relation of 
lord and vassal, supplanted the strictly political notion of duty 
to the Commonwealth and to the King as its head is well put 
forth by Waitz, iv. 241. He quotes a variety of phrases showing 
how the King gradually came to be looked on chiefly in his 
character of lord. He might have added our old phrase of 
Cynehlaford and our modern phrase of “our Lord the King.” 


(14) Page 168.—I have said something on this head in the 
second volume of the Norman Conquest, p. 270. Compare also 
the remarks of Palgrave, Normandy, 11. 11. 


(15) Page 168.—We seem to see a trace of the comitatus in 
the “globus ferocissimorum juvenum” who surround Romulus 
in Livy, i. 12, and in the “delecta manus preesidil causa”’ who 
surround the Dictator Aulus Postumius in 11. 20, 


(16) Page 169.—We seem to be at Ilios or at Maldon, when 
we read how, in the fight by the Granikos, the companion 
Démaratos (Arrian, i. 15, 9) gives his spear to Alexander when 
his own is broken: Δημάρατος δὲ, ἀνὴρ Κορίνθιος τῶν aud’ αὐτὸν 
ἑταίρων δίδωσιν αὐτῷ τὸ αὑτοῦ δόρυ. 


326 NOTES ON 


(17) Page 170.—The Roman clients would be in old English 
phrase not so much thegns as loaf-eaters. The relation of the 
loaf-eater was surely a variety, though a very low variety, of the 
comitatus ; and even a churl might have his loaf-eaters, as apnears 
from the 25th law of Atthelberht: “Gif man ceorles hlaf-tan 
ofsleh®, vi scillingum gebete.”’ 


(18) Page 173.—At Bern the young patrician was literally 
apprenticed to political life by the singular institution of the 
Ausserstand, a copy of the real commonwealth with councils and 
magistrates of its own. The Schultheiss or chief magistrate of 
tne mimic republic was commonly elected a member of the Great 
Council of the real one. See the account in Coxe’s Travels in 
Switzerland, 11. 231. In his day, as in the earlier days of Bishop 
Burnet, travellers did not disdain to study the institutions of 
the country. 


(19) Page 174.—-I have before me, in a Geographisches statis- 
tisch-topoyraphisches Lexicon von Franken (Ulm, 1801), iv. 46, 
ἃ list of the twenty-three patrician families of Nurnberg, three 
of them had been admitted as lately as 1788, but none of these 
“novi homines” seem to have actually held seats in the Senate. _ 


(20) Page 176.—Numbers xxxv. 9; Deuteronomy iv. 41; 
xix. 2; Joshua xx. 2. The right is however by the Hebrew 
law strictly confined to the slayer who hated not in times past 
the man whom he slew. It would therefore not cover the case 
of the old Teutonic Fehie. 


(21) Page 176.—The laws of Atlfred (42) set forth the general 
principle that no man is to appeal to force till he has tried legal 
means ; ‘ Edc we bedda%, se mon se pe his gefan ham-sittendne 
wite, pet he ne feohte wr pim pe him ryhtes bidde.’’ Then 
follow a number of rules regulating the cases in which private 
war is allowed, the last of which is, if he finds a man with his 
wife, daughter, sister, or mother; “And mon mot feohtan 
orwige, gif he geméteS OSerne wt his ewum wife betynedum 
durum oS%Se under Anre redn, 06%e xt his déhter ewumborenre, 
oS%Se εὖ his swister [wwum|]-borenre, oS%e xt his médder, pe 
were to ewum wife forgifen his feder.” The Athenian law on 
this subject comes out in the First Oration of Lysias, where the 
slayer of Eratosthenés defends himself on the ground of the 


LECTURE VI ΄ 927 


adultery of the slain man with his wife. The case is more 
remarkable because Eratosthenés offered money, which the 
husband refused, determining, as he said, to carry out the law ; 
οὐκ ἠμφισβήτει, ὦ ἄνδρες, ἀλλ᾽ ὡμολόγει ἀδικεῖν, Kal ὅπως μὲν μὴ 
ἀποθάνῃ ἠντιβόλει καὶ ἱκέτευεν, ἀποτίνειν δ᾽ ἕποιμος ἣν χρήματα. ἐγὼ 
δὲ τῷ μὲν ἐκείνου τιμήματι οὐ συνεχώρουν, τὸν δὲ τῆς πόλεως νόμον 
ἠξίουν εἶναι κυριώτερον, καὶ ταύτην ἔλαβον τὴν δίκην, ἣν ὑμεῖς δικαιοτά- 
την εἶναι ἡγησάμενοι τοῖς τὰ τοιαῦτα ἐπιτηδεύουσιν ἐτάξατε. 

The Roman law on this head comes out in the Lex Julia, 
which gives the power of slaying the adulterer to either the 
husband or the father. See Huschke, Jurisprudentix Antej}"s- 
tiniana, 560 et seqq. There in the ““ Mosaicarum et Romanarum 
Legum Collatio”’ the rights of the father and the husband are 
carefully distinguished according to the rescripts of the Empercrs 
and the opinions of the great la vyers. 


(22) Page 177.—See History of Federal Government, 1, 3&1. 


(23) Page 177.—On all this see Allen’s note on the Judicial 
Power, Royal Prerogative, 88. 


(24) Page 178.—Leviticus xxiv. 19, See the article Zalio in 
the Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities. 


(25) Page 178.—See the well-known passage, Dad ix. 628. 


ynans* καὶ μὲν τίς τε κασιγνήτοιο φόνοιο 

ποινὴν, ἢ οὗ παιδὸς ἐδέξατο τεθνειῶτος᾽ 

καὶ ῥ᾽ ὁ μὲν ἐν δήμῳ μένει αὐτοῦ, πόλλ᾽ ἀποτίσας, 
τοῦ δέ τ᾽’ ἐρητύεται κραδίη καὶ θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ, 
ποινὴν δεξαμένου" 


(26) Page 178.—In Iliad, vi. 45, Adréstos craves his life of 
Menelaos and offers a ransom—dov δ᾽ ἄξια δέξαι azrowa—Menelaos 
is inclined to spare him, but Agamemndén steps in and slays 
Adréstos himself, and the poet approves the act. 


ὼς εἰπὼν ἔτρεψεν ἀδελφειοῦ φρένας ἥρως, 
αἴσιμα παρειπών" 


Compare the slaughter οἵ Lykaén by Achilleus, Iliad xx1. 
341-34. Achilleus, in the same spirit, refuses the ransom. 


(27) Page 178.—Tacitus (Germania, 12), after mentioning the 
severer punishments awarded to traitors and imitators of southern 


328 9 NOTES ON 


--- ...ὄ tee 


vices, adds: ‘Sed et levioribus delictis” [Mr. Kemble, i. 271, 
remarks that among these lesser crimes homicide must be 
reckoned], ‘pro modo, pena; equorum pecorumque numero 
convicti multantur, pars multe Regi, vel civitati pars ipsi. qui 
vindicatur, vel propinquis ejus exsolvitur.” So 21: ‘“Suscipere 
tam inimicitias, seu patris, seu propinqui, quam amicitias, necesse 
est: nec implacabiles durant. Luitur enim etiam homicidium 
certo armentorum ac pecorum numero, recipitque satisfactionem 
universa domus; utiliter in publicum ; quia periculosiores sunt 
inimicitie juxta libertatem.” On the growth of legislation on 
these matters, see Mr. Tylor on “Primitive Society” in the 
Contemporary Review, May, 1873. 


(28) Page 179.—There is an elaborate scale of this kind in 
the earliest monument of English jurisprudence, the Laws of 
AXthelberht ; but we find the degrees of bodily injury drawn out 
with no less care in the Laws of Atlfred three hundred years 
later. The series begins at No. 45 and goes on to the end of 
the collection of Laws. Schmid, 98. 


(29) Page 179.—See the scale of Wergilds in the Laws of 
fiilfred, 27 et seqq. (Schmid, 86), and on the whole subject see 
Kemble’s chapter on “ Fehde and Wergyld.” 


(30) Page 179.—See the Laws of Ine, 23, 24; 32, 33 (Schmid, 
30, 34). We do not find this distinction in the Laws of AXtthel- 
berht, from whose realm the Britons had been swept away, nor 
in the Laws of Atlfred, by whose time the Britons under West- 
Saxon rule had become English, but we do find it in the Laws 
of Ine, in whose time all Somerset from the Axe south-westward 
was ἃ recent conquest within which Englishman and Briton were 
still distinguished. 


(31) Page 179.—On the royal wergild, and the payment made 
by the Kentishmen for the blood of Mul and by the Mercians 
for the blood of Aélfwine of Northumberland, see Kemble, i. 
279-287. 


(32) Page 180.—In the time of Edward the Fourth, the then 
Lord Berkeley with his followers met his neighbour and kinsman 
Lord Lisle with his followers at Nibley Green. A battle followed, 
in which Lord Lisle was defeated and slain. Lord Berkeley had 


LECTURE VI 329 


ae tee wee te ee ee ee ee se ---. 


in the end to compromise the matter by a money payment to the 
widow of the slain man. This is, as far as I know, the last 
example in England either of private war or of the payment of 
the -vergild. 


(33) Page 182.—In the choir of Brecon Priory church is the 
monument of a local worthy, one of whose merits is said to have 
been that he was a “zealous defender of the rights of the 
inhabiting burgesses against foreigners.” 


(34) Page 184,—See the article on Swiss Federal Βοῖοι ἢ in 
the British Quarterly Review, April, 1873. 


(35) Page 185.—The relation of a British dependency to Great 
Britain is, even in the case of a colony enjoying the large:t 
measure of self-government, per oikic in two points. The colony 
may be involved in a war in which it has no concern, and to 
which 5 consent is not asked, even in that indire't way in 
which the consent of the mother-country may be said to be 
asked toa war. It also receives a Governor—whatever may be 
the real amount of his powers—whom it does not choose and 
whom it cannot dismiss, while it has not, as Parliament and the 
constituencies have at home, any means of controlling those 
who appoint him. The Isle of Man and the Channel Islands, 
dependencies which possess full internal self-government, but 
which still are liable to be legislated for by a Parliament in 
which they are not represented, are, by their geographical 
nearness to us, brought much more within the strict notion 
of περίοικο. But such a dominion as India stands of course in 
a relation which is rather provincial than perioikic. Still there 
is a wide difference between the inhabitants of British depend- 
encies of any kind and the subjects of Venice, Rome, or any 
other ruling city. The subjects of Rome or Venice, and in 
exactly the same way the subjects of Bern or Uri, were strictly 
subjects (Unterthanen) ; they not only had no voice in the affairs 
of the ruling state, but they had no means of obtaining any. 
But, in the case of British dependencies, the inhabitants are 
British subjects (Cives) ; their country may be said to be in a 
perioikic or provincial relation, but they themselves are not. 
personally provincials or περίοικοι, because they are British sub- 
jects, and, if they take up their abode in the United Kingdom, 
they can at once exercise all the rights of British subjects. 


sunys-Skizzen der freien und Hansestudte Liibeck, Bremen und 
Hamburg, by Professor C. J. Wurm (Hamburg, 1841), where 
(p. 115) I find this comment: “Das beiderstidtische (Li*deck 
und Hamburg gemeinsam angehorende) Gebiet ist eine Anomalie, 
aber eben keine grissere als das Verhiltniss der Herrschaft 
Kniphausen im deutschen Bunde.” In the Low-Dutch of the 
Hanse Towns the subjects were called Uvnlersaten. 


(37) Page 186.—See History of Federal Government, 1. 
82-638, 


(38) Page 187.—I forbear from enlarging minutely upon 
medieval Swiss history, because I trust to have opportunities 
of doing so more thoroughly, Voth in a longer and a shorter 
form. There is hardly any other part of the world which 
supplies sich varied forms of political knowledge. 


(39) Page 187.—It would call for more minute knowledge 
than we have to say what were the exact points of likeness and 
unlikeness between the Lacedemonian περίοικοι and the Italian’ 
allies of Rome. The Italian allies no doubt retained full local 
self-government, subject only to any occasional interferences 
which the policy of Rome might deem called for. On the whole, 
their position might seem much better than that of the Laconian 
περίοικοι. At the same time we must remember that the περίοικοι 
had towns of their own, and there is one most remarkable 
passage in Herodotus, where they seem to be put much more 
nearly on a level with Sparta than any one would have expected. 
I mean where Démaratos (vii. 234) tells Xerxes that there are 
many cities of the Lacedemonians, of which Sparta is the chief, 
ind her men the bravest. Mr. Grote also remarks that we have 
no right to assume that the condition of all the perioikic towns 
was exactly the same. Some, like Amyklai, seem to have been 
favoured above others. 


(40) Page 188.—It should not be forgotten that, during 
several years of the sixteenth century, Bern held the southern 
side of the Lake as well as the northern. These districts of 
Northern Savoy probably did not lose much at the time—unless 
we are to bring in theological controversies—by being given 


LECTURE VI 331 


back from the rule of the Bernese aristocracy to that of their 
own Duke, but, had they then shared the fate of their brethren 
on the northern shore, they would probably share it still. 


(41) Page 189.—See Historical Essays, Second Series, p. 143. 


(42) Page 189.—Corinth at least could ‘oast (Thucydides, 
i. 38) of the good terms on which she stood with all her colonies 
except Korkyra: ἡμεῖς δὲ οὐδ᾽ αὐτοί φαμεν ἐπὶ τῷ ὑπὸ τούτων 
ὑβρίζεσθαι κατοικίσαι, GAN’ ἐπὶ τῷ ἡγεμόνες τε εἶναι καὶ τὰ εἰκότα 
θαυμάζεσθαι. αἱ γοῦν ἄλλαι ἀποικίαι τιμῶσιν ἡμᾶς, καὶ μάλισα ὑπὸ 
ἀποίκων στεργόμεθα. And it is to be noticed that this language 
seems to imply a certain political authority on the part of Corinth 
over her colonies, which comes out more clearly when we find 
that the Corinthian colony of Potidaia received certain yearly 
magistrates from the mother-city (Thuc. i. 56: τοὺς ἐπιδημιουρ- 
yous ... ods κατὰ ἔτος ἕκαστον Κορίνθιοι ἔπεμπον), and that 2ven 
while Potidaia was a dependent ally of Athens. So little did 
Athens meddle with the internal constitutions of her depend- 
encies. 


332 NOTES ON 


hee ne - ---- ---ὦ. --. -. - oe - eee -- 


REDE LECTURE 


(1) Page 193.—It is plain however that something like Com- 
parative Philology began with Roger Bacon, and even before 
him, with Giraldus Cambrensis. One could hardly ask for a 
better setting forth of the reiation in which the Romance 
languages stand to the Latin than is given by the great friar 
in his Ορι.3 Tertium, c. 25 (p. 90, Brewer). “Εὖ hoc viemus 
in idiomatibus diversis ejusdem lingue; nam idioma est pro- 
prietas alicujus lingue distincta ab alia; ut Picardicum, et 
Gallicum, et Provinciale, et omnia idiomata a finibus Apulie 
usque ad fines Hispanie. Nam lingua Latina est in his omnibus - 
una et eadem, secundum substantiam, sed variata secundum 
idiomata diversa.” In the next page he speaks of the Greek 
knowledge of Robert Grosseteste. 

Giraldus, one may fairly say, noticed several of the points 
of likeness among all the Aryan languages of which he had any 
chance of coming across, and the British element in him gave 
him a wider field of observation than most of his contemporaries. 
There are two passages on this subject in the Itinerarium 
Kambrie. In the former (1. 8, p. 75, Dimock) he had just 
told a wonderful story about a boy who had learned the language 
of the Elves, which was very like Greek. He goes on to remark 
the analogies between Greek and Bret-Welsh, and his legendary 
explanation of them is at least not worse than the theory which 
explained the likeness between Sanscrit and Greek by the Indian 
expedition of Alexander. 

“Erant autem verba ... Greco idiomati valde conformia. 
Cum enim aquam requirebant, dicebant Ydor ydorum,; quod 
Latine sonat, aquam offer. Ydor enim aqua eorum lingua, sicut 
et Graeca, dicebatur: unde et vasa aquatica Ydrie dicuntur : et 
Duur lingua Britannica similiter aqua dicitur. Item salem 


REDE LECTURE 333 


-ο...ὕ». - eee ce ee -.οὔοὧὔὺὖᾧς.... “-- eee 


reqvirentes dicebant, Halgein ydorum; id est, salem affer. Hal 
vero Grece sal dicitur, et haleyn Britannice. Lingua namque 
Britannica, propter diutinam quam Britones, qui tune Trojan), 
et >ostea Britones a Bruto eorum duce sunt vocati, post Trojee 
excidium moram in Grecia fuerant, in multis Greco idiomati 
conformis invenitur.” 

He then goes on to remark the interchange between the 
initial s and the aspirate. ‘‘ Hic autem mihi notabile videtur, 
quod in uno verbo tot linguas convenire non invenio, sicut in 
isto. Hal enim Grece, //alein Britannice, //alein similiter 
Hibernice; Halgew, g interposita, lingua predicta. Item eal 
Latine,—quia, ut ait Priscianus, in quibusdam dictionibus pro 
aspiratione ponitur s,; ut fal Grece, sal Latine; hemi, semi ; 
hepta, septem,—Sel Gallice, mutatione a vocalis in 6, a Latine ; 
additione ¢ liters, salt Anglic>, sowt Teutonice. Habetis ergo 
septem linguas, vel octo, in hac una dictione plurimum con- 
corda~tes.” ‘‘Teutonice” here must mean some fcrm of the 
Low-Dutch. 

In the other passage (1. 15, p. 194, Dimock) he notices other 
likenesses between Bret-Welsh and Latin and Greek, several of 
the numerals being among his instances. 

‘“Notandum etiam, quod verba lingue Britannice omnia 
fere vel Greco conveniunt vel Latino. Greci Ydor aquam 
vocant, Britones Duur; salem Hal, Britones Halein; Mis, Tis 
pro ego et tu, Britones autem Mi, Ti; Onoma, Enou, Penta, Deca, 
Pimp, Dec. Item Latini frenum dicunt, et tripodem, gladium, 
et loricam ; Britones froin, trebeth, cledhif, et lhuric ; unico unig, 
cane can, belua beleu.’’ 

I do not undertake to vouch for Giraldus’ Bret-Welsh, but 
Mr. Dimock gives the British words in their modern shape. He 
says that he does not understand where Giraldus found his mis 
and tis as Greek for ego and tu. I conceive that what Giraldus 
had got hold of was the modern plurals pets and σεῖς. We 
must remember that in those centuries, setting aside men of 
exceptional learning like Roger Bacon, a man who wanted to 
pick up a few words of Greek would have more chance of getting 
them from an Italian sailor than from any scholar of Paris or 
new-born Oxford. 


(2) Page 195.—I have collected a few passages of the way in 
which Addison speaks of these matters. The name “Gothic,” 


394 NOTES ON 


glorious to us in one way from the memory of Ulfilas and 
Theodoric, and no less glorious in another way from its applica- 
tion, however strange, to the national architecture of England, 
Germany, and France, is with Addison always a word of 
contempt. In No. 63 the “heathen temple consecrated to the 
God of Dulness”’ is described as “ἃ monstrous fabric built after 
tho gothic manner, and covered with innumerable devices in 
that barbarous kind of sculpture.’’ He goes in and sees “the 
deity of the place dressed in the habit of a monk.” In No. 70 
he has something to say about ‘‘the Gothic manner in writing,” 
which, it seems, ‘‘ pleases only such as have formed to themselves 
a wrong artificial taste upon little fanciful authors and writers 
of epigram.” It is by a sort of Nemesis that we are told in the 
same paper that Homer wrote his poems “in order to establish 
among the Greeks an union which was so necessary for their 
safety” in times when their ‘collection of many governments” 
‘gave thegPersian Emperor, who was their common cnremy, 
many advantages over them by their mutual jealousies and 
animosities.” , It is however in this paper that he first calls 
attention to the real power of Chevy Chase, though in the next 
paper (74), when he speaks of it, he winds up his criticisms with 
saying: “If this song had been written in the Gothic manner, 
which is the delight of all our little wits whether writers or 
readers, it would not have hit the taste of so many ages.” One 
would be curious to know what epithet Addison would have 
given to the ‘‘manner” of the songs of Brunanburh and Maldon. 
In No. 98, not unfittingly following a paper about ““ Pharamond 
King of the Gauls”—who in another paper (480) has courtiers 
with French names—we find some strange kind of head-dress 
spoken of as a “ Gothic building.” To be sure in No. 329 Sir 
Roger is, one degree more respectfully, compared to “ the figure 
of an old Gothic king.” 

Two graver passages are worth referring to, one (No. 415) 
where Addison compares the Pantheon at Rome with a “ Gothic 
cathedral,” and says ‘how little” any one, “in proportion, is 
affected with the inside of the medieval building, though it be 
five times larger than the other; which can arise from nothing 
else but the greatness of the manner in the one, and the mean- 
ness in the other.” So, in No. 201, he takes upon himself to 
explain the origin of ecclesiastical vestments and ceremonies, 
which he accounts for in this fashion :— 


REDE LECTURE 335 


‘A Gothic bishop, perhaps, thought it proper to repeat such 
a form in such particular shoes or slippers; another fancied it 
would be very decent if such a part of public devotions was 
performed with a mitre on his head, and a crosier in his hand. 
To this a brother Vandal, as wise as the others, adds an antie 
dress, which he conceived would allude very aptly to such and 
such mysteries, till by degrees the whole office has degenerated 
into an empty show.” 

Did Addison really fancy Ulfilas sitting down to devise a 
particular kind of shoe ? 


(3) Page 195.—“ It is not long ago that one of them, [ Englisi: 
travellers] half unconsciously becoming the mouth-piece of a 
Russo-Scandinavian theory of history, talked with an odd air of 
spontaneous contempt of ‘that mushroom nation the Lithuan- 
ians. This is like talking of ‘those parvenu families the 
Courtenays and the Derings’; and it is a singularly unfortun..te 
hit, because every other word of the Lithuanian’s speech happens 
to be a genuine and remarkable voucher of the very hoariest 
Aryan antiquity, sometimes pre-Homeric, and even pre- Vedic. 
One is almost tempted to wish the writer up to his neck in a 
Lithuanian swamp, banished to the Lithuanian backwoods to 
keep company with the last living verb in -mi, the last old-world 
bison, and perhaps the last patriot.”—Selected Writings of 
Viscount Strangford, 1. 6. 


(4) Page 199.—I take my parable from the opening sentence 
of Saxo Grammaticus; ‘“ Dan et Angul, a quibus Danorum cepit 
origo, patre Humblo procreati, non solum conditores gentis 
nostre, verum etiam rectores fuere.”’ He goes on to tell how 
Angul gave his name to a province, and how his descendants 
afterwards passed into Britain, while Dan staid at home. His 
wife, it may be noticed, was “ Grytha, summe inter Theutones 
dignitatis matrona.”’ . 

A West-Saxon may perhaps kick at this genealogy, but it 
ought to pass for orthodox in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. 


(5) Page 202.—See Hist. of Fed. Government, i. 404, 451. 
(6) Page 202.—See Plutarch, Philopoimén, 21. 


(7) Page 203.—See Hist. of Fed. Government, i. 226. 


336 ς NOTES ON 


---- ee -- se “-ν. 


(8) Page 204.—While the language of Polybios is Attic so far 
as the forms of the words are concerned, the Arcadian and 
Eleian inscriptions in Boeckh (i. 705 et seqq.) have all more or 
less of a Doric tinge, and in some the digamma is kept on till 
a wonderfully late time. Thus in the inscription numbered 
1520, one so late as to contain the name of Lucius Mummius, 
we find the namé Facorvoyos written in very ancient letters, and 
Mr. Warren (Greek Federal Coinage, 45) quotes FALEION as the 
legend on the coins of the city which in high-polite Attic was 
called Ἦλις, but which seems, even in the second century B.c., 
to hive still called itself FaAcs. 


(9) Page 204.—The first stage of this struggle was between 
the Greek colonists and the Carthaginians, the second between 
the Eastern Emperors and the Saracens. In each case both the 
contending parties were swallowed up by the lords of the neigh- 
bouring part of Italy, in the first case by the Romans, in the 
second by the Normans. 


(10) Page 205.—See Knight’s Normans in Sicily, 244, 334, 


(11) Page 205.—On the conquest of Marseilles by Charles of 
Anjou and the fearful vengeance taken on the defenders of 
the commonwealth, see the narrative of William of Nangis in 
D’Achery, Spicilegium, 111. 40, 


(12) Page 205.—-On the history of the Commonwealth of 
Cherson see Finlay, Byzantine Empire, i. 415. He refers to the 
fragment published by Hase in his notes to Leo the Deacon, p. 
503. But it is well to give the description in full, because I do 
not see where Mr. Finlay found the words “cherish the institu- 
tions of Hellas,” though I do not doubt that they are borne out 
by the facts. The exact words of the Byzantine writer are: oi 
δὲ, εἴτε ὡς μηδέποτε βασιλικῆς εὐνοίας ἀπολελαυκότες, μηδ᾽ ἙἙλληνικω- 
τέρων τρόπων ἐπιμελούμενοι, αὐτονόμων δὲ μάλιστα ἔργων ἀντιποιούμε- 
νοι, εἴτε ὅμοροι ὄντες πρὸς τὸν κατὰ τὰ βόρεια τοῦ Ἴστρου βασιλεύοντα, 
μετὰ τοῦ στρατῷ ἰσχύειν πολλῷ καὶ δυνάμει μάχης ἐπαίρεσθαι, ἤθεσίΐ 
τε τοῖς Exel τὰ παρὰ σφῶν αὐτῶν οὐκ ἀποδιαφέροντες, ἐκείνων καὶ 
σπείσασθαι καὶ παραδώσειν σφᾶς ξυνέθεντο. This is at the time 
of the submission of the city to the Russian Wladimir. The 
anonymous writer speaks of course from a purely Byzantine 


REDE LECTURE 337 


point of view. But it is odd to find him using the word Ἑλληνικός 
at all, as in those days the word Ἕλλην and its derivatives 
commonly meant pagan, as opposed to Christian. There is an 
exemple in page 464 of the same volume. 


(13) Page 206.—On the exact position of Philip and Alexander 
with regard to Greece, I have said what I kave to say in the 
Essay on Alexander in the Second Series of Historical Essays. 
But I will here quote the words of Bishop Thirlwall, v. 479. 
“‘The honour of a seat in the Amphictyonic council, though 
conferred on the king, reflected upon his people ; it was eyuiva- 
lent to an act of naturalisation, which wiped off the stain of ius 
semi-barbarian origin: the Macedonians might henceforward be 
considered as Greeks.” 


(14) Page 206.—See Strabo, v. 112; Appian, Μῦν. 114. 
There is something strange in the look of the forms Γαλλόγροαικοι 
and Τ᾽ λλογραικία. 


(15) Page 207.—Some one may ask why I speak of “ monu- 
mental stones” in a city of brickwork like Ravenna. It 1s 
because the great brick churches of Ravenna, even those which 
were built or finished after the Byzantine reconquest, were built 
too early to have any Greek inscriptions. In Justinian’s time 
Latin was still, at all events at Ravenna, the speech of the 
Roman Empire. The Greek inscriptions, including the epitaph 
of the Armenian Isaac at Saint Vital and those which are 
collected in ἃ room in the Archbishop’s palace, belong to a later 
period of the Exarchate. But both at Torcello and at Saint 
Mark’s the Greek legend MP OY, if nothing else, is clear enough 
in the mosaics of the apses. 


(16) Page 207.—See the passage of William of Poitiers which 
I have quoted and commented upon at vol. iv. p. 86 of the 
History of the Norman Conquest. 


(17) Page 207.—I do not presume to go into the theology of 
the matter, but I conceive that historically the insertion of the 
‘‘Filioque” in the Nicene Creed is to be looked on like any 
other interpolation in any other document. 


(18) Page 209.—The epitaph of Nevius, written by himself 


and preserved by Aulus Gellius, 1. 24, 
Z 


888 “ NOTES ON 


yn 
- ν. 


“ς Mortales immortales flere si foret fas, 
Flerent Divee Camenze Neevium poetam ; 
Itaque, postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro 
Obliti sunt Rome loquier Latina lingua ”’ 


must be compared with the fragment of Ennius preserved by 
Cicero, De Claris Oratoribus, 18, 


‘¢(Quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant, 
Cum neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superarat, 
Nec dicti studiosus erat...” 


The Roman Camene and the Greek Muse are here carefully 
distinguished and opposed. On the revival of the real Latin 
literature with the Christian poets, see Mr. J. M. Neale in the 
History of Roman Literature, in the Encyclopedia Metropoli- 
tana, 214. ‘It is a curious thing that, in rejecting the foreign 
laws in which Latin had so long gloried, the Christian poets were in 
ἴδον merely reviving, in an inspired form, the early melodies of 
republican Rome ;—the rhythmical ballads which were the delight 


of the men that warred with the Samnites, and the Volscians, 
and Hannibal.” 


(19) Page 210,—The Saturnian line of Nevius, 
‘*Fato Metelli Rome fiunt consules,”’ 


and the answer to it, 


‘*Dabunt malum Metelli Nievio poetie,” 


have surely much more in common with medieval than with 
classical metres (See the song in honour of the Emperor Frederick 
in note 82 on Lecture IV.). The great poem on the battle of 
Lewes, the manifesto of the Liberal party in the thirteenth 


century, will be found in the Political Songs of England, pub- 
lished by the Camden Society, p. 72. 


(20) Page 210.—See Livy, i. 26. 


(21) Page 211,—I have somewhere seen these words put into 
the mouth of Queen Christina of Sweden. 


(22) Page 213.—Compare Horace, Odes, iii. 3, 11; Virgil, 
Georg. i. 24-36; Lucan, i. 45-59. We are commonly called 


on to believe that the flattery of Lucan was sarcastic ; but see 
Merivale, vi. 99. 


REDE LECTURE 339 


ee - -τ - ὦ... -.. ..... ------ .---.- -ὦ ὦ(. -α---.--....... «-«- -το νος 


-- -ππ- eee te eee 


(-3) Page 213.—The visit of Athanaric to Constantinople is 
recorded by Ammianus (xxvii. 5) and Zésimos (iv. 34), but it is 
only in Jornandes (28) that we find this remarkable speech put 
int. his mouth: ‘Regiam urbem ingressus est, miransque, ‘ En,’ 
inquit, ‘cerno quod szepe incredulus audiebam, famam videlicet 
tante urbis,’ et, huc illuc oculos volvens, nunc situm urbis 
commeatumque navium, nunc meenia clara prospectans, miratur, 
populosque diversarum gentium, quasi fonte in uno e diversis 
partibus scaturiente unda, sic quoque militem ordinatum aspiciens : 
‘Deus,’ inquit, ‘sine dubio terrenus est Imperator, et qu’squis 
adlversus eum manum moverit, ipse sui sanguinis reus exsistit.’”” 


(24) Page 213.—Orosius, at the very end of his work, records 
this famous declaration of Ataulf: ‘“‘ Nam ego quoque ipsi virum 
quendam Narbonensem, illustris sub Theodosio mi'itiz, etiam 
religiosum, prudentem, et gravem, apud Bethleem oppidum 
Palestine beatissimo Hieronymo presbytero referentem audivi se 
familiarissimum Atthaulfo apud Narbonum fuisse, ac de eo sepe 
sub testificatione didicisse quod ille, quum esset animo, viribus, 
ingenioque nimius referre solitus esset se in primis ardenter 
inhiasse ut, obliterato Romano nomine, Romanum omne solum 
Gothorum imperium et faceret et vocaret, essetque, ut, vulgariter 
loquar, Gothia quod Romania fuisset, fieret nunc Atthaulfus quod 
quondam Cesar Augustus, At ubi multa experientia probavisset 
neque Gothos ullo modo parere legibus posse propter efirenatam 
barbariam, neque reipublice interdici leges oportere, sine quibus 
respublica non est respublica, elegisse se saltem ut gloriam sibi de 
restituendo in integrum augendoque Romano nomine Gothorum 
viribus quereret, habereturque apud posteros Romane restitutionis 
auctor, postquam esse non poterat inmutator,”’ 


(25) Page 215.—See Gibbon, c. Ixv. (xli. 21, Milman). 


(26) Page 214.—See the account of the repulse of Alaric from 
the walls of Athens by the appearance of Athéné and Achilleus, 
Zosimos, v. 6. ἐπιὼν ᾿Αλάριχος πανστρατιᾷ τῇ πόλει TO μὲν τεῖχος ἑώρα 
περινοστοῦσαν τὴν πρόμαχον ᾿Αθηνᾶν, ὡς ἔστιν αὐτὴν ὁρᾶν ἐν τοῖς 
ἀγάλμασιν, ὡπλισμένην καὶ οἷον τοῖς ἐπιοῦσιν ἐνίστασθαι μέλλουσαν, τοῖς 
δὲ τείχεσι προεστῶτα τὸν ᾿Αχιλλέα τὸν ἥρω τοιοῦτον οἷον αὐτὸν τοῖς 
Τρωσὶν ἔδειξεν “Ὅμηρος," ὅτε κατ᾽ ὀργὴν τῷ θανάτῳ τοῦ Πατρόκλου 
τιμωρῶν ἐπολέμει. ταύτην ὃ ᾿Αλάριχος τὴν ὄψιν οὐκ ἐνεγκὼν πάσης μὲν 
ἀπέστη κατὰ τῆς πόλεως ἐγχειρήσεως, ἐπεκηρυκεύετο δέ. 


340 NOTES ON 

(27) Page 215.—See Plutarch, Démétrios, 10, for the tit'e of 
Kara.Bdrns given to Démétrios at Athens, and the altar 
dedicated to him under that name, and, still more, the account of 
the flatteries offered to him given by Démocharés and the ‘hy- 
phallics of Douris of Samos, in Athénaios, vi. 62, 63. 


(28) Page 215.—Most of the Bulgarian Kings bear Hebrew 
names, as Simeon, Gabriel, and, above all, Samuel, whose power it 
was the great exploit of the Emperor Basil to break down. 


(29) Page 215.—For the whole scene see Finlay, Byzantine 
Empire, 1. 452, 


.(30) Page 216.—For the dealings of Hugh the Great with 
King Lewis from-beyond-Sea, see Norman Conquest, 1. 217-220. 


(,1) Page 216.—See Gibbon, c. lxv. 12, δ, Milman. 


(32) Page 217.—See Creasy, History of the Ottoman Turks, 1. 
241, 


(33) Page 217.—In an Inaugural Address delivered to the 
University of Saint Andrews, March 19th, 1869, by James 
Anthony Froude, M.A., Rector of the University (London, 
Longmans and Co., 1869), the writer says (page 17) that “a young 
man going to Oxford learns the same things which were taught 
there two centuries ago.” In page 18, he speaks of “the old 
Latin and Greek which the schools must keep to while the 
Universities confine their honours to these,” 
Says : 

‘The training of clergymen is, if anything, the special object 
of Oxford teaching. All arrangements are made with a view to 
it. The heads of Colleges, the resident Fellows, Tutors, Pro- 
fessors, are, with rare exceptions, ecclesiastics themselves.’ See 
Saturday Review, April 3rd, 1869. 

The year before the Right Honourable Robert Lowe made a 
peech in Lancashire in the same romantic vein. 

‘Speak to any man who has gone through the ordinary routine 
of education in a public school or university, or to any man of 
sense, and is he of opinion that he sees things through the 
medium of prejudice, or is he satisfied when he leaves those 
places of education that he is fairly equipped and armed for the 


and in page 28 he 


REDE LECTURE 341 


---ὦὸ .- . ----ὄ -. 


combat οὗ 161. ... Τὺ is because that, at a time when there 
really was nothing to learn and nothing to know, a number of 
foundations were made for the purpose of teaching Latin and 
Greek, and these foundations exist up tothe present day, and 
attract to them a number of scholars to the public schools. All 
manner of knowledge, science, language, and literature, have come 
into existence since then, but these foundations, like their 
original deeds, have remained perfectly immovable.” See Sat. 
Rev. February 8, 1868. 

Again, at a dinner given by the Institution of Civil Engineers 
in April 1871, Mr. Lowe, according to the Times, said : 

“My own education, and I had the happiness of receiving it at 
one of our public schools and Universities, was directed mainly to 
learning something of the literature and the language of a people 
who have long since passed awr y,—people who kne.. very little 
of nature, very little of the world in which they lived, very 
little. indeed, of anything except the squabbles and cuarrels in 
which they engaged with one another, and which they carried on 
upon a scale the most minute. (A laugh.) When I think of 
the celebrated battle of Marathon and all our school-boy en- 
thusiasm about the 192 persons who perished on that occasion on 
the side of the victorious (a laugh), and compare it with the 
grand drama which has been enacted in another part of Europe 
within the last seven or eight months, I cannot help feeling how 
small were the matters to which our early attention was directed. 
Why, a good colliery accident, under the auspices of these 
professional gentlemen whom I see around me, would throw one 
of these great events of ancient times completely into the shade. 
(A laugh.)” See Sat. Rev. April 29, 1871. 

I suppose that things like these may be safely said in the 
University of Saint Andrews, at the Institution of Civil 
Engineers, or at some Institution at Liverpool. But it would be 
curious to see what would happen, if Mr. Froude or Mr. Lowe 
were to venture to repeat them in the presence of any Oxford 
man who has taken his degree or has lived in the University 
within the last twenty years, or—as they exclude mathematics, no 
less than modern history and natural science—in the presence of 
any Cambridge man of any standing. 


(34) Page 218.—I have been myself striving for years to bring 
about the foundation of a reasonable School of History at Oxford, 


342 NOTES ON REDE LECTURE 


--- eee σ -- 


instead of the absurd system by which certain periods of History 
are yoked to questions about the Objective and the Unconditioned, 
while other periods were till lately yoked to professional Law, and 
now stand apart from the periods which are still kept in bond .ge. 
Ten thousand statutes may be made, but all will be useless till 
Thucydides, Tacitus, Eginhard, the Chronicles, and Clarendon are 
taken up ina singie school. In the like sort, there should be a 
School of Philology in which English and German should be taken 
up in their natural relations to Greek and Latin. While I have 
been striving in vain at Oxford, a real School of History seems 
likely to arise at Cambridge, and that largely, I would hope, 
through the labours of Mr. A. W. Ward. 


INDEX 


ACHAIAN, 


Achaian League, analogy between 
its constitution and that of the 
United States, 21; its origin and 
character, 59, 256; modification of 
democracy under, 139; nature of 
its assembly, 139-141; way of 
voting in, 144-145 ; analogies with 
Rome, 146, 148; legislation of 
Polybios for, 203; annexation of 
Sparta by, 256. 

Addison, his use of the word Gothic, 
333, 334. 

Adolf, Johann, his 
Dithmarschen, 277. 

Adoption, working of the Roman law 
of, 53, 265-266; its influence on 
the gens, 67 ; nature of at Athens, 
266. 

Adréstos, his slaughter 
memnon, 327. 

Adulterer, lawfully slain, 326, 327. 

El fred, laws of, 229, 326, 328. 

Hi fwine, wergild paid for, 328. 

AHthelberht, effects of his baptism, 
108 ; his laws, 328. 

Aétius, history of, 236; nations in 
his army, 2b. 

Attolia, city life never fully deve- 
loped in, 57; its importance in 
later times, 59; character of its 
League, 256. 

Africa, kingdom of the Vandals in, 
115. 

Agamemnén, his imperial position, 
131; his relation to the Assembly, 
132, 


Chronicle of 


by Aga- 


ANCUS, 


Age, names of office expressive of, 46. 

Ager publicus, the same as Folk- 
land, 75. 

‘Ayoph, use of the word, 46; applied 
to the divine assembly, 131. 

Αἰσυμνητεία compared with Roman 
dictatorship, 288. 

Akarnania, city life never fully de- 
veloped in, 57; its importance in 
later times, 59. 

Alaric, his march from Athens to 
Rome, 37; his Roman offices, 
104, 304 ; his repulse from Athens, 
339. 

Alby, consuls at, 18. 

Alexander of Epeiros, 102. 

Alexander the Great, position of, 
103. 

Allen, John, his explanation of the 
growth of kingship, 92; quoted, 
273, 288. 

Allies, Italian, compared with the 
Lacedzmonian περίοικοι, 330. 

America, British, its relation to the 
United States, 52. 

Amphiktyonic League, its constitu- 
tion, 56; its witness to the early 
state of Greece, 57. 

Amyntas, acquitted by the Mace- 
donian assembly, 314. 

Analogies, different classes of, 13. 

“Avag, use of the word by Isokratés, 
239. 

Ancient and Modern Studies, no real 
distinction between, 196-198. 

Ancus, value of his legend, 295. 


944 INDEX 
ANDOKIDES. ᾿ ASSEMBLY, 
Andokidés, speech of Lysias against, Middle Ages, 193; his doctrine 
332, of mixed governinents, 238; his 


Andorra, commonwealth of, 309. 

Angul and Dan, legend of, 335. 

Anointing, introduction of the cere- 
mony, 107; its political effect, 


definition of aristocracy, 242: of 
the city, 246. 
Arkadia, language of, 203, 336. 
Army, the same as the assembly, 


108. 127; growth of, in cities, 7b. 
Antioch, recovered by Niképhoros, | Arnold, Dr., quoted, 244. 
, 227, Aryan nations, their three chief 


Antoninus Caracalla, effect of his 
edict, 259, 

‘_4Antrustions’, Frankish, answer to 
the English Thegnas, 167. 

Appeal of murder, its origin and 
abolition, 177, 

Awe Sextic, its influence in Gaul, 


races, 24 ; their relations explained 
only by the comparative method, 
33; their primitive state, 70. ; 
dispersion of their tribes in 
Europe, 35; their primitive in- 
stitutions not borrowed from one 
another, 38 ; their common origin, 


38. 39, 40, 48 ; their early vocabulary, 
Arch, invented more than once, 40; their primitive form of 
20. government, 42, 129. 


Architecture, Greek, origin of, 227. 

Archons at Athens, their origin and 
history, 96, 99, 100, 296; called 
kings, 297; not presidents of the 
assembly, 298. 

Apxwy βασιλεύς at Athens, his ori- 
yin, 96. 

Areciopagos, compared with the Roman 
Senate, 146; its temper, 319. 

Arés, his wounds and possible death, 
313. 

Argosy, its union with Corinth, 59, 
255 ; history of kingship at, 96, 
293. 

Aristeidés, reforms of, 162. 

Aristocracy, primitive traces of, 4] ; 


Assembly, various names for, 46, 
312; nature of in Macedonia, 102, 
134, 314; sovereign nature of, 
122, 138, 155, 156 ; action of each 
citizen in, 123; representation - 
unknown in those of cities, 124; 
history of among tribes, 7b. ; 
distinetion between aristocratic 
and democratic, 125, 126; its 
identity with the army, 127; 
instances of military assemblies, 
128 ; character of in heroic Greece, 
130; on Olympos, 2b. ; relation of 
the kings to, 131-133 ; abeyance of 
in Ithaké, 182; way of voting in, 
133; nature of in Molossis, 134, 


meaning of the word, 49, 125, 242, 
243; peculiarly republican, 172 ; 
nature of in ruling cities, 172- 
173; fertile in able administra- 
tors, 172; compared with demo- 
cracy, 173; inconsistent with 
kingship, 174-175 ; different forms 
of its growth, 7b. ; admission of 
strangers to, 174; government 
of dependencies by, 189; misuse 
of the word, 243; growth of at 
Rome, 311. 


Aristotle, knowledge of, in the 


144, 145; origin and character of 
at Athens, 136, 137; its relation 
to the other powers of the state, 
138; character of at Sparta, 139, 
315; under the Achaian League, 
141; in England, 7b. ; shrinks up 
where representation is not intro- 
duced, 141, 143 ; history of among 
the Franks, 142, 317; nature of 
local assemblies, 143; nature of 
in Federal states, 7b.; different 
forms of at Rome, 145, 146; its 
relations to the Senate, 147, 148; 


i - ---....ὄ.---.,. -.. 


ASYLUM. 


comparison of Roman and Athenian 
assemblies, 148; extinction of 
ur‘ler the Empire, ἐδ. ; change in 
the character of in medieval 
Europe, 149, 150; formed of 
estates, ἐδ. ; traces of primary 
assemblies in England, 152, 153 ; 
at Florence, 153; in Friesland 
and Dithmarschen, 154; in the 
Forest Cantons, 7). ; aristocratic 
primary assemblies in Poland and 
Venice, 155; presidency of in 
<lifferent states, 298, 299; Athen- 
ian, held away from Athens, 312 ; 
Roman, held at Veii, i. ; seats in, 
313; attendance enforced in, 317, 
318. 

Asylum, meaning of the Roman 
leger * of, 163. 

Atauf, change in his purpose, 213, 
339; his conquests in Spain, 
216. 

Athwraric, effect of Roman greatness 
on, 213, 339. 

Athens, origin of, 55, 56, 69; its in- 
significance in later Greek history, 
59; traces of earlier inhabitants 
at, 69; character of the later 
tribes at, ¢b.; origin of the δῆμοι, 
70; history of kingship at, 95, 
96, 99, 289, 296 ; cases of military 
assemblies in her history, 128 ; 
true character of her democracy, 
135-139; shortness of her real 
life, 137, 315 ; contrasted with the 
later Greek <cemocracies, 139; 
with Rome, 146-148 ; the people 
called king or tyrant, 148 ; history 
of nobility at, 160, 162-164; law 
of private vengeance, 176; tyran- 
nicide lawful at, ἐδ. ; its state in 
the eleventh century, 214; grants 
of citizenship, 254; origin of the 
archonship, 297; presidency of 
assemblies at, 298; Constantine 
general at, 302; military levies at, 
312; submission of its armies to 
the assembly, εὖ. 


345 


BERN, 


Attic dialect of Greek, its perman- 
ence, 203, 204. 

Attica, union of its towns, 58, 253, 
256 : remains of earlier inhabitants 
in, 269; party divisions in, 2b. 

Attus Cluusus, his migration — to 
Rome, 70. 

Augustus, Chlodwig so called, 304. 

Ausserstand, nature of at Bern, 326. 

Austria, House of, later Emperors 
chosen from, 308. 


B. 


Bajazct described as Cesar by Tim- 
our, 213; invested bv the nominat 
caliph, 217. 

Balder, death of, 313. 

Ballot, fallacies about, 316. 

Barbariuns opposed to Greeks, 53 ; 
alliance with, how looked on in 
Greece, 245. 

Barbarus, use of the word in the 
Teutonic codes, 260. 

Busil the Macedonian, his corre- 
spondence with Lewis the Second, 
230. 

Basil the Second, his triumph at 
Athens, 215. 

Βασιλεύς, origin of the word, 40; 
its use, 89, 286; its meaning at 
Athens, 96, 99; applied to the 

“mperors, 108, 302; dispute about 
the title, 230-232; its use by 
Hesiod, 290; by John Lydus, 301 ; 
distinguished from τύραννος, 307. 

Βασίλισσα, wife of the king-archon 
so called, 294. 

Belisarius, consulship of, 103, 302. 

Berkeley, Lord, pays the wergild of 
Lord Lisle, 329. 

Bern, lessons of its history, 84; 
character of its government, 172, 
173, 189 ; origin of its aristocracy, 
174; its dominion over its sub- 
ject states, 185, 187; extends its 
dominion by purchase, 187; its 
analogy with Rome, 284; origin 


940 


BERN, 


of the name, 7b.; Ausserstand at, 
326. 

Bern, Dietrichs-, or Verona, 84. 

Bicameral system, its origin, 14, 151; 
necessary in a federal state, 151, 
152. 

Bishops, their positibn and titles in 
southern Europe, 73 ; among Celts 
and.Teutons, 73, 74, 272 ; position 
of at Iona, 291. 

Blun{schti, Dr. C., quoted, 262, 284. 

Roétius, consulship of, 103, 302. 

Bosporos, Greek kingdom of, 205. 

Brecon, inscription at, 329. 

Britain, character of its history, 30; 
‘ spoken of as another world, 229 ; 
effect of its insular position, 230. 
Briton, wergild of lower than that 

ot an Englishman, 179, 398, 

Brunanburh, battle of, 111. 


i 


Bulgarians, their history, 232; He-- 


brew names of their kings, 340. 

Bundesstaat, distinguished from 
Staatenbund, 256. 

Burghership, hereditary, the found- 
ation of the ancient common- 
wealths, 126, I81; forms of, in 
England, 182. 

Burnet, Bishop, his travels in Swit- 
zerland, 326. 


C. 

Cesar, his desire to be king, 287. 

Caius, Emperor, restores the comitia, 
319. 

Caliphate, its analogy with the Em- 
pire, 216-217. 

Camene, opposed to the Muses, 338. 

Canaan, kings of, 109. 

Canterbury, archbishops of, spoken 
of as popes, 229. 

Capitol, use of the name at Toulouse, 
17, 223; at Koln, 7b. 

Capitouls, magistrates of Toulouse, 
223, 

Cavalry, connexion of the word with 
chivalry, 47 


1 


CITY. 


Celts, character of their history, 32 ; 
the vanguard of Aryan migration 
westward, 34; their position in 
Europe, 234. 

Century, equivalent to the hundred, 
75 ; assembly of centuries at Rome, 
145. 

Ceorl, opposed to ον], 162. 

Cerdic, permanence of his house, 114. 

Chdtons, battle of, branches of the 
Aryan family engaged at, 36. 

Chaonia, abolition of kingship in, 
101. 

Chapters, growth of oligarchy in, 316. 

Charis, Charites, origin of the word, 
5, 6, 221. 

Charles of Anjow, his conquest of 
Marseilles, 205, 336. 

tharles the Great, his union of the 
Roman Empire and the German 
kingship, 104; his imperial titles, 
230. 

Cherson, Greek commonwealth 
205. 

Chery Chase, notice of, by Addison, 
334, 

Chivodwig, consulship of, 104, 304. 

Christianity, its Semitic origin, 28 ; 
the religion of the Roman Empire, 
ib.; opposed to exclusive privileges 
of birth, 107; influence of the 
Gxreek tongue on, 206. 

Cicero, plebeian augur, 164. 

Cild, use of the word, 240. 

Cities, formed by the union of villages, 
57, 251-253; their history in 
England and elsewhere, 83, 129; 
French and English, compared, 
249, 250. 

Citizenship, nature of, in Greece, 58 ; 
first freely, then sparingly granted, 
to strangers, 181; grants of at 
Athens, 253 ; at Sparta, 254. 

Cittadin’g at Venice, their position, 
16]. 

City, one form of the state, 52; 
Greek conception of, 53, 54; 
formed of gentes, 58; idea of, 


of, 


INDEX 


---»ὐ» 


CLANS. 


never fully developed among the 
Teutonic nations, 65. 

Clans, nature of among the Celts, 
65-C6 ; compared with the Roman 
gentes, 261. 

Classical, bad effects of the distinction 
implied in the name, 194-195. 

ες Classical” languages, true way of 
studying, 217-219. 

Claudia gens, its origin, 70. 

Claudii, their admission at Rome, 
174; their migration, 270. 

Claudius, Emperor, his speech on 
the gradual extension of Roman 
citizenship, 62, 63, 259. 

Clergy, their position as an estate of 
the realm, 14. 

Clientage, its nature at Rome, 168- 
169. 

Colonies, Greek, their extent, 204, 
205; their relation to the mother 
country, 329, 331. 

Comitatus, its Teutonic form modified 
by Roman ideas, 112; a common 
Aryan institution, 166; its history 
among Greeks and Teutons, 167; 
groundwork of modern nobility, 
167, 170; slighter traces of at 
Rome, 168; its connexion with 
clientage, 168, 170, 326; nature 
of in Macedonia, 169; implies a 
king or personal leader, ib. ; its 
connexion with vassalage, 324. 

Comitia at Rome, forms of, 145; way 
of voting in, 145, 318; restored 
by Caius, 319. 

Commons, House of, origin of, 150. 

Commune, equivalent to the mark, 
75; its position in Switzerland, 
183-185. 

Comparative 
196. 

Condominium, instances of in Ger- 
many and Switzerland, 186. 

Confederation, German, springs out 
of the kingdom, 116. 

Confederations, their nature in later 
Greece, 60; nature of their as- 


method, its results, 


CYNING. 
semblies, 124; military assemblies 
more usual in, 128; bicameral 
system needed in, 151, 152. 

Constantine, general at Athens, 103, 
302. . 

Constantinople, its origin, 207 ; posi- 
tion of in medieval imagination, 
19. 

Consul, Consulship, uses of the names, 
18; at Alby, 18, 223; origin of at 
Rome, 98; kingly powers of, 100, 
243; consulship held by the 
emperors, 103; its revived dignity 
in later times, ἐδ. ; checks on its 
power, 147; definition of by 
Dionysios, 243; origin of at Tou- 
louse, 223; held by Theodoric, 
301; by Boétius and Belisarius, 
302, 

Coote, Mr. H. C., his view of Roman 
institutions in England, 284, 

Corinth, its union with Argos, 58-59, 
255; oligarchy of the Bacchiads at, 
297; her relations to her colonies, 
331, 

Coronation, meaning and effect of the 
rite, 91. 

Councils, not necessarily formed with 
regard to birth, 158. 

Cex, Mr. G. W., quoted, 221. 

Coxe, Archdeacon, his travels in 
Switzerland, 326. 

Crusaders, their jurisprudence in the 
Kast, 223. 

Culture, application of the compara- 
tive method to, 8; name wanted 
for its study, 10; its relations 
to the other sciences, 11. 

Curia, an union of gcentcs, 67 5 answers 
to the Spartan ὠβή, 68; and the 
Teutonic hundred, 75. 

Curtius, Ernst, quoted, 225, 265, 268, 
269. 

Cyn, kin, cynecyn, connexion of the 
words with cyning, king, 44, 105, 
106, 305. 

Cynehlaford, 325. 

Cyning, king, origin and cognates of 


948 ¢ 


INDEX 


re 8 ee «- 


CYPRUS. 


the name, 44, 105, 106; its con- 
nexion with ganaka, 305. 
Cyprus, Frank kingdom of, 223. 


1D. 


Dante, his treatise De Monarchid, 
306. 

Dawkins, Mr. W. B., quoted, 233. 

Dead languages, no such thing, 196. 

Démérios  Poliorkétés, Athenian 
flattery of, 215, 340. 

Demecracy, primitive, traces of, 41- 

42; definition of, 125, 138; form 

taken by, in Medieval Italy, 153 ; 

government of dependencies by, 

189; «description of by Periklés, 

315; its history and character at 

Athens, 136-139; compared with 

later (treek democracies, 139 ; 

modified under the Achaian 

League, 141; pure democracy not 

applicable toa large state, 140-148. 

Δῆμοι, at Athens, originally village 
communities, 69, 268; their local 
character, 70. 

Δῆμος, uses of the word, 56, 251. 
Denmark, despotism lawful in, 228 ; 
its relations to the Duchies, ἐν. 
Dependencies repeat the institutions 
of the mother country, 16 ; govern- 
ment of, 189, 247; their relations 

to the mother country, 329. 

Diadem, use of, 103; introduced by 
Diocletian, 303. 

Dictatorship, nature of at Rome, 100, 
287 ; perpetual, distinguished from 
kingship, 90. 

Dietrichsbern, name of Verona, 284. 

Dimock, Mr. J. F., quoted, 333. 

Diocletian introduces the diadem, 
303. 

Dién Chrysostom, his definition of 
aristocracy, 242; his theory of 
kingship, 289, 302. 

Jnthmarschen, retention of the old 
freedom in, 78, 154; local nomen- 
clature of, 263 ; its history, 277. 


EMPIRE. 


Dominion, looked on as property, 
186, 187. 

Dorians, antiquity of their three 
tribes, 267. 

Avvacrela, nature and instances of, 
297. 


K. 

Ealdor, kaldorman, origin of the 
title, 76; chiefs of the tribe, 76, 
106; give way to kings, 106; 
return to their government, 109. 

Karl, Eorl, Jarl, Scandinavian, 110, 
111; history and meaning of the 
word, 167, 323; immemorial 
nobility of the Horlas, 159, 162; 
give way to the Thegns, 166, 170. 

miom, Dukes of, 109. 

Ehu, Koh, cognate with equus, 240. 

‘HAvala, origin of the word, 239. 

Elis, foundation of, 57, 251; language 
of its inscription, 336. 

Klizaleth, Quczen, her English descent, 
309. 

Ἕλλην, use of the name, 227. 

Emperors, origin of their powers, 50, 
112, 288; union of the various 
magistracies in their hands, 103 ; 
kingly language how far applied 
to, 103-104 ; alonecalled monarchs, 
110 ; contrast between the earliest 
and latest, 120; their dealings 
with the senate and assembly, 149 ; 
retention and imitation of their 
titles, 213 ; their consulships, 292 ; 
their tribunician power, 292, 300 ; 
their solitary position, 303. 

Empire, its effect on the city and the 
provinces, 63, 64; its effects in 
Giermany and Italy, 87; open to 
all baptized men, v9 : united with 
the German kingship, 104; effects 
of its union with the Frankish 
kingdom, 116; lawyers’ theory of 
its origin, 307; becomes purely 
elective, 308; then practically 
hereditary, 7. 


INDEX + 349 


ες a ee Lee ee 
ENGLAND. FROU DE, 
England, continuity of its political 
history, 30; no true Roman ele- " 


ment in, 31, 85; ambassadors 
fron at the court of Justinian, 
36; the Teutonic constitution 
begins afresh in, 79 ; modification 
of the mark and the gaw in, 80; 
union of its several kingdoms, 81, 
113, 117; growth of the cities 
hindered by stronger national 
unity, 83; position of in general 
Teutonic history, 86; origin or 
history of kingship in, 106, 113; 
continuity of the royal succession 
in, 114; continuity of assemblies 
in, 149, 150; no true nobility in, 
150 ; powers of Parliament in, 156 ; 
effect of feudal ideas in, 168; its 
relation to India, 185. 

English, their relation to other Teu- 
tonic nations, 29; their three 
homes, 31; the Teutonic constitu- 
tion brought by them into Britain, 
78. 

English language, Romance elements 
in, 282. 

Epeiros, the older condition of Greece 
continued in, 57, 102 ; its import- 
ance in later times, 59; history 
of kingship in, δ. ; becomes a 
Greek commonwealth, 102. 

Ephors, presidents of the Spartan 
assembly, 299. 

Estates, their nature in England and 
France, 14; representation of, 
149, 150; system of, broke down 
in England, 150. 

‘Eraipot, answers to the English 
gestSas, 166, 169. 

Eternal, title of Rome, 28. 

Eupatrids, Athenian, their nobility 


immemorial, 160; its probable , 


origin, 162, 321; loss of their 
political power, 163; still preferred 
for high offices, 165. 

Exeter, position of in English history, 
84, 85, 284. 


Fehde, feud, right of, 326. 

Feudalisin, its origin and working in 
France and England, 168 ; growth 
of, 223. 

Filioque, interpolation of, 337. 

Fintay, Mr., ovigin of his history, 
227; quoted, 336. 

Fins, position of, in Europe, 224. 

Five Boroughs, confederacy of, 84. 

Flamens at Rome, always patrician, 
164. 

Florence, parliaments of, 153. 

Folklaul, the same as aver pudblicus, 
70. 

Foreigner, meaning of the word in 
English boroughs, 182 

Forest Cantons, vetention of the old 
freedom in, 78. 

France, its origin, 116; strictly 
hereditary character of its crown, 
117, 289; effect of feudal ideas in, 
168. 

Franchise, various forms of in Kny- 
land, 182, 183; how attained in 
boroughs, 183. 

Franks, their place among Teutonic 
nations, 81; history and division 
of their kingdom, 110, 115 ; growth 
of the power of their kings, 116; 
union of their kingdom with the 
Empire, 7d. 

Freeman, various classes below, 160, 
161. 

Freemen, their history in English 

‘ boroughs, 182. 

| French, Kinys and Dukes of, 216. 

| French language, Teutonic element 

ι in, 281. 

_ Friesland, retains its primitive 

| assemblies, 154. 

) Frithigern, his titles, 306. 

| Froude, Mr. J. A., his account of 

| 

| 

ἰ 


university studies, 340. 


GALATIA, 


G. 

Galatia, Greek influence on, 206. 

Ganaka, connexion of the word with 
king and cyning, 106, 107, 305. 

Gau, its relation to the shire, 76, 
279; the territory of the tribe, 

* 76; authorities on, 276; name not 
known in England, 279. 

(auk Teutonic character of its later 
political institutions, 82; Greek 
and Roman civilization in, 237. 

(iemeinde, equivalent to the mark, 
75; their position in Switzerland, 

' 183-185. 

Generals, powers of, at Athens, 99; 
their special power in war times, 
128. 

Tévos, gens, or clan, use of the word, 
46; its special importance in 
ancient Italy, 62, 65; its varions 
forms, 65, 66; community of blood 
its original idea, 66, 264 ; modifi- 
cations in later times, 67: its 
wbiding importance in Rome, 68 ; 
its connexion with tribes and 
δῆμοι, 70; names of gentcs in 
England, 66 ; its form as a village 
coinmunity, 75; at Rome, com- 
pared with the Celtic clans, 261 ; 
with the German geschlechter, 262 ; 
hereditary character of, 267. 

Gentilis, Cicero’s detinition of, 264. 


Germany, its history modified by its | 


connexion with the Empire, 29 ; 
changes in after the time of Tacitus, 
78; history of the cities in, 84; 
growth of the modern kingdoms 
of, 90, 286, 287; its kingdom sinks 
into a confederation, 116; modern 
Empire a revival of the kingdom, 
116, 308. 

Geschiecchter, German, answer to the 
Roman gentes, 262. 

(rest$as, answer to the Greek ἑταῖροι, 
166. 

Gibbon, quoted, 227. 


INDEX 


4 ag ~—— 
GREEK LANGUAGE, 

CGibeon, a free city, 109. 

Giraldus Cambrensis, germs of com- 
parative philology in, 332, 333. 

Gladstone, Mr., his defence of the 
ninth book of the Iliad, 286. 

Goddesses, presence of, in the divine 
council and assembly, 130, 131. 

Gods, children of, unknown in the 
Italian mythology, 96, 295; con- 
ception of in Greece, 130; their 
council and assembly, 130 ; death 
of in Scandinavia and (reece, 
313. 

Gothic, use of the word, 194. 

Goths, history of their kingdom in 
Spain, 115; preservers of Roman 
momunents, 228. 

rraubiinden, retention of the 
freedom in, 78; dominion 
over the Valtelina, 188. 

(freece, its physical character, 25, 
225; common origin of its in- 
habitants with those of Italy, 33, 
35; early political institutions of, 
42; its pre-historic state, 55, 56; 
growth of city life in, 56; federal 
period in, 59; no true national life 
in, 60, 61; effect of the Persian 
wars on, 60; its colonies, 61, 
203, 205, 226; connexion of its 
mythical and its historic state, 
82; nature of early kingship in, 
92, 130, 131-132; its influence 
on the East, 205, 206; on Rome, 
206; on Christianity, 206, 207 ; 
on the Byzantine Empire, 207 ; 
its modern revival, 207, 208; its 
indirect influence on modern 
times, 209; motherland of the 
Asiatic Greeks, 225; traditions 
of non-Aryan nations in, 250; 
nearness of its great cities, 257. 

Greek church, its character and per- 
manence, 207. 

Greek language, ignorance of, in the 
middle ages, 193 ; its special con- 
nexion with Latin, 204; its rela- 


old 
of, 


, tion to modern languages, 198 ; 


a ..,.. ....,.... τ Ἔ,..-..----- 


GREEK NATION, 


its history, 203-207 ; permanence 
of its Attic dialect, 203, 204; its 
use in Sicily, 205; in the East, 
206 ; at Rome, 7b. ; its relation to 
Christianity, 206, 207 ; knowledge 
of, in the thirteenth century, 333. 

Creek nation, modern, origin of, 206 ; 
its difficulties, 207, 208. 

(reeks, their progress and history, 
95-27; a nation as contrasted 
with barbarians, 53; feeling of 
brotherhood among, 245. 

?rimm, Jacob, quoted, 272. 

(rote, Mr., his defence of Athenian 
democracy, 136, 250, 251 ; quoted, 
265, 268. 


H. 


Hudrian, his archonship at Athens, 
99, 298. 

Hannibal, compared with Buona- 
parte, 244. 

Hannibalianus, called Rex, 304. 

Harits, etymology of the word, 6, 
221. 

Harold Harfagra, Norway united 
under, 111. 

Heathen, origin of the name, 73, 97]. 

Hebrews, judges of, 109. 

Henry III., Emperor, first king of 
the Romans, 104. 

Henry VIII., of England, an elective 
king, 142. 

feptarchy, name and_ thing 
known, 110. 

Hereditary succession, its introduc- 
tion, 108. 

Heretoga, Herzog, equivalent to eal- 
dorman, 76; answers to the Dux 
of Tacitus, 276. 

Hesiod, his lai guage as to kings, 
290. 

Hill-forts, growth of, into cities, δῦ, 
249, 250. 

fistory, how to be studied, 199-201, 
217-219. 

Homer, his true parallels, 195. 


un- 


ITALY, 


Horse, titles formed from its various 
names, 46, 47. 

House of Lords, its judicial power, 
320. 

Hundred, equivalent to the curia 
and the #8), 75; made up of 
marks, 76; auchorities on, 275; its 
nature, 276. 

Hungarians, their history, 234. 


I, 


Lberiauns, position of, in Europe, 
234. 

Ida begins kingship in Northun- 
berland, 111, 

Iliad, question of the genuineness 
of its ninth and tenth books, 286, 

Itios, foundation of, ὅθ. 

Imperium, effect of the doctrine of, 
243. 

India, its relation to England, how 
far periotkie, 185. 

Ine, laws of, 328. 

Ing, Teutonic patronymic ending, 
262. 

Interrea, interregnum, origin of the 
names, 94; office always patri- 
clan, 165, 291. 

Inventions, cases of their independ- 
ent occurrence, 20. 

Tone, abbots and bishops of, 291. 

tonic Tribes, nature of, 268. 

Ireland, repetition of English in- 
stitutions in, 16. 

Isokratés, his definition of demo- 
cracy, 238; his exhortations to 
Philip, 245, 248. 

Italy, common origin of its inha- 
bitants with those of Greece, 33; 
early political institutions of, 42 ; 
city life less developed in, than in 
Greece, 61; its history largely 
federal, 62, 63; its institutions 
more primitive than those of 
Greece, 64; influence of the gens 
in, 65; Teutonic character of its 
medieval polity, 82, 83; its 


352 


-- -....------. 


ITHAKE. 


parallel with ancient Greece, 89 ; 
developement of the cities in, 84 ; 
modern kingdoms in, 90, 282; 
nature of its medizval democracies, 
153; extent of Greek colonization 
in, 226; comparative rarity of 
great cities in, ζ.7 ; origin of its 
ancient towns, 7/0. 

Ithaké, many kings in, 94, 111; no 
assembly held in, during the 
absence of Odysseus, 132. 


J. 


Jarl, Karl, and Thrall, legend of 
their erestion, 162. 
Jerusalem, assizes of, 16. 


Joseph the Second, last king of the 


Romans, 104, 304. 

Judah, hereditary succession of its 
kings, 289. 
Judges among 
Goths, 109. 
Judicial Power, gradually separated 

from the legislative, 156, 157. 
Julian, his use of the Greek lan- 
guage, 206. 
Jupiter, Elfred’s account of, 305. 
Jus imaginumn, at Rome, 165. 
Jus Latii, meaning of, 258. 
Justinian, his historical position, 
36; extent of his empire, 235. 


the Hebrews and 


K. 

Kallikratidas, Greek patriotism of, 
246. 

Kemble, F. M., quoted, 252, 262, 272, 
273, 276, 280, 311. 

Kent, assembly of, at Pennenden 
Heath, 317. 

King Archon at Athens, 294. 

King of the Romans, history of the 
title, 104. 

Kingdom, made up of shires or μαρὶ, 
76; formed by the union of smaller 
states, 109; division of, 110; 
territorial theory of, 112; German, 


KINGSHIP, 
its revival, 116; growth of, in 
Germany and Italy, 286, 287. 

Kings, represent the national stage 
of growth, 90, 106; difficuity of 
defining, 88 ; Romance and Teu- 
tonic names of, ib. ; their position 
in ancient Greece, 92, 289; limi- 
tation on their authority, 93; 
their position at Sparta, Argos 
wand Athens, 95, 96, 98; their 
oath in Molossis, 102; their posi- 
tion in Macedonia, ἐν. ; at Rome 
not divine, 7b. ; Teutonic kings, 
Roman offices held by, 104 ; how 
chosen, 104-105; description of, 
by Tacitus, 7b. ; descendants of 
Woden, 105; origin of the name, 
105, 106-107; unknown among 
the Old-Saxons, 106; ecclesiastical 
coronation of, 107; its _olitical 
effects, 108 ; beginning of heredi- 
tary succession among, 7b.; great 
numbers of in early times, 109- 
111, 306; clothed with imperial 
ideas, 112; changed into terri- 
torial lords, 7b. ; changes in their 
titles, 112, 307 ; difference of their 
powers, 113; their relation to 
their ministers, 113, 117 ; English, 
subject to the law, 114; growth 
of their power, 116; traces of 
their election in England, 153; 
election of in Poland, 155 ; prose- 
cute crimes in the name of the 
commonwealth, 177, 180 ; imperial 
titles borne by in England, 230 ; 
their sacred character, Christian 
and heathen, 288; their power 
granted by Zeus, 289; succession 
of in Judea and France, 7b. ; how 
spoken of by Hesiod, 290; cut 
down to priestly functions, 291 ; 
name applied to the Athenian 
archons, 297. 

Kingship, distinction between its 
power and its titles, 49, 117; put 
into comission at Rome, 117; 
general idea cf, 90; its religious 


ϑ 

KIRK, 
character, 91, 107; lawyers’ 
theory of, 91-92; its original 
character, 92; evidence of its 


existence at Rome, 94, 96; its 
elective character, 97; modifica- 
tion of in city states, 98; history 
of at Sparta, 98, 292, 293; at 
Athens, 99; opposite reasons for 
its abolition at Rome and 
Athens, 99, 296; continued in 
Kpeiros and Macedonia, 10] ; its 
German form united with the 
Roman Empire, 104; displaces 
the earlier rule of Ealdormen, 
106; its origin and = continuity 
in England, 106, 111, 113, 114; 
modifications of in later times, 
112; its various shapes, 113, 287 ; 
modified by the settlement of the 
Teuvunic nations within the Em- 
pire, 115; in Germany absorbed 
by the Empire, 116; its elective 
character in Germany, = 7b. ; 
strictly hereditary in France, 117 ; 
its position in modern times, 76. ; 
survival of in the American 
president, 118; distinguished from 
royalty, 119; inconsistent with 
aristocracy, 174; why not held 
for a term, 287; temporary re- 
vivals of, 288; survivals of in 
Greece, 291 ; duration of at Argos, 
293; Greek definition of, 297 ; 
decline of in Mercia, 310. 
Kirk, Anglian form of chureh, 232. 


Kleisthenés, his arrangement of 
tribes and Démoi, 269. 
Kleomenés restores the Spartan 


kingship, 98. 

Kieén, accident of his promotion, 
104. 

Kodros, the archonship continued in 
his family, 99. 

Koln, capitol at, 223. 

Korkyra, her relations to Corinth, 
321. 

Kyklépes, traditions of, 250. 


Ὁ 


INDEX 


at® 


LEX RECTIA. 


L. 


Lacedamonian Confederacy, way of 
voting in its Assembly, 318. 

Laconia, position of the περίοικοι in, 
10]. ’ 

Landesgemeinden, in Uri and other 
cantons, 29; time of holding, 310. | 

Languages, various ways of spread- 
ing, 18-19. 

Lappenberg, J, M., quoted, 274.? 

Latin language, its special connexion 
with Greek, 132; its place in 
universal history, 209-211; its 
early, its classical, and its me 
diveval forms, 209, 216 , the tongue 
of law and dominion, 210; its 
ecclesiastical position, 210, 22. 5 
continued in the Romance lan- 
guages, 211-218; how ἰο be 
studied, 218. 

Latins, position of, 259. 

Law, power of, in Kngland, 114. 

Law, Roman, abiding influence of, 
83; its influence on Teutonic king- 
ship, 111, 116; the great work of 
Rome, 210, 211. 

Lawyers, their theory of kingship, 
112. 

Learning, Revival of, in the fifteenth 
century, 192; its yood and bad 
side, 192-195. 

Legends of Greek heroes in Italy and 
Germany, 33; value of at Rome, 
295, 296. 

Le Muns, growth of the city, 250. 

Leotychidés, his taunt to Déimaratos, 
296. 

Lewes, battle of, poem on, 338. 
Lewis, Sir @. C., on the Presidency 
of Deliberative Assemblies, 299. 
Lewis the Second, Emperor, his argu- 
ment about pnt and βασιλεύς, 

231. 

Lex Hortensia, its effect, 244. 

Lex regia, effect of the doctrine of, 
243. 

AA 


354 


INDEX 


LIKENESSES, 

Likenesses, different classes of, 15, 
19. 

Lincoln, history of, 284. 

Lio, name and history of, 233. 

Lithuania, antiquity of its language, 
195, 335. 

Liti, position of, 164, 311. 

Loaf-eaters, compared with clients, 
326. 

Lombards, fall back on the govern- 
ment of dukes, 109. 

Long, Mr. G., quoted, 265. 

words, House of, its origin, 150, 151 ; 
its judicial powers, 156. 

Lowe, Mr. K., his view of University 

. studies. 34]. 

Iiibeck, its unalogy with Carthage, 
284. 

Lucan, his flattery of Nero, 213. 

Lydiadas, his history, 202. 

Lydus, John, his distinction of Km- 
peror, King, and Tyrant, 301. 

Lykaén, slain by Achilleus, 327. 

Lykia, way of voting in, 144, 145; 
history of its confederation, 202, 
258. 

Lysias, his position at Athens, 254. 


M. 


Macedonia, the older condition of 
Greece continued in, 57; consti- 
tution of, 102, 135; its historical 
position, 101; history of kingship 
in, 102; character of Macedonian 
kingdoms in Asia, ἐδ. ; imperfec- 
tion of its history, 135; influence 
of Greece on, 206; growth of city 
life in, 253; names and working of 
the Assembly in, 312, 314. 

Meecenas, his verses, 261. 

Mugs, nature of, 274. 

Magistrates, greater power of, in 
aristocratic states, 139; in federal 
states, 7b.; powers of in Italian 
cities, 153. 

Maine Sir H. S., quoted, 243, 250, 
259, 261, 265, 272, 275, 279. 


MIXED GOVERNMENTS, 


Manor, its connexion with the mark, 
279. 

Mantineia, foundation and historv of, 
57, 252, 253. 

Marcus Aurelius, his use of the 
Greek language, 206. 

Marius, Caius, 166; his election to 
the consulship, 166, 322. 

Mark, Markgenossenschaft, Teutonic 
form of the gens, 75, 273; its 
history and nomenclature in Eng- 
land, 79, 262; its assembly con- 
tinued in the parish vestry,153 ; 
authorities on, 272 ; common occu- 
pation of land in, ἐν. cases of in 
the East, 275; lost in the parish 
and the manor, 279. 

Marzfeld, its working, 142. 

Massalia, its influence in Gaul, 38, 
205, 237; conquest of, by Charles 
of Anjou, 205, 336. 

Maurer, G. L., quoted, 273. 

Mayr, introduction of the title, 224. 

Medeén, /Ktolian assembly held - 
before, 313. 

Megalopolis, foundation of, 57, 261. 

Menestheus, the first demagogue, 
289. 

Mercia, its gradual incorporation 
with Wessex, 310. 

Metellus, his language to Marius, 
322. 

Μέτοικοι, Greek, their position, 126, 
182, 253; answer to English 
foreigners, tb.; to Swiss nieder- 
gelassenen, 183-185; their special 
tax, 254. 

Michael, Emperor, addresses Charles 
the Great as Basileus, 230. 

Middle Class, specially English, 171. 

Military service, universal duty of, 
in early times, 127. 

Mill, history and cognates of the 
word, 4, 221. 
Ministers, their 
Crown, 117. 
Mircd Governments, views of ancignt 

writers on, 23s. 


relation to the 


INDEX 


MOGULS. 


Moguls, analogy of their empire with 
that of Rome, 216. 

Molossis, position of the kings in, 102. 

Mommrsen, Th., quoted, 257, 263, 
269, 270, 295. 

Monarch, use of the word, 110. 

Monarchy, primitive traces of, 41 ; 
distinguished from kingship, 110, 

Morlot family, their admission at 
Bern, 174. 

Mosaic Law, right of private venge- 
ance limited by, 177; principle 
of talio recognized by, 178. 

Mul, wergild paid for, 328. 

Miller, Max, quoted, 12, 221, 222, 
233, 239; his view of the word 
cyning, 305. 

Miiller, O., quoted, 268. 

Mund, answers to the Roman Po- 
testus, 75, 275. 

Mundi Dominus, title of medieval 
Emperors, 308. 

Municipalities, Roman, influence on 
medizval Kurope, 85-86. 

Mythology, scientific and unscientific 
treatment of, 7. 

Mythology, Comparative, its relation 
to comparative philology, 4, 7; 
to the study of culture, 11. 


N. 


Nevius, his epitaph, 337; his posi- 
tion in the history of the Latin 
language, 209 ; his Saturnian lines, 
338. 

Nation, one form of the State, 52. 

Nationality, definition of, 53, 54; 
oppressed nationalities, 246. 

Nattonalrath, Swiss, its constitution, 
152. 

Naturalization, contrast as to, be- 
tween different ages, 126-127. 

Neale, Mr. J. M., quoted, 338. 

Nibley Green, battle of, 328. 

Niebuhr, his view of the gentes, 264. 

Nicdergelassenen, Swiss, answer to 
the Greek μέτοικοι, 183-185. 

Nobilis, meaning ot, at Rome, 165. 


- 


5 


305 


OLIGARCHY. 

Nobility, none in England, 150, 170- 
171; various origins of, 159, 160; 
nobility of office supplants nobility 
of birth, 159, 165, 166; im- 
memorial among the Teutonic 
nations, 162; history of at Athens, 
162-164 ; at Rome, 164-165; ple- 
beian form of at Rome, 165, 166 ; 
modern, its origin in the Con#- 
tatus, 170; nature of in France, 
172, 173. } 

Nomen, use of at Rome, 68; 
political importance, 266. 

Nomenclature, diversities of in kin- 
dred tongues, 43; analogies in, 
46, 47; Roman a. Athenian 
coinpared, 263, 266. 

Non-Aryan Races, analogies of their 
institutions, 37. 


3 


Norman Conquest of England, its 
effects, 113. 
Northumberland, formation of the 


kingdom of, 111, 281. 

Norway, wnited under Harold Har- 
fagra, 111. 

Nowis Homo, at Rome, 166. 

Numa, Greek clement in his legend, 
96; its value, 295, 296. 

Niiraberg, patrician families at, 326. 


0. 


βαί, their nature and duration at 
Sparta, 68, 268. 

Odoacer, his patriciate, 301. 

Odysseus, his dealings with the 
kings before Ilios, 111; legends 
of in Germany, 233; how de- 
scribed by Atlfred, 313. 

Offices, various names of in kindred 
tongues, 45-46. 

Old Man of the Mountain, his de- 
scription, 47, 241. 

Old-Saxons, their retention of the 
old freedom, 78; their federal 
union, 78, 276; kingship unknown 
among, 106; three orders among, 
321. 

Oligarchy, growth of at Venice, 320. 


OLYMPIAS. 


Olympias, claims a trial before the 
Macedonian Assembly, 314. 

Opposition speakers, existence of in 
the Homeric Assembly, 133. 

᾿Οργεῶνες at Athens, 266. 

Ottomans, called Romans in the Kast, 
260. 

Oxford University, way of voting in 
Convocation, 316. 


P. 


Pagan, origin of the name, 72. 
Pagus, equivalent to Gau or Shire, 
76; medivval definition of, 246. 
Fapacy, it. witness to Roman per- 

manence, 213. 

Perish, its connexion with the dark, 
75, 279. 

Parliament, its origin and growth 
in Kngland, 13, 149, 150; action 
of at Florence, 153, 320. 

Parthenén, its use as a Christian 
church, 214. 

Patriu, use of the word, 55. 

Patria Potestas, its connexion with 
the Mund, 75. 

Patricians, use of the name in the 
German cities, 85; origin of their 
privileges at Rome, 160, 163, 321 ; 
gradual loss of them, 164, 165. 

Patriviate οἵ Vheodoric, 3801; οἵ 
Odoacer, (). 

Πατρίς, use of the word, 55, 248. 

Patronymies, use of in English local 
nomenclature, 66, 262; practical 
effect of their use, 68. 

Peerage, Fnglish, its origin and 
nature, 170-171; its existence in- 
consistent with nobility, 170, 171. 

Pelups, no authority in Homer for 
his Lydian origin, 288. 


Pembrokeshire, local nomenclature 
of, 262. 

Πενέσται, ‘Thessalian, position of, 
411. 


Per-grint, distingushed from Οὐδον, 
258, 


INDEX 


eee ὁ = 


ee teem 


POSEIDON, 


Perganwws, rise of, 203. 

Periklés, nature of his influence, 
139; his description of demv- 
cracy, 315. 

Περίοικοι, their position, 161; in- 
stances of, in medieval and 
modern Europe, 185-188; differ- 
ences in their practical position, 
188, 189; compared with the 
Italian allies, 330. 

Persians, their military powers, 234. 

Philology, Comparative, its relations 
to the other comparative sciences, 
2, 7, 11; germs of in Giraldus 
and Roger Bacon, 332, 333. 

Phitétas, condemned by the Mace- 
donian Assembly, 314. 

Φράτρα, φρατρία, pparwp, use of the 
words, 46; answer to the Latin 
ecuria, O73; and the Teutonic hun- 
divd, 75 5 cognate words, 240. 

Φυλοβασιλεῖς, origin of their office, 
205. 

Pippin, patriciate of, 104. 

Piehs, at Rome, its origin, 70, 165; 
oflices gradually thrown open to, 
164; origin of plebeian nobility, 
165; opposed by Sallust to a- 
bilitas, 322. 

Poland, nature of kingship in, 89 ; 
aristocratic primary assembly in, 
125, 155, 320 ; approach to aristo- 
cracy in, 174; its position under 
the Jagellons, 232; character of 
its constitution, 238. 

Polemarch, his position at Athens, 
100. 

Πολιτεία, use of the word by Aris- 
totle, 238, 242. 

Politics, Comparutive, definition of, 
12; its object, 23. 

Polybies, his special position and 
experience, 202-203; 18. legis- 
lation, 203; his language, ἐδ, 

Pontificate at Rome opened to Ple- 
beians, 164. ᾿ 

Poscidén, his position in the divine 
assembly, 13]. 


INDEX 357 


----.-.....-. ἍἁΎ.... 


POTIDATA, 


Tvtidaia, her relations to Athens 
and Corinth, 331. 

Presidents of republics, modern no- 
tion of, 1173; position of, in the 
United States, 118; tendency to 
lessen their powers, 119. 

Printing, invented more than once, 
20. 

Provincials, position of, 258. 
Prudentius, his position in the his- 
tory of the Latin language, 209. 
Prussia, its analogy with Sardinia, 

287. 

Πρυτάνεις, use of the name, 295; 
their presidency of the Asseinbly, 
298. 

Purchase of territory, rare in ancient 
Greece, 186; cases of, in medieval 
Eur *pe, 186, 187. 

Pyrrhos of Epeiros, 102. 


R. 


Reatia, confederations of, 232. 

Rambert, M., quoted, 310. 

Ramws, their origin, 70; oldest 
name of the Romans, 295. 

Ravenna, historical position of the 
city, 212; Greek inscriptions at, 
336. 

Regia, applied to the house of the 
Emperor, 104, 303. 

Regina, applied to wives of Impe- 
rors, 104, 303; to the wife of the 
Rese sacrorum, 294. 

Regnum, applied to the Empire, 104, 
303. 

Reiks, force of the word in Gothic, 
239. 

Religions, variqus ways of spreading, 
18. 

Representation, necessary in a large 
state, 143-145. 

Representatives, House of, its consti- 
tution, 151. 

Residence, counts Sor nothing in n city 

commonwealths, 253. 


------ ὦ. en -- «- ee 


8. 


ROME, 


Responsibility, distinguishes 
and magistrate, 297. 

Rex, origin and cognates of the 
name, 44; Kmperors never so 
culled, 104, 304. 

Rex sacrorum, Rea sacrificulus, ori- 
ginal nature of his office, 95, 291. 

‘Pht, use of the title, 231. 

Rhodes, uration of its independ*® 
ence, 258. 

Rice, its cognates, 239. ) 

Rienzi, titles taken by, 304, 

Roderick, called King of the Romans, 
260. 

Roger Bacon, his account 
Romance languages, ° »2. 

Romwi, meaning of the form, 232. 

“Ῥωμαῖος, use of the name, 227, 2°". 


king 


of the 


Romance Languages, vaeir origin, 
82--83. 
Romans, connexions of their good 


and bad points, 52. 

her progress, 27 ; 
her greatness, 28; In what sense 
eternal, ἐν. ; her relation to the 
Teutonic kingdoms, 31, 88, 212 ; 
conservative character of — her 
history, 50; the greatest example 
of the city-commonwealth, 62 ; 
gradual extension of her citizen- 
ship, 62, 63, 227; failure of her 


LONE, source of 


municipal system, 63, 149 ; im- 
portance of the gentes at, 67; 


local nature of her tribes, 70; 
more nearly a nation than Greece, 
71; history and nature of king- 
ship at, 94 96, 97; change 
from kings to consuls at, 98, 297 ; 
power of magistrates at, 100, 103 ; 
abiding influence of her law, 83 ; 
growth of the Kmperors, 103 ; re- 
storation of kingship at, 104; mili- 
tary assemblics unknown at, 128 ; 
way of voting in the assemblies at, 
145; analogies with the Federal 
period in Greece, 146; character 
of her political parties, 147; re- 
lation of the powers of the state 


INDEX 


ROMILIA. 


in, 147, 148; origin of the patri- 
cians at, 160, 162, 311, 321; 
gradual loss of their privileges, 
164, 165; their nobility gives way 
to that of office, 165, 166; slight 
traces of the comitatus at, 168; 
clientage at, 168-170; law οἵ 
private vengeance at, 176; tyran- 
nicide lawful at, 75.; law of 
talio at, 178; her true position in 
universal history, 198, 209, 212; 
influence of Greece on, 206; 
special nature of her influence, 
210, 213; Eastern parallels of its 
later history, 216; long retention 
of her {ι. 5, 216, 260; character 
of her early legends, 232; feelings 
of her citizens and subjects during 
the Hanr'‘balian war, 245; its 
origin, 258 ; growth of aristocracy 
at, 311]. 

Romivia gens, its insignificance, 296. 

Romulus, Greek element in his 
legend, 96, 295. 

Root, ἣν new one impossible, 6. 

Roum, Sultans of, 260. 

Royalty, modern notion of, 119. 

Russia, cycle in its history, 282 ; 
absolute power in, 307. 


δ. 


Salamis, Athenian senate and as- 
sembly at, 312. 

Samos, action of the Athenian fleet 
at, 312. 

Sardinia, its analogy with Prussia, 
287. eX 

Sarmatians, their alleged presence 
at Chalons, 237. 

Saturnian metre, medieval revival 
of, 209. 

Savigny, F. C., quoted, 317. 

Savoy, Northern, its conquest by 
Bern, 188, 330. 

Scabini, Schéffen, growth of, 317. 

Scandinavia, character of its his- 
tory, 30, 87; its kingdoms un- 
touched by late revolutions, 228. 


SLESWICK. 


Sceaf, son of Noah, 306. 

Schinid, Dr. R., his views on the 
mark, 275. ᾿ 
School of History, needed at Oxford, 

341. 

Science of Language, its results, 8. 

Scipio, an exile at Liternuin, δῦ, 248. 

Scirgemét, traces of, 153. 

Scotland, growth of, as an artificial 
nation, 52. 

Scelands, Frisian, 277. 

Seleukia, its history and conatitu- 
tion, 300. 

Semitic languages, their relation to 
the Aryan, 38, 237. 

Senute, Achaian, often acts as the 
Assembly, 140. 

Senate, Athenian, a specially demo- 
cratic body, 319. 

Senate, Roman, history of, 50; com- 
parison of Rome and Athens, 
146; mode of appointment to, 
147; its relations to the Assem- 
bly, 147-148; its position under 
the Empire, 149, 319. 

Senate in the United States, its con- 
stitution, 151 ; its special powers, 
152. 

Sceniorissa, title, 240. 

Servius, value of his legend, 295. 

Shire, its relation to the Gaw or 
Pagus, 76, 277, 278; made up of 
hundreds, 76 ; origin of the name, 
80, 279; nomenclature of, in 
England, 279, 280. 

Sicily, battle-field of East and West, 
204; permanence of the Greek 
language in, 205; no part of the 
Italian kingdom, 287. 

Slarery, nature of, 126, 310; its 
origin and character in early 
times, 161; history of, in Eng- 
land, 321. 

Slavonic nations, their relation to 
the Eastern Church and Empire, 
32; their past and future, 7b. 

Sleswick, its relations to Denmark, 
228, 


INDEX 


359 


oe ᾽ te 
. SMITH. 


Smith, Mr. Goldwin, quoted, 303. 

Socii, position of, 258. 

Solag theory, how far sound, 7, 
222. @ 

Soldiers, no distinct profession in 
early times, 127. 

Solén, effect of his legislation, 162. 

Spain, Teutonic character of 108 
political institutions, 82; Gothic 
kingdom in, 115; speedy growth 
of Roman civilization in, 237 ; re- 
covery of its southern part by 
Justinian, 308. 

Sparta, formed out of villages, 57, 
252; its unwilling union with 
the Achaian League, 59; history 
of kingship at, 95, 
grants of citizenship at, 254; 
its kings compared with the Ro- 
man consuls, 293; classes of the 
unfree at, 311; proceedings of 
the Assembly at, 315. 

Speeches, how far trustworthy in 
classical history, 259. 

Staatenbund, distinguished 
Bundesstaat, 250. 

Standcrath, Swiss, its constitution, 
151; its necessity, 152. 

Stute, conception of as a city, 52; as 
a nation, ib.; Greek conception of, 
54. 

Stésichorus, quoted, 234. 

Sthenelaidas, Kphor, puts the vote 
in the Spartan Assembly, 316. 

Strangford, Viscount, quoted, 335. 

Summons, right of, how dealt with 
by lawyers, 150. 

Survivals, doctrine of, 9, 222; of 
kingship, 94, 97. 

Sweden, four estates in, 149; ap- 
proach to aristocracy in, 174. 

Switzerland, its? constitution copied 
from that of the United States, 
21; growth of as an artificial 
nation, 52; common neglect of 
its history, 118; form of the 
Federal executive in, 119; con- 
stitution of the two Hous of the 


from 


98, 292; ® 


TEUTONS. 


Assembly, 151; freedom of the 
Forest Cantons, 154; ‘their 
assemblies, ἐδ. ; working of the 
present constitution, 184: in- 
stances of περίοικοι in, 186; effects 
of the French invasion of, 187; 
treatment of’ the common baili- 
wicks, 189; position of the Ro. 
mance cantons in, 228; origin ofs 
the confederation, 235; use of 
the name, 284 ; importance 9f its 
history, 330. 

Syussel, equivalent to Gaw or Shire, 
70. 


T. 


Tacitus, his views as to mixel 
government, 42, 238 :,his picture 
of the early Germans, 42, 104; 
trustworthiness of his Germania, 
239; his report of Claudius’ 
speech, 259. 

Talio, recognized by the Mosaic and 
Roman law, 178; how regulated 
in England, 178, 179. 

Territorial idea of kingship, 112; 
titles, zh. 

Teutonice, use of the word by Giral- 
dus, 333. 

Teutons, their separation from the 
other Aryan stocks in Europe, 
35; their institutions more pri- 
mitive than those of Greece and 
Italy, 64; the idea of the city 
never fully developed among, 
65, 73; relation: of their history 
to that of Greece and Italy, 71, 
82; their tribes grow into na- 
tions, 72, 79; their slower but 
surer growth, 74; first descrip- 
tion of them by Tacitus, 74, 
75; carry their institutions into 
the conquered countries, 78, 79; 
their institutions the groundwork 
of modern European society, 82 ; 
modification of their institutions 
through Roman influences, 82, 


300 INDEX 


PEGEN LIC, 
83, 115; position of cities among, 
83." 

PDegenlic, use of the word, 324. 

Thegn, analogies with, in other na- 
tions, 166; origin and growth of 
the order, 166, 167 ; change in 
the meaning of the word, 167, 
323 ; supplant the Korls, 156, 170. 

Theodoric, his consulship and patri- 
ciate, 103, 301. 

Θεράπηντες, answer to the English 
pegnas, 166. 

Thersités, how dealt with in the 
Homeric Assembly, 133. 

Thierry, Augustin, quoted, 223. 

Thirlwall, ~ishop, quoted, 337. 

Thiudans, origin and cognates of the 

;name, 44, 

Three Estat s, popular error about, 
222. 

Thucydides, character of his history, 
227 ; witness of his Preface, 251]. 

Tiberius at Capren, δῦ, 

Timbrian, use of the word, 233. 

Tithing, authorities on, 275. 

Titienses, their origin, 70. 

Tuulouse, its capitol and magistrates, 
17, 223. 

Towns, various classes of, in Eng- 
land, 283. 

Tribes, Dorian, 68, 69; local origin 
of at Rome, 69, 70, 269, 270; 
their later character at Athens, 
70, 269 ; formation of new tribes 
at Rome, 70, 271; their relation 
to the Gaw, 77; temporary union 
of, ἐδ. ; asserfhly of, at Rome, 
145. * 

Tribunes, their power at Rome, 
147. 

Tribunitia potestas, chief source of 
the imperial power, 103, 300. 

Tylor, Mr. E. B., quoted, 12, 222, 
328. 

Tyrannicide, lawful at Rome and 
Athens, 176. 

Tyrant, meaning of the name, 101. 


VIERLANDE. 


U. 


Uidersaten, use of the word, 930. 

Unfree, position of, 311. 

United States, analogy between its 
constitution and that of Achaia, 
21; their relation to British 
America, 52; constitution of the 
two Houses of Congress, 151. 

United Provinces, origin of their 
confederation, 235. 

Unterthanen answer to περίοικοι, 188. 

Urbs Atvterna, use of the name, 228. 

Uri, its possession of dependencies, 
188 ; bull of, 233. 


V. 


Valtelina, its history, 188. 

Vandals, history of their kingdom, 
115. 

Vassal, origin of the word, 324. 

Vassalage, ovigin and growth of, 167; 
its connexion with the old comita- 
tus, 324, 325. 

Veit, Roman assembly held at, 312. 

Vengeance, private, origin of crimi- 
nal jurisprudence, 175; gradually 
regulated by the commonwealth, 
176; Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and 
English legislation on, 326, 327 ; 
regulated by the wergild, 178- 
180. 

Venice, its unbroken connexion with 
ancient times, 82, 283; Great 
Council of, 125, 188, 320 ; position 
of the cifiadini at, 161 ; origin and 
character of its nobility, 167, 
174; nature of its government, 
172-173 ; its relation to its subject 
states, 185. 

Verona, name of, 284. 

Vestry, parish, represents 
assembly of the Mark, 153. 
Vierlande, district of, held in con- 
dominium by Liibeck and Ham- 

burg, ᾽86. 


the 


INDEX 


.ν 
VILLAGE. 

Village, a stage between the family 
and the.city, 261. 

Village communities, a form of the 
Gens 66, 75, 262; first recorded 
state of the Teutonic nations, 75. 

Villains, position of, 161, 311. 

Voting, early ways of, 133. 

Voting-papers, use of at Rome, 260. 


W. 


Wager of battle, its origin and aboli- 
tion, 177. 

Waitz, G. 1., quoted, 239, 240, 274, 
275, 276, 288, 311, 3817, 322, 324. 
“allis, retention of the old freedom 
in, 78; dominion of Upper over 
Lower, 188. 

War, private, gradually limited by 
law, 176-180; late case of in 
England, 180. 

Ward, Mr. A. W., 342. 

Warren, Mr. J. L., quoted, 336. 

Washington, Capitol of, 17. 

Wergild, a common Aryan institu- 
tion, 175, 178; grows out of the 
right of private vengeance, 175- 
178; notices of in Homer, 178; 
Old-English leyislation on, 178, 
179; between nation and nation, 
179 ; late instance of, in England, 
180. 

West-Goths, extent of their kingdom, 
235. 


THE 


Ν᾽ 361 


ZURICHGAU, 


West-Saxcons, growth of their king- 
dom, 81; fall back on the gevern- 
ment of Ealdormen, 109; con- 
federate Under-kings among, 110; 
permanence of their royal house, 
114, 

Whiteside, Chief Justice, his views 
on Switzerland, 308. 

William the Conqueror finally uniteg 
the English kingdom, 113 ; effects 
of his legislation, 170, 171. 

William Rufus, his theory of the 
royal supremacy, 230. | 

Witenagemdt, an assembly of all 
freemen, 141 ; shrinks into a small 
body, 141, 145; conti? 2d in the 
House of Lords, 150; its ancient 
powers, 156. 

Woden, forefather of the Teutonic 
kings, 105, 805, 806; looked on 
as a man in Christian times, 107. 

Wurm, C. J., quoted, 330. 


Z. 

Zeus, his power in the Assembly of 
the Gods, 130, 131 ; twofold con- 
ception of him, 132. 

Zeuss, K., quoted, 278. 

“Htirich, ovigin of the city, 284. 

Airichyau, local nomenclature of, 


263. 


END 


RichaARD Cray & Sons, Limirep, 
Lonpon & Bunaay. 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 


THE METHODS OF HISTORICAL STUDY. Eight 


Lectures read in the University of Oxford in Michaelmas Term, 2884, 


with the Inaugural Lecture on the Office of the Historical Professor. 
™8vo, 10s. 6d. 


COMPARATIVE POLITICS. Six Lectures read before 


the Royal Institution in January and February, 1873. With The Unity 


of History: the Rede Lecture read before the UnWersity of Cambridge, 
May 29, 1872. 8vo, 14s. 


HISTORICAL ESSAYS. fourth Edition. 8vo, 10s. 6d. 


HISTORICAL ESSAYS, Second Series. Third Edition. 
8vo, 10s. 6d. 


HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Third Serics. 8vo, 12s. 
HISTORICAL ESSAYS. Fourth Series. 8vo, 12s. 6d. 


THE CHIEF PERIODS OF EUROPEAN HISTORY. 
Six Lectures read in the Univergity of Oxford in Trinity ‘erm, 1885, 
with an Essay on Greek Citics under Roman Rule. 8vo, 10s. 6d. 


GENERAL SKETCH OF EUROPEAN HISTORY. 
© .ond Edition. Pott 8vo, 3s. 6d. [Historical Course for Schools. 


HISTORY OF EUROPE. With Maps. Pott 8vo, 1s. 
[History Primers. 
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. Crown 8vo, 2s. Gd. 


[Twelve English Statesmen. 


FOUR OXFORD LECTURES, 1887. FIFTY YEARS 


OF KUROPEAN HISTORY. TEUTONIC CONQUEST IN GAUL 
AND BRITAIN.  8vo, 5s. 


OLD ENGLISH HISTORY FOR CHILDREN. With 
Maps. Globe 8vo, 6s. 


ENGLISH TOWNS AND DISTRICTS. A Series of 
Addresses and Sketches. With [llustrations and Maps. 8vo, 14s. 


GREATER GREECE AND GREATER BRITAIN, AND 
GEORGE WASHINGTON THE EXPANDER OF ENGLAND. Two 
Lectures. With an Appendix. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 


HISTORY OF FEDERAL GOVERNMENT IN GREECE 


AND ITALY. With a General Introduction. Seer u Edition. Edited 


by J. B. Bury, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin. Extra crown 
8vo, 12s. 6d. 


THE GROWTH OF THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION 
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 5s. 


SKETCHES FROM THE SUBJECT AND NEIGHBOUR 
LANDS OF VENICE. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d. 


HISTORY OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF 


WELLS, as illustrating the History of the Cathedral Churches of the 
Old Foundation. Globe 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
2 


MACMILLAN: AND CO., LIMITED, LONDON.