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POLITICAL 
 
 INSTITUTIONS: 
 
 BEING PART V 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. 
 
 (The concluding Portion of Vol. II.) 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STEEET. 
 
 1882 . 
 
3 7 " 0 
 
 3 
 
 ' /WtClvtA.-itv '>v W 
 
Qi 
 
 PREFACE TO PART T. 
 
 jCHE division of the Principles of Sociology herewith issued, 
 deals with phenomena of Evolution which are, above all 
 others, obscure and entangled. To discover what truths may 
 be affirmed of political organizations at large, is a task beset 
 by difficulties that are at once many and great — difficulties 
 arising from unlikenesses of the various human races, from 
 differences among the modes of life entailed by circum- 
 stances on the societies formed of them, from the numerous 
 contrasts of sizes and degrees of culture exhibited by such 
 societies, from their perpetual interferences with one another’s 
 processes of evolution by means of wars, and from accom- 
 panying breakings-up and aggregations in ever - changing 
 ways. 
 
 Satisfactory achievement of this task would require the 
 labours of a life. Having been able to devote to it but two 
 years, I feel that the results set forth in this volume must 
 of necessity be full of imperfections. If it be asked why, 
 being thus conscious that far more time and wuder inves- 
 tigation are requisite for the proper treatment of a subject 
 so immense and involved, I have undertaken it, my reply 
 is that I have been obliged to deal with political evolution 
 as a part of the general Theory of Evolution ; and, with due 
 regard to the claims of other parts, could not make a more 
 prolonged preparation. Anyone who undertakes to trace the 
 general laws of transformation wffiich hold throughout all 
 orders of phenomena, must have but an incomplete know- 
 ledge of each order ; since, to acquaint himself exhaustively 
 with any one order, demanding, as it would, exclusive devo- 
 
 
11 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 tion of his days to it, would negative like devotion to any 
 of the others, and much more would negative generalization 
 of the whole. Either generalization of the whole ought never 
 to be attempted, or, if it is attempted, it must be by one who 
 gives to each part such time only as is requisite to master 
 the cardinal truths it presents. Believing that generalization 
 of the whole is supremely important, and that no one part 
 can be fully understood without it, I have ventured to treat 
 of Political Institutions after the manner implied : utilizing, 
 for the purpose, the materials which, in the space of fourteen 
 years, have been gathered together in the Descriptive Sociology , 
 and joining with them such further materials as, during the 
 last two years, have been accumulated by inquiries in other 
 directions, made personally and by proxy. If errors found 
 in this volume are such as invalidate any of its leading con- 
 clusions, the fact will show the impolicy of the course I 
 have pursued ; but if, after removal of the errors, the leading 
 conclusions remain outstanding, this course will be justified. 
 
 Of the chapters forming this volume, the first seven were 
 originally published in the Fortnightly Review in England; 
 and, simultaneously, in monthly periodicals in America, 
 France, and Germany. Chapters VIII and IX were thus 
 published abroad but not at home. Chapters XVII and 
 XVIII appeared here in the Contemporary Review ; and at the 
 same time in the before-mentioned foreign periodicals. The 
 remaining chapters, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, and 
 XIX, now appear for the first time ; with the exception of 
 chapter XI, which has already seen the light in an Italian 
 periodical — La Rivista di Filosofia Scientifica. 
 
 London , March , 1882. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. — PRELIMINARY 
 
 II. —POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL 
 
 III. — POLITICAL INTEGRATION 
 IV". — POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION 
 Y. — POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES 
 
 VI. — POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 VII. — COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS 
 
 VIII. — CONSULTATIVE BODIES 
 
 IX. — REPRESENTATIVE BODIES ... 
 
 X. — MINISTRIES 
 
 XI. — LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES 
 
 XII. — MILITARY SYSTEMS 
 
 XIII. — JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS ... 
 
 XIV. — LAWS ... 
 
 XV. — PROPERTY 
 
 XVI. — REVENUE 
 
 XVII.— THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY 
 XVIII. — THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY ... 
 XIX. — POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ... 229 
 ... 244 
 ... 265 
 ... 288 
 ... 311 
 
 ... 331 
 
 v , . 366 
 
 „.. 397 
 ... 415 
 ... 442 
 
 ... 451 
 
 ... 473 
 ... 492 
 ... 513 
 ... 538 
 
 ... 557 
 ... 568 
 
 ... 603 
 
 ... 643 
 
PART Y. 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 § 434. Thought and feeling cannot be completely dis- 
 sociated. Each emotion has a more or less distinct frame- 
 work of ideas; and each group of ideas is more or less suffused 
 with emotion. There are, however, great differences between 
 their degrees of combination under both of these aspects. 
 We have some feelings which are vague from lack of intel- 
 lectual definition ; and others to which clear shapes are given 
 by the associated conceptions. At one time our thoughts 
 are distorted by the passion running through them ; and at 
 another time it is difficult to detect in them a trace of liking 
 or disliking. Manifestly, too, in each particular case these 
 components of the mental state may be varied in their pro- 
 portions. The ideas being the same, the emotion joined with 
 them may be greater or less ; and it is a familiar truth that 
 the correctness of the judgment formed, depends, if not on 
 the absence of emotion, still, on that balance of emotions 
 which negatives excess of any one. 
 
 Especially is this so in matters concerning human life. 
 There are two ways in which men’s actions, individual or 
 social, may be regarded. We may consider them as groups 
 of phenomena to be analyzed, and the laws of their depen- 
 dence ascertained ; or, considering them as causing pleasures 
 or pains, we may associate with them approbation or repro- 
 bation. Dealing with its problems intellectually, we may 
 
230 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 regard conduct as always the result of certain forces; or, 
 dealing with its problems morally, and recognizing its out- 
 come as in this case good and in that case bad, we may 
 allow now admiration and now indignation to fill our con- 
 sciousness. Obviously, it must make a great difference in 
 our conclusions whether, as in the one case, we study mens 
 doings as those of alien creatures, which it merely concerns 
 us to understand ; or whether, as in the other case, we con- 
 template them as the doings of creatures like ourselves, with 
 whose lives our own lives are bound up, and whose behaviour 
 arouses in us, directly and sympathetically, feelings of love 
 or hate. 
 
 In an ancillary work, The Study of Sociology , I have de- 
 scribed the various perversions produced in men's judgments 
 by their emotions. Examples are given showing how fears 
 and hopes betray them into false estimates ; how impatience 
 prompts unjust condemnations ; how in this case antipathy, 
 and in that case sympathy, distorts belief. The truth that 
 the bias of education and the bias of patriotism severally 
 warp men’s convictions, is enforced by many illustrations. 
 And it is pointed out that the more special forms of bias — 
 the class bias, the political bias, the theological bias — each 
 originates a predisposition towards this or that view of public 
 affairs. 
 
 Here let me emphasize the conclusion that in pursuing 
 our sociological inquiries, and especially those on which we 
 are now entering, we must, as much as possible, exclude 
 whatever emotions the facts are calculated to excite, and 
 attend solely to the interpretation of the facts. There are 
 several groups of phenomena in contemplating which either 
 contempt, or disgust, or indignation, tends to arise but must 
 be restrained. 
 
 § 435. Instead of passing over as of no account, or else 
 regarding as purely mischievous, the superstitions of the 
 primitive man, we must inquire what part they play in 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 231 
 
 social evolution ; and must be prepared, if need be, to re- 
 cognize their usefulness. Already we have seen that the 
 belief which prompts the savage to bury valuables with the 
 corpse and carry food to the grave, has a natural genesis ; 
 that the propitiation of plants and animals, and the “ worship 
 of stocks and stones,” are not gratuitous absurdities ; and 
 that slaves are sacrificed at funerals in pursuance of an idea 
 which seems rational to uninstructed intelligence. Pre- 
 sently we shall have to consider in what way the ghost- 
 theory has operated politically ; and if we should find reason 
 to conclude that it has been an indispensable aid to political 
 progress, we must be ready to accept the conclusion. 
 
 Knowledge of the miseries which have for countless ages 
 been everywhere caused by the antagonisms of societies, must 
 not prevent us from recognizing the all-important part these 
 antagonisms have played in civilization. Shudder as we 
 must at the cannibalism which all over the world in early 
 days was a sequence of war — shrink as we may from the 
 thought of those immolations of prisoners which have, tens 
 of thousands of times, followed battles between wild tribes — 
 read as we do with horror of the pyramids of heads and the 
 whitening bones of slain peoples left by barbarian invaders — 
 hate, as we ought, the militant spirit which is even now 
 among ourselves prompting base treacheries and brutal ag- 
 gressions ; we must not let our feelings blind us to the 
 proofs that inter-social conflicts have furthered the develop- 
 ment of social structures. 
 
 Moreover, dislikes to governments of certain kinds must 
 not prevent us from seeing their fitnesses to their circum- 
 stances. Though, rejecting the common idea of glory, and 
 declining to join soldiers and school-boys in applying the 
 epithet “ great ” to conquering despots, we detest despotism — 
 though we regard their sacrifices of their own peoples and of 
 alien peoples in pursuit of universal dominion as gigantic 
 crimes; we must yet recognize the benefits occasionally 
 arising from the consolidations they achieve. Neither the 
 
232 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 massacres of subjects which Roman emperors directed, nor 
 the assassinations of relatives common among potentates 
 in the East, nor the impoverishment of whole nations by the 
 exactions of tyrants, must so revolt us as to prevent appre- 
 ciation of the benefits which have, under certain conditions, 
 resulted from the unlimited power of the supreme man. Nor 
 must the remembrances of torturing implements, and oub- 
 liettes, and victims built into walls, shut out from our minds 
 the evidence that abject submission of the weak to the 
 strong, however unscrupulously enforced, has in some times 
 and places been necessary. 
 
 So, too, with the associated ownership of man by man. 
 Absolute condemnation of slavery must be withheld, even if 
 w~e accept the tradition repeated by Herodotus, that to build 
 the Great Pyramid relays of a hundred thousand slaves toiled 
 for twenty years ; or even if we find it true that of the serfs 
 compelled to work at the building of St. Petersburg, three 
 hundred thousand perished. Though aware that the un- 
 recorded sufferings of men and women held in bondage are 
 beyond imagination, we must be willing to receive such 
 evidence as there may be that benefits have resulted. 
 
 In brief, trustworthy interpretations of social arrangements 
 imply an almost passionless consciousness. Though feeling 
 cannot and ought not to be excluded from the mind when 
 otherwise contemplating them, yet it ought to be excluded 
 when contemplating them as natural phenomena to be under- 
 stood in their causes and effects. 
 
 § 436. Maintenance of this mental attitude will be furthered 
 by keeping before ourselves the truth that in human actions 
 the absolutely bad may be relatively good, and the absolutely 
 good may be relatively bad. 
 
 Though it has become a common-place that the institutions 
 under which one race prospers will not answer for another, 
 the recognition of this truth is by no means adequate. Men 
 who have lost faith in “ paper constitutions/’ nevertheless 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 233 
 
 advocate such conduct towards inferior races, as implies 4he 
 belief that civilized social forms can with advantage be im- 
 posed on uncivilized peoples ; that the arrangements which 
 seem to us vicious are vicious for them ; and that they would 
 benefit by institutions — domestic, industrial, or political — 
 akin to those which we find beneficial. But acceptance of 
 the truth that the type of a society is determined by the 
 natures of its units, forces on us the corollary that a regime 
 intrinsically of the lowest, may yet be the best possible under 
 primitive conditions. 
 
 Otherwise stating the matter, we must not substitute our 
 developed code of conduct, which predominantly concerns 
 private relations, for the undeveloped code of conduct, which 
 predominantly concerns public relations. Now that life is 
 generally occupied in peaceful intercourse with fellow-citizens, 
 ethical ideas refer chiefly to actions between man and man ; 
 but in early stages, while the occupation of life was mainly 
 in conflicts with adjacent societies, such ethical ideas as 
 existed referred almost wholly to inter-social actions : men's 
 deeds were judged by their direct bearings on tribal welfare. 
 And since preservation of the society takes precedence of 
 individual preservation, as being a condition to it, we must, 
 in considering social phenomena, interpret good and bad 
 rather in their earlier senses than in their later senses ; and 
 so must regard as relatively good, that 'which furthers sur- 
 vival of the society, great as may be the suffering inflicted on 
 its members. 
 
 § 437. Another of our ordinary conceptions has to be much 
 widened before we can rightly interpret political evolution. 
 The words “ civilized ” and “ savage ” must have given to 
 them meanings differing greatly from those which are current. 
 That broad contrast usually drawn wholly to the advantage 
 of the men who form large nations, and to the disadvantage 
 of the men who form simple groups, a better knowledge 
 obliges us profoundly to qualify. Characters are to be found 
 
234 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 among rude peoples which compare well with those of the 
 best among cultivated peoples. With little knowledge and 
 but rudimentary arts, there in some cases go virtues which 
 might shame those among ourselves whose education and 
 polish are of the highest. 
 
 Surviving remnants of some primitive races in India, have 
 natures in which truthfulness seems to be organic. Not only 
 to the surrounding Hindoos, higher intellectually and rela- 
 tively advanced in culture, are they in this respect far superior; 
 but they are superior to Europeans. Of certain of these Hill 
 peoples it is remarked that their assertions may always be 
 accepted with perfect confidence ; which is more than can be 
 said of manufacturers who use false trade-marks, or of diplo- 
 matists who intentionally delude. As having this trait may 
 be named the Santals, of whom Hunter says, “ they were the 
 most truthful set of men I ever met;” and, again, the Sowrahs, 
 of whom Shortt says, “ a pleasing feature in their character 
 is their complete truthfulness. They do not know how to 
 tell a lie.” Noth withstanding their sexual relations of a 
 primitive and low type, even the Todas are described as con- 
 sidering “ falsehood one of the worst of vices.” Though Metz 
 says that they practise dissimulation towards Europeans, yet 
 he recognizes this as a trait consequent on their intercourse 
 with Europeans ; and this judgment coincides with one given 
 to me by an Indian civil servant concerning other Hill tribes, 
 originally distinguished by their veracity, but who are 
 rendered less veracious by contact with the whites. So rare 
 is lying among these aboriginal races when unvitiated by the 
 “ civilized,” that, of those in Bengal, Hunter singles out the 
 Tipperahs as “ the only hill-tribe in which this vice is met 
 with.” 
 
 Similarly in respect of honesty, some of these peoples 
 classed as inferior read lessons to those classed as superior. 
 Of the Todas just named, ignorant and degraded as they are 
 in some respects, Harkness says, “I never saw a people, 
 civilized or uncivilized, who seemed to have a more religious 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 235 
 
 respect for the rights of meum and tuum ” The Marias 
 (Gonds), “ in common with many other wild races, hear a 
 singular character for truthfulness and honesty.” Among the 
 Khonds “ the denial of a debt is a breach of this principle, 
 which is held to be highly sinful. ‘ Let a man / say they, 
 ‘ give up all he has to his creditors/ ” The Santal prefers to 
 have “ no dealings with his guests ; but when his guests 
 introduce the subject he deals with them as honestly as lie 
 would with his own people : ” “ he names the true price at 
 first.” The Lepchas “are wonderfully honest, theft being 
 scarcely known among them.” And the Bodo and Dhimals 
 are “ honest and truthful in deed and word.” Colonel Dixon 
 dilates on the “ fidelity, truth, and honesty ” of the Carnatic 
 aborigines, who show “ an extreme and almost touching 
 devotion when put upon their honour.” And Hunter asserts 
 of the Chakmas, that “ crime is rare among these primitive 
 people Theft is almost unknown.” 
 
 So it is, too, with the general virtues of these and sundry 
 other uncivilized tribes. The Santal “ possesses a happy dis- 
 position,” is “ sociable to a fault,” and while the “ sexes are 
 greatly devoted to each other’s society,” the women are “ ex- 
 ceedingly chaste.” The Bodo and the Dhimals are “ full of 
 amiable qualities.” The Lepcha, “ cheerful, kind, and patient,” 
 is described by Dr. Hooker as a most “attractive com- 
 panion ; ” and Dr. Campbell gives “ an instance of the effect 
 of a very strong sense of duty on this savage.” In like 
 manner, from accounts of certain Malayo-Polynesian societies, 
 and certain Papuan societies, may be given instances show- 
 ing in high degrees sundry traits which we ordinarily 
 associate only with a human nature that has been long sub- 
 ject to the discipline of civilized life and the teachings of a 
 superior religion. One of the latest testimonies is that of 
 Signor D’ Albertis, who describes certain Hew Guinea people 
 he visited (near Yule Island) as strictly honest, “ very kind,” 
 “ good and peaceful,” and who, after disputes between villages, 
 “are as friendly as before, bearing no animosity;” but of 
 
236 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 whom the Eev. W. Gf. Lawes, commenting on Signor 
 ©’Albertis’ communication to the Colonial Institute, says 
 that their goodwill to the whites is being destroyed by the 
 whites’ ill-treatment of them : the usual history. 
 
 Contrariwise, in various parts of the world men of several 
 types yield proofs that societies relatively advanced in 
 organization and culture, may yet be inhuman in their idea's, 
 sentiments, and usages. The Fijians, described by Dr. 
 Pickering as among the most intelligent of unlettered peoples, 
 are among the most ferocious. “ Intense and vengeful 
 malignity strongly marks the Fijian character.” Lying, 
 treachery, theft, and murder, are with them not criminal, but 
 honourable ; infanticide is immense in extent ; strangling 
 the sickly habitual ; and they sometimes cut up while alive 
 the human victims they are going to eat. Nevertheless they 
 have a “ complicated and carefully- conducted political 
 system ; ” well-organized military forces ; elaborate fortifica- 
 tions ; a developed agriculture with succession of crops and 
 irrigation ; a considerable division of labour ; a separate dis- 
 tributing agency with incipient currency ; and a skilled 
 industry which builds canoes that carry three hundred 
 men. Take again an African society, Dahomey. We 
 
 find there a finished system of classes, six in number; com- 
 plex governmental arrangements with officials always in 
 pairs ; an army divided into battalions, having reviews and 
 sham fights ; prisons, police, and sumptuary laws ; an agri- 
 culture which uses manure and grows a score kinds of plants; 
 moated towns, bridges, and roads with turnpikes. Yet along 
 with this comparatively high social development there goes 
 what we may call organized criminality. Wars are made to 
 get skulls with which to decorate the royal palace ; hundreds 
 of subjects are killed when a king dies ; and great numbers 
 are annually slaughtered to carry messages to the other 
 world. Described as cruel and blood-thirsty, liars and 
 cheats, the people are “void either of sympathy or gratitude, 
 even in their own families;” so that “ not even the appearance 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 237 
 
 of affection exists between husband and wife, or between 
 parents and children.” The New World, too, furnished 
 
 when it was discovered, like evidence. Having great cities 
 of 120,000 houses, the Mexicans had also cannibal gods, 
 whose idols were fed on warm, reeking, human flesh, thrust 
 into their mouths — wars being made purposely to supply 
 victims for them ; and with skill to build vast and stately 
 temples, there went the immolation of two thousand five 
 hundred persons annually, in Mexico and adjacent towns 
 alone, and of a far greater number throughout the country at- 
 large. Similarly in the populous Central American States, 
 sufficiently civilized to have a developed system of calcula- 
 tion, a regular calendar, books, maps, &c., there were exten- 
 sive sacrifices of prisoners, slaves, children, whose hearts 
 were torn out and offered palpitating on altars, and who, in 
 other cases, were flayed alive and their skins used as dancing- 
 dresses by the priests. 
 
 Nor need we seek in remote regions or among alien races, 
 for proofs that there does not exist a necessary connexion 
 between the social types classed as civilized and those 
 higher sentiments which we commonly associate with civili- 
 zation. The mutilations of prisoners exhibited on Assyrian 
 sculptures are not surpassed in cruelty by any we find among 
 the most bloodthirsty of wild races ; and Eameses II., who 
 delighted in having himself sculptured on temple-walls 
 throughout Egypt as holding a dozen captives by the hair, 
 and striking off* their heads at a blow, slaughtered during his 
 conquests more human beings than a thousand chiefs of 
 savage tribes put together. The tortures inflicted on cap- 
 tured enemies by Eed Indians are not greater than were 
 those inflicted of old on felons by crucifixion, or on suspected 
 rebels by sewing them up in the hides of slaughtered animals, 
 or on heretics by smearing them over with combustibles and 
 setting fire to them. The Damaras, described as so heartless 
 that they laugh on seeing one of their number killed by a 
 wild beast, are not worse than were the Eomans, who gratified 
 
238 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 themselves by watching wholesale slaughters in their arenas. 
 If the numbers destroyed by the hordes of Attila were not 
 equalled by the numbers which the Roman armies destroyed 
 at the conquest of Selucia, and by the numbers of the Jews 
 massacred under Hadrian, it was simply because the occa- 
 sions did not permit. The cruelties of Hero, Gallienus, and 
 the rest, may compare with those of Zingis and Timour ; and 
 when we read of Caracalla, that after he had murdered 
 twenty thousand friends of his murdered brother, his soldiers 
 forced the Senate to place him among the gods, we are shown 
 that in the Roman people there was a ferocity not less than 
 that which deifies the most sanguinary chiefs among the worst 
 of savages. Nor did Christianity greatly change matters. 
 Throughout Mediaeval Europe, political offences and religious 
 dissent brought on men carefully-devised agonies equalling if 
 not exceeding any inflicted by the most brutal of barbarians. 
 
 Startling as the truth seems, it is yet a truth to be recog- 
 nized, that increase of humanity does not go on pari passu 
 with civilization ; but that, contrariwise, the earlier stages of 
 civilization necessitate a relative inhumanity. Among tribes 
 of primitive men, it is the more brutal rather than the more 
 kindly who succeed in those conquests which effect the earliest 
 social consolidations ; and through many subsequent stages 
 unscrupulous aggression outside of the society and cruel 
 coercion within, are the habitual concomitants of political 
 development. The men of whom the better organized societies 
 have been formed, were at first, and long continued to be, 
 nothing else but the stronger and more cunning savages ; and 
 even now, when freed from those influences which super- 
 ficially modify their behaviour, they prove themselves to be 
 little better. If, on the one hand, we contemplate the utterly 
 uncivilized Wood-Veddahs, who are described as “ proverbially 
 truthful and honest,” “ gentle and affectionate,” “ obeying the 
 slightest intimation of a wish, and very grateful for attention 
 or assistance,” and of whom Pridham remarks — “ What a 
 lesson in gratitude and delicacy even a Yeddah may teach !” 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 239 
 
 and then if, on the other hand, we contemplate our own 
 recent acts of international brigandage, accompanied by the 
 slaughter of thousands who have committed no wrong against 
 us — accompanied, too, by perfidious breaches of faith and the 
 killing of prisoners in cold blood ; we must admit that be- 
 tween the types of men classed as uncivilized and civilized, 
 the differences are not necessarily of the kinds commonly 
 supposed. Whatever relation exists between moral nature 
 and social type, is not such as to imply that the social man is 
 in all respects emotionally superior to the pre-social man.* 
 
 § 438. “ How is this conclusion to be reconciled with the 
 conception of progress ? ” most readers will ask. “ How is 
 civilization to be justified if, as is thus implied, some of the 
 highest of human attributes are exhibited in greater degrees 
 by wild people who live scattered in pairs in the woods, than 
 by the members of a vast, well-organized nation, having 
 
 * What the social man, even of advanced race, is capable of, has been 
 again shown while these lines are standing in type. To justify the destruc- 
 tion of two African towns in Batanga, we are told that their king, wishing to 
 have a trading factory established, and disappointed with the promise of a 
 sub-factory, boarded an English schooner, carried off Mr. Govier, the mate, 
 and refusing to release him when asked, “threatened to cut the man’s head 
 off” : a strange mode, if true, of getting a trading factory established. 
 Mr. Govier afterwards escaped ; not having been ill-treated during his deten- 
 tion. Anchoring the JBoadicea and two gunboats off Kribby’s Town (“Xing 
 Jack’s” residence), Commodore Richards demanded of the king that he 
 should come on board and explain : promising him safety, and threatening 
 serious consequences in case of refusal. Not trusting the promise, the king 
 failed to come. Without ascertaining from the natives whether they had 
 any reason for laying hands on Mr. Govier, save this most improbable one 
 alleged by our people, Commodore Richards proceeded, after some hours’ 
 notice, to clear the beach with shells, to burn the town of 300 houses, to cut 
 down the natives’ crops, and to destroy their canoes ; and then, not satisfied 
 with burning “King Jack’s” town, went further south and burnt “King 
 Long-Long’s” town. These facts are published in the Times of September 
 10, 1880. In an article on them, this organ of English respectability regrets 
 that “ the punishment must seem, to the childish mind of the savage, wholly 
 disproportionate to the offence:” implying that to the adult mind of the 
 civilized it will not seem disproportionate. Further, this leading journal of 
 ruling classes who hold that, in the absence of established theological dogmas, 
 
240 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 marvellously-elaborated arts, extensive and profound know- 
 ledge, and multitudinous appliances to welfare ? ” The 
 answer to this question will best be conveyed by an 
 analogy. 
 
 As carried on throughout the animate world at large, the 
 struggle for existence has been an indispensable means to 
 evolution. Not simply do we see that in the competition 
 among individuals of the same kind, survival of the fittest, 
 has from the beginning furthered production of a higher type ; 
 but we see that to the unceasing warfare between species is 
 mainly due both growth and organization. Without univer- 
 sal conflict there would have been no development of the 
 active powers. The organs of perception and of locomotion 
 have been little by little evolved during the inter-action of 
 pursuers and pursued. Improved limbs and senses have 
 furnished better supplies to the viscera, and improved visceral 
 structures have ensured a better supply of aerated blood to 
 the limbs and senses ; while a higher nervous system has at 
 each stage been called into play for co-ordinating the actions 
 of these more complex structures. Among predatory animals 
 death by starvation, and among animals preyed upon death 
 by destruction, have carried off the least-favourably modified 
 individuals and varieties. Every advance in strength, speed, 
 agility, or sagacity, in creatures of the one class, has necessi- 
 tated a corresponding advance in creatures of the other class ; 
 and without never-ending efforts to catch and to escape, with 
 loss of life as the penalty for failure, the progress of neither 
 could have been achieved. 
 
 there would be no distinction between right and wrong, remarks that “ if it 
 were not for the dark shadow cast over it by this loss of life” [of two of our 
 men], “ the whole episode would be somewhat humorous.” Doubtless, after 
 the “ childish mind of the savage ” has accepted the “glad tidings” brought 
 by missionaries of “ the religion of love,” there is humour, somewhat of the 
 grimmest, perhaps, in showing him the practice of this religion by burning 
 his house. Comments on Christian virtues, uttered by exploding shells, may 
 fitly be accompanied by a Mephistophelian smile. Possibly the king, in declin- 
 ing to trust himself on board an English ship, was swayed by the common 
 Negro belief that the devil is while. 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 241 
 
 Mark now, however, that while this merciless discipline of 
 Nature, “red in tooth and claw” has been essential to 
 the progress of sentient life, its persistence through all 
 time with all creatures must not he inferred. The high 
 organization evolved by and for this universal conflict, is not 
 necessarily for ever employed to like ends. The resulting- 
 power and intelligence admit of being far otherwise employed. 
 Not for offence and defence only are the inherited structures 
 useful, but for various other purposes; and these various 
 other purposes may finally become the exclusive purposes. 
 The myriads of years of warfare which have developed the 
 powers of all lower types of creatures, have bequeathed to 
 the highest type of creature the powers now used by him for 
 countless objects besides those of killing and avoiding being 
 killed. His limbs, teeth and nails are but little employed in 
 fight; and his mind is not ordinarily occupied in devising 
 ways of destroying other creatures, or guarding himself from 
 injury by them. 
 
 Similarly with social organisms. We must recognize the 
 truth that the struggles for existence between societies have 
 been instrumental to their evolution. Neither the consolida- 
 tion and re-consolidation of small groups into large ones ; nor 
 the organization of such compound and doubly compound 
 groups ; nor the concomitant developments of those aids to 
 a higher life which civilization has brought; would have 
 been possible without inter-tribal and inter-national con- 
 flicts. Social cooperation is initiated by joint defence and 
 offence ; and from the cooperation thus initiated, all kinds of 
 cooperations have arisen. Inconceivable as have been the 
 horrors caused by this universal antagonism which, beginning 
 with the chronic hostilities of small hordes tens of thou- 
 sands of years ago, has ended in the occasional vast battles of 
 immense nations, we must nevertheless admit that with- 
 out it the world would still have been inhabited only by 
 men of feeble types, sheltering in caves and living on wild 
 food. 
 
242 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 But now observe that the inter-social struggle for exist- 
 ence which has been indispensable in evolving societies, will 
 not necessarily play in the future a part like that which it has 
 played in the past. Recognizing our indebtedness to war for 
 forming great communities and developing their structures, 
 we may yet infer that the acquired powers, available for other 
 activities, will lose their original activities. While conceding 
 that without these perpetual bloody strifes, civilized societies 
 could not have arisen, and that an adapted form of human 
 nature, fierce as well as intelligent, was a needful concomitant ; 
 we may at the same time hold that such societies having been 
 produced, the brutality of nature in their units which was 
 necessitated by the process, ceasing to be necessary with the 
 cessation of the process, will disappear. While the benefits 
 achieved during the predatory period remain a permanent 
 inheritance, the evils entailed by it will decrease and slowly 
 die out. 
 
 Thus, then, contemplating social structures and actions 
 from the evolution point of view, we may preserve that 
 calmness which is needful for scientific interpretation of them, 
 without losing our powers of feeling moral reprobation or 
 approbation. 
 
 § 439. To these preliminary remarks respecting the mental 
 attitude to be preserved by the student of political institu- 
 tions, a few briefer ones must be added respecting the subject- 
 matters he has to deal with. 
 
 If societies were all of the same species and differed only 
 in their stages of growth and structure, comparisons would 
 disclose clearly the course of evolution ; but unlikenesses 
 of type among them, here great and there small, obscure the 
 results of such comparisons. 
 
 Again, if each society grew and unfolded itself without the 
 intrusion of additional factors, interpretation would be rela- 
 tively easy; but the complicated processes of development 
 are frequently re-complicated by changes in the gets of 
 
PRELIMINARY. 
 
 243 
 
 factors. Now the size of the social aggregate is all at once 
 increased or decreased by annexation or by loss of territory ; 
 and now the average character of its units is altered by the 
 coming in of another race as conquerors or as slaves ; while, 
 as a further effect of this event, new social relations are 
 superposed on the old. In many cases the repeated over- 
 runnings of societies by one another, the minglings of peoples 
 and institutions, the breakings up and re-aggregations, so 
 destroy the continuity of normal processes as to make it 
 extremely difficult, if not impossible, to draw conclu- 
 sions. 
 
 Once more, modifications in the average mode of life 
 pursued by a society, now increasingly warlike and now 
 increasingly industrial, initiate metamorphoses : changed 
 activities generate changes of structures. Consequently there 
 have to be distinguished those progressive re-arrangements 
 caused by the further development of one social type, from 
 those caused by the commencing development of another 
 social type. The lines of an organization adapted to a mode 
 of activity which has ceased, or has been long suspended, begin 
 to fade, and are traversed by the increasingly-definite lines of 
 an organization adapted to the mode of activity which has 
 replaced it; and error may result from mistaking traits 
 belonging to the one for those belonging to the other. 
 
 Hence we may infer that out of the complex and confused 
 evidence, only the larger truths will emerge with clearness. 
 While anticipating that certain general conclusions are to be 
 positively established, we may anticipate that more special 
 ones can be alleged only as probable. 
 
 Happily, however, as we shall eventually see, those general 
 conclusions admitting of positive establishment, are the con- 
 clusions of most value for guidance. 
 
 2 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 § 440. The mere gathering of individuals into a group does 
 not constitute them a society. A society, in the sociological 
 sense, is formed only when, besides juxtaposition there is co- 
 operation. So long as members of the group do not combine 
 their energies to achieve some common end or ends, there is 
 little to keep them together. They are prevented from sepa- 
 rating only when the wants of each are better satisfied by 
 uniting his efforts with those of others, than they would be 
 if he acted alone. 
 
 Cooperation, then, is at once that which cannot exist 
 without a society, and that for which a society exists. It 
 may be a joining of many strengths to effect something which 
 the strength of no single man can effect ; or it may be an 
 apportioning of different activities to different persons, who 
 severally participate in the benefits of one another’s activities. 
 The motive for acting together, originally the dominant one, 
 may be defence against enemies ; or it may be the easier ob- 
 tainment of food, by the chase or otherwise ; or it may be, 
 and commonly is, both of these. In any case, however, the 
 units pass from the state of perfect independence to the state 
 of mutual dependence ; and as fast as they do this they 
 become united into a society rightly so called. 
 
 But cooperation implies organization. If acts are to be 
 effectually combined, there must be arrangements under which 
 they are adjusted in their times, amounts, and characters. 
 
 § 441. This social organization, necessary as a means to 
 concerted action, is of two kinds. Though these two kinds 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 245 
 
 generally co-exist, and are more or less interfused, yet they 
 are distinct in their origins and natures. There is a spon- 
 taneous cooperation which grows up without thought during 
 the pursuit of private ends ; and there is a cooperation which, 
 consciously devised, implies distinct recognition of public 
 ends. The ways in which the two are respectively established 
 and carried on, present marked contrasts. 
 
 Whenever, in a primitive group, there begins that coopera- 
 tion which is effected by exchange of services — whenever 
 individuals find their wants better satisfied by giving certain 
 products which they can make best, in return for other pro- 
 ducts they are less skilled in making, or not so well circum- 
 stanced for making, there is initiated a kind of organization 
 which then, and throughout its higher stages, results from 
 endeavours to meet personal needs. Division of labour, 
 to the last as at first, grows by experience of mutual facilita,- 
 tions in living. Each new specialization of industry arises 
 from the effort of one who commences it to get profit ; and 
 establishes itself by conducing in some way to the profit of 
 others. So that there is a kind of concerted action, with an 
 elaborate social organization developed by it, which does not 
 originate in deliberate concert. Though within the small sub- 
 divisions of this organization, we find everywhere repeated 
 the relation of employer and employed, of whom the one 
 directs the actions of the other; yet this relation, sponta- 
 neously formed in aid of private ends and continued only at 
 will, is not formed with conscious reference to achievement of 
 public ends : these are not thought of. And though, for 
 regulating trading activities, there arise agencies serving to 
 adjust the supplies of commodities to the demands ; yet such 
 agencies do this not by direct stimulations or restraints, but 
 by communicating information which serves to stimulate or 
 restrain; and, further, these agencies grow up not for the 
 avowed purpose of thus regulating, but in the pursuit of gain 
 by individuals. So unintentionally has there arisen the 
 elaborate division of labour by which production and distri- 
 
246 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 bution are now carried on, that only in modern days has 
 there come a recognition of the fact that it has all along been 
 arising. 
 
 On the other hand, cooperation for a purpose immediately 
 concerning the whole society, is a conscious cooperation ; and 
 is carried on by an organization of another kind, formed in a 
 different way. When the primitive group has to defend 
 itself against other groups, its members act together under 
 further stimuli than those constituted by purely personal 
 desires. Even at the outset, before any control by a chief 
 exists, there is the control exercised by the group over its 
 members ; each of whom is obliged, by public opinion, to join 
 in the general defence. Very soon the warrior of recognized 
 superiority begins to exercise over each, during war, an in- 
 fluence additional to that exercised by the group ; and when 
 his authority becomes established, it greatly furthers com- 
 bined action. From the beginning, therefore, this kind of 
 social cooperation is a conscious cooperation, and a coopera- 
 tion which is not wholly a matter of choice — is often at 
 variance with private wishes. As the organization initiated 
 by it develops, we see that, in the first place, the fighting 
 division of the society displays in the highest degree these 
 same traits : the grades and divisions constituting an army, 
 cooperate more and more under the regulation, consciously 
 established, of agencies which override individual volitions — 
 or, to speak strictly, control individuals by motives which 
 prevent them from acting as they would spontaneously act. 
 In the second place, we see that throughout the society as a 
 whole there spreads a kindred form of organization — kindred 
 in so far that, for the purpose of maintaining the militant 
 body and the government which directs it, there are esta- 
 blished over citizens, agencies which force them to labour 
 more or less largely for public ends instead of private ends. 
 And, simultaneously, there develops a further organization, 
 still akin in its fundamental principle, which restrains indi- 
 vidual actions in such wise that social safety shall not be 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 247 
 
 endangered by the disorder consequent on unchecked pursuit 
 of personal ends. So that this kind of social organization is 
 distinguished from the other, as arising through conscious 
 pursuit of public ends; in furtherance of which individual 
 wills are constrained, first by the joint wills of the entire 
 group, and afterwards more definitely by the will of a regu- 
 lative agency which the group evolves. 
 
 Most clearly shall we perceive the contrast between these 
 two kinds of organization on observing that, while they are 
 both instrumental to social welfare, they are instrumental in 
 converse ways. That organization shown us by the division 
 of labour for industrial purposes, exhibits combined action ; 
 but it is a combined action which directly seeks and subserves 
 the welfares of individuals, and indirectly subserves the 
 welfare of society as a whole by preserving individuals. 
 Conversely, that organization evolved for governmental and 
 defensive purposes, exhibits combined action ; but it is a com- 
 bined action which directly seeks and subserves the welfare 
 of the society as a whole, and indirectly subserves the wel- 
 fares of individuals by protecting the society. Efforts for 
 self-preservation by the units originate the one form of 
 organization ; while efforts for self-preservation by the aggre- 
 gate originate the other form of organization. In the first 
 case there is conscious pursuit of private ends only ; and the 
 correlative organization resulting from this pursuit of private 
 ends, growing up unconsciously, is without coercive power. 
 In the second case there is conscious pursuit of public ends ; 
 and the correlative organization, consciously established, 
 exercises coercion. 
 
 Of these two kinds of cooperation and the structures 
 effecting them, we are here concerned only with one. Poli- 
 tical organization is to be understood as that part of social 
 organization which consciously carries on directive and re- 
 straining functions for public ends. It is true, as already 
 hinted, and as we shall see presently, that the two kinds are 
 mingled in various ways — that each ramifies through the 
 
248 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 other more or less according to their respective degrees of 
 predominance. But they are essentially different in origin 
 and nature ; and for the present we must, so far as may be, 
 limit our attention to the last. 
 
 § 442. That the cooperation into which men have gradually 
 risen secures to them benefits which could not be secured 
 while, in their primitive state, they acted singly; and that, 
 as an indispensable means to this cooperation, political 
 organization has been, and is, advantageous ; we shall see on 
 contrasting the states of men who are not politically organized, 
 with the states of men who are politically organized in less 
 or greater degrees. 
 
 There are, indeed, conditions under which as good an indi- 
 vidual life is possible without political organization as with 
 it. Where, as in the habitat of the Esquimaux, there are but 
 few persons and these widely scattered ; where there is no 
 war, probably because the physical impediments to it are 
 great and the motives to it feeble ; and where circumstances 
 make the occupations so uniform that there is little scope for 
 division of labour; mutual dependence can have no place, and 
 the arrangements which effect it are not needed. Becog- 
 nizing this exceptional case, let us consider the cases which 
 are not exceptional. 
 
 The Digger Indians, “ very few degrees removed from the 
 ourang-outang,” who, scattered among the mountains of the 
 Sierra Nevada, sheltering in holes and living on roots and 
 vermin, “ drag out a miserable existence in a state of nature, 
 amid the most loathsome and disgusting squalor/' differ from 
 the other divisions of the Shoshones by their entire lack of 
 social organization. The river-haunting and plain-haunting 
 divisions of the race, under some, though but slight, govern- 
 mental control, lead more satisfactory lives. In South 
 America the Chaco Indians, low in type as are the Diggers, 
 and like them degraded and wretched in their lives, are simi- 
 larly contrasted with the superior and more comfortable 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 249 
 
 savages around them in being dissociated. Among the 
 Bedouin tribes, the Sherarat are unlike the rest in being divided 
 and sub-divided into countless bands which have no common 
 chief ; and they are described as being the most miserable of 
 the Bedouins. More decided still is the contrast noted by 
 Baker between certain adjacent African peoples. Passing 
 suddenly, he says, from the unclothed, ungoverned tribes — 
 from the “ wildest savagedom to semi-civilisation ” — we come, 
 in Unyoro, to a country ruled by “an unflinching despot,” 
 inflicting “ death or torture ” for “ the most trivial offences 
 but where they have developed administration, sub-governors, 
 taxes, good clothing, arts, agriculture,, architecture. So, too, 
 concerning New Zealand when first discovered, Cook re- 
 marked that there seemed to be greater prosperity and popu- 
 lousness in the regions subject to a king. 
 
 These last cases introduce us to a further truth. Not only 
 does that first step in political organization which places 
 individuals under the control of a tribal chief, bring the ad- 
 vantages gained by better cooperation ; but such advantages 
 are increased when minor political heads become subject to 
 a major political head. As typifying the evils which are 
 thereby avoided, I may name the fact that among the Beloo- 
 chees, whose tribes, unsubordinated to a general ruler, are 
 constantly at war with one another, it is the habit to erect a 
 small mud tower in each field, where the possessor and his 
 retainers guard his produce : a state of things allied to, but 
 worse than, that of the Highland clans, with their strongholds 
 for sheltering women and cattle from the inroads of their 
 neighbours, in days when they were not under the control of 
 a central power. The benefits derived from such wider con- 
 trol, whether of a simple head or of a compound head, were 
 felt by the early Greeks when an Amphictyonic council es- 
 tablished the laws that “ no Hellenic tribe is to lay the habi- 
 tations of another level with the ground ; and from no 
 Hellenic city is the water to be cut off during a siege.” How 
 that advance of political structure which unites smaller com- 
 
250 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 munities into larger ones furthers welfare, was shown in our 
 own country when, by the Roman conquest, the incessant 
 fights between tribes were stopped ; and again, in later days, 
 when feudal nobles, becoming subject to a monarch, were de- 
 barred from private wars. Under its converse aspect the 
 same truth was illustrated when, amidst the anarchy which 
 followed the collapse of the Carolingian empire, dukes and 
 counts, resuming their independence, became active enemies 
 to one another : their state being such that " when they were 
 not at war they lived by open plunder.” And the history of 
 Europe has repeatedly, in many places and times, furnished 
 kindred illustrations. 
 
 While political organization, as it extends itself throughout 
 masses of increasing size, directly furthers welfare by re- 
 moving that impediment to cooperation which the antago- 
 nisms of individuals and of tribes cause, it indirectly furthers 
 it in another way. Nothing beyond a rudimentary division 
 of labour can arise in a small social group. Before commo- 
 dities can be multiplied in their kinds, there must be multi- 
 plied kinds of producers ; and before each commodity can be 
 produced in the most economical way, the different stages 
 in the production of it must be apportioned among special 
 hands. Nor is this all. Neither the required complex com- 
 binations of individuals, nor the elaborate mechanical appli- 
 ances which facilitate manufacture, can arise in the absence 
 of a large community, generating a great demand. 
 
 § 443. But though the advantages gained by cooperation 
 presuppose political organization, this political organization 
 necessitates disadvantages ; and it is quite possible for these 
 disadvantages to outweigh the advantages. The controlling 
 structures have to be maintained ; the restraints they impose 
 have to be borne ; and the evils inflicted by taxation and by 
 tyranfjy may become greater than the evils prevented. 
 
 Where, as in the East, the rapacity of monarchs has some- 
 times gone to the extent of taking from cultivators so much 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 251 
 
 of their produce as to have afterwards to return part for 
 seed, we see exemplified the truth that the agency which 
 maintains order may cause miseries greater than the miseries 
 caused by disorder. The state of Egypt under the 
 
 Eomans, who, on the native set of officials superposed their 
 own set, and who made drafts on the country's resources not 
 for local administration only but also for imperial administra- 
 tion, furnishes an instance. Beyond the regular taxes there 
 were demands for feeding and clothing the military, wherever 
 quartered. Extra calls were continually made on the people 
 for maintaining public works and subaltern agents. Men in 
 office were themselves so impoverished by exactions that 
 they “ assumed dishonourable employments or became the 
 slaves, of persons in power.” Gifts made to the government 
 were soon converted into forced contributions. And those who 
 purchased immunities from extortions found them disregarded 
 as soon as the sums asked had been received. More 
 
 terrible still were the curses following excessive development 
 of political organization in Gaul, during the decline of the 
 Homan empire : — 
 
 “ So numerous were the receivers in comparison with the payers, and 
 so enormous the weight of taxation, that the labourer broke down, 
 the plains became deserts, and woods grew where the plough had 
 
 been It were impossible to number the officials who were rained 
 
 upon every province and town The crack of the lash and the cry 
 
 of the tortured filled the air. The faithful slave was tortured for evi- 
 dence against his master, the wife to depose against her husband, the 
 son against his sire. .... Not satisfied with the returns of the first 
 enumerators, they sent a succession of others, who each swelled the 
 valuation — as a proof of service done ; and so the imposts went on in- 
 creasing. Yet the number of cattle fell off, and the people died. 
 Nevertheless, the survivors had to pay the taxes of the dead.” 
 
 And how literally in this case the benefits were exceeded by 
 the mischiefs, is shown by the contemporary statement that 
 “ they fear the enemy less than the tax-gatherer : the truth 
 is, that they fly to the first to avoid the last. Hence the one 
 unanimous wish of the Boman populace, that it was their lot to 
 live with the barbarian.” In the same region during 
 
252 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 later times the lesson was repeated. While internal peace and 
 'its blessings were achieved in mediaeval France as fast as feudal 
 nobles became subordinate to the king — while the central 
 power, as it grew stronger, put an end to that primitive prac- 
 tice of a blood-revenge which wreaked itself on any relative 
 of an offender, and made the “ truce of God ” a needful miti- 
 gation of the universal savagery ; yet from this extension of 
 political organization there presently grew up evils as great 
 or greater — multiplication of taxes, forced loans, groundless 
 confiscations, arbitrary fines, progressive debasements of 
 coinage, and a universal corruption of justice consequent on 
 the sale of offices : the results being that many people died 
 by famine, some committed suicide, while others, deserting 
 their homes, led a wandering life. And then, afterwards, 
 when the supreme ruler, becoming absolute, controlled social 
 action in all its details, through an administrative system vast 
 in extent and ramifications, with the general result that in 
 less than two centuries the indirect taxation alone “ crossed 
 the enormous interval between 11 millions and 311,” there 
 came the national impoverishment and misery which resulted 
 in the great revolution. Even the present day sup- 
 
 plies kindred evidence from sundry places. A voyage up the 
 Nile shows every observer that the people are better off 
 where they are remote from the centre of government — that 
 is, where administrative agencies cannot so easily reach them. 
 Nor is it only under the barbaric Turk that this happens. 
 Notwithstanding the boasted beneficence of our rule in India, 
 the extra burdens and restraints it involves, have the effect 
 that the people find adjacent countries preferable: the ryots 
 in some parts have been leaving their homes and settling in 
 the territory of the Nizam and in Gwalior. 
 
 Not only do those who are controlled suffer from political 
 organization evils which greatly deduct from, and sometimes 
 exceed, the benefits. Numerous and rigid governmental 
 restraints shackle those who impose them, as well as those on 
 whom they are imposed. The successive grades of ruling 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 253 
 
 agents, severally coercing grades below, are themselves 
 coerced by grades above ; and even the highest ruling agent 
 is enslaved by the system created for the preservation of his 
 supremacy. In ancient Egypt the daily life of the king was 
 minutely regulated alike as to its hours, its occupations, its 
 ceremonies ; so that, nominally all powerful, he was really less 
 free than a subject. It has been, and is, the same with other 
 despotic monarchs. Till lately in Japan, where the form of 
 organization had become fixed, and where, from the highest 
 to the lowest, the actions of life were prescribed in detail, the 
 exercise of authority was so burdensome that voluntary re- 
 signation of it was frequent: we read that “the custom 
 of abdication is common among all classes, from the Emperor 
 down to his meanest subject.” European states have ex- 
 emplified this re-acting tyranny. “ In the Byzantine palace,” 
 says Gibbon, “ the Emperor was the first slave of the cere- 
 monies he imposed.” Concerning the tedious court life of 
 Louis XIV., Madame de Maintenon remarks — “ Save those 
 only who fill the highest stations, I know of none more un- 
 fortunate than those who envy them. If you could only 
 form an idea of what it is ! ” 
 
 So that while the satisfaction of men’s wants is furthered 
 both by the maintenance of order and by the formation of 
 aggregates large enough to permit extensive division of labour, 
 it is hindered both by great deductions from the products of 
 their actions, and by the restraints imposed on their actions — 
 usually in excess of the needs. And political control in- 
 directly entails evils on those who exercise it as well as on 
 those over whom it is exercised. 
 
 § 444. The stones composing a house cannot be otherwise 
 used until the house has been pulled down. If the stones 
 are united by mortar, there must be extra trouble in destroy- 
 ing their present combination before they can be re-combined. 
 And if the mortar has had centuries in which to consolidate, 
 the breaking up of the masses formed is a matter of such 
 
254 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 difficulty, that building with new materials becomes more 
 economical than rebuilding with the old. 
 
 I name these facts to illustrate the truth that any arrange- 
 ment stands in the way of re-arrangement; and that this 
 must be true of organization, which is one kind of arrange- 
 ment. When, during the evolution of a living body, its com- 
 ponent substance, at first relatively homogeneous, has been 
 transformed into a combination of heterogeneous parts, there 
 results an obstacle, always great and often insuperable, to 
 any considerable further change : the more elaborate and defi- 
 nite the structure the greater being the resistance it opposes 
 to alteration. And this, which is conspicuously true of an 
 individual organism, is true, if less conspicuously, of a social 
 organism. Though a society, formed of discrete units, and 
 not having had its type fixed by inheritance from countless 
 like societies, is much more plastic, yet the same principle 
 holds. As fast as its parts are differentiated — as fast as there 
 arise classes, bodies of functionaries, established administra- 
 tions, these, becoming coherent within themselves and with 
 one another, struggle against such forces as tend to modify 
 them. The conservatism of every long-settled institution 
 daily exemplifies this law. Ee it in the antagonism of a 
 church to legislation interfering with its discipline ; be it in 
 the opposition of an army to abolition of the purchase- 
 system ; be it in the disfavour with which the legal profes- 
 sion at large has regarded law-reform ; we see that neither in 
 their structures nor in their modes of action, are parts that 
 have once been specialized easily changed. 
 
 As it is true of a living body that its various acts have as 
 their common end self-preservation, so is it true of its com- 
 ponent organs that they severally tend to preserve them- 
 selves in their integrity. And, similarly, as it is • true of a 
 society that maintenance of its existence is the aim of its 
 combined actions, so it is true of its separate classes, its sets 
 of officials, its other specialized parts, that the dominant aim 
 of each is to maintain itself. Not the function to be per- 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 255 
 
 formed, but the sustentation of those who perform the func- 
 tion, becomes the object in view : the result being that when 
 the function is needless, or even detrimental, the structure 
 still keeps itself intact as long as it can. In early days 
 the history of the Knights Templars furnished an illustration 
 of this tendency. Down to the present time we have before 
 us the familiar instance of trade-guilds in London, which 
 having ceased to perform their original duties, nevertheless 
 jealously defend their possessions and privileges. The con- 
 vention of Koyal Burghs in Scotland, which once regulated 
 the internal municipal laws, still meets annually though it 
 has no longer any work to do. And the accounts given in 
 The Black Book of the sinecures which survived up to recent 
 times, yield multitudinous illustrations. 
 
 The extent to which an organization resists reorganization, 
 we shall not fully appreciate until we observe that its resist- 
 ance increases in a compound progression. For while each new 
 part is an additional obstacle to change, the formation oOt ^ 
 involves a deduction from the forces causing change. If, 
 other things remaining the same, the political structures of a 
 society are further developed — if existing institutions are 
 extended or fresh ones set up — if for directing social activities 
 in greater detail, extra staffs of officials are appointed ; the 
 simultaneous results are — an increase in the aggregate of 
 
 those who form the regulating part, and a corresponding de- 
 crease in the aggregate of those who form the part regulated. 
 In various ways all who compose the controlling and adminis- 
 trative organization, become united with one another and 
 separated from the rest. Whatever be their particular 
 duties, they are similarly related to the governing centres of 
 their departments, and, through them, to the supreme govern- 
 ing centre ; and are habituated to like sentiments and ideas 
 respecting the set of institutions in which they are incorpo- 
 
 rated. 
 
 Deceiving their subsistence through the national 
 
 revenue, they tend towards kindred views and feelings 
 respecting the raising of such revenue. Whatever jealousies 
 
256 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 there may be between their divisions, are over-ridden by 
 sympathy when any one division has its existence or privi- 
 leges endangered; since the interference with one division 
 may spread to others. Moreover, they all stand in similar 
 relations to the rest of the community, whose actions are in 
 one way or other superintended by them ; and hence are led 
 into allied beliefs respecting the need for such superin- 
 tendence and the propriety of submitting to it. No matter 
 what their previous political opinions may have been, men 
 cannot become public agents of any kind without being 
 biassed towards opinions congruous with their functions. So 
 that, inevitably, each further growth of the instrumentalities 
 which control, or administer, or inspect, or in any way direct 
 social forces, increases the impediment to future modifica- 
 tions, both positively by strengthening that which has to be 
 modified, and negatively, by weakening the remainder ; until 
 at length the rigidity becomes so great that change is impos- 
 sible and the type becomes fixed. 
 
 Nor does each further development of political organization 
 increase the obstacles to change, only by increasing the 
 power of the regulators and decreasing the power of the 
 regulated. For the ideas and sentiments of a community as 
 a whole, adapt themselves to the regime familiar from child- 
 hood, in such wise that it comes to be looked upon as natural. 
 In proportion as public agencies occupy a larger space in 
 daily experience, leaving but a smaller space for other 
 agencies, there comes a greater tendency to think of public 
 control as everywhere needful, and a less ability to conceive 
 of activities as otherwise controlled. At the same time the 
 sentiments, adjusted by habit to the regulative machinery, 
 become enlisted on its behalf, and adverse to the thought of 
 a vacancy to be made by its absence. In brief, the general 
 law that the social organism and its units act and re-act until 
 congruity is reached, implies that every further extension of 
 political organization increases the obstacle to re-organiza- 
 tion, not only by adding to the strength of the regulative 
 
APOLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. f 257 
 
 part, and taking from the strength of the^part reg&ted, 
 but also by producing in citizens thoughts apd feelings < 
 in harmony with the resulting structure, and out/ of har- 
 mony with anything substantially different. ■ . „ Both 
 France and Germany exemplify this truth. M. Comte, whlRT ' 
 looking forward to an industrial state, was so swayed by 
 the conceptions and likings appropriate to the French form 
 of society, that his scheme of organization for the ideal 
 future, prescribes arrangements characteristic of the militant 
 type, and utterly at variance with the industrial type. 
 Indeed, he had a profound aversion to that individualism 
 which is a product of industrial life and gives the character 
 to industrial institutions. So, too, in Germany, we see that 
 the socialist party, who are regarded and who regard them- 
 selves as wishing to re-organize society entirely, are so in- 
 capable of really thinking away from the social type under 
 which they have been nurtured, that their proposed social 
 system is in essence nothing else than a new form of the 
 system they would destroy. It is a system under which life 
 and labour are to be arranged and superintended by public 
 instrumentalities, omnipresent like those which already exist 
 and no less coercive : the individual having his life even 
 more regulated for him than now. 
 
 While, then, the absence of settled arrangements negatives 
 cooperation, yet cooperation of a higher kind is hindered by 
 the arrangements which facilitate cooperation of a lower 
 kind. Though without established connexions among parts, 
 there can be no combined actions ; yet the more extensive 
 and elaborate such connexions grow, the more difficult does it 
 become to make improved combinations of actions. There is 
 an increase of the forces which tend to fix, and a decrease of 
 the forces which tend to unfix ; until the fully-structured 
 social organism, like the fully-structured individual organism, 
 becomes no longer adaptable. 
 
 § 445. In a living animal, formed as it is of aggregated 
 
258 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 units originally like in kind, the progress of organization im- 
 plies, not only that the units composing each differentiated 
 part severally maintain their positions, but also that their 
 progeny succeed to those positions. Bile-cells which, while 
 performing their functions, grow and give origin to new bile- 
 cells, are, when they decay and disappear, replaced by these : 
 the cells descending from them do not migrate to the kid- 
 neys, or the muscles, or the nervous centres, to join in the 
 performance of their duties. And, evidently, unless the 
 specialized units each organ is made of, produced units simi- 
 larly specialized, which remained in the same place, there 
 could be none of those settled relations among parts which 
 characterize the organism, and fit it for its particular mode of 
 life. 
 
 In a society also, establishment of structure is favoured by 
 the transmission of positions and functions through successive 
 generations. The maintenance of those class-divisions which 
 arise as political organization advances, implies the inherit- 
 ance of a rank and a place in each class. The like happens 
 with those sub-divisions of classes which, in some societies, 
 constitute castes, and in other societies are exemplified by in- 
 corporated trades. Where custom or law compels the sons of 
 each worker to follow their father’s occupation, there result 
 among the industrial structures obstacles to change analogous 
 to those which result in the regulative structures from im- 
 passable divisions of ranks. India shows this in an extreme 
 degree ; and in a less degree it was shown by the craft-guilds 
 of early days in England, which facilitated adoption of a craft 
 by the children of those engaged in it, and hindered adoption 
 of it by others. Thus we may call inheritance of position and 
 function, the principle of fixity in social organization. 
 
 There is another way in which succession by inheritance, 
 whether to class-position or to occupation, conduces to 
 stability. It secures supremacy of the elder ; and supremacy 
 of the elder tends towards maintenance of the established 
 order. A system under which a chief-ruler, sub-ruler, head of 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 259 
 
 clan or house, official, or any person having the power given 
 by rank or property, retains his place until at death it is filled 
 by a descendant, in conformity with some accepted rule of 
 succession, is a system under which, by implication, the 
 young, and even the middle-aged, are excluded from the con- 
 duct of affairs. So, too, where an industrial system is such 
 that the son, habitually brought up to his father’s business, 
 cannot hold a master’s position till his father dies, it follows 
 that the regulative power of the elder over the processes of 
 production and distribution, is scarcely at all qualified by the 
 power of the younger. Now it is a truth daily exemplified, 
 that increasing rigidity of organization, necessitated by the 
 process of evolution, produces in age an increasing strength 
 of habit and aversion to change. Hence it results that suc- 
 cession to place and function by inheritance, having as its 
 necessary concomitant a monopoly of power by the eldest, 
 involves a prevailing conservatism ; and thus further insures 
 maintenance of things as they are. 
 
 Conversely, social change is facile in proportion as men’s 
 places and functions are determinable by personal qualities. 
 Members of one rank who establish themselves in another 
 rank, in so far directly break the division between the ranks ; 
 and they indirectly weaken it by preserving their family 
 relations with the first, and forming new ones with the 
 second ; while, further, the ideas and sentiments pervading 
 the two ranks, previously more or less different, are made 
 to qualify one another and to work changes of character. 
 Similarly if, between sub-divisions of the producing and dis- 
 tributing classes, there are no barriers to migration, then, in 
 proportion as migrations are numerous, influences physical 
 and mental, following inter-fusion, alter the natures of their 
 units ; at the same time that they check the establishment of 
 differences of nature caused by differences of occupation. 
 Such transpositions of individuals between class and class, or 
 group and group, must, on the average, however, depend on 
 the fitnesses of the individuals for their new places and duties. 
 
260 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Intrusions will ordinarily succeed only where the intruding 
 citizens have more than usual aptitudes for the businesses 
 they undertake. Those who desert their original functions, 
 are at a disadvantage in the competition with those whose 
 functions they assume ; and they can overcome this disad- 
 vantage only by force of some superiority : must do the new 
 thing better than those born to it, and so tend to improve 
 the doing of it by their example. This leaving of men to 
 have their careers determined by their efficiencies, we may 
 therefore call the principle of change in social organization. 
 
 As we saw that succession by inheritance conduces in a 
 secondary way to stability, by keeping authority in the hands 
 of those who by age are made most averse to new practices, 
 so here, conversely, we may see that succession by efficiency 
 conduces in a secondary way to change. Both positively and 
 negatively the possession of power by the young facilitates 
 innovation. While the energies are overflowing, little fear is 
 felt of those obstacles to improvement and evils it may bring, 
 which, when energies are failing, look formidable ; and at the 
 same time the greater imaginativeness that goes along with 
 higher vitality, joined with a smaller strength of habit, facili- 
 tates acceptance of fresh ideas and adoption of untried 
 methods. Since, then, where the various social positions come 
 to be respectively filled by those who are experimentally 
 proved to be the fittest, the relatively young are permitted to 
 exercise authority, it results that succession by efficiency 
 furthers change in social organization, indirectly as well as 
 1 ’ ectly. 
 
 Contrasting the two, we thus see that while the acquire- 
 ment of function by inheritance conduces to rigidity of struc- 
 ture, the acquirement of function by efficiency conduces to 
 plasticity of structure. Succession by descent favours the 
 maintenance of that which exists. Succession by fitness 
 favours transformation, and makes possible something better. 
 
 § 446. As was pointed out in § 228, “ complication of 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 2G1 
 
 structure accompanies increase of mass,” in social organisms 
 as in individual organisms. When small societies are com- 
 pounded into a larger society, the controlling agencies needed 
 in the several component societies must be subordinated to a 
 central controlling agency : new structures are required. Ee- 
 compounding necessitates a kindred further complexity in 
 the governmental arrangements ; and at each of such stages 
 of increase, all other arrangements must become more com- 
 plicated. As Puruy remarks — “By becoming a world in 
 place of a town, Eome could not conserve institutions esta- 
 blished for a single city and a small territory. . . . How 
 
 was it possible for sixty millions of provincials to enter the 
 narrow and rigid circle of municipal institutions V The like 
 holds where, instead of extension of territory, there is only 
 increase of population. The contrast between the simple 
 administrative system which sufficed in old English times 
 for a million people, and the complex administrative system 
 at present needed for many millions, sufficiently indicates 
 this general truth. 
 
 But now, mark a corollary. If, on the one hand, further 
 growth implies more complex structure, on the other hand, 
 changeableness of structure is a condition to further growth ; 
 and, conversely, unchangeableness of structure is a concomi- 
 tant of arrested growth. Like the correlative law just noted, 
 this law is clearly seen in individual organisms. Necessarily, 
 transition from the small immature form to the large 
 mature form in a living creature, implies that all the parts 
 have to be changed in their sizes and connexions: every 
 detail of every organ has to be modified ; and this implies 
 the retention of plasticity. Necessarily, also, when, on 
 approaching maturity, the organs are assuming their final 
 arrangement, their increasing definiteness and firmness con- 
 stitute an increasing impediment to growth : the un-building 
 and re-building required before there can be re-adjustment, 
 become more and more difficult. So is it with a society. 
 Augmentation of its mass necessitates change of the pre- 
 
262 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 existing structures, either by incorporation of the increment 
 with them, or by their extension through it. Every further 
 elaboration of the arrangements entails an additional obstacle 
 to this ; and when rigidity is reached, such modifications of 
 them as increase of mass would involve, are impossible, and 
 increase is prevented. 
 
 Nor is this all. Controlling and administrative instru- 
 mentalities antagonize growth by absorbing the materials for 
 growth. Already when pointing out the evils which accom- 
 pany the benefits gained by political organization, this effect 
 has been indirectly implied. Governmental expenditure, 
 there represented as deducting from the lives of producers 
 by taking away their produce, has for its ulterior result de- 
 ducting from the life of the community : depletion of the 
 units entails depletion of the aggregate. Where the abstrac- 
 tion of private means for public purposes is excessive, the 
 impoverishment leads to decrease of population ; and where 
 it is less excessive, to arrest of population. Clearly those 
 members of a society who form the regulative parts, together 
 with all their dependents, have to be supplied with the means 
 of living by the parts which carry on the processes of pro- 
 duction and distribution ; and if the regulative parts go on 
 increasing relatively to the other parts, there must eventually 
 be reached a point at which they absorb the entire surplus, 
 and multiplication is stopped by innutrition. 
 
 Hence a significant relation between the structure of a 
 society and its growth. Organization in excess of need, pre- 
 vents the attainment of that larger size and accompanying 
 higher type which might else have arisen. 
 
 § 447. To aid our interpretations of the special facts 
 presently to be dealt with, we must keep in mind the fore- 
 going general facts. They may be summed up as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 Cooperation is made possible by society, and makes society 
 
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION IN GENERAL. 
 
 263 
 
 possible. It pre-supposes associated men ; and men remain 
 associated because of the benefits cooperation yields them. 
 
 But there cannot be concerted actions without agencies by 
 which actions are adjusted in their times, amounts, and kinds; 
 and the actions cannot be of various kinds without the co- 
 operators undertaking different duties. That is to say, the 
 cooperators must become organized, either voluntarily or 
 involuntarily. 
 
 The organization which cooperation implies, is of two 
 kinds, distinct in origin and nature. The one, arising directly 
 from the pursuit of individual ends, and indirectly conducing 
 to social welfare, develops unconsciously and is non-coercive. 
 The other, arising directly from the pursuit of social ends, 
 and indirectly conducing to individual welfare, develops 
 consciously and is coercive. 
 
 While, by making cooperation possible, political organiza- 
 tion achieves benefits, deductions from these benefits are 
 entailed by the organization. Maintenance of it is costly ; 
 and the cost may become a greater evil than the evils escaped. 
 It necessarily imposes restraints ; and these restraints may 
 become so extreme that anarchy, with all its miseries, is 
 preferable. 
 
 An established organization is an obstacle to re-organiza- 
 tion. Self-sustentation is the primary aim of each part as of 
 the whole ; and hence parts once formed tend to continue, 
 whether they are or are not useful. Moreover, each addition 
 to the regulative structures, implying, other things equal, a 
 simultaneous deduction from the rest of the society which 
 is regulated, it results that while the obstacles to change 
 are increased, the forces causing change are decreased. 
 
 Maintenance of a society’s organization implies that the 
 units forming its component structures shall severally be re- 
 placed as they die. Stability is favoured if the vacancies 
 they leave are filled without dispute by descendants ; while 
 change is favoured if the vacancies are filled by those who 
 
264 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 are experimefn tally proved to be best fitted for them. Suc- 
 cession by inheritance is thus the principle of social rigidity ; 
 while succession by efficiency is the principle of social 
 plasticity. 
 
 Though, to make cooperation possible, and therefore to 
 facilitate social growth, there must be organization, yet the 
 organization formed impedes further growth; since further 
 growth implies re-organization, which the existing organiza- 
 tion resists ; and since the existing organization absorbs part 
 of the material for growth. 
 
 So that while, at each stage, better immediate results may 
 be achieved by completing organization, they must be at the 
 expense of better ultimate results. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 § 448. Tiie analogy between individual organisms and 
 social organisms, which holds in so many respects, holds in 
 respect to the actions which cause growth. We shall find it 
 instructive to glance at political integration in the light of 
 this analogy. 
 
 Every animal sustains itself and grows by incorporating 
 either the materials composing other animals or those com- 
 posing plants ; and from microscopic protozoa upwards, it has 
 been through success in the struggle thus to incorporate, that 
 animals of the greatest sizes and highest structures have been 
 evolved. This process is carried on by creatures of the lowest 
 kinds in a purely physical or insentient way. Without 
 nervous system or fixed distribution of parts, the rhizopod 
 draws in fragments of nutritive matter by actions which we 
 are obliged to regard as unconscious. So is it, too, with 
 simple aggregates formed by the massing of such minute 
 creatures. The sponge, for example, in that framework of 
 fibres familiar to us in its dead state, holds together, when 
 living, a multitude of separate monads ; and the activities 
 which go on in the sponge, are such as directly further the 
 separate lives of these monads, and indirectly further the 
 life of the whole: the whole having neither sentiency nor 
 power of movement. At a higher stage, however, the process 
 of taking in nutritive materials by a composite organism, 
 
266 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 comes to be carried on in a sentient way, and in a way 
 differing from the primitive way in this, that it directly 
 furthers the life of the whole, and indirectly furthers the 
 lives of the component units. Eventually, the well-consoli- 
 dated and organized aggregate, which originally had no other 
 life than was constituted by the separate lives of these 
 minute creatures massed together, acquires a corporate life 
 predominating over their lives ; and also acquires desires by 
 which its activities are guided to acts of incorporation. To 
 which add the obvious corollary that as, in the course of 
 evolution, its size increases, it incorporates with itself larger 
 and larger aggregates as prey. 
 
 Analogous stages may be traced in the growth of social 
 organisms, and in the accompanying forms of action. At first 
 there is no other life in the group than that seen in the lives 
 of its members ; and only as organization increases does the 
 group as a whole come to have that joint life constituted 
 by mutually-dependant actions. The members of a primi- 
 tive horde, loosely aggregated, and without distinctions of 
 power, cooperate for immediate furtherance of individual 
 sustentation, and in a comparatively small degree for corpo- 
 rate sustentation. Even when, the interests of all being 
 simultaneously endangered, they simultaneously fight, they 
 still fight separately — their actions are uncoordinated ; and 
 the only spoils of successful battle are such as can be indi- 
 vidually appropriated. Eut in the course of the struggles for 
 existence between groups thus unorganized, there comes, with 
 the development of such political organization as gives tribal 
 individuality, the struggle to incorporate one another, first 
 partially and then wholly. Tribes which are larger, or better 
 organized, or both, conquer adjacent tribes and annex .them, 
 so that they form parts of a compound whole. And as 
 political evolution advances, it becomes a trait of the larger 
 and stronger societies that they acquire appetites prompting 
 them to subjugate and incorporate weaker societies. 
 
 Full perception of this difference will be gained on looking 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 267 
 
 more closely at the contrast between the wars of small groups 
 and those of large nations. As, even among dogs, the fights 
 that arise between individuals when one attempts to take 
 another's food, grow into fights between packs if one tres- 
 passes upon the feeding haunts of another (as is seen in 
 Constantinople) ; so among primitive men, individual con- 
 flicts for food pass into conflicts between hordes, when, in 
 pursuit of food, one encroaches on another’s territory. After 
 the pastoral state is reached, such motives continue with a 
 difference. “ Eetaliation for past robberies," is the habitual plea 
 for war among the Bechuanas : “ their real object being always 
 the acquisition of cattle." Similarly among European peoples 
 in ancient days. Achilles says of the Trojans — “ They are 
 blameless as respects me, since they have never driven away 
 my oxen, nor my horses." And the fact that in Scotland 
 during early times, cattle-raids were habitual causes of inter- 
 tribal fights, shows us how persistent have been these 
 struggles for the means of individual sustentation. Even 
 where the life is agricultural, the like happens at the outset. 
 “ A field or a farrow’s breadth of land is disputed upon the 
 border of a district, and gives rise to rustic strife between the 
 parties and their respective hamlets," says Macpherson of the 
 Khonds; and “ should the tribes to which the disputants 
 belong be disposed to hostility, they speedily embrace the 
 quarrel." So that competition in social growth is still re- 
 stricted to competition for the means to that personal welfare 
 indirectly conducive to social growth. 
 
 In yet another way do we see exemplified this general 
 truth. The furthering of growth by that which furthers the 
 multiplication of units, is shown us in the stealing of 
 women — a second cause of primitive war. Men of one tribe 
 who abduct the women of another, not only by so doing 
 directly increase the number of their own tribe, but, in a 
 greater degree, indirectly conduce to its increase by after- 
 wards adding to the number of children. In which mode of 
 growing at one another’s expense, common among existing 
 3 
 
268 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 tribes of savages, and once common among tribes from which 
 civilized nations have descended, we still see the same trait : 
 any augmentation of the group which takes place, is an indi- 
 rect result of individual appropriations and reproductions. 
 
 Contrariwise, in more advanced stages the struggle between 
 societies is, not to appropriate one another’s means of sus- 
 tentation and multiplication, but to appropriate one another 
 bodily. Which society shall incorporate other societies with 
 itself, becomes the question. Under one aspect, the history 
 of large nations is a history of successes in such struggles ; 
 and down to our own day nations are being thus enlarged. 
 Part of Italy is incorporated by France ; part of France is 
 incorporated by Germany ; part of Turkey is incorporated by 
 Russia ; and between Russia and England there appears to 
 be a competition -which shall increase most by absorbing 
 uncivilized and semi-civilized peoples. 
 
 Thus, then, with social organisms as with individual 
 organisms, it is through the struggle for existence, first, by 
 appropriating one another’s means of growth, and then by 
 devouring one another, that there arise those great aggre- 
 gates which at once make possible high organization, and 
 require high organization. 
 
 § 449. Political integration is in some cases furthered, and 
 in other cases hindered, by conditions, external and internal. 
 There are the characters of the environment, and there are 
 the characters of the men composing the society. We will 
 glance at them in this order. 
 
 How political integration is prevented by an inclemency 
 of climate, or an infertility of soil, which keeps down popu- 
 lation, was shown in §§ 14 — 21. To the instances there 
 named may be added that of the Seminoles, who “ being so 
 thinly scattered over a barren desert, they seldom assemble 
 to take black drink, or deliberate on public matters and, 
 again, that of certain Snake Indians, of whom Schoolcraft 
 says, “ the paucity of game in this region is, I have little 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 269 
 
 doubt, tlie cause of the almost entire absence of social organi- 
 zation ” We saw, too, that great uniformity of surface, of 
 mineral products, of flora, of fauna, are impediments ; and 
 that on the special characters of the flora and fauna, as con- 
 taining species favourable or unfavourable to human welfare, 
 in part depends the individual prosperity required for social 
 growth. It was also pointed out that structure of the 
 
 habitat, as facilitating or impeding communication, and as 
 rendering escape easy or hard, has much to do with the size 
 of the social aggregate formed. To the illustrations before 
 given, showing that mountain-haunting peoples and peoples 
 living in deserts and marshes are difficult to consolidate, 
 while peoples penned in by barriers are consolidated with 
 facility, I may here add two significant ones not before 
 noticed. One occurs in the Polynesian islands — Tahiti, 
 Hawaii, Tonga, Samoa, and the rest — where, restrained 
 within limits by surrounding seas, the inhabitants have 
 become united more or less closely into aggregates of con- 
 siderable sizes. The other is furnished by ancient Peru, 
 where, before the time of the Tncas, semi-civilized com- 
 munities had been formed in valleys separated from each 
 other “ on the coast, by hot, and almost impassable deserts, 
 and in the interior by lofty mountains, or cold and trackless 
 'punas!' And to the implied inability of these peoples to 
 escape governmental coercion, thus indicated by Squier as a 
 factor in their civilization, is ascribed, by the ancient Spanish 
 writer Cieza, the difference between them and the neighbour- 
 ing Indians of Popoyan, who could retreat, “ whenever 
 attacked, to other fertile regions.” How, conversely, 
 
 the massing of men together is furthered by ease of internal 
 communication within the area occupied, is sufficiently mani- 
 fest. The importance of it is implied by the remark of 
 Grant concerning Equatorial Africa, that “no jurisdiction 
 extends over a district which cannot be crossed in three or 
 four days,” And such facts, implying that political integra- 
 tion may increase as the means of going from place to place 
 
270 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 become better, remind us how, from Roman times down- 
 wards, the formation of roads has made larger social aggre- 
 gates possible. 
 
 Evidence that a certain type of physique is requisite, was 
 given in § 16 ; where we saw that the races which have 
 evolved large societies, had previously lived under conditions 
 fostering vigour of constitution. I will here add only that 
 the constitutional energy needed for continuous labour, with- 
 out which there cannot be civilized life and the massing of 
 men presupposed by it, is an energy not to be quickly 
 acquired ; but is to be acquired only by inherited modifica- 
 tions slowly accumulated. Good evidence that in lower 
 types of men there is a physical incapacity for work, is 
 supplied by the results of the Jesuit government over the 
 Paraguay Indians. These Indians were reduced to indus- 
 trious habits, and to an orderly life which was thought by 
 many writers admirable ; but there eventually resulted a 
 fatal evil: they became infertile. Not improbably, the 
 infertility commonly observed in savage races that have been 
 led into civilized activities, is consequent on taxing the 
 physique to a degree greater than it is constituted to bear. 
 
 Certain moral traits which favour, and others which hinder, 
 the union of men into large groups, were pointed out when 
 treating of “ The Primitive Man — Emotional.” Here I will 
 re-illustrate such of these as concern the fitness or unfitness 
 of the type for subordination. “ The Abors, as they them- 
 selves say, are like tigers, two cannot dwell in one den;” and 
 “ their houses are scattered singly, or in groups of two and 
 three.” Conversely, some of the African races not only yield 
 when coerced but admire one who coerces them. Instance 
 the Damaras, who, as Galton says, “ court slavery” and 
 “ follow a master as spaniels would.” The like is alleged of 
 other South Africans. One of them said to a gentleman 
 known to me — “ You’re a pretty fellow to be a master ; I’ve 
 been with you two years and you’ve never beaten me once.” 
 Obviously on the dispositions thus strongly contrasted, the 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 271 
 
 impossibility or possibility of political integration largely 
 depends. There must be added, as also influential, the 
 
 presence or the absence of the nomadic instinct. Varieties 
 of men whose wandering habits have been unchecked during 
 countless generations of hunting life and pastoral life, show 
 us that even when forced into agricultural life, their tendency 
 to move about greatly hinders aggregation. It is thus among 
 the hill-tribes of India. “ The Kookies are naturally a mi- 
 gratory race, never occupying the same place for more than 
 two or, at the utmost, three years and the like holds of the 
 Mishmees, who “ never name their villages the existence of 
 them being too transitory. In some races this migratory 
 instinct survives and shows its effects, even after the forma- 
 tion of populous towns. Writing of the Bachassins in 1812, 
 Burchell says that Litakun, containing 15,000 inhabitants, 
 had been twice removed during a period of ten years. 
 Clearly, peoples thus characterized are less easily united into 
 large societies than peoples who love their early homes. 
 
 Concerning the intellectual traits which aid or impede the 
 cohesion of men into masses, I may supplement what was 
 said when delineating u The Primitive Man — Intellectual,” 
 by two corollaries of much significance. Social life being co- 
 operative life, presupposes not only an emotional nature 
 fitted for cooperation, but also such intelligence as perceives 
 the benefits of cooperation, and can so regulate actions as to 
 effect it. The unreflectiveness, the deficient consciousness of 
 causation, and the lack of constructive imagination, shown by 
 the uncivilized, hinder combined action to a degree difficult to 
 believe until proof is seen. Even the semi-civilized exhibit 
 in quite simple matters an absence of concert which is 
 astonishing.* Implying, as this does, that cooperation can 
 
 * The behaviour of Arab boatmen on the Nile displays, in a striking way, 
 this inability to act together. When jointly hauling at a rope, and begin- 
 ning to chant, the inference one draws is that they pull in time with their 
 words. On observing, however, it turns out that their efforts are not com- 
 bined at given intervals, but are put forth without any unity of rhythm. 
 Similarly when using their poles to push the dahabeiah off a sand-bank, the 
 
272 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 at first be effective only where there is obedience to peremp- 
 tory command, it follows that there must be not only an 
 emotional nature which produces subordination, but also an 
 intellectual nature which produces faith in a commander. That 
 credulity which leads to awe of the capable man as a pos- 
 sessor of supernatural power, and which afterwards,- causing 
 dread of his ghost, prompts fulfilment of his remembered 
 injunctions — that credulity which initiates the religious con- 
 trol of a deified chief, re-inforcing the political control of his 
 divine descendant, is a credulity which cannot be dispensed 
 with during early stages of integration. Scepticism is fatal 
 while the character, moral and intellectual, is such as to 
 necessitate compulsory cooperation. 
 
 Political integration, then, hindered in many regions by 
 environing conditions, has in many races of mankind been 
 prevented from advancing far by unfitnesses of nature — 
 phvsical, moral, and intellectual. 
 
 § 450. Besides fitness of nature in the united individuals, 
 social union requires a considerable homogeneity of nature 
 among them. At the outset this needful likeness of kind is 
 insured by greater or less kinship in blood. Evidence meets 
 us everywhere among the uncivilized. Of the Bushmen, 
 Lichtenstein says, “families alone form associations in single 
 small hordes — sexual feelings, the instinctive love to children, 
 or the customary attachment among relations, are the only 
 ties that keep them in any sort of union.” Again, “the 
 Ptock Yeddahs are divided into small clans or families asso- 
 ciated for relationship, who agree in partitioning the forest 
 
 succession of grunts they severally make, is so rapid that it is manifestly 
 impossible for them to give those effectual united pushes which imply 
 appreciable intervals of preparation. Still more striking is the want of con- 
 cert shown by the hundred or more Nubians and Arabs employed to drag 
 the vessel up the rapids. There are shoutings, gesticulations, divided actions, 
 utter confusion ; so that only by accident does it at length happen that a 
 sufficient number of efforts are put forth at the same moment. As was said 
 to me, with some exaggeration, by our Arab dragoman, a travelled man 
 — “ Ten Englishmen or Frenchmen would do the thing at once.” 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 273 
 
 among themselves for hunting grounds.” And this rise of 
 the society out of the family, seen in these least organized 
 groups, re-appears in the considerably organized groups of 
 more advanced savages. Instance the New Zealanders, of 
 whom we read that “ eighteen historical nations occupy the 
 country, each being sub-divided into many tribes, originally 
 families, as the prefix Ngati, signifying offspring (equivalent 
 to 0 or Mac) obviously indicates.” This connexion between 
 blood relationship and social union is well shown by 
 Humboldt’s remarks concerning South American Indians. 
 “ Savages,” he says, “ know only their own family, and a tribe 
 appears to them but a more numerous assemblage of rela- 
 tions.” When Indians who inhabit the missions see those of 
 the forest, who are unknown to them, they say — “ They are 
 no doubt my relations ; I understand them when they speak 
 to me.” But these same savages detest all who are not of 
 their tribe. “ They know the duties of family ties and of 
 relationship, but not those of humanity.” 
 
 When treating of the domestic relations, reasons were 
 given for concluding that social stability increases as kinships 
 become more definite and extended; since development of 
 kinships, while insuring the likeness of nature which furthers 
 cooperation, involves the strengthening and multiplication 
 of those family bonds which check disruption. Where pro- 
 miscuity is prevalent, or where marriages are temporary, the 
 known relationships are relatively few and not close ; and 
 there is little more social cohesion than results from habit 
 and vague sense of kinship. Polyandry, especially of the 
 higher kind, produces relationships of some definiteness, 
 which admit of being traced further : so serving better to tie 
 the social group together. And a greater advance in the 
 nearness and the number of family connexions results from 
 polygyny. But, as was shown, it is from monogamy that 
 there arise family connexions which are at once the most 
 definite and the most wide-spreading in their ramifications ; 
 and out of monogamic families are developed the largest and 
 
274 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 most coherent societies. In two allied, yet distinguishable, 
 ways, does monogamy favour social solidarity. 
 
 Unlike the children of the polyandric family, who are 
 something less than half brothers and sisters (see § 300, note), 
 and unlike the children of the polygynic family, most of 
 whom are only half brothers and sisters, the children of the 
 monogamic family are, in the great majority of cases, all of 
 the same blood on both sides. Being thus themselves more 
 closely related, it follows that their clusters of children are 
 more closely related ; and where, as happens in early stages, 
 these clusters of children when grown up continue to form a 
 community, and labour together, they are united alike by 
 their kinships and by their industrial interests. Though 
 with the growth of a family group into a gens which spreads, 
 the industrial interests divide, yet these kinships prevent the 
 divisions from becoming as marked as they would otherwise 
 become. And, similarly, when the gens, in course of time, 
 develops into the tribe. Nor is this all. If local cir- 
 
 cumstances bring together several such tribes, which are still 
 allied in blood though more remotely, it results that when, 
 seated side by side, they are gradually fused, partly by inter- 
 spersion and partly by intermarriage, the compound society 
 formed, united by numerous and complicated links of kin- 
 ship as well as by political interests, is more strongly bound 
 together than it would otherwise be. Dominant ancient 
 societies illustrate this truth. Says Grote — “All that we 
 hear of the most ancient Athenian laws is based upon the 
 gentile and phratric divisions, which are treated throughout 
 as extensions of the family.” Similarly, according to Momm- 
 sen, on the “ Boman Household was based the Boman 
 State, both as respected its constituent elements and its form. 
 The community of the Boman people arose out of the junc- 
 tion (in whatever way brought about) of such ancient clan- 
 ships as the Bomilii, Yoltinii, Fabii, &c.” And Sir Henry 
 Maine has shown in detail the ways in which the simple 
 family passes into the house -community, and eventually the 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 275 
 
 village-community. Though, in presence of the 
 
 evidence furnished by races having irregular sexual relations, 
 we cannot allege that sameness of blood is the primary 
 reason for political cooperation — though in numerous tribes 
 which have not risen into the pastoral state, there is com- 
 bination for offence and defence among those whose different 
 totems are recognized marks of different bloods ; yet where 
 there has been established descent through males, and 
 especially where monogamy prevails, sameness of blood 
 becomes largely, if not mainly, influential in determining 
 political cooperation. And this truth, under one of its 
 aspects, is the truth above enunciated, that combined action, 
 requiring a tolerable homogeneity of nature among those who 
 carry it on, is, in early stages, most successful among those 
 who, being descendants of the same ancestors, have the 
 greatest likeness. 
 
 An all-important though less direct effect of blood-relation- 
 ship, and especially that more definite blood-relationship 
 which arises from monogamic marriage, has to be added. J 
 mean community of religion — a likeness of ideas and senti- 
 ments embodied in the worship of a common deity. Begin- 
 ning, as this does, with propitiation of the deceased 
 founder of the family ; and shared in, as it is, by the multi- 
 plying groups of descendants, as the family spreads ; it 
 becomes a further means of holding together the compound 
 cluster gradually formed, and checking the antagonisms that 
 arise between the component clusters : so favouring integra- 
 tion. The influence of the bond supplied by a common cult 
 everywhere meets us in ancient history. Each of the cities 
 in primitive Egypt was a centre for the worship of a special 
 divinity ; and no one who, unbiassed by foregone conclusions, 
 observes the extraordinary development of ancestor-worship, 
 under all its forms, in Egypt, can doubt the origin of this 
 divinity. Of the Greeks we read that — 
 
 “Each family had its own sacred rites and funereal commemoration 
 of ancestors, celebrated by the master of the house, to which none hut 
 members of the family were admissible : the extinction of a family, 
 
276 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTION'S, 
 
 carrying with it the suspension of these religious rites, was held by the 
 Greeks to be a misfortune, not merely from the loss of the citizens 
 composing it, but also because the family gods and the manes of 
 deceased citizens were thus deprived of their honours and might visit 
 the country with displeasure. The larger associations, called Gens, 
 Phratry, Tribe, were formed by an extension of the same principle — 
 of the family considered as a religious brotherhood, worshipping some 
 common god or hero with an appropriate surname, and recognizing him 
 as their joint ancestor.” 
 
 A like bond was generated in a like manner in the Roman 
 community. Each curia, which was the homologue of the 
 phratry, had a head, “ whose chief function was to preside 
 over the sacrifices.” And, on a larger scale, the same thing 
 held with the entire society. The primitive Roman king was 
 a priest of the deities common to all : “ he held intercourse 
 with the gods of the community, whom he consulted and 
 whom he appeased.” The beginnings of this religious bond, 
 here exhibited in a developed form, are still traceable in 
 India. Sir Henry Maine says, “ the joint family of the 
 Hindoos is that assemblage of persons who would have 
 joined in the sacrifices at the funeral of some common 
 ancestor if he had died in their lifetime.” So that political 
 integration, while furthered by that likeness of nature which 
 identity of descent involves, is again furthered by that like- 
 ness of religion simultaneously arising from this identity of 
 descent. 
 
 Thus is it, too, at a later stage, with that less-pronounced 
 likeness of nature characterizing men of the same race who 
 have multiplied and spread in such ways as to form adjacent 
 small societies. Cooperation among them continues to be 
 furthered, though less effectually, by the community of their 
 natures, by the community of their traditions, ideas, and 
 sentiments, as well as by their community of speech. Among 
 men of diverse types, concert is necessarily hindered 
 both by ignorance of one another’s words, and by unlike- 
 nesses of thought and feeling. It needs but to remember 
 how often, even among those of the same family, quarrels 
 arise from misinterpretations of things said, to see what 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION - . 
 
 277 
 
 fertile sources of confusion and antagonism must be the 
 partial or complete differences of language which habitually 
 accompany differences of race. Similarly, those who are 
 widely unlike in their emotional natures or in their intellec- 
 tual natures, perplex one another by unexpected conduct — a 
 fact on which travellers habitually remark. Hence a further 
 obstacle to combined action. Diversities of custom, too, 
 become causes of dissension. Where a food eaten by one 
 people is regarded by another with disgust, where an animal 
 held sacred by the one is by the other treated with contempt, 
 where a salute which the one expects is never made by the 
 other, there must be continually generated alienations which 
 hinder joint efforts. Other things equal, facility of coopera- 
 tion will be proportionate to the amount of fellow fueling ; 
 and fellow feeling is prevented by whatever prevents men 
 from behaving in the same ways under the same conditions. 
 The working together of the original and derived factors 
 above enumerated, is well exhibited in the following passage 
 from Grote : — 
 
 “The Hellens were all of common blood and parentage, were ail 
 descendants of the common patriarch Hellen. In treating of the his- 
 torical Greeks, we have to accept this as a datum ; it represents the 
 sentiment under the influence of which they moved and acted. It is 
 placed by Herodotus in the front rank, as the chief of those four ties 
 which bound together the Hellenic aggregate : 1. Fellowship of blood ; 
 2. Fellowship of language ; 3. Fixed domiciles of gods, and sacrifices 
 common to all ; 4. Like manners and dispositions.” 
 
 Influential as we thus find to be the likeness of nature 
 which is insured by common descent, the implication is that, 
 in the absence of considerable likeness, the political aggre- 
 gates formed are unstable, and can be maintained only by a 
 coercion which, some time or other, is sure to fail. Though 
 other causes have conspired, yet this has doubtless been a 
 main cause of the dissolution of great empires in past ages. 
 At the present time the decay of the Turkish Empire is 
 largely, if not chiefly, ascribable to it. Our own Indian 
 ‘Empire too, held together by force in a state of artificial 
 
278 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 equilibrium, threatens some day to illustrate by its fall the 
 incohesion arising from lack of congruity in components. 
 
 § 451. One of the laws of evolution at large, is that inte- 
 gration results when like units are subject to the same force 
 or to like forces (First Principles , § 169) ; and from the first 
 stages of political integration up to the last, we find this law 
 illustrated. Joint exposure to uniform external actions, and 
 joint reactions against them, have from the beginning been 
 the leading causes of union among members of societies. 
 
 Already in § 250 there has been indirectly implied the 
 truth that coherence is first given to small hordes of primitive 
 men during combined opposition to enemies. Subject to the 
 same danger, and joining to meet this danger, the members of 
 the horde become, in the course of their cooperation against 
 it, more bound together. In the first stages this relation of 
 cause and effect is clearly seen in the fact that such union as 
 arises during a war, disappears when the war is over : there 
 is loss of all such slight political combination as was begin- 
 ning to show itself. But it is by the integration of simple 
 groups into compound groups in the course of common re- 
 sistance to foes, and attacks upon them, that this process is 
 best exemplified. The cases before given may be reinforced 
 by others. Of the Karens, Mason says: — “Each village, 
 being an independent community, had always an old feud to 
 settle with nearly every other village among their own people. 
 But the common danger from more powerful enemies, or 
 having common injuries to requite, often led to several villages 
 uniting together for defence or attack ” According to Kolben, 
 “ smaller nations of Hottentots, which may be near some 
 powerful nation, frequently enter into an alliance, offensive 
 and defensive, against the stronger nation.” Among the New 
 Caledonians of Tanna, “ six, or eight, or more of their villages 
 unite, and form what may be called a district, or county, and 
 
 all league together for mutual protection In war 
 
 two or more of these districts unite.” Samoan “ villages, in 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 279 
 
 numbers of eight or ten, unite by common consent, and form 
 a district or state for mutual protection f and during hosti- 
 lities these districts themselves sometimes unite in twos and 
 threes. The like has happened with historic peoples. 
 
 It was during the wars of the Israelites in David’s time, that 
 they passed from the state of separate tribes into the state of 
 a consolidated ruling nation. The scattered Greek communi- 
 ties, previously aggregated into minor confederacies by minor 
 wars, were prompted to the Pan-Hellenic congress and to the 
 subsequent cooperation, when the invasion of Xerxes was 
 impending ; and of the Spartan and Athenian confederacies 
 afterwards formed, that of Athens acquired the hegemony, 
 and finally the empire, during continued operations against 
 the Persians. So, too, was it with the Teutonic races. 
 
 The German tribes, originally without federal bonds, formed 
 occasional alliances for opposing enemies. Between the 
 first and fifth centuries these tribes massed themselves into 
 great groups for resistance against, or attack upon, Rome. 
 During the subsequent century the prolonged military con- 
 federations of peoples “ of the same blood ” had grown into 
 States, which afterwards became aggregated into still larger 
 States. And, to take a comparatively modern instance, the 
 wars between France and England aided each in passing 
 from that condition in which its feudal divisions were in 
 considerable degrees independent, to the condition of a con- 
 solidated nation. As further showing how integration 
 
 of smaller societies into larger ones is thus initiated, it may 
 be added that at first the unions exist only for military pur- 
 poses. Each component society retains for a long time its 
 independent internal administration ; and it is only when 
 joint action in war has become habitual, that the cohesion is 
 made permanent by a common political organization. 
 
 This compounding of smaller communities into larger by 
 military cooperation, is insured by the disappearance of such 
 smaller communities as do not cooperate. Barth remarks 
 that “the Fiilbe [Fulahs] are continually advancing, as they 
 
280 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 have not to do with one strong enemy, but with a number of 
 small tribes without any bond of union.” Of the Damaras, 
 Galton says — “ If one werft is plundered, the adjacent ones 
 rarely rise to defend it, and thus the Namaquas have de- 
 stroyed or enslaved piecemeal about one-half of the whole 
 Damara population.” Similarly with the Ynca conquests in 
 Peru : “ there was no general opposition to their advance, 
 for each province merely defended its land without aid from 
 any other.” This process, so obvious and familiar, I name 
 because it has a meaning which needs emphasizing. For we 
 here see that in the struggle for existence among societies, 
 the survival of the fittest is the survival of those in which 
 the power of military cooperation is the greatest ; and mili- 
 tary cooperation is that primary kind of cooperation which 
 prepares the way for other kinds. So that this formation of 
 larger societies by the union of smaller ones in war, and this 
 destruction or absorption of the smaller un-united societies by 
 the united larger ones, is an inevitable process through which 
 the varieties of men most adapted for social life, supplant the 
 less adapted varieties. 
 
 Respecting the integration thus effected, it remains only to 
 remark that it necessarily follows this course — necessarily 
 begins with the formation of simple groups and advances by 
 the compounding and re-compounding of them. Impulsive 
 in conduct and with rudimentary powers of concerted action, 
 savages cohere so slightly that only small bodies of them 
 can maintain their integrity. Not until such small bodies 
 have severally had their members bound to one another by 
 some slight political organization, does it become possible to 
 unite them into larger bodies; since the cohesion of these 
 implies greater fitness for concerted action, and more de- 
 veloped organization for achieving it. And similarly, these 
 composite clusters must be to some extent consolidated before 
 the composition can be carried a stage further. Pass- 
 
 ing over the multitudinous illustrations occurring among the 
 uncivilized, it will suffice if I refer to those given in § 226, 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 281 
 
 and reinforce them by some which historic peoples have 
 supplied. There is the fact that in primitive Egypt, the 
 numerous small societies (which eventually became the 
 “ nomes ”) first united into the two aggregates, Upper Egypt 
 and Lower Egypt, which were afterwards joined into one ; 
 and the fact that in ancient Greece, villages became united to 
 form towns before the towns became united into states, while 
 this change preceded the change which united the states with 
 one another ; and the fact that in the old English period, 
 small principalities were massed into the divisions constitut- 
 ing the Heptarchy, before these passed into something like a 
 whole. It is a principle in physics that, since the 
 
 force with which a body resists strains increases as the squares 
 of its dimensions, while the strains which its own weight 
 subject it to increase as the cubes of its dimensions, its power 
 of maintaining its integrity becomes relatively less as its 
 mass becomes greater. Something analogous may be said of 
 societies. Small aggregates only can hold together while 
 cohesion is feeble ; and successively larger aggregates become 
 possible only as the greater strains implied are met by that 
 greater cohesion which results from an adapted human nature 
 and a resulting development of social organization. 
 
 § 452. As social integration advances, the increasing aggre- 
 gates exercise increasing restraints over their units — a truth 
 which is the obverse of the one just set forth, that the main- 
 tenance of its integrity by a larger aggregate implies greater 
 cohesion. The forces by which aggregates keep their units , 
 together are at first feeble ; and becoming strenuous at a 
 certain stage of social evolution afterwards relax — or rather, 
 change their forms. 
 
 Originally the individual savage gravitates to one group or 
 other, prompted by sundry motives, but mainly by the desire 
 for protection. Concerning the Patagonians, we read that no 
 one can live apart : “ if any of them attempted to do it, they 
 would undoubtedly be killed, or carried away as slaves, as 
 
282 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 soon as they were discovered.” In North America, among 
 the Chinooks, “ on the coast a custom prevails which autho- 
 rizes the seizure and enslavement, unless ransomed by his 
 friends, of every Indian met with at a distance from his 
 tribe, although they may not be at war with each other.” At 
 first, however, though it is necessary to join some group, it is 
 not necessary to continue in the same group. When oppressed 
 by their chief, Kalmucks and Mongols desert him and go over 
 to other chiefs. Of the Abipones Dobrizhoffer says : — “ With- 
 out leave asked on their part, or displeasure evinced on his, 
 they remove with their families whithersoever it suits them, 
 and join some other cacique ; and when tired of the second, 
 return with impunity to the horde of the first.” Similarly in 
 South Africa, “ the frequent instances which occur [among 
 the Balonda] of people changing from one part of the country 
 to another, show that the great chiefs possess only a limited 
 power.” And how, through this process, some tribes grow 
 while others dwindle, we are shown by M‘Culloch’s remark 
 respecting the Kukis, that “ a village, having around it plenty 
 of land suited for cultivation and a popular chief, is sure 
 soon, by accessions from less favoured ones, to become large.” 
 
 With the need which the individual has for protection, is 
 joined the desire of the tribe to strengthen itself; and the 
 practice of adoption, hence resulting, constitutes another 
 mode of integration. Where, as in tribes of North American 
 Indians, “ adoption or the torture were the alternative 
 chances of a captive” (adoption being the fate of one admired 
 for his bravery), we see re-illustrated the tendency which 
 each society has to grow at the expense of other societies. 
 That desire for many actual children whereby the family 
 may be strengthened, which Hebrew traditions show us, 
 readily passes into the desire for factitious children — here 
 made one with the brotherhood by exchange of blood, and 
 there by mock birth. As was implied in § 319, it is probable 
 that the practice of adoption into families among Greeks and 
 Romans, arose during those early times when the wandering 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 283 
 
 patriarchal group constituted the tribe, and when the wish 
 of the tribe to strengthen itself was dominant ; though it was 
 doubtless afterwards maintained chiefly by the wish to have 
 someone to continue the sacrifices to ancestors. And, indeed, 
 on remembering that, long after larger societies were formed 
 by unions of patriarchal groups, there continued to be feuds 
 between the component families and clans, we may see that 
 there had never ceased to operate on such families and clans, 
 the primitive motive for strengthening themselves by increas- 
 ing their numbers. 
 
 Kindred motives produced kindred results wdthin more 
 modern societies, during times when their parts were so im- 
 perfectly integrated that there remained antagonisms among 
 them. Thus we have the fact that in mediaeval England, 
 while local rule was incompletely subordinated to general 
 rule, every free man had to attach himself to a lord, a burgh, 
 or a guild : being otherwise “ a friendless man,” and in a 
 danger like that which the savage is in when not belonging 
 to a tribe. And then, on the other hand, in the law that 
 “ if a bondsman continued a year and a day within a free 
 burgh or municipality, no lord could reclaim him,” we may 
 recognize an effect of a desire on the part of industrial groups 
 to strengthen themselves against the feudal groups around — 
 an effect analogous to that of adoption, here into the savage 
 tribe and there into the family as it existed in more ancient 
 societies. Naturally, as a whole nation becomes more in- 
 tegrated, local integrations lose their separateness, and their 
 divisions fade ; though they long leave their traces, as among 
 ourselves in the law of settlement, and as, up to 1824, in the 
 laws affecting the freedom of travelling of artisans. 
 
 These last illustrations introduce us to the truth that while 
 at first there is little cohesion and great mobility of the units 
 forming a group, advance in integration is habitually accom- 
 panied not only by decreasing ability to go from group to 
 group, but also by decreasing ability to go from place to 
 place within the group. Of course the transition from the 
 
284 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 nomadic to the settled state partially implies this ; since 
 each person becomes in a considerable degree tied by his 
 material interests. Slavery, too, effects in another way this 
 binding of individuals to locally-placed members of the 
 society, and therefore to particular parts to it ; and, where 
 serfdom exists, the same thing is shown with a difference. 
 But in highly-integrated societies, not simply those in 
 bondage, but others also, are tied to their localities. Of the 
 ancient Mexicans, Zurita says : — “ The Indians never changed 
 their village nor even their quarter. This custom was 
 observed as a law.” In ancient Peru, “ it was not lawful for 
 any one to remove from one province, or village, to another ; ” 
 and “ any who travelled without just cause were punished as 
 vagabonds.” Elsewhere, along with that development of the 
 militant type accompanying aggregation, there have been 
 imposed restraints on transit under other forms. Ancient 
 Egypt had a system of registration ; and all citizens periodi- 
 cally reported themselves to local officers. “ Every Japanese 
 is registered, and whenever he removes his residence, the 
 Nanushi, or head man of the temple gives a certificate.” 
 And then, in despotically-governed European countries we 
 have passports-systems, hindering the journeys of citizens 
 from place to place, and in some cases preventing them from 
 going abroad. 
 
 In these, as in other respects, however, the restraints which 
 the social aggregate exercises over its units, decrease as the 
 industrial type begins greatly to qualify the militant type ; 
 partly because the societies characterized by industralism are 
 amply populous, and have superfluous members to fill the 
 places of those who leave them, and partly because, in the 
 absence of the oppressions accompanying a militant regime , a 
 sufficient cohesion results from pecuniary interests, family 
 bonds, and love of country. 
 
 § 453. Thus, saying nothing for the present of that political 
 evolution manifested by increase of structure, and restricting 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 285 
 
 ourselves to that political evolution manifested by increase of 
 mass, here distinguished as political integration, we find that 
 this has the following traits. 
 
 While the aggregates are small, the incorporation of 
 materials for growth is carried on at one another’s expense in 
 feeble ways — by taking one another’s game, by robbing one 
 another of women, and, occasionally by adopting one another’s 
 men. As larger aggregates are formed, incorporations pro- 
 ceed in more wholesale ways ; first by enslaving the separate 
 members of conquered tribes, and presently by the bodily 
 annexation of such tribes, with their territory. And as com- 
 pound aggregates pass into doubly and trebly compound 
 ones, there arise increasing desires to absorb adjacent smaller 
 societies, and so to form still larger aggregates. 
 
 Conditions of several kinds further or hinder social growth 
 and consolidation. The habitat may be fitted or unfitted for 
 supporting a large population ; or it may, by great or small 
 facilities for intercourse within its area, favour or impede co- 
 operation ; or it may, by presence or absence of natural 
 barriers, make easy or difficult the keeping together of the 
 individuals under that coercion which is at first needful. 
 And, as the antecedents of the race determine, the indi- 
 viduals may have in greater or less degrees the physical, 
 the emotional, and the intellectual natures fitting them for 
 combined action. 
 
 While the extent to which social integration can in each 
 case be carried, depends in part on these conditions, it also 
 depends in part upon the degree of likeness among the units. 
 At first, while the nature is so little moulded to social life 
 that cohesion is small, aggregation is largely dependent on 
 ties of blood : implying great degrees of likeness. Groups in 
 which such ties, and the resulting congruity, are most 
 marked, and which, having family traditions in common, a 
 common male ancestor, and a joint worship of him, are in 
 these further ways made alike in ideas and sentiments, are 
 groups in which the greatest social cohesion and power of co- 
 
286 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 operation arise. For a long time the clans and tribes de- 
 scending from such primitive patriarchal groups, have their 
 political concert facilitated by this bond of relationship and 
 the likeness it involves. Only after adaptation to social life 
 lias made considerable progress, does harmonious cooperation 
 among those who are not of the same stock become practi- 
 cable ; and even then their unlikenesses of nature must be 
 small. Where their unlikenesses of nature are great, the 
 society, held together only by force, tends to disintegrate 
 when the force fails. 
 
 Likeness in the units forming a social group being one 
 condition to their integration, a further condition is their 
 joint reaction against external action : cooperation in war is 
 the chief cause of social integration. The temporary unions 
 of savages for offence and defence, show us the initiatory 
 step. When many tribes unite against a common enemy, 
 long continuance of their combined action makes them 
 coherent under some common control. And so it is subse- 
 quently with still larger aggregates. 
 
 Progress in social integration is both a cause and a con- 
 sequence of a decreasing separableness among the units. 
 Primitive wandering hordes exercise no such restraints over 
 their members as prevent them individually from leaving one 
 horde and joining another at will. Where tribes are more 
 developed, desertion of one and admission into another are 
 less easy — the assemblages are not so loose in composition. 
 And throughout those long stages during which societies are 
 being enlarged and consolidated by militancy, the mobility of 
 the units becomes more and more restricted. Only with that 
 substitution of voluntary cooperation for compulsory co- 
 operation which characterizes developing industrialism, do 
 the restrictions on movement disappear : enforced union 
 being in such societies adequately replaced by spontaneous 
 union. 
 
 A remaining truth to be named is that political integration, 
 as it advances, obliterates the original divisions among the 
 
POLITICAL INTEGRATION. 
 
 287 
 
 united parts. In the first place there is the slow disappear- 
 ance of those non-topographical divisions arising from rela- 
 tionship, as seen in separate gentes and tribes : gradual inter- 
 mingling destroys them. In the second place, the smaller 
 local societies united into a larger one, which at first retain 
 their separate organizations, lose them by long cooperation : 
 a common organization begins to ramify through them. And 
 in the third place, there simultaneously results a fading of 
 their topographical bounds, and a replacing of these by 
 the new administrative bounds of the common organiza- 
 tion. Hence naturally results the converse truth, 
 
 that in the course of social dissolution the great groups 
 separate first, and afterwards, if dissolution continues, these 
 separate into their component smaller groups. Instance the 
 ancient empires successively formed in the East, the united 
 kingdoms of which severally resumed their autonomies when 
 the coercion keeping them together ceased. Instance, again, 
 the Carolingian empire, which, first parting into its large 
 divisions, became in course of time further disintegrated by 
 subdivision of these. And where, as in this last case, the 
 process of dissolution goes very far, there is a return to some- 
 thing like the primitive condition, under which small preda- 
 tory societies are engaged in continuous warfare with like 
 small societies around them. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION 
 
 § 454. As was pointed out in First Principles , § 154, it is 
 true of a social aggregate, as of every other aggregate, that 
 the state of homogeneity is an unstable state; and that 
 where there is already some heterogeneity, the tendency is 
 towards greater heterogeneity. 
 
 Lapse from homogeneity, however, or rather, the increase 
 of such heterogeneity as usually exists, requires that the 
 parts shall be heterogeneously conditioned; and whatever 
 prevents the rise of contrasts among the conditions, prevents 
 increase of heterogeneity. One of the implications is that 
 there must not be continual changes in the distribution of 
 the parts. If now one part and now another, occupies the 
 same position in relation to the whole, permanent structural 
 differences cannot be produced. There must be such cohesion 
 among the parts as prevents easy transposition. 
 
 We see this truth exemplified in the simplest individual 
 organisms. A low Rhizopod, of which the substance has a 
 mobility approaching to that of a liquid, remains almost 
 homogeneous ; because each part is from moment to moment 
 assuming new relations to other parts and to the environ- 
 ment. And the like holds with the simplest societies. 
 Concerning the members of the small unsettled groups of 
 Fuegians, Cook remarks that “ none w r as more respected than 
 another.” The Veddahs, the Andamanese, the Australians, 
 the Tasmanians, may also be instanced as loose assemblages 
 
•POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 289 
 
 which present no permanent unlikenesses of social position ; 
 or if unlikeness exist, as some travellers allege, they are so 
 vague that they are denied by others. And in such wander- 
 ing hordes as the Coroados of South America, formed of 
 individuals held together so feebly that they severally join 
 one or other horde at will, the distinctions of parts are but 
 nominal. 
 
 Conversely, it is to be anticipated that where the several 
 parts of a social aggregate are heterogeneously conditioned in 
 a permanent way, they will become proportionately hetero- 
 geneous. We shall see this more clearly on changing the 
 point of view. 
 
 § 455. The general law that like units exposed to like 
 forces tend to integrate, was in the last chapter exemplified 
 by the formation of social groups. Here the correlative 
 general law, that in proportion as the like units of an aggregate 
 are exposed to unlike forces they tend to form differentiated 
 parts of the aggregate, has to be observed in its application to 
 such groups, as the second step in social evolution. 
 
 The primary political differentiation originates from the 
 primary family differentiation. Men and women being by 
 the unlikenesses of their functions in life, exposed to unlike 
 influences, begin from the first to assume unlike positions in 
 the community as they do in the family : very early they 
 respectively form the two political classes of rulers and 
 ruled. And how truly such dissimilarity of social positions 
 as arises between them, is caused by dissimilarity in their 
 relations to surrounding actions, we shall see on observing 
 that the one is small or great according as the other is small 
 or great. When treating of the status of women, it w 7 as 
 pointed out that to a considerable degree among the Chippe- 
 wayans, and to a still greater degree among the Clatsops and 
 Chinooks, “ who live upon fish and roots, which the women 
 are equally expert with the men in procuring, the former have 
 a rank and influence very rarely found among Indians.” We 
 
290 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 saw also that in Cueba, where the women join the men in 
 war, “ fighting by their side,” their position is much higher 
 than usual among rude peoples; and, similarly, that in 
 Dahomey, where the women are as much warriors as the men, 
 they are so regarded that, in the political organization, “ the 
 woman is officially superior.” On contrasting these excep- 
 tional cases with the ordinary cases, in which the men, solely 
 occupied in war and the chase, have unlimited authority, 
 while the women, occupied in gathering miscellaneous small 
 food and carrying burdens, are abject slaves, it becomes clear 
 that diversity of relations to surrounding actions initiates 
 diversity of social relations. And, as we saw in § 327, this 
 truth is further illustrated by those few uncivilized societies 
 which are habitually peaceful, such as the Bodo and the 
 Dhimals of the Indian hills, and the ancient Pueblos of North 
 America — societies in which the occupations are not, or were 
 not, broadly divided into fighting and working, and severally 
 assigned to the two sexes ; and in which, along with a com- 
 paratively small difference between the activities of the sexes, 
 there goes, or went, small difference of social status. 
 
 So is it when we pass from the greater or less political 
 differentiation which accompanies difference of sex, to that 
 which is independent of sex — to that which arises among 
 men. Where the life is permanently peaceful, definite class- 
 divisions do not exist. One of the Indian Hill-tribes to 
 which I have already referred as exhibiting the honesty, 
 truthfulness, and amiability, accompanying a purely indus- 
 trial life, may be instanced. Hodgson says, “ all Bodo and 
 all Dhimals are equal — absolutely so in right or law — * 
 wonderfully so in fact.” The like is said of another unwar- 
 like and amiable hill tribe : “ the Lepchas have no caste dis- 
 tinctions.” And among a different race, the Papuans, may 
 be named the peaceful Arafuras as displaying “ brotherly 
 love with one another,” and as having no divisions of rank. 
 
 § 456. As, at first, the domestic relation between the sexes 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 291 
 
 passes -into a political relation, such that men and women 
 become, in militant groups, the ruling class and the subject 
 class ; so does the relation between master and slave, origin- 
 ally a domestic one, pass into a political one as fast as, by 
 habitual war, the making of slaves becomes general. It is 
 with the formation of a slave-class, that there begins that 
 political differentiation between the regulating structures and 
 the sustaining structures, which continues throughout all 
 higher forms of social evolution. 
 
 Kane remarks that “ slavery in its most cruel form exists 
 among the Indians of the whole coast from California to 
 Behring’s Straits, the stronger tribes making slaves of all the 
 others they can conquer. In the interior, where there is but 
 little warfare, slavery does not exist.” And this statement 
 does but exhibit, in a distinct form, the truth everywhere 
 obvious. Evidence suggests that the practice of enslavement 
 diverged by small steps from the practice of cannibalism. 
 Concerning the Nootkas, we read that “ slaves are occasion- 
 ally sacrificed and feasted upon and if we contrast this 
 usage wfith the usage common elsewhere, of killing and 
 devouring captives as soon as they are taken, we may infer 
 that the keeping of captives too numerous to be immediately 
 eaten, with the view of eating them subsequently, leading, as 
 it w r ould, to the employment of them in the meantime, caused 
 the discovery that their services might be of more value 
 than their flesh, and so initiated the habit of preserving 
 them as slaves. Be this as it may, however, we find that 
 very generally among tribes to which habitual militancy has 
 given some slight degree of the appropriate structure, the 
 enslavement of prisoners becomes an established habit. That 
 women and children taken in war, and such men as have not 
 been slain, naturally fall into unqualified servitude, is mani- 
 fest. They belong absolutely to their captors, who might 
 have killed them; and who retain the right afterwards to kill 
 them if they please. They become property, of which any 
 use whatever may be made. 
 
292 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Tlie acquirement of slaves, which is at first an incident of 
 war, becomes presently an object of war. Of the Nootkas we 
 read that “ some of the smaller tribes at the north of the 
 island are practically regarded as slave-breeding tribes, and 
 are attacked periodically by stronger tribes ” and the like 
 happens among the Chinooks. It was thus in ancient 
 Yera Paz, where periodically they made “an inroad into 
 the enemy’s territory . . . and captured as many as they 
 wanted and it was so in Honduras, where, in declaring war, 
 they gave their enemies notice “ that they wanted slaves.” 
 Similarly with various existing peoples. St. John says that 
 “ many of the Dyaks are more desirous to obtain slaves than 
 heads ; and in attacking a village kill only those who resist 
 or attempt to escape.” And that in Africa slave-making 
 wars are common needs no proof. 
 
 The class-division thus initiated by war, afterwards main- 
 tains and strengthens itself in sundry ways. Very soon there 
 begins the custom of purchase. The Chinooks, besides slaves 
 who have been captured, have slaves who were bought as 
 children from their neighbours ; and, as we saw when dealing 
 with the domestic relations, the selling of their children into 
 slavery is by no means uncommon with savages. Then the 
 slave-class, thus early enlarged by purchase, comes afterwards 
 to be otherwise enlarged. There is voluntary acceptance of 
 slavery for the sake of protection ; there is enslavement for 
 debt ; there is enslavement for crime. 
 
 Leaving details, we need here note only that this political 
 differentiation which war begins, is effected, not by the bodily 
 incorporation of other societies, or whole classes belonging to 
 other societies, but by the incorporation of single members 
 of other societies, and by like individual accretions. Com- 
 posed of units who are detached from their original social 
 relations and from one another, and absolutely attached to 
 their owners, the slave-class is, at first, but indistinctly 
 separated as a social stratum. It acquires separateness only 
 as fast as there arise some restrictions on the powers of the 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 293 
 
 owners. Ceasing to stand in the position of domestic cattle, 
 slaves begin to form a division of the body politic when their 
 personal claims begin to be distinguished as limiting the 
 claims of their masters. 
 
 § 457. It is commonly supposed that serfdom arises by 
 mitigation of slavery ; but examination of the facts shows that 
 it arises in a different way. While, during the early struggles 
 for existence between them, primitive tribes, growing at one 
 another’s expense by incorporating separately the individuals 
 they capture, thus form a class of absolute slaves, the formation 
 of a servile class considerably higher, and having a distinct 
 social status, accompanies that later and larger process of 
 growth under which one society incorporates other societies 
 bodily. Serfdom originates along with conquest and annexa- 
 tion. 
 
 For whereas the one implies that the captured people are 
 detached from their homes, the other implies that the subju- 
 gated people continue in their homes. Thomson remarks 
 that, “ among the New Zealanders whole tribes sometimes 
 became nominally slaves when conquered, although permitted 
 to live at their usual places of residence, on condition of 
 paying tribute, in food, &c.” — a statement which shows the 
 origin of kindred arrangements in allied societies. Of the 
 Sandwich Islands government when first known, described as 
 consisting of a king with turbulent chiefs, who had been sub- 
 jected in comparatively recent times, Ellis writes: — “The 
 common people are generally considered as attached to the 
 soil, and are transferred with the land from one chief to 
 another.” Before the late changes in Fiji, there were enslaved 
 districts ; and of their inhabitants we read that they had to 
 supply the chiefs’ houses “ with daily food, and build and 
 keep them in repair.” Though conquered peoples thus 
 placed, differ widely in the degrees of their subjection (being 
 at the one extreme, as in Fiji, liable to be eaten when wanted, 
 and at the other extreme called on only to give specified pro- 
 
294 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 portions of produce or labour) ; yet they remain alike as being 
 undetached from their original places of residence. That 
 
 serfdom in Europe originated in an analogous way, there is 
 good reason to believe. In Greece we have the case of Crete, 
 where, under the conquering Dorians, there existed a vassal 
 population, formed, it would seem, partly of the aborigines 
 and partly of preceding conquerors ; of which the first were 
 serfs attached to lands of the State and of individuals, and the 
 others had become tributary landowners. In Sparta the like 
 relations were established by like causes. There were the 
 helots, who lived on, and cultivated, the lands of their 
 Spartan masters, and the perioeci, who had probably been, 
 before the Dorian invasion, the superior class. So was it also 
 in the Greek colonies afterwards founded, such as Syracuse, 
 where the aborigines became serfs. Similarly in later times 
 and nearer regions. When Gaul was overrun by the Romans, 
 and again when Romanized Gaul was overrun by the Franks, 
 there was little displacement of the actual cultivators of the 
 soil, but these simply fell into lower positions : certainly 
 lower political positions, and M. Guizot thinks lower indus- 
 trial positions. Our own country yields illustrations. 
 
 “ Among the Scottish Highlanders some entire septs or clans are 
 stated to have been enslaved to others ; and on the very threshold of 
 Irish history we meet with a distinction between free and rent-paying 
 tribes, which may possibly imply the same kind of superiority and sub- 
 ordination.” 
 
 In ancient British times, writes Pearson, “ it is probable that, 
 in parts at least, there were servile villages, occupied by a 
 kindred but conquered race, the first occupants of the soil.” 
 More trustworthy is the evidence which comes to us from 
 old English days and Norman days. Professor Stubbs says — 
 “ The ceorl had his right in the common land of his township ; his Latin 
 name, villanus, had been a symbol of freedom, but his privileges were 
 bound to the land, and when the Norman lord took the land he took 
 the villein with it. Still the villein retained his customary rights, his 
 house and land and rights of wood and hay ; his lord’s demesne depended 
 for cultivation on his services, and he had in his lord’s sense of self- 
 interest the sort of protection that was shared by the horse aud the ox.” 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 285 
 
 And of kindred import is the following passage from Innes : — 
 
 “ I have said that of the inhabitants of the Grange, the lowest in the 
 scale was the ceorl, bond , serf \ or villein, who was transferred like the 
 land on which he laboured, and who might be caught and brought 
 back if he attempted to escape, like a stray ox or sheep. Their legal 
 name of nativus, or neyf which I have not found but in Britain, seems 
 to point to their origin in the native race, the original possessors of the 
 soil. ... In the register of Dunfermline are numerous ‘ genealogies/ or 
 stud-books, for enabling the lord to trace and reclaim his stock of serfs 
 by descent. It is observable that most of them are of Celtic names .’ 7 
 
 Clearly, a subjugated territory, useless without cultivators, 
 was left in the hands of the original cultivators, because 
 nothing was to be gained by putting others in their places ; 
 even could an adequate number of others be had. Hence, 
 while it became the conqueror’s interest to tie each original 
 cultivator to the soil, it also became his interest to let him 
 have such an amount of produce as to maintain him and 
 enable him to rear offspring, and it further became his interest 
 to protect him against injuries which would incapacitate him 
 for work. 
 
 To show how fundamental is the distinction between bondage 
 of the primitive type and the bondage of serfdom, it needs but 
 to add that while the one can, and does, exist among savages 
 and pastoral tribes, the other becomes possible only after the 
 agricultural stage is reached ; for only then can there occur the 
 bodily annexation of one society by another, and only then 
 can there be any tying to the soil. 
 
 § 458. Associated men who live by hunting, and to whom 
 the area occupied is of value only as a habitat for game, can- 
 not well have anything more than a common participation in 
 the use of this occupied area : such ownership of it as they 
 have, must be joint ownership. Naturally, then, at the outset 
 all the adult males, who are at once hunters and warriors, 
 are the common possessors of the undivided land, encroach- 
 ment on which by other tribes they resist. Though, in the 
 earlier pastoral state, especially where the barrenness of the 
 
296 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 region involves wide dispersion, there is no definite pro- 
 prietorship of the tract wandered over ; yet, as is shown us in 
 the strife between the herdsmen of Abraham and those of Lot 
 respecting feeding grounds, some claims to exclusive use tend 
 to arise; and at a later half-pastoral stage, as among the 
 ancient Germans, the wanderings of each division fall within 
 prescribed limits. 
 
 I refer to these facts by way of showing the identity esta- 
 blished at the outset between the militant class and the land- 
 owning class. For whether the group is one which lives by 
 hunting or one which lives by feeding cattle, any slaves its 
 members possess are excluded from land-ownership : the free- 
 men, who are all fighting men, become, as a matter of course, 
 the proprietors of their territory. This connexion in variously 
 modified forms, long continues ; and could scarcely do other- 
 wise. Land being, in early settled communities, the almost 
 exclusive source of wealth, it happens inevitably that during 
 times in which the principle that might is right remains 
 unqualified, personal power and ownership of the soil go 
 together. Hence the fact that where, instead of being held 
 by the whole society, land comes to be parcelled out among 
 component village-communities, or among families, or among 
 individuals, possession of it habitually goes along with the 
 bearing of arms. In ancient Egypt “ every soldier was a land- 
 owner ” — “ had an allotment of land of about six acres.” In 
 Greece the invading Hellenes, wresting the country from its 
 original holders, joined military service with territorial endow- 
 ment. In Rome, too, “ every freeholder from the seventeenth 
 to the sixtieth year of his age, was under obligation of 
 service ... so that even the emancipated slave had to 
 serve who, in an exceptional case, had come into possession 
 of landed property.” The like happened in the early Teutonic 
 community. Joined with professional warriors, its army 
 included “ the mass of freemen arranged in families fighting 
 for their homesteads and hearths such freemen, or markmen, 
 owning land partly in common and partly as individual pro- 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 297 
 
 prietors. Or as is said of this same arrangement among the 
 ancient English, “ their occupation of the land as cognationes 
 resulted from their enrolment in the field, where each kindred 
 was drawn up under an officer of its own lineage and appoint- 
 ment and so close was this dependence that “ a thane for- 
 feited his hereditary freehold by misconduct in battle.” 
 
 Beyond the original connexion between militancy and land- 
 owning, which naturally arises from the joint interest which 
 those who own the land and occupy it, either individually or 
 collectively, have in resisting aggressors, there arises later a 
 further connexion. As, along w T ith successful militancy, there 
 progresses a social evolution which gives to a dominant ruler 
 increased power, it becomes his custom to reward his leading 
 soldiers by grants of land. Early Egyptian kings “ bestowed 
 on distinguished military officers” portions of the crown 
 domains. When the barbarians were enrolled as Roman 
 soldiers, “ they were paid also by assignments of land, accord- 
 ing to a custom which prevailed in the Imperial armies. The 
 possession of these lands was given to them on condition of 
 the son becoming a soldier like his father.” And that kindred 
 usages were general throughout the feudal period, is a familiar 
 truth: feudal tenancy being, indeed, thus constituted; and 
 inability to bear arms being a reason for excluding women 
 from succession. To exemplify the nature of the relation 
 established, it will suffice to name the fact that “ William 
 the Conqueror . . . distributed this kingdom into about 
 60,000 parcels, of nearly equal value [partly left in the hands 
 of those who previously held it, and partly made over to his 
 followers as either owners or suzerains], from each of which 
 the service of a soldier was due and the further fact that 
 one of his laws requires all owners of land to “ swear 
 that they become vassals or tenants,” and w T ill “ defend their 
 lord’s territories and title as well as his person ” by “ knight- 
 service on horseback.” 
 
 That this original relation between landowning and mili- 
 tancy long survived, we are shown by the armorial bearings 
 
298 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of county families, as well as by the portraits of family ances- 
 tors, who are mostly represented in military costume. 
 
 § 459. Setting out with the class of warriors, or men bear- 
 ing arms, who in primitive communities are owners of the 
 land, collectively or individually, or partly one and partly the 
 other, there arises the question — How does this class dif- 
 ferentiate into nobles and freemen ? 
 
 The most general reply is, of course, that since the state 
 of homogeneity is by necessity unstable, time inevitably brings 
 about inequalities of positions among those whose positions 
 were at first equal. Before the semi-civilized state is reached, 
 the differentiation cannot become decided ; because there can 
 be no large accumulations of wealth, and because the laws of 
 descent do not favour maintenance of such accumulations as 
 are possible. But in the pastoral, and still more in the agri- 
 cultural, community, especially where descent through males 
 has been established, several causes of differentiation come into 
 play. There is, first, unlikeness of kinship to the head mam 
 Obviously, in course of generations, the younger descendants 
 of the younger become more and more remotely related to 
 the eldest descendant of the eldest ; and social inferiority 
 arises. As the obligation to execute blood-revenge for a mur- 
 dered member of the family does not extend beyond a certain 
 degree of relationship (in ancient France not beyond the 
 seventh), so neither does the accompanying distinction. From 
 the same cause comes inferiority in point of possessions. 
 Inheritance by the eldest male from generation to genera- 
 tion, works the effect that those who are the most distantly 
 connected in blood with the head of the group, are also the 
 poorest. Then there cooperates with these factors a 
 
 consequent factor; namely, the extra power which greater 
 'wealth gives. For when there arise disputes within the tribe, 
 the richer are those who, by their better appliances for 
 defence and their greater ability to purchase aid, naturally 
 have the advantage over the poorer. Proof that this is a 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 299 
 
 potent cause is found in a fact named by Sir Henry Maine. 
 “ The founders of a part of our modern European aristocracy, 
 the Danish, are known to have been originally peasants who 
 fortified their houses during deadly village struggles and then 
 used their advantage.” Such superiorities of position, 
 
 once initiated, are increased in another way. Already in the 
 last chapter we have seen that communities are to a certain 
 extent increased by the addition of fugitives from other com- 
 munities — sometimes criminals, sometimes those who are 
 oppressed. While, in places where such fugitives belong to 
 races of superior types, they often become rulers (as among 
 many Indian hill- tribes, whose rajahs are of Hindoo extrac- 
 tion), in places where they are of the same race and cannot 
 do this, they attach themselves to those of chief power in 
 their adopted tribe. Sometimes they yield up their freedom 
 for the sake of protection : a man makes himself a slave by 
 breaking a spear in the presence of his wished for master, as 
 among the East Africans, or by inflicting some small bodily 
 injury upon him, as among the Fulahs. In ancient Eome 
 the semi-slave class distinguished as clients, originated by this 
 voluntary acceptance of servitude with safety. But where 
 his aid promises to be of value in war, the fugitive offers 
 himself as a warrior in exchange for maintenance and refuge. 
 Other things equal, he chooses for master some one marked 
 by superiority of power and property ; and thus enables the 
 man already dominant to become more dominant. Such 
 armed dependents, having as aliens no claims to the lands of 
 the group, and bound to its head only by fealty, answer in 
 position to the comites as found in the early German commu- 
 nities, and as exemplified in old English times by the 
 “ Huscarlas” (Housecaris), with whom nobles surrounded 
 themselves. Evidently, too, followers of this kind, having 
 certain interests in common with their protector and no inte- 
 rests in common with the rest of the community, become, in 
 his hands, the means of usurping communal rights and ele- 
 vating himself while depressing the rest. 
 
300 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Step by step the contrast strengthens. Beyond such as 
 have voluntarily made themselves slaves to a head man, 
 others have become enslaved by capture in the wars mean- 
 while going on, others by staking themselves in gaming, 
 others by purchase, others by crime, others by debt. And of 
 necessity the possession of many slaves, habitually accom- 
 panying wealth and power, tends further to increase that 
 wealth and power, and to mark off still more the higher rank 
 from the lower. 
 
 And then, finally, the inferior freeman finds himself so 
 much at the mercy of the superior freeman, or noble, and his 
 armed followers of alien origin, that it becomes needful for 
 safety’s sake to be also a follower ; and, at first voluntary, the 
 relation of dependence grows more and more compulsory. 
 “ The freeman might choose his Lord, he might determine 
 to whom, in technical phrase, he should commend himself ; 
 but a Lord he must have, a Lord to act at once as his pro- 
 tector and as his surety.” 
 
 § 460. Certain concomitant influences generate differences 
 of nature, physical and mental, between those members of a 
 community who have attained superior positions, and those who 
 have remained inferior. Unlikenesses of status once initiated, 
 lead to unlikenesses of life, which, by the constitutional 
 changes they work, presently make the unlikenesses of status 
 more difficult to alter. 
 
 First there comes difference of diet and its effects. In the 
 habit, common among primitive tribes, of letting the women 
 subsist on the leavings of the men, and in the accompanying 
 habit of denying to the younger men certain choice viands 
 which the older men eat, we see exemplified the inevitable 
 proclivity of the strong to feed themselves at the expense of 
 the weak ; and when there arise class-divisions, there habit- 
 ually results better nutrition of the superior than of the 
 inferior. Forster remarks that in the Society Islands the 
 lower classes often suffer from a scarcity of food which never 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 301 
 
 extends to the upper classes. In the Sandwich Islands the 
 flesh of such animals as they have, is eaten principally by 
 the chiefs. Of cannibalism among the Fijians, Seeman says 
 — “ the common people throughout the group, as well as 
 women of all classes, were by custom debarred from it.” 
 These instances sufficiently indicate the contrast that every- 
 where arises between the diets of the ruling few and of the 
 subject many. Naturally by such differences in diet, and 
 accompanying differences in clothing, shelter, and strain on 
 the energies, are eventually produced physical differences. 
 Of the Fijians we read that “ the chiefs are tall, well made, 
 and muscular ; while the lower orders manifest the meagre- 
 ness arising from laborious service and scanty nourish- 
 ment.” The chiefs among the Sandwich Islanders “ are tall 
 and stout, and their personal appearance is so much superior 
 to that of the common people, that some have imagined them 
 a distinct race.” Ellis, verifying Cook, says of the Tahitians, 
 that the chiefs are, “ almost without exception, as much 
 superior to the peasantry ... in physical strength as they 
 are in rank and circumstances and Erskine notes a parallel 
 contrast among the Tongans. That the like holds of the 
 African races may be inferred from Reade’s remark that — 
 
 “ The court lady is tall and elegant ; her skin smooth and transparent ; 
 her beauty has stamina and longevity. The girl of the middle classes, so 
 frequently pretty, is very often short and coarse, and soon becomes a 
 matron ; while, if yon descend to the lower classes, you will find good 
 looks rare, and the figure angular, stunted, sometimes almost de- 
 formed.”* 
 
 Simultaneously there arise between rulers and ruled, un- 
 likenesses of bodily activity and skill. Occupied, as those of 
 higher rank commonly are, in the chase when not occupied 
 in war, they have a life-long discipline of a kind conducive 
 to various physical superiorities ; while, contrariwise, those 
 occupied in agriculture, in carrying burdens, and in other 
 
 # While writing I find, in the recently-issued “ Transactions of the Anthro- 
 pological Institute,” proof that even now in England, the professional classes 
 are both taller and heavier than the artizan classes. 
 
302 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 drudgeries, partially lose what agility and address they natu- 
 rally had. Class-predominance is thus further facilitated. 
 
 And then there are the respective mental traits produced 
 by daily exercise of power and by daily submission to power. 
 The ideas, and sentiments, and modes of behaviour, perpetu- 
 ally repeated, generate on the one side an inherited fitness for 
 command, and on the other side an inherited fitness for 
 obedience; with the result that, in course of time, there 
 arises on both sides the belief that the established relations of 
 classes are the natural ones. 
 
 § 461. By implying habitual war among settled societies, 
 the foregoing interpretations have implied the formation of 
 compound societies. Such class-divisions as have been 
 described, are therefore usually complicated by further class- 
 divisions arising from the relations established between those 
 conquerors and conquered whose respective groups already 
 contain class-divisions. 
 
 This increasing differentiation which accompanies increas- 
 ing integration, is clearly seen in such semi-civilized societies 
 as that of the Sandwich Islanders. Their ranks are — 
 
 “ 1. King, queens, and royal family, along with the councillor or 
 chief minister of the king. 2. The governors of the different islands, 
 and the chiefs of several large divisions. Many of these are descendants 
 of those who were kings of the respective islands in Cooks time, and 
 until subdued by T-amehameha. 3. Chiefs of districts or villages, who 
 pay a regular rent for the land, cultivating it by means of their depen- 
 dants, or letting it out to tenants. This rank Includes also the ancient 
 priests. 4. The labouring classes — those renting small portions of land, 
 those working on the land for food and clothing, mechanics, musicians, 
 and dancers.” 
 
 And, as shown elsewhere, these labouring classes are other- 
 wise divisible into — artizans, who are paid wages; serfs, 
 attached to the soil ; and slaves. Inspection makes it tolera- 
 bly clear that the lowest chiefs, once independent, were re- 
 duced to the second rank when adjacent chiefs conquered 
 them and became local kings ; and that they were reduced to 
 the third rank at the same time that these local kings becamo 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 303 
 
 chiefs of the second rank, when, by conquest, a kingship of 
 the whole group was established. Other societies in kindred 
 stages show us kindred divisions, similarly to be accounted 
 for. Among the New Zealanders there are six grades ; there 
 are six among the Ashantees ; there are five among the 
 Abyssinians ; and other more or less compounded African 
 States present analogous divisions. Perhaps ancient Peru 
 furnishes as clear a case as any of the superposition of ranks 
 resulting from subjugation. The petty kingdoms which were 
 massed together by the conquering Yncas, were severally left 
 with the rulers and their subordinates undisturbed ; but over 
 the whole empire there was a superior organization of Ynca 
 rulers of various grades. That kindred causes produced 
 kindred effects in early Egyptian times, is inferable from 
 traditions and remains which tell us both of local struggles 
 which ended in consolidation, and of conquests by invading 
 races ; whence would naturally result the numerous divisions 
 and sub-divisions which Egyptian society presented : an in- 
 ference justified by the fact that under Roman dominion, 
 there was a re-complication caused by the superposing of 
 Roman governing agencies upon native governing agencies. 
 Passing over other ancient instances, and coming to the 
 familiar case of our own country, we may note how, from the 
 followers of the conquering Norman, there arose the two 
 ranks of the greater and lesser barons, holding their land 
 directly from the king, while the old English thanes were 
 reduced to the rank of sub-feudatories. Of course where 
 perpetual wars produce, first, small aggregations, and then 
 larger ones, and then dissolutions, and then re-aggregations, 
 and then unions of them, various in their extents, as happened 
 in mediaeval Europe, there result very numerous divisions. 
 In the Merovingian kingdoms there were slaves having seven 
 different origins ; there were serfs of more than one grade ; 
 there were freedmen — men who, though emancipated, did not 
 rank with the fully free ; and there were two other classes 
 less than free — the liten and the coloni. Of the free there 
 
304 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 were three classes — independent landowners ; freemen in 
 relations of dependence with other freemen, of whom there 
 were two kinds ; and freemen in special relations with the 
 king, of whom there were three kinds. 
 
 And here, while observing in these various cases how 
 greater political differentiation is made possible by greater 
 political integration, we may also observe that in early stages, 
 while social cohesion is small, greater political integration is 
 made possible by greater political differentiation. For the 
 larger the mass to be held together, while incoherent, the more 
 numerous must be the agents standing in successive degrees 
 of subordination to hold it together. 
 
 § 462. The political differentiations which militancy origi- 
 nates, and which for a long time increase in definiteness, so 
 that mixture of ranks by marriage is made a crime, are at 
 later stages, and under other conditions, interfered with, 
 traversed, and partially or wholly destroyed. 
 
 Where, for ages and in varying degrees, war has been pro- 
 ducing aggregations and dissolutions, the continual breaking 
 up and re-forming of social bonds, obscures the original 
 divisions established in the ways described: instance the 
 state of things in the Merovingian kingdoms just named. 
 And where, instead of conquests by kindred adjacent societies, 
 which in large measure leave standing the social positions 
 and properties of the subjugated, there are conquests by alien 
 races carried on more barbarously, the original grades may be 
 practically obliterated, and, in place of them, there may come 
 grades established entirely by appointment of the despotic 
 conqueror. In parts of the East, where such over-runnings 
 of race by race have been going on from the earliest recorded 
 times, we see this state of things substantially realized. 
 There is little or nothing of hereditary rank ; and the only 
 rank recognized is that of official position. Besides the 
 different grades of appointed state-functionaries, there are 
 no class-distinctions having political meanings. 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 305 
 
 A tendency to subordination of the original ranks, and a 
 substitution of new ranks, is otherwise caused : it accompanies 
 the progress of political consolidation. The change which 
 occurred in China illustrates this effect. Gutzlaff says — 
 
 “ Mere title was afterwards (on the decay of the feudal system) the 
 reward bestowed by the sovereign . . . and the haughty and powerful 
 grandees of other countries are here the dependant and penurious 
 servants of the Crown. . . . The revolutionary principle of levelling 
 all classes has been carried, in China, to a very great extent. . . . This 
 is introduced for the benefit of the sovereign, to render his authority 
 supreme.” 
 
 The causes of such changes are not difficult to see. In the 
 first place the subjugated local rulers, losing, as integration 
 advances, more and more of their power, lose, consequently, 
 more and more of their actual, if not of their nominal, rank : 
 passing from the condition of tributary rulers to the condition 
 of subjects. Indeed, jealousy on the part of the monarch 
 sometimes prompts positive exclusion of them from influential 
 positions ; as in France, where “ Louis XIY. systematically 
 excluded the nobility from ministerial functions.” Presently 
 their distinction is further diminished by the rise of com- 
 peting ranks created by State-authority. Instead of the titles 
 inherited by the land-possessing military chiefs, which were 
 descriptive of their attributes and positions, there come to be 
 titles conferred by the sovereign. Certain of the classes thus 
 established are still of military origin ; as the knights made 
 on the battle-field, sometimes in large numbers before battle, 
 as at Agincourt, when 500 were thus created, and sometimes 
 afterwards in reward for valour. Others of them arise from 
 the exercise of political functions of different grades ; as in 
 France, where, in the seventeenth century, hereditary nobility 
 was conferred on officers of the great council and officers of 
 the chamber of accounts. The administration of law, too, 
 originates titles of honour. In France, in 1607, nobility was 
 granted to doctors, regents, and professors of law ; and “ the 
 superior courts obtained, in 1644, the privileges of nobility of 
 the first degree.” So that, as Warnkcenig remarks, “ the 
 
30G 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 original conception of nobility was in the course of time so 
 much widened that its primitive relation to the possession of 
 a fief is no longer recognizable, and the whole institution 
 seems changed.” These, with kindred instances which our 
 own country and other European countries furnish, show us 
 both how the original class-divisions become blurred, and 
 how the new class-divisions are distinguished by being de- 
 localized. They are strata which run through the integrated 
 society, having, many of them, no reference to the land and 
 no more connexion with one place than with another. It is 
 true that of the titles artificially conferred, the higher are 
 habitually derived from the names of districts and towns : so 
 simulating, but only simulating, the ancient feudal titles ex- 
 pressive of actual lordship over territories. The other modern 
 titles, however, which have arisen with the growth of political, 
 judicial, and other functions, have not even nominal references 
 to localities. This change naturally accompanies the growing 
 integration of the parts into a whole, and the rise of an or- 
 ganization of the whole which disregards the divisions among 
 the parts. 
 
 More effective still in weakening those primitive political 
 divisions initiated by militancy, is increasing industrialism. 
 This acts in two ways — firstly, by creating a class having 
 power derived otherwise than from territorial possessions or 
 official positions; and, secondly, by generating ideas and 
 sentiments at variance with the ancient assumptions of class- 
 superiority. As we have already seen, rank and 
 
 wealth are at the outset habitually associated. Existing 
 uncivilized peoples still show us this relation. The chief of 
 a kraal among the Koranna Hottentots is “ usually the per- 
 son of greatest property.” In the Bechuana language “ the 
 word kosi . . . has a double acceptation, denoting either a 
 chief or a rich man.” Such small authority as a Chinook 
 chief has, “ rests on riches, which consists in wives, children, 
 slaves, boats, and shells.” Eude European peoples, like the 
 Albanians, yield kindred facts : the heads of their communes 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 307 
 
 “ sont en general les gens les plus riches.” Indeed it is 
 manifest that before the development of commerce, and while 
 possession of land could alone give largeness of means, lord- 
 ship and riches were directly connected; so that, as Sir 
 Henry Maine remarks, “ the opposition commonly set up 
 between birth and wealth, and particularly wealth other than 
 landed property, is entirely modern. 1 ” When, however, with 
 the arrival of industry at that stage in which wholesale 
 transactions bring large profits, there arise traders who vie 
 with, and exceed, many of the landed nobility in wealth ; 
 and w T hen by conferring obligations on kings and nobles, such 
 traders gain social influence ; there comes an occasional 
 removal of the barrier between them and the titled classes. 
 In France the process began as early as 1271, when there 
 were issued letters ennobling Eaoul the goldsmith — “the 
 first letters conferring nobility in existence” in France. The 
 precedent once established is followed with increasing fre- 
 quency; and sometimes, under pressure of financial needs, 
 there grows up the practice of selling titles, in disguised 
 ways or openly. In France, in 1702, the king ennobled 200 
 persons at 3,000 livres a-liead ; in 1706, 500 persons at 
 6,000 livres a-head. And then the breaking down of the 
 ancient political divisions thus caused, is furthered by that 
 weakening of them consequent on the growing spirit of 
 equality fostered by industrial life. In proportion as men 
 are habituated to maintain their own claims while respect- 
 ing the claims of others, which they do in every act of 
 exchange, whether of goods for money or of services for pay, 
 there is produced a mental attitude at variance with that 
 which accompanies subjection ; and, as fast as this happens, 
 such political distinctions as imply subjection, lose more and 
 more of that respect which gives them strength. 
 
 § 463. Class-distinctions, then, date back to the beginnings 
 of social life. Omitting those small wandering assemblages 
 which are so incoherent that their component parts are 
 
308 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ever changing their relations to one another and to the 
 environment, we see that wherever there is some coherence 
 and some permanence of relation among the parts, there 
 begin to arise political divisions. Eelative superiority of 
 power, first causing a differentiation at once domestic and 
 social, between the activities of the sexes and the consequent 
 positions of the sexes, presently begins to cause a differentia- 
 tion among males, shown in the bondage of captives : a 
 master-class and a slave-class are formed. 
 
 Where men continue the wandering life in pursuit of wild 
 food for themselves or their cattle, the groups they form are 
 debarred from doing more by war than appropriate one 
 another’s units individually; but where men have passed 
 into the agricultural or settled state, it becomes possible for 
 one community to take possession bodily of another com- 
 munity, along with the territory it occupies. When this 
 happens there arise additional class-divisions. The conquered 
 and tribute-paying community, besides having its headmen 
 reduced to subjection, has its people reduced to a state such 
 that, while they continue to live on their lands, they yield 
 up, through the intermediation of their chiefs, part of the 
 produce to the conquerors : so foreshadowing what eventually 
 becomes a serf-class. 
 
 From the beginning the militant class, being by force of 
 arms the dominant class, becomes the class which owns the 
 source of food — the land. During the hunting and pastoral 
 stages, the warriors of the group hold the land collectively. 
 On passing into the settled state, their tenures become 
 partly collective and partly individual in sundry ways, and 
 eventually almost wholly individual. But throughout long 
 stages of social evolution, landowning and militancy con- 
 tinue to be associated. 
 
 The class-differentiation of which militancy is the active 
 cause, is furthered by the establishment of definite descent, 
 and especially male descent, and by the transmission of posi- 
 tion and property to the eldest son of the eldest continually. 
 
POLITICAL DIFFERENTIATION. 
 
 309 
 
 This conduces to inequalities of position and wealth between 
 near kindred and remote kindred ; and such inequalities once 
 initiated, tend to increase ; since it results from them that 
 the superior get greater means of maintaining their power 
 by accumulating appliances for offence and defence. 
 
 Such differentiation is augmented, at the same time that a 
 new differentiation is set up, by the immigration of fugitives 
 who attach themselves to the most powerful member of the 
 group : now as dependants who work, and now as armed 
 followers — armed followers who form a class bound to the 
 dominant man and unconnected with the land. And since, 
 in clusters of such groups, fugitives ordinarily flock most to 
 the strongest group, and become adherents of its head, they 
 are instrumental in furthering those subsequent integrations 
 and differentiations which conquests bring about. 
 
 Inequalities of social position, bringing inequalities in the 
 supplies and kinds of food, clothing, and shelter, tend to 
 establish physical differences ; to the further advantage of the 
 rulers and disadvantage of the ruled. And beyond the 
 physical differences, there are produced by the respective 
 habits of life, mental differences, emotional and intellectual, 
 strengthening the general contrast of nature. 
 
 When there come the conquests which produce compound 
 societies, and, again, doubly compound ones, there result 
 superpositions of ranks. And the general effect is that, while 
 the ranks of the conquering society become respectively 
 higher than those which existed before, the ranks of the con- 
 quered society become respectively lower. 
 
 The class-divisions thus formed during the earlier stages 
 of militancy, are traversed and obscured as fast as many 
 small societies are consolidated into one large society. Eanks 
 referring to local organization are gradually replaced by ranks 
 referring to general organization. Instead of deputy and 
 sub-deputy governing agents who are the militant owners of 
 the sub-divisions they rule, there come governing agents who 
 more or less clearly form strata running throughout the 
 
POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 310 
 
 society as a whole — a concomitant of developed political 
 administration. 
 
 Chiefly, however, we have to note that while the higher 
 political evolution of large social aggregates, tends to break 
 down the divisions of rank which grew up in the small com- 
 ponent social aggregates, by substituting other divisions, 
 these original divisions are still more broken down by grow- 
 ing industrialism. Generating a wealth that is not connected 
 with rank, this initiates a competing power; and at the 
 same time, by establishing the equal positions of citizens 
 before the law in respect of trading transactions, it weakens 
 those divisions which at the outset expressed inequalities of 
 position before the law. 
 
 As verifying these interpretations, I may add that they 
 harmonize with the interpretations of ceremonial insti- 
 tutions already given. When the conquered enemy is made 
 a slave, and mutilated by taking a trophy from his body, we 
 see simultaneously originating the deepest political distinction 
 and the ceremony which marks it ; and with the continued 
 militancy that compounds and re-coinpounds social groups, 
 there goes at once the development of political distinctions 
 and the development of ceremonies marking them. And as 
 we before saw that growing industrialism diminishes the 
 rigour of ceremonial rule, so here w 7 e see that it tends to 
 destroy those class- divisions which militancy originates, and 
 to establish quite alien ones which indicate differences of 
 position consequent on differences of aptitude for the various 
 functions which an industrial society needs. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 § 464 . The conceptions of biologists have been greatly en- 
 larged by the discovery that organisms which, when adult, 
 appear to have scarcely anything in common, were, in their 
 first stages, very similar ; and that, indeed, all organisms start 
 with a common structure. Recognition of this truth has re- 
 volutionized not only their ideas respecting the relations of 
 organisms to one another, but also their ideas respecting the 
 relations of the parts of each organism to one another. 
 
 If societies have evolved, and if that mutual dependence of 
 their parts which cooperation implies, has been gradually 
 reached, then the implication is that however unlike their 
 developed structures become, there is a rudimentary structure 
 with which they all set out. And if there can be recognized 
 any such primitive unity, recognition of it will help us to 
 interpret the ultimate diversity. We shall understand better 
 how in each society the several components of the political 
 agency have come to be what we now see them; and also 
 how those of one society are related to those of another. 
 
 Setting out with an unorganized horde, including both 
 sexes and all ages, let us ask what must happen when some 
 public question, as that of migration, or of defence against 
 enemies, has to be decided. The assembled individuals will 
 fall, more or less clearly, into two divisions. The elder, the 
 stronger, and those whose sagacity and courage have been 
 proved by experience, will form the smaller part, who carry 
 
312 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 on the discussion ; while the larger part, formed of the young, 
 the weak, and the undistinguished, will be listeners, who 
 usually do no more than express from time to time assent or 
 dissent. A further inference may safely be drawn. In the 
 cluster of leading men there is sure to be one whose weight 
 is greater than that of any other — some aged hunter, some 
 distinguished warrior, some cunning medicine-man, who will 
 have more than his individual share in forming the resolution 
 finally acted upon. That is to say, the entire assemblage will 
 resolve itself into three parts. To use a biological metaphor, 
 there will, out of the general mass, be differentiated a nucleus 
 and a nucleolus. 
 
 These first traces of political structure which we infer 
 a priori must spontaneously arise, we find have arisen among 
 the rudest peoples : repetition having so strengthened them 
 as to produce a settled order. When, among the aborigines 
 of Victoria, a tribe plans revenge on another tribe supposed 
 to have killed one of its members, “ a council is called of all 
 the old men of the tribe. . . The women form an outer 
 
 circle round the men. . . The chief [simply ‘ a native of 
 
 influence ’] opens the council.” And what we here see hap- 
 pening in an assemblage having no greater differences than 
 those based on strength, age, and capacity, happens when, 
 later, these natural distinctions have gained definiteness. In 
 illustration may be named the account which Schoolcraft 
 gives of a conference at which the Chippewas, Ottawas, and 
 Pottowattomies met certain United States’ Commissioners : 
 Schoolcraft being himself present. After the address of the 
 head commissioner had been delivered, the speaking on be- 
 half of the Indians was carried on by the principal chiefs : 
 the lead being taken by “ a man venerable for his age and 
 standing.” Though Schoolcraft does not describe the as- 
 semblage of undistinguished people, yet that they were pre- 
 sent is shown by a passage in one of the native speeches : — 
 “ Behold ! see my brethren, both young and old — the warriors 
 and chiefs — the women and children of my nation.” And 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 313 
 
 that the political order observed on this occasion was the 
 usual order, is implied by its recurrence even in parts of 
 America where chiefs have become marked off by ascribed 
 nobility ; as instance the account of one of the Central 
 American tribes, who “ have frequent reunions in their 
 council-house at night. The hall is then lighted up by a 
 large fire, and the people sit with uncovered heads, listening 
 respectfully to the observations and decisions of the ahuales 
 — men over forty years of age, who have occupied public 
 positions, or distinguished themselves in some way.” Among 
 peoples unlike in type and remote in locality, we find, modi- 
 fied in detail but similar in general character, this primitive 
 governmental form. Of the Hill tribes of India may be in- 
 stanced the Khonds, of whom we read that — 
 
 u Assemblies of the whole tribe, or of any of its sub-divisions, are con- 
 vened, to determine questions of general importance. The members of 
 every society, however, have a right to be present at all its councils, 
 and to give their voices on the questions mooted, although the patri- 
 archs alone take a part in their public discussion” . . . “ The federal 
 patriarchs, in like manner, consult with the heads of tribes, and 
 assemble when necessary the entire population of the federal group.” 
 
 In New Zealand, too, the government was conducted in 
 accordance with public opinion expressed in general assem- 
 blies ; and the chiefs “ could not declare peace or war, or do 
 anything affecting the whole people, without the sanction of 
 the majority of the clan.” Of the Tahitians, Ellis tells us 
 that the king had a few chiefs as advisers, but that no affair 
 of national importance could be undertaken without consult- 
 ing the land-holders or second rank, and also that public 
 assemblies were held. Similarly of the Malagasy. “ The 
 greatest national council in Madagascar is an assembly of the 
 people of the capital, and the heads of the provinces, towns, 
 villages, &c.” The king usually presides in person. 
 
 Though in these last cases we see considerable changes in 
 the relative powers of the three components, so that the inner 
 few have gained in authority at the expense of the outer 
 many, yet all three are still present ; and they continue to 
 
314 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 be present when we pass to sundry historic peoples. Even 
 of the Phoenicians, Movers notes that “ in the time of Alex- 
 ander a war was decided upon by the Tyrians without the 
 consent of the absent king, the senate acting together with 
 the popular assembly.” Then there is the familiar case of 
 the Homeric Greeks, whose Agora, presided over by the king, 
 was “ an assembly for talk, communication and discussion to 
 a certain extent by the chiefs, in presence of the people as 
 listeners and sympathisers,” who were seated around ; and 
 that the people were not always passive is shown by the story 
 of Thersites, who, ill-used though he was by Odysseus and 
 derided by the crowd for interfering, had first made his 
 harangue. Again, the king, the senate, and the freemen, in 
 early Roman times, stood in relations which had manifestly 
 grown out of those existing in the original assembly ; for 
 though the three did not simultaneously co-operate, yet on 
 important occasions the king communicated his proposals to 
 the assembled burgesses, who expressed their approval or dis- 
 approval, and the clan-chiefs, forming the senate, though they 
 did not debate in public, had yet such joint power that they 
 could, on occasion, negative the decision of king and bur- 
 gesses. Concerning the primitive Germans, Tacitus, as trans- 
 lated by Mr. Freeman, writes — 
 
 " On smaller matters the chiefs debate, on greater matters all men ; but 
 so that those things whose final decision rests with the whole people 
 are first handled by the chiefs. . . . The multitude sits armed in such 
 order as it thinks good ; silence is proclaimed by the priests, who have also 
 the right of enforcing it. Presently the king or chief, according to the 
 age of each, according to his birth, according to his glory in war or his 
 eloquence, is listened to, speaking rather by the influence of persuasion 
 than by the power of commanding. If their opinions give offence, 
 they are thrust aside with a shout ; if they approved, the hearers clash 
 their spears.” 
 
 Similarly among the Scandinavians, as shown us in Iceland, 
 where, besides the general Al-thing annually held, which it 
 was “ disreputable for a freeman not to attend,” and at which 
 “ people of all classes in fact pitched their tents,” there were 
 local assemblies called Var-things “ attended by all the free- 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 315 
 
 men of the district, with a crowd of retainers . . . both for 
 
 the discussion of public affairs and the administration of jus- 
 tice . . . Within the circle [formed for administering justice] 
 
 sat the judges, the people standing on the outside.” In the ac- 
 count given by Mr. Freeman of the yearly meetings in the Swiss 
 cantons of Uri and Appenzell, we may trace this primitive 
 political form as still existing ; for though the presence of the 
 people at large is the fact principally pointed out, yet there is 
 named, in the case of Uri, the body of magistrates or chosen 
 chiefs who form the second element, as well as the head magis- 
 trate who is the first element. And that in ancient England 
 there was a kindred constitution of the Witenagemot, is in- 
 directly proved; as witness the following passage from 
 Freeman’s Growth of the English Constitution : — 
 
 “ No ancient record gives us any clear or formal account of the constitu- 
 tion of that body. It is commonly spoken of in a vague way as a 
 gathering of the wise, the noble, the great men. But, alongside pas- 
 sages like these, we find other passages which speak of it in a way 
 which implies a far more popular constitution. King Eadward is said 
 to be chosen King by ‘ all folk.’ Earl Godwine 6 makes his speech 
 before the king and all the people of the land. ; ” 
 
 And the implication, as Mr. Freeman points out, is that the 
 share taken by the people in the proceedings was that of 
 expressing by shouts their approval or disapproval. 
 
 This form of ruling agency is thus shown to be the funda- 
 mental form, by its presence at the outset of social life and 
 by its continuance under various conditions. Not among 
 peoples of superior types only, such as Aryans and some 
 Semites, do we find it, but also among sundry Malayo-Poly- 
 nesians, among the red men of North America, the Dravidian 
 tribes of the Indian hills, the aborigines of Australia. In 
 fact, as already implied, governmental organization could not 
 possibly begin in any other way. On the one hand, no con- 
 trolling force at first exists save that of the aggregate will as 
 manifested in the assembled horde. On the other hand, lead- 
 ing parts in determining this aggregate will are inevitably 
 taken by the few whose superiority is recognized. And of 
 5 
 
316 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 these predominant few, some one is sure to be most pre- 
 dominant. That which we have to note as specially significant, 
 is not that a free form of government is the primitive form ; 
 though this is an implication which may be dwelt upon. Nor 
 are we chiefly concerned with the fact that at the very begin- 
 ning there shows itself that separation of the superior few 
 from the inferior many, which becomes marked in later 
 stages ; though this, too, is a fact which may be singled out 
 and emphasized. Nor is attention to be mainly directed to 
 the early appearance of a man whose controlling power is 
 greater than that of any other ; though the evidence given may 
 be cited to prove this. But here we have to note, particularly, 
 the truth that at the outset may be discerned the vague out- 
 lines of a tri-une political structure. 
 
 § 465. Of course the ratios among the powers of these 
 three components are in no two cases quite the same ; and, as 
 implied in sundry of the above examples, they everywhere 
 undergo more or less change — change determined here by the 
 emotional natures of the men composing the group ; there by 
 the physical circumstances as favouring or hindering inde- 
 pendence ; now by the activities as warlike or peaceful ; and 
 now by the exceptional characters of particular individuals. 
 
 Unusual sagacity, skill, or strength, habitually regarded by 
 primitive men as supernatural, may give to some member of 
 the tribe an influence which, transmitted to a successor sup- 
 posed to inherit his supernatural character, establishes an 
 authority subordinating both that of the other leading men 
 and that of the mass. Or from a division of labour such that 
 while some remain exclusively warriors the rest are in a 
 measure otherwise occupied, it may result that the two supe- 
 rior components of the political agency get power to over-ride 
 the third. Or the members of the third, keeping up habits 
 which make coercion of them difficult or impossible, may 
 maintain a general predominance over the other two. And 
 then the relations of these three governing elements to the 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 317 
 
 entire community may, and ordinarily do, undergo change by 
 the formation of a passive class excluded from their delibera- 
 tions — a class at first composed of the women and afterwards 
 containing also the slaves or other dependents. 
 
 War successfully carried on, not only generates this passive 
 class, but also, implying as it does subjection to leaders, 
 changes more or less decidedly the relative powers of these 
 three parts of the political agency. As, other things equal, 
 groups in which there is little subordination are subjugated 
 by groups in which subordination is greater, there is a ten- 
 dency to the survival and spread of groups in which the con- 
 trolling power of the dominant few becomes relatively great. 
 In like manner, since success in war largely depends on that 
 promptitude and consistency of action which singleness of 
 will gives, there must, where warfare is chronic, be a tendency 
 for members of the ruling group to become more and more 
 obedient to its head : failure in the struggle for existence 
 
 among tribes otherwise equal, being ordinarily a consequence 
 of disobedience. And then it is also to be noted that the 
 over-runnings of societies one by another, repeated and re- 
 repeated as they often are, have the effect of obscuring and 
 even obliterating the traces of the original structure. 
 
 While, however, recognizing the fact that during political 
 evolution these three primitive components alter their propor- \ 
 tions in various ways and degrees, to the extent that some of 
 them become mere rudiments or wholly disappear, it will 
 greatly alter our conception of political forms if we remember 
 that they are all derived from this primitive form — that a 
 despotism, an oligarchy, or a democracy, is a type of govern- 
 ment in which one of the original components has greatly 
 developed at the expense of the other two; and that the 
 various mixed types are to be arranged according to the 
 degrees in which one or other of the original components has 
 
 
 the greater influence. 
 
 
 § 466. Is there any fundamental unity of political forces 
 
318 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 accompanying this fundamental unity of political forms? 
 While losing sight of the common origin of the structures, 
 have we not also become inadequately conscious of the 
 common source of their powers ? How prone we are to forget 
 the ultimate while thinking of the proximate, it may be worth 
 while pausing a moment to observe. 
 
 One who in a storm watches the breaking-up of a wreck or 
 the tearing down of a sea-wall, is impressed by the immense 
 energy of the waves. Of course, when it is pointed out that 
 in the absence of winds no such results can be produced, he 
 recognizes the truth that the sea is in itself powerless, and 
 that the power enabling it to destroy vessels and piers is 
 given by the currents of air which roughen its surface. If he 
 stops short here, however, he fails to identify the force which 
 works these striking changes. Intrinsically, the air is just as 
 passive as the water is. There would be no winds were it 
 not for the varying effects of the Sun’s heat on different parts 
 of the Earth’s surface. Even when he has traced back thus 
 far the energy which undermines cliffs and makes shingle, he 
 has not reached its source ; for in the absence of that con- 
 tinuous concentration of the solar mass caused by the mutual 
 gravitation of its parts, there would be no solar radiations. 
 
 The tendency here illustrated, which all have in some 
 degree and most in a great degree, to associate power with the 
 visible agency exercising it rather than with its incon- 
 spicuous source, has, as above implied, a vitiating influence 
 on conceptions at large, and, among others, on political ones. 
 Though the habit, general in past times, of regarding the 
 powers of governments as inherent, has been, by the growth 
 of popular institutions, a good deal qualified ; yet, even now, 
 there is no clear apprehension of the fact that governments 
 are not themselves powerful, but are the instrumentalities of 
 a power. This power existed before governments arose ; 
 governments were themselves produced by it ; and it ever 
 continues to be that which, disguised more or less completely, 
 works through them. Let us go back to the beginning. 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 319 
 
 The Greenlanders are entirely without political control; 
 having nothing which represents it more nearly than the 
 deference paid to the opinion of some old man, skilled in seal- 
 catching and the signs of the weather. But a Greenlander 
 who is aggrieved by another, has his remedy in what is called 
 a singing combat. He composes a satirical poem, and 
 challenges his antagonist to a satirical duel in face of the 
 tribe : “ he who has the last word wins the trial.” And then 
 Crantz adds — “ nothing so effectually restrains a Greenlander 
 from vice, as the dread of public disgrace.” Here we see 
 operating in its original unqualified way, that governing 
 influence of public sentiment which precedes more special 
 governing influences. The dread of social reprobation is 
 
 in some cases enforced by the dread of banishment. Among 
 the otherwise unsubordinated Australians, they “ punish each 
 other for such offences as theft, sometimes by expulsion from 
 the camp.” Of one of the Columbian tribes we read that 
 “ the Salish can hardly be said to have any regular form of 
 government and then, further, we read that “ criminals are 
 sometimes punished by banishment from their tribe.” Certain 
 aborigines of the Indian hills, widely unlike these Columbians 
 in type and in mode of life, show us a similar relation between 
 undeveloped political restraint and the restraint of aggregate 
 feeling. Among the Bodo and the Dhimals, whose village 
 heads are simply respected elders with no coercive powers, 
 those who offend against customs “ are admonished, fined, or 
 excommunicated, according to the degree of the offence.” 
 But the controlling influence of public sentiment in groups 
 which have ^little or no organization, is best shown in the 
 force with which it acts on those who are bound to avenge 
 murders. Concerning the Australian aborigines, Sir George 
 Grey writes : — 
 
 “ The holiest duty a native is called on to perform is that of avenging 
 the death of his nearest relation, for it is his peculiar duty to do so ; 
 until he has fulfilled this task, he is constantly taunted by the old 
 women ; his wives, if he is married, would soon quit him ; if he is un- 
 married, not a single young woman would speak to him ; his mother 
 
320 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 would constantly cry, and lament that she should ever have given 
 birth to so degenerate a son ; his father would treat him with contempt, 
 and reproaches would constantly be sounded in his ear.” 
 
 We have next to note that for a long time after political 
 control has made its appearance, it remains conspicuously 
 subordinate to this control of general feeling ; both because, 
 while there are no developed governmental structures, the 
 head man has but little ability to enforce his will, and because 
 such ability as he has, if unduly exercised, causes desertion. 
 All parts of the world furnish illustrations. In America 
 among the Snake Indians “ each individual is his own master, 
 and the only control to which his conduct is subjected, is the 
 advice of a chief supported by his influence over the opinions 
 of the rest of the tribe.” Of a Chinook chief w~e are told 
 that his ability to render service to his neighbours, and the 
 popularity which follows it, is at once the foundation and the 
 measure of his authority.” If a Dakota “ wishes to do mis- 
 chief, the only way a chief can influence him is to give him 
 something, or pay him to desist from his evil intentions. The 
 chief has no authority to act for the tribe, and dare not do it.” 
 And among the Creeks, more advanced in political organiza- 
 tion though they are, the authority of the elected chiefs “ con- 
 tinues during good behaviour. The disapproval of the body 
 of the people is an effective bar to the exercise of their powers 
 and functions.” Turning to Asia, we read that the 
 
 bais or chiefs of the Khirgiz “ have little power over them for 
 good or evil. In consideration of their age and blood, some 
 deference to their opinions is shown, but nothing more.” 
 The Ostyaks “ pay respect, in the fullest sense of the word, to 
 their chief, if wise and valiant, but this homage is voluntary, 
 and founded on personal regard.” And of the Naga chiefs 
 Butler says — “ Their orders are obeyed so .far only as they 
 accord with the wishes and convenience of the com- 
 munity.” So, too, is it in parts of Africa ; as instance 
 
 the Koranna Hottentots. “ A chief or captain presides over 
 each clan or kraal, being usually the person of greatest pro- 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 321 
 
 perty; but his authority is extremely limited, and only obeyed 
 so far as it meets the general approbation.” And even among 
 the more politically-organized Kaffirs, there is a kindred 
 restraint. The king “ makes laws and executes them according 
 to his sole will. Yet there is a. power to balance his in the 
 people: he governs only so long as they choose to obey.” 
 They leave him if he governs ill. 
 
 In its primitive form, then, political power is the feeling of 
 the community, acting through an agency which it has either 
 informally or formally established. Doubtless, from the 
 beginning, the power of the chief is in part personal : his 
 greater strength, courage, or cunning, enables him in some 
 degree to enforce his individual will. But, as the evidence 
 shows, his individual will is but a small factor ; and the autho- 
 rity he wields is proportionate to the degree in which he 
 expresses the wills of the rest. 
 
 § 467. While this public feeling, which first acts by itself 
 and then partly through an agent, is to some extent the feeling 
 spontaneously formed by those concerned, it is to a much 
 larger extent the opinion imposed on them or prescribed for 
 them. In the first place, the emotional nature prompting 
 the general mode of conduct is derived from ancestors — is a 
 product of all ancestral activities ; and in the second place, 
 the special desires which, directly or indirectly, determine 
 the courses pursued, are induced during early life by seniors, 
 and enlisted on behalf of beliefs and usages which the tribe 
 inherits. The governing sentiment is, in short, mainly the 
 accumulated and organized sentiment of the past. 
 
 It needs but to remember the painful initiation which, at a 
 prescribed age, each member of a tribe undergoes (submitting 
 to circumcision, or knocking out of teeth, or gashing of the 
 flesh, or tatooing) — it needs but to remember that from these 
 imperative customs there is no escape; to see that the 
 directive force which exists before a political agency arises, 
 and which afterwards makes the political agency its organ, 
 
322 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 is the gradually-formed opinion of countless preceding gene- 
 rations ; or rather, not the opinion, which, strictly speaking, 
 is an intellectual product wholly impotent, but the emotion 
 associated with the opinion. This w^e everywhere find to be 
 at the outset the chief controlling power. 
 
 The notion of the Tupis that “ if they departed from the 
 customs of their forefathers they should be destroyed,” may 
 be named as a definite manifestation of the force with which 
 this transmitted opinion acts. In one of the rudest tribes of 
 the Indian hills, the Juangs, less clothed than even Adam 
 and Eve are said to have been, the women long adhered to 
 their bunches of leaves in the belief that change was wrong. 
 Of the Koranna Hottentots we read that “ when ancient 
 usages are not in the way, every man seems to act as is right 
 in his own eyes.” Though the Damara chiefs “have the 
 power of governing arbitrarily, yet they venerate the tradi- 
 tions and customs of their ancestors.” Smith says, “laws 
 the Araucanians can scarcely be said to have, though there 
 are many ancient usages which they hold sacred and strictly 
 observe.” According to Brooke, among the Dyaks custom 
 simply seems to have become law, and breaking the custom 
 leads to a fine. In the minds of some clans of the Malagasy, 
 “ innovation and injury are .... inseparable, and the idea 
 of improvement altogether inadmissible.” 
 
 This control by inherited usages is not simply as strong 
 in groups of men who are politically unorganized, or but 
 little organized, as it is in advanced tribes and nations, but it 
 is stronger. As Sir John Lubbock remarks — “No savage is 
 free. All over the world his daily life is regulated by a 
 complicated and apparently most inconvenient set of customs 
 (as forcible as laws), of quaint prohibitions and privileges.” 
 Though one of these rude societies appears structureless, 
 yet its ideas and usages form a kind of invisible framework 
 for it, serving rigorously to restrain certain classes of its 
 actions. And this invisible framework has been slowly and 
 unconsciously shaped, during daily activities impelled by pre- 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 323 
 
 vailing feelings and guided by prevailing thoughts, through 
 generations stretching back into the far past. 
 
 In brief, then, before any definite agency for social control 
 is developed, there exists a control arising partly from the 
 public opinion of the living, and more largely from the public 
 opinion of the dead. 
 
 § 468. But now let us note definitely a truth implied in 
 some of the illustrations above given — the truth that when a 
 political agency has been evolved, its power, largely de- 
 pendent on present public opinion, is otherwise almost wholly 
 dependent on past public opinion. The ruler, in part the 
 organ of the wills of those around, is in a still greater degree 
 the organ of the wills of those who have passed away ; and 
 his own will, much restrained by the first, is still more 
 restrained by the last. 
 
 For his function as regulator is mainly that of enforcing 
 the inherited rules of conduct which embody ancestral senti- 
 ments and ideas. Everywhere we are shown this. Among 
 the Arafuras such decisions as are given by their elders, are 
 “according to the customs of their forefathers, which are held 
 in the highest regard.” So is it with the Khirgiz : “ the judg- 
 ments of the Bis, or esteemed elders, are based on the known 
 and universally-recognized customs.” And in Sumatra “ they 
 are governed, in their various disputes, by a set of long- 
 established customs ( adat ), handed down to them from their 
 ancestors. . . . The chiefs, in pronouncing their decisions, are 
 not heard to say, "so the law directs/ but "such is the 
 custom/ ” 
 
 As fast as custom passes into law, the political head be- 
 comes still more clearly an agent through whom the feelings of 
 the dead control the actions of the living. That the power 
 he exercises is mainly a power which acts through him, we 
 see on noting how little ability he has to resist it if he 
 wishes to do so. His individual will is practically in- 
 operative save where the overt or tacit injunctions of departed 
 
324 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 generations leave him free. Thus in Madagascar, “ in cases 
 where there is no law, custom, or precedent, the word of the 
 sovereign is sufficient/' Among the East Africans, “ the only 
 limit to the despot's power is the Ada or precedent/’ Of the 
 J avans, Raffles writes — “ the only restraint upon the will of 
 the head of the government is the custom of the country, 
 and the regard which he has for his character among his sub- 
 jects/’ In Sumatra the people “do not acknowledge a right 
 in the chiefs to constitute what laws they think proper, or to 
 repeal or alter their ancient usages, of which they are 
 extremely tenacious and jealous.” And how imperative is con- 
 formity to the beliefs and sentiments of progenitors, is shown 
 by the fatal results apt to occur from disregarding them. 
 
 66 ‘ The King of Ashantee, although represented as a despotic monarch 
 .... is not in all respects beyond control/ He is under an 4 obliga- 
 tion to observe the national customs which have been handed down to 
 the people from remote antiquity ; and a practical disregard of this 
 obligation, in the attempt to change some of the customs of their fore- 
 fathers, cost Osai Quamina his throne/ ” 
 
 Which instance reminds us how commonly, as now among 
 the Hottentots, as in the past among the ancient Mexicans, 
 and as throughout the histories of civilized peoples, rulers 
 have engaged, on succeeding to power, not to change the esta- 
 blished order. 
 
 § 469. Doubtless the proposition that a government is in 
 the main but an agency through which works the force of 
 public feeling, present and past, seems at variance with the 
 many facts showing how great may be the power of a ruling 
 man himself. Saying nothing of a tyrant's ability to take 
 lives for nominal reasons or none at all, to make groundless 
 confiscations, to transfer subjects bodily from one place to 
 another, to exact contributions of money and labour without 
 stint, we are apparently shown by his ability to begin and 
 carry on wars which sacrifice his subjects wholesale, that his 
 single will may over-ride the united wills of all others. In 
 what way, then, must the original statement be qualified ? 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 325 
 
 While holding that, in unorganized groups of men, the 
 feeling manifested as public opinion controls political con- 
 duct, just as it controls the conduct distinguished as cere- 
 monial and religious; and while holding that governing 
 agencies, during their early stages, are at once the products 
 of aggregate feeling, derive their powers from it, and are 
 restrained by it ; we must admit that these primitive re- i 
 lations become complicated when, by war, small groups are 
 compounded and re-compounded into great ones. Where the 
 society is largely composed of subjugated people held down 
 by superior force, the normal relation above described no 
 longer exists. We must not expect to find in a rule coercively 
 established by an invader, the same traits as in a rule that 
 has grown up from within. Societies formed by conquest may 
 be, and frequently are, composed of two societies, which are 
 in large measure, if not entirely, alien ; and in them there 
 cannot arise a political force from the aggregate wilL Under 
 such conditions the political head either derives his power 
 exclusively from the feeling of the dominant class, or else, 
 setting the diverse feelings originated in the upper and lower 
 classes, one against the other, is enabled so to make his indi- 
 vidual will the chief factor. 
 
 After making which qualifications, however, it may still be 
 contended that ordinarily, nearly all the force exercised by 
 the governing agency originates from the feeling, if not of the £ 
 whole community, yet of the part which is able to manifest 
 its feeling. Though the opinion of the subjugated and un- 
 armed lower society becomes of little account as a political 
 factor, yet the opinion of the dominant and armed upper 
 society continues to be the main cause of political action. 
 What we are told of the Congo people, that “ the king, who 
 reigns as a despot over the people, is often disturbed in the 
 exercise of his power by the princes his vassals,” — what we 
 are told of the despotically-governed Dahomans, that “ the 
 ministers, war-captains, and feetishers may be, and often are, 
 individually punished by the king : collectively they are too 
 
326 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 strong for him, and without their cordial cooperation he would 
 soon cease to reign is w r hat we recognize as having been 
 true, and as being still true, in various better-known societies 
 where the supreme head is nominally absolute. From 
 the time when the Koman emperors were chosen by the 
 soldiers and slain when they did not please them, to the 
 present time w T hen, as we are told of Kussia, the desire of the 
 army often determines the will of the Czar, there have been 
 many illustrations of the truth that an autocrat is politically 
 strong or weak according as many or few of the influential 
 classes give him their support ; and that even the sentiments of 
 those who are politically prostrate occasionally affect political 
 action ; as instance the influence of Turkish fanaticism over 
 the decisions of the Sultan. 
 
 A number of facts must be remembered if v r e are rightly 
 to estimate the power of the aggregate will in comparison 
 with the power of the autocrat’s will. There is the fact that 
 the autocrat is obliged to respect and maintain the great mass 
 of institutions and laws produced by past sentiments and 
 ideas, which have acquired a religious sanction ; so that, as in 
 ancient Egypt, dynasties of despots live and die leaving the 
 social order essentially unchanged. There is the fact that a 
 serious change of the social order, at variance w r ith general 
 feeling, is likely afterwards to be reversed ; as when, in Egypt, 
 Amenhotep IV., spite of a rebellion, succeeded in establishing 
 a new religion, which was abolished in a succeeding reign ; and 
 there is the allied fact that laws much at variance with the 
 general will prove abortive, as, for instance, the sumptuary 
 laws made by medieval kings, which, continually re-enacted, 
 continually failed. There is the fact that, supreme as he may 
 be, and divine as the nature ascribed to him, the all-powerful 
 monarch is often shackled by usages which make his daily 
 life a slavery : the opinions of the living oblige him to fulfil 
 the dictates of the dead. There is the fact that if he does not 
 conform, or if he otherwise produces by his acts much 
 adverse feeling, his servants, civil and military, refuse to act, 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 327 
 
 or turn against him ; and in extreme cases there comes an 
 example of “ despotism tempered by assassination.” And 
 there is the final fact that habitually in societies where 
 an offending autocrat is from time to time removed, another 
 autocrat is set up : the implication being that the average 
 sentiment is of a kind which not only tolerates but desires 
 autocracy. That which some call loyalty and others call 
 servility, both creates the absolute ruler and gives him the 
 power he exercises. 
 
 But the cardinal truth, difficult adequately to appreciate, is 
 that while the forms and laws of each society are the consoli- 
 dated products of the emotions and ideas of those who lived 
 throughout the past, they are made operative by the subordi- 
 nation of existing emotions and ideas to them. We are 
 familiar with the thought of “ the dead hand ” as controlling 
 the doings of the living in the uses made of property ; but 
 the effect of “ the dead hand ” in ordering life at large through 
 the established political system, is immeasureably greater. 
 That which, from hour to hour in every country, governed 
 despotically or otherwise, produces the obedience making 
 political action possible, is the accumulated and organized 
 sentiment felt towards inherited institutions made sacred by 
 tradition. Hence it is undeniable that, taken in its widest 
 acceptation, the feeling of the community is the sole source of 
 political power : in those communities, at least, which are not 
 under foreign domination. It was so at the outset of social 
 life, and it still continues substantially so. 
 
 § 470. It has come to be a maxim of science that in the 
 causes still at work, are to be identified the causes which, 
 similarly at work during past times, have produced the state 
 of things now existing. Acceptance of this maxim, and pur- 
 suit of the inquiries suggested by it, lead to verifications of 
 the foregoing conclusions. 
 
 For day after day, every public meeting illustrates afresh 
 this same differentiation characterizing the primitive political 
 
328 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 agency, and illustrates afresh the actions of its respective 
 parts. There is habitually the great body of the less distin- 
 guished, forming the audience, whose share in the proceed- 
 ings consists in expressing approval or disapproval, and say- 
 ing aye or no to the resolutions proposed. There is the 
 smaller part, occupying the platform — the men whose wealth, 
 rank, or capacity, give them influence — the local chiefs, by 
 whom the discussions are carried on. And there is the chosen 
 head, commonly the man of greatest mark to be obtained, 
 who exercises a recognized power over speakers and audience 
 — the temporary king. Even an informally-summoned 
 assemblage soon resolves itself into these divisions more or 
 less distinctly ; and when the assemblage becomes a perma- 
 nent body, as of the men composing a commercial company, 
 or a philanthropic society, or a club, definiteness is quickly 
 given to the three divisions — president or chairman, board or 
 committee, proprietors or members. To which add that, 
 though at first, like the meeting of the primitive horde or the 
 modern public meeting, one of these permanent associations 
 voluntarily formed, exhibits a distribution of powers such 
 that the select few and their head are subordinate to the 
 mass ; yet, as circumstances determine, the proportions of the 
 respective powers usually change more or less decidedly. 
 Where the members of the mass besides being much interested 
 in the transactions, are so placed that they can easily co- 
 operate, they hold in check the select few and their head ; 
 but where wide distribution, as of railway-shareholders, 
 hinders joint action, the select few become, in large measure, 
 an oligarchy, and out of the oligarchy there not unfrequently 
 grows an autocrat : the constitution becomes a despotism 
 tempered by revolution. 
 
 In saying that from hour to hour proofs occur that the 
 force possessed by a political agency is derived from aggregate 
 feeling, partly embodied in the consolidated system which has 
 come down from the past, and partly excited by immediate 
 circumstances, I do not refer only to the proofs that among 
 
POLITICAL FORMS AND FORCES. 
 
 329 
 
 ourselves governmental actions are habitually thus determined, 
 and that the actions of all minor bodies, temporarily or per- 
 manently incorporated, are thus determined. I refer, rather, 
 to illustrations of the irresistible control exercised by popular 
 sentiment over conduct at large. Such facts as that, while 
 general opinion is in favour of duelling law does not prevent 
 it, and that sacred injunctions backed by threats of damnation, 
 fail to check iniquitous aggressions on foreign peoples when 
 the prevailing passions prompt them, alone suffice to show 
 that legal codes and religious creeds, with the agencies en- 
 forcing them, are impotent in face of an adverse state of mind. 
 On remembering the eagerness for public applause and the 
 dread of public disgrace which stimulate and restrain men, we 
 cannot question that the diffused manifestations of feeling 
 habitually dictate their careers, when their immediate neces- 
 sities have been satisfied. It requires only to contemplate 
 the social code which regulates life, down even to the colour 
 of an evening neck-tie, and to note how those who dare not 
 break this code have no hesitation in smuggling, to see that 
 an unwritten law enforced by opinion is more peremptory 
 than a written law not so enforced. And still more on ob- 
 serving that men disregard the just claims of creditors, who 
 for goods given cannot get the money, while they are anxious 
 to discharge so-called debts of honour to those who have 
 rendered neither goods nor services, we are shown that the 
 control of prevailing sentiment, unenforced by law and reli- 
 gion, may be more potent than law and religion together 
 when they are backed by sentiment less strongly manifested. 
 Looking at the total activities of men, we are obliged to admit 
 that they are still, as they were at the outset of social life, 
 guided by the aggregate feeling, past and present ; and that 
 the political agency, itself a gradually-developed product of 
 such feeling, continues still to be in the main the vehicle for 
 a specialized portion of it, regulating actions of certain kinds. 
 
 Partly, of course, I am obliged here to set forth this general 
 truth as an essential element of political theory. My excuse 
 
330 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 for insisting at some length on what appears to be a trite con- 
 clusion, must be that, however far nominally recognized, it is 
 actually recognized to a very small extent. Even in our own 
 country, where non- political agencies spontaneously produced 
 and worked are many and large, and still more in most other 
 countries less characterized by them, there is no due con- 
 sciousness of the truth that the combined impulses which work 
 through political agencies, can, in the absence of such agencies, 
 produce others through which to work. Politicians reason as 
 though State-instrumentalities have intrinsic power, which 
 they have not, and as though the feeling which creates them 
 has not intrinsic power, which it has. Evidently their 
 actions must be greatly affected by reversal of these ideas. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 POLITICAL HEADS— CHIEFS, KINGS, etc. 
 
 § 471. Of the three components of the tri-une political struc- 
 ture traceable at the outset, we have now to follow the develop- 
 ment of the first. Already in the last two chapters something 
 has been said, and more has been implied, respecting that 
 most important differentiation which results in the establish- 
 ment of a headship. What was there indicated under its 
 general aspects has here to be elaborated under its special 
 aspects. 
 
 “ When Eink asked the Nicobarians who among them was 
 the chief, they replied laughing, how could he believe that 
 one could have power against so many V I quote this as a 
 reminder that there is, at first, resistance to the assumption 
 of supremacy by one member of a group — resistance which, 
 though in some types of men small, is in most considerable, 
 and in a few very great. To instances already given of tribes 
 practically chief less may be added, from America, the Haidahs, 
 among whom “ the people seemed all equal the Californian 
 tribes, among whom “ each individual does as he likes the 
 Navajos, among whom "each is sovereign in his own right as 
 a warrior and from Asia the Angamies, who “ have no 
 recognized head or chief, although they elect a spokesman, 
 who, to all intents and purposes, is powerless and irrespon - 
 sible” 
 
 Such small subordination as rude groups show, occurs only 
 
332 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 when the need for joint action is imperative, and control is 
 required to make it efficient. Instead of recalling before- 
 named examples of temporary chieftainship, I may here give 
 some others. Of the Lower Californians we read — “ In hunt- 
 ing and war they have one or more chiefs to lead them, who 
 are selected only for the occasion.” Of the Flatheads’ chiefs 
 it is said that “ with the war their power ceases/ 5 Among 
 the Sound Indians the chief “has no authority, and only 
 directs the movements of his band in warlike incursions.” 
 
 As observed under another head, this primitive insubordi- 
 nation has greater or less play according as the environment 
 and the habits of life hinder or favour coercion. The Lower 
 Californians, above instanced as chiefless, Baegert says 
 resemble “ herds of wild swine, which run about according 
 to their own liking, being together to-day and scattered to- 
 morrow, till they meet again by accident at some future time.” 
 “ The chiefs among the Chipewyans are now totally without 
 power,” says Franklin; and these people exist as small 
 migratory bands. Of the Abipones, who are “ impatient of 
 agriculture and a fixed home,” and “ are continually moving 
 from place to place,” Dobrizhoffer writes — “they neither revere 
 their cacique as a master, nor pay him tribute or attendance 
 as is usual with other nations.” The like holds under like 
 conditions with other races remote in type. Of the Bedouins 
 Burckhardt remarks “ the sheikh has no fixed authority and 
 according to another writer “ a chief, who has drawn the bond 
 of allegiance too tight, is deposed or abandoned, and becomes 
 a mere member of a tribe or remains without one.” 
 
 And now, having noted the original absence of political 
 control, the resistance it meets with, and the circumstances 
 which facilitate evasion of it, we may ask what causes aid its 
 growth. There are several ; and chieftainship becomes settled 
 in proportion as they cooperate. 
 
 § 472. Among the members of the primitive group, slightly 
 unlike in various ways and degrees, there is sure to be some 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 333 
 
 one who has a recognized superiority. This superiority may 
 be of several kinds which we will briefly glance at. 
 
 Though in a sense abnormal, the cases must be recognized 
 in which the superiority is that of an alien immigrant. The 
 headmen of the Khonds “ are usually descended from some 
 daring adventurer” of Hindoo blood. Forsyth remarks the 
 like of “ most of the chiefs ” in the highlands of Central Asia. 
 And the traditions of Bochica among the Ghibchas, Amalivaca 
 among the Tamanacs, and Quetzalcoatl among the Mexicans, 
 imply kindred origins of chieftainships. Here, however, we 
 are mainly concerned with superiorities arising within the 
 tribe. 
 
 The first to be named is that which goes with seniority. 
 Though age, when it brings incapacity, is often among rude 
 peoples treated with such disregard that the old are killed or 
 left to die, yet, so long as capacity remains, the greater expe- 
 rience accompanying age generally insures influence. The 
 cliiefless Esquimaux show “ deference to seniors and strong 
 men.” Burchell says that over the Bushmen, old men seem 
 to exercise the authority of chiefs to some extent ; and the 
 like holds true with the natives of Australia. Among the 
 Fuegians “ the word of an old man is accepted as law by the 
 young people.” Each party of Bock Veddahs “has a head- 
 man, the most energetic senior of the tribe,” who divides the 
 honey, &c. Even with sundry peoples more advanced the 
 like holds. The Dyaks in North Borneo “ have no established 
 chiefs, but follow the counsels of the old man to whom they 
 are related;” and Edwards says of the ungoverned Caribs 
 that “ to their old men, indeed, they allowed some kind of 
 authority.” 
 
 Naturally, in rude societies, the strong hand gives predomi- 
 nance. Apart from the influence of age, “bodily strength 
 alone procures distinction among ” the Bushmen. The leaders 
 of the Tasmanians were tall and powerful men : “ instead of 
 an elective or hereditary chieftancy, the place of command 
 was yielded up to the bully of the tribe.” A remark of 
 
334 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Sturt’s implies a like origin of supremacy among the Austra- 
 lians. Similarly in South America. Of people on the 
 Tapajos, Bates tells us that “ the footmarks of the chief could 
 be distinguished from the rest by their great size and the 
 length of the stride.” And in Bedouin tribes “ the fiercest, 
 the strongest, and the craftiest obtains complete mastery over 
 his fellows.” During higher stages physical vigour long con- 
 tinues to be an all-important qualification; as in Homeric 
 Greece, where even age did not compensate for decline of 
 strength : “ an old chief, such as Peleus and Laertes, cannot 
 retain his position.” Everyone knows that throughout 
 Mediaeval Europe, maintenance of headship largely depended 
 on bodily prowess. And even but two centuries ago in the 
 Western Isles of Scotland, “ every Heir, or young Chieftain of 
 a Tribe, w r as oblig’d in Honour to give a publick Specimen of 
 his Valour, before he was own’d and declar’d Governor.” 
 
 Mental superiority, alone or joined with other attributes, 
 is a common cause of predominance. With the Snake Indians, 
 the chief is no more than “the most confidential person 
 among the warriors.” Schoolcraft says of the chief acknow- 
 ledged by the Creeks that “ he is emiuent with the people 
 only for his superior talents and political abilities and that 
 over the Comanches “the position of a chief is not hereditary, 
 but the result of his own superior cunning, knowledge, or 
 success in war.” A chief of the Coroados is one “ who by his 
 strength, cunning, and courage had obtained some command 
 over them.” And the Ostiaks “ pay respect, in the fullest 
 sense of the word, to their chief, if wise and valiant; but this 
 homage is voluntary, and not a prerogative of his position.” 
 
 Yet another source of governmental power in primitive 
 tribes is largeness of possessions: wealth being at once an 
 indirect mark of superiority and a direct cause of influence. 
 With the Tacullies “any person may become a minty or chief 
 who will occasionally provide a village feast.” “ Among the 
 Tolewas, in Del Norte Country, money makes the chief.” 
 The Spokanes have “ no regularly recognized chief,” “ but an 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 335 
 
 intelligent and rich man often controls the tribe by his 
 influence.” Of the chiefless ISTavajos we read that “ every 
 rich man has many dependants, and these dependants are 
 obedient to his will, in peace and in war.” And to other 
 evidence that it is the same in Africa, may be added the state- 
 ment of Heuglin that “ a Dor chief is generally the richest 
 and most reputable man of the village or neighbourhood.” 
 
 But, naturally, in societies not yet politically developed, 
 acknowledged superiority is ever liable to be competed with 
 or replaced by superiority arising afresh. 
 
 “ If an Arab, accompanied by his own relations only, has been suc- 
 cessful on many predatory excursions against the enemy, he is joined 
 by other friends ; and if his success still continues, he obtains the repu- 
 tation of being i lucky f and he thus establishes a kind of second, or 
 inferior agydship in the tribe.” 
 
 So in Sumatra — 
 
 “A commanding aspect, an insinuating manner, a ready fluency in 
 discourse, and a penetration and sagacity in unravelling the little in- 
 tricacies of their disputes, are qualities which seldom fail to procure to 
 their possessor respect and influence, sometimes, perhaps, superior to 
 that of an acknowledged chief.” 
 
 And supplantings of kindred kinds occur among the Tongans 
 and the Dyaks. 
 
 At the outset then, what we before distinguished as the 
 principle of efficiency is the sole principle of organization. 
 Such political headship as exists, is acquired by one whose 
 fitness asserts itself in the form of greater age, superior 
 prowess, stronger will, wider knowledge, quicker insight, or 
 larger wealth. But evidently supremacy which thus depends 
 exclusively on personal attributes is but transitory. It is 
 liable to be superseded by the supremacy of some more able 
 man from time to time arising; and if not superseded, is 
 ended by death. We have, then, to inquire how permanent 
 chieftainship becomes established. Before doing this, how- 
 ever, we must consider more fully the two kinds of superiority 
 which especially conduce to chieftainship, and their modes of 
 operation. 
 
336 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 § 473. As bodily vigour is a cause of predominance within 
 the tribe on occasions daily occurring, still more on occasions 
 of war is it, when joined with courage, a cause of predomi- 
 nance. War, therefore, tends to make more pronounced any 
 authority of this kind which is incipient. Whatever reluctance 
 other members of the tribe have to recognize the leadership 
 of any one member, is likely to be over-ridden by their desire 
 for safety when recognition of his leadership furthers that 
 safety. 
 
 This rise of the strongest and most courageous warrior to 
 power is at first spontaneous, and afterwards by agreement 
 more or less definite: sometimes joined with a process of 
 testing. Where, as 'in Australia, each “ is esteemed by the 
 rest only according to his dexterity in throwing or evading a 
 spear/’ it is inferable that such superior capacity for war as 
 is displayed, generates of itself such temporary chieftainship 
 as exists. Where, as among the Comanches, any one who 
 distinguishes himself by taking many “ horses or scalps, may 
 aspire to the honours of chieftaincy, and is gradually inducted 
 by a tacit popular consent,” this natural genesis is clearly 
 shown. Very commonly, however, there is deliberate choice ; 
 as by the Flatheads, among whom, “ except by the war-chiefs 
 no real authority is exercised.” Skill, strength, courage, and 
 endurance are in some cases deliberately tested. The King 
 of Tonga has to undergo a trial : three spears are thrown at 
 him, which he must ward off. “ The ability to climb up a 
 large pole, well-greased, is a necessary qualification of a fight- 
 ing chief among the Sea Dyaks;” and St. John says that in 
 some cases, “ it was a custom in order to settle who should be 
 chief, for the rivals to go out in search of a head : the first in 
 finding one being victor.” 
 
 Moreover, the need for an efficient leader tends ever to 
 re-establish chieftainship where it has become only nominal 
 or feeble. Edward says of the Caribs that “ in war, experi- 
 ence had taught them that subordination was as requisite as 
 courage ; they therefore elected their captains in their general 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 337 
 
 assemblies with great solemnity and “ put their pretensions 
 to the proof with circumstances of outrageous barbarity” 
 Similarly, “ although the Abipones neither fear their cacique 
 as a judge, nor honour him as a master, yet his fellow-soldiers 
 follow him as a leader and governor of the war, whenever 
 the enemy is to be attacked or repelled.” 
 
 These and like facts, of which there are abundance, have 
 three kindred implications. One is that continuity of war 
 conduces to permanence of chieftainship. A second is that, 
 with increase of his influence as successful military head, the 
 chief gains influence as civil head. A third is that there is 
 thus initiated a union, maintained through subsequent phases 
 of social evolution, between military supremacy and political 
 supremacy. Not only among the uncivilized Hottentots, 
 Malagasy, and others, is the chief or king head of the army — 
 not only among such semi-civilized peoples as the ancient 
 Peruvians and Mexicans, do we find the monarch one with 
 the commander-in-chief; but the histories of extinct and 
 surviving nations all over the world exemplify the connexion. 
 In Egypt “ in the early ages, the offices of king and general 
 were inseparable.” Assyrian sculptures and inscriptions 
 represent the despotic ruler as also the conquering soldier ; as 
 do the records of the Hebrews. Civil and military headship 
 were united among the Homeric Greeks ; and in primitive 
 Rome “ the general was ordinarily the king himself.” That 
 throughout European history it has been so, and partially 
 continues so even now in the more militant societies, needs 
 no showing. 
 
 How command of a wider kind follows military command, 
 we cannot readily see in societies which have no records : we 
 can but infer that along with increased power of coercion 
 which the successful head-warrior gains, naturally goes the 
 exercise of a stronger rule in civil affairs. That this has 
 been so among peoples who have known histories, there is 
 proof. Of the primitive Germans Sohm remarks that the 
 Roman invasions had one result: — 
 
333 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 “ The kingship became united with the leadership (become permanent) 
 of the army, and, as a consequence, raised itself to a power [institution] 
 in the State. The military subordination under the king-leader fur- 
 thered political subordination under the "king Kingship 
 
 after the invasions is a kingship clothed with supreme rights — a king- 
 ship in our sense.” 
 
 In like manner it is observed by Eanke that during the wars 
 with the English in the fifteenth century — 
 
 “ The French monarchy, whilst struggling for its very existence, 
 acquired at the same time, and as the result of the struggle, a firmer 
 organization. The expedients adopted to carry on the contest grew, as 
 in other important cases, to national institutions.” 
 
 And modern instances of the relation between successful 
 militancy and the strengthening of political control, are fur- 
 nished by the career of Napoleon and the recent history of 
 the German Empire. 
 
 Headship of the society, then, commonly beginning with 
 the influence gained by the warrior of greatest power, bold- 
 ness, and capacity, becomes established where activity in 
 war gives opportunity for his superiority to show itself and 
 to generate subordination ; and thereafter the growth of civil 
 governorship continues primarily related to the exercise of 
 militant functions. 
 
 § 474. Very erroneous, however, would be the idea formed 
 if no further origin for political headship were named. There 
 is a kind of influence, in some cases operating alone and in 
 other cases cooperating with that above specified, which is all- 
 important. I mean the influence possessed by the medicine- 
 man. 
 
 That this arises as early as the other, can scarcely be said ; 
 since, until the ghost-theory takes shape, there is no origin 
 for it. But when belief in the spirits of the dead becomes 
 current, the medicine-man, professing ability to control them, 
 and inspiring faith in his pretensions, is regarded with a 
 fear which prompts obedience. When we read of the 
 Thlinkeets that the “ supreme feat of a conjuror’s power is to 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 339 
 
 throw one of his liege spirits into the body of one who 
 refuses to believe in his power, upon which the possessed is 
 taken with swooning and fits,” we may imagine the dread he 
 excites, and the sway he consequently gains. From some of 
 the lowest races upwards we find illustrations. Fitzroy says 
 of the “ doctor-wizard among the Fuegians ” that he is the 
 most cunning aiid most deceitful of his tribe, and that he has 
 great influence over his companions. “ Though the Tas- 
 manians were free from the despotism of rulers, they were 
 swayed by the counsels, governed by the arts, or terrified by 
 the fears, of certain wise men or doctors. These could not 
 only mitigate suffering, but inflict it.” A chief of the Haidalis 
 “ seems to be the principal sorcerer, and indeed to possess 
 little authority save from his connexion with the preter- 
 human powers.” The Dakota medicine-men — 
 
 “ Are the greatest rascals in the tribe, and possess immense influence 
 over the minds of the young, who are brought up in the belief of 
 
 their supernatural powers The war-chief, who leads the 
 
 party to war, is always one of these medicine -men, and is believed to 
 have the power to guide the party to success, or save it from defeat.” 
 
 Among more advanced peoples in Africa, supposed abilities to 
 control invisible beings similarly give influence — strengthen- 
 ing authority otherwise gained. It is so wit h the Amazulu : 
 a chief “ practises magic on another chief before fighting 
 with him;” and his followers have great confidence in him 
 if he has much repute as a magician. Hence the sway 
 acquired by Langalibalele, who, as Bishop Colenzo says, 
 “ knows well the composition of that intelezi [used for 
 controlling the weather] ; and he knows well, too, the war- 
 medicine, i.e ., its component parts, being himself a doctor.” 
 Still better is seen the governmental influence thus acquired 
 in the case of the king of Obbo, who in time of drought calls 
 his subjects together and explains to them — 
 
 “ how much he regrets that their conduct has compelled him to afflict 
 them with unfavourable weather, but that it is their own fault. . . . 
 
 He must have goats and corn. 4 No goats, no rain ; that’s our contract, 
 my friends,’ says Katchiba. . . . Should his people complain of too 
 
 6 
 
340 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 much rain, he threatens to pour storms and lightning upon them for 
 ever, unless they bring him so many hundred baskets of corn, &c., 
 &c. . . . His subjects have the most thorough confidence in his power.” 
 
 And the king is similarly supposed to exercise control over the 
 weather among the people of Loango. 
 
 A like connexion is traceable in the records of various 
 extinct peoples in both hemispheres. Of Huitzilopochtli, the 
 founder of the Mexican power, we read that “ a great wizard 
 lie had been, and a sorcerer and every Mexican king on 
 ascending the throne had to swear “ to make the sun go his 
 course, to make the clouds pour down rain, to make the rivers 
 run, and all fruits to ripen.” Reproaching his subjects for 
 want of obedience, a Chibcha ruler told them they knew 
 “that it was in his power to afflict them with pestilence, 
 small-pox, rheumatism, and fever, and to make to grow as 
 much grass, vegetables, and plants as they wanted.” Ancient 
 Egyptian records yield indications of a similar early belief. 
 Thothmes III., after being deified, “ was considered as the 
 luck-bringing god of the country, and a preserver against the 
 evil influence of wicked spirits and magicians/’ And it was 
 thus with the Jews : — 
 
 “ Rabbinical writings are never weary of enlarging upon the magical 
 power and knowledge of Solomon. He was represented as not only 
 king of the whole earth, but also as reigning over devils and evil spirits, 
 and having the power of expelling them from the bodies of men and 
 animals and also of delivering people to them.” 
 
 The traditions of European peoples furnish kindred evidence. 
 As before shown (§ 198) stories in the Heims-kringla saga 
 imply that the Scandinavian ruler, Odin, was a medicine- 
 man ; as were also Niort and Frey, his successors. And after 
 recalling the supernatural weajpons and supernatural achieve- 
 ments of early heroic kings, we can scarcely doubt that with 
 them were in some cases associated those ascribed magical 
 characters whence have descended the supposed powers of 
 kings to cure diseases by touching. We shall the less doubt 
 this on finding that like powers were attributed to subordinate 
 rulers of early origin. There existed certain Breton nobles 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 341 
 
 whose spittle and touch were said to have curative pro- 
 perties. 
 
 Thus one important factor in the genesis of political head- 
 ship, originates with the ghost- theory, and the concomitant 
 rise of a belief that some men, having acquired power over 
 ghosts, can obtain their aid. Generally the chief and the 
 medicine-man are separate persons; and there then exists 
 between them some conflict : they have competing authorities. 
 But where the ruler joins with his power naturally gained, 
 this ascribed supernatural power, his authority is necessarily 
 much increased. Becalcitrant members of his tribe who 
 might dare to resist him if bodily prowess alone could decide 
 the struggle, do not dare if they think he can send one of his 
 posse comitatus of ghosts to torment them. That rulers desire 
 to unite the two characters, we have, in one case, distinct 
 proof. Canon Callaway tells us that among the Amazulu, a 
 chief will endeavour to discover a medicine-man’s secrets and 
 afterwards kill him. 
 
 § 475. Still there recurs the question — How does per- 
 manent political headship arise ? Such political headship as 
 results from bodily power, or courage, or sagacity, even when 
 strengthened by supposed supernatural aid, ends with the 
 life of any savage who gains it. The principle of efficiency, 
 physical or mental, while it tends to produce a temporary 
 differentiation into ruler and ruled, does not suffice to produce 
 a permanent differentiation. There has to cooperate another 
 principle, to which we now pass. 
 
 Already we have seen that even in the rudest groups, age 
 gives some predominance. Among both Fuegians and 
 Australians, not only old men, but also old women, exercise 
 authority. And that this respect for age, apart from other 
 distinction, is an important factor in establishing political 
 subordination, is implied by the curious fact that, in sundry 
 advanced societies characterized by extreme governmental 
 coercion, the respect due to age takes precedence of all other 
 
342 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 respect. Sliarpe remarks of ancient Egypt that “ here as in 
 Persia and J udaea the king’s mother often held rank above his 
 wife.” In China, notwithstanding the inferior position of 
 women socially and domestically, there exists this supremacy 
 of the female parent, second only to that of the male parent ; 
 and the like holds in Japan. As supporting the inference 
 that subjection to parents prepares the way for subjection to 
 rulers, I may add a converse fact. Of the Coroados, whose 
 groups are so incoherent, we read that — 
 
 “ The paje, however, has as little influence over the will of the multi- 
 tude as any other, for they live without any bond of social union, 
 neither under a republican nor a patriarchial form of government. 
 Even family ties are very loose among them .... there is no 
 regular precedency between the old and the young, for age appears to 
 enjoy no respect among them.” 
 
 And, as re-inforcing this converse fact, I may call attention 
 to § 317, where it was shown that the Mantras, the Caribs, 
 the Mapuches, the Brazilian Indians, the Gallinomeros, the 
 Shoshones, the Navajos, the Californians, the Comanches, 
 who submit very little or not at all to chiefly rule, display a 
 filial submission which is mostly small and ceases early. 
 
 But now under what circumstances does respect for age 
 take that pronounced form seen in societies distinguished by 
 great political subordination ? It was shown in § 319 that 
 when men, passing from the hunting stage into the pastoral 
 stage, began to wander in search of food for their domesti- 
 cated animals, they fell into conditions favouring the forma- 
 tion of patriarchal groups. We saw that in the primitive 
 pastoral horde, the man, released from those earlier tribal 
 influences which interfere with paternal power, and prevent 
 settled relations of the sexes, was so placed as to acquire 
 headship of a coherent cluster : the father became by right 
 of the strong hand, leader, owner, master, of wife, children, 
 and all he carried with him. There w^ere enumerated the 
 influences which tended to make the eldest male a patriarch ; 
 and it was shown that not only the Semites, Aryans, and 
 Turanian races of Asia have exemplified this relation between 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 343 
 
 pastoral habits and the patriarchal organization, but that it 
 recurs in South African races. 
 
 Be the causes what they may, however, we find abundant 
 proof that this family-supremacy of the eldest male, common 
 among pastoral peoples and peoples who have passed through 
 the pastoral stage into the agricultural stage, develops into 
 political supremacy. Of the Santals Hunter says — 
 
 “ The village government is purely patriarchial. Each hamlet has an 
 original founder (the Manjhi-Hanan), who is regarded as the father of 
 the community. He receives divine honours in the sacred grove, and 
 transmits his authority to his descendants . 55 
 
 Of the compound family among the Khonds we read in Mac- 
 pherson that — 
 
 “ There it [paternal authority] reigns nearly absolute. It is a Khond’s 
 maxim that a man’s father is his god, disobedience to whom is the 
 greatest crime ; and all the members of a family live united in strict 
 subordination to its head until his death . 55 
 
 And the growth of simple groups into compound and 
 doubly-compound groups, acknowledging the authority of one 
 who unites family headship with political headship, has been 
 made familiar by Sir Henry Maine and others as coiiimon to 
 early Greeks, Romans, Teutons, and as still affecting social 
 organization among Hindoos and Sclavs. 
 
 Here, then, we have making its appearance, a factor which 
 conduces to permanence of political headship. As was pointed 
 out in a foregoing chapter, while succession by efficiency 
 gives plasticity to social organization, succession by inherit- 
 ance gives it stability. Ho settled arrangement can arise in 
 a primitive community so long as the function of each unit 
 is determined exclusively by his fitness ; since, at his death, 
 the arrangement, in so far as he was a part of it, must be 
 recommenced. Only when his place is forthwith filled by 
 one whose claim is admitted, does there begin a differentia- 
 tion which survives through successive generations. And 
 evidently in the earlier stages of social evolution, while the 
 coherence is small and the want of structure great, it is requi- 
 site that the principle of inheritance should, especially in re- 
 
344 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 spect of the political headship, predominate over the principle 
 of efficiency. Contemplation of the facts will make this clear. 
 
 §476. Two primary forms of hereditary succession have to 
 be considered. The system of kinship through females, com- 
 mon among rude peoples, results in descent of property and 
 power to brothers or to the children of sisters ; while the 
 system of kinship through males, general among advanced 
 peoples, results in descent of property and power to sons oi 
 daughters. We have first to note that succession through 
 females is less conducive to stable political headships than is 
 succession through males. 
 
 From the fact named when treating of the domestic rela- 
 tions, that the system of kinship through females arises where 
 unions of the sexes are temporary or unsettled, it is to be 
 inferred that this system characterizes societies which are 
 unadvanced in all ways, political included. We saw in § 294, 
 that irregular connexions involve paucity and feebleness of 
 known relationships, and a type of family the successive 
 links of which are not strengthened by so many collateral 
 links. A common consequence is that along with descent 
 through females there either goes no chieftainship, or such 
 chieftainship as exists is established by merit, or, if here- 
 ditary, is usually unstable. The Australians and Tasmanians 
 supply typical instances. Among the Haidahs and other 
 savage peoples of Columbia, “ rank is nominally hereditary, 
 for the most part by the female line and actual chieftain- 
 ship “ depends to a great extent on wealth and ability in 
 war.” Of other North American tribes the Chippewas, 
 Comanches, and Snakes, show us the system of kinship 
 through females joined with either absence of established 
 headship or very feeble development of it. Passing to South 
 America, the Arawaks and the Waraus may be instanced as 
 having female descent and almost nominal, though hereditary, 
 chiefs ; and the same may be said of the Caribs. 
 
 A group of facts having much significance may now be 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 345 
 
 named. In many societies where descent of property and 
 frank in the female line is the rule, an exception is made in 
 the case of the political head ; and societies exemplifying this 
 exception are societies in which political headship is relatively 
 stable. Though in Fiji there is kinship through females, yet, 
 according to Seemann, the ruler, chosen from the members of 
 the royal family, is “ generally the son ” of the late ruler. 
 In Tahiti, where the two highest ranks follow the primitive 
 system of descent, male succession to rulership is so pro- 
 nounced that, on the birth of an eldest son the father becomes 
 simply a regent on his behalf. And among the Malagasy, 
 along with a prevailing kinship through females, the sovereign 
 either nominates his successor, or, failing this, the nobles ap- 
 point, and “ unless positive disqualification exists, the eldest 
 son is usually chosen.” Africa furnishes evidence of 
 
 varied kinds. Though the Congo people, the Coast Negroes, 
 and the Inland Negroes have formed communities of some size 
 and complexity, notwithstanding that kinship through females 
 obtains in the succession to the throne, yet we read of the 
 first that allegiance is “ vague and uncertain of the second 
 that, save where free in form, the government is “ an insecure 
 and short-lived monarchic despotism and of the third that, 
 where the government is not of mixed type, it is “ a rigid but 
 insecure despotism.” Meanwhile, in the two most advanced 
 and powerful states, stability of political headship goes along 
 with departure, incipient or entire, from succession through 
 females. In Ashantee, claims to the crown stand in this 
 order — “the brother, the sister’s son, the son and in Dahomey 
 there is male primogeniture. Further instances of 
 
 this transition are yielded by extinct American civilizations. 
 The Aztec conquerors of Mexico brought with them the 
 system of kinship through females, and consequent law of 
 succession ; but this law of succession was partially, or com- 
 pletely, changed to succession through males. In Tezcuco 
 and Tlacopan (divisions of Mexico) the eldest son inherited 
 the kingship ; and in Mexico the choice of a king was limited 
 
346 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 to tlie sons and brothers of the preceding king, 
 ancient Peru, Gomara says — “ nephews inherit, and not son 
 except in the case of the Yncas:” this exception in th 
 case of the Yncas, having the strange peculiarity that 
 “ the first-born of this brother and sister [i.e., the Ynca and 
 his principal wife] was the legitimate heir to the king- 
 dom”: an arrangement which made the line of descent 
 unusually narrow and definite. And here we are 
 
 brought back to Africa by the parallelism between the case 
 of Peru and that of Egypt. “ In Egypt it was maternal 
 descent that gave the right to property and to the throne. 
 The same prevailed in Ethiopia. If the monarch married 
 out of the royal family the children did not enjoy a legiti- 
 mate right to the crown.” When we add the statement that 
 the monarch was “ supposed to be descended from the gods, 
 in the male and female line and when we join with this 
 the further statement that there were royal marriages between 
 brother and sister ; we see that like causes worked like effects 
 in Egypt and in Peru. For in Peru the Ynca was of sup- 
 posed divine descent ; inherited his divinity on both sides ; 
 and married his sister to keep the divine blood unmixed. 
 And in Peru, as in Egypt, there resulted royal succession in 
 the male line, where, otherwise, succession through females 
 prevailed. Ancient Ceylon, where “ the form of government 
 was at all times an unmitigated despotism,” appears to have 
 furnished a parallel case ; for Sir J. E. Tennant tells us that 
 “ the Singhelese kings frequently married their sisters.” 
 
 With this process of transition from the one law of descent 
 to the other, implied by these last facts, may be joined some 
 processes which preceding facts imply. In New Caledonia a 
 “chief nominates his successor, if possible, in a son or 
 brother the one choice implying descent in the male line 
 and the other being consistent with descent in either male or 
 female line. And in Madagascar, where the system of female 
 kinship prevailed, “ the sovereign nominated his successor — 
 naturally choosing a son.” Further it is manifest that where, 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 347 
 
 E se cases, when no nomination has been made the 
 loose among members of the royal family, and are 
 ed in their choice by eligibility, there may be, and 
 naturally is, a departure from descent in the female line ; 
 and this system of descent once broken through is likely for 
 several reasons to be abolished. We are also intro- 
 
 duced to another transitional process. For some of these cases 
 are among the many in which succession to rulership is fixed 
 in respect of the family, but not fixed in respect of the 
 member of the family — a stage implying a partial but incom- 
 plete stability of the political headship. Several instances 
 occur in Africa. “ The crown of Abyssinia is hereditary in 
 one family, but elective in the person, 1 " says Bruce. “ Among 
 the Timmanees and Bulloms, the crown remains in the same 
 family, but the chiefs or head men of the country, upon whom 
 the election of a king depends, are at liberty to nominate a 
 very distant branch of that family/' And a Kaffir “ law 
 requires the successor to the king should be chosen from 
 amongst some of the youngest princes." In Java and Samoa, 
 too, while succession to rulership is limited to the family, it 
 is but partially settled with respect to the individual. And 
 the like held in Spain (Aragon) before the 12th century; 
 where “ a small number of powerful barons elected their 
 sovereign on every vacancy, though, as usual in other 
 countries, out of one family." 
 
 . That stability of political headship is secured by establish- 
 ment of descent in the male line, is, 'of course, not alleged. 
 The allegation simply is that succession after this mode con- 
 duces better than any other to its stability. Of probable 
 reasons for this, one is that in the patriarchal group, as 
 developed among those pastoral races from which the leading 
 civilized peoples have descended, the sentiment of subordina- 
 tion to the eldest male, fostered by circumstances in the 
 family and in the gens, becomes instrumental to a wider 
 subordination in the larger groups eventually formed. Another 
 probable reason is, that with descent in the male line there is 
 
348 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 more frequently a union of efficiency with supremacy. The^ 
 son of a great warrior, or man otherwise capable as a ruler, is 1 
 more likely to possess kindred traits than is the son of his 
 sister ; and if so, it will happen that in those earliest stages 
 when personal superiority is requisite as well as legitimacy 
 of claim, succession in the male line will conduce to main- 
 tenance of power by making usurpation more difficult. 
 
 There is, however, a more potent influence which aids in 
 giving permanence to political headship, and which operates 
 more in conjunction with descent through males than in con- 
 junction with descent through females — an influence probably 
 of greater importance than any other. 
 
 § 477. When showing, in § 475, how respect for age gene- 
 rates patriarchal authority where descent through males has 
 arisen, I gave cases which incidentally showed a further result ; 
 namely, that the dead patriarch, worshipped by his descend- 
 ants, becomes a family deity. In sundry chapters of Vol. I. 
 were set forth at length the proofs, past and present, furnished 
 by many places and peoples, of this genesis of gods from 
 ghosts. Here there remains to be pointed out the strengthen- 
 ing of political headship which inevitably results. 
 
 Descent from a ruler who impressed men by his superiority, 
 and whose ghost, specially feared, is propitiated in so unusual 
 a degree as to distinguish it from ancestral ghosts at large, 
 exalts and supports the living ruler in two ways. He is 
 assumed to inherit from his great progenitor more or less of 
 the power, apt to be thought supernatural, which characterized 
 him ; and, making sacrifices to this great progenitor, he is 
 supposed to maintain such relations with him as insure divine 
 aid. Passages in Canon Callaway’s account of the Amazulu, 
 show the influence of this belief. It is said, “ the Itongo 
 [ancestral ghost] dwells with the great man, and speaks with 
 him ; ” and then it is also said (referring to a medicine-man), 
 “ the chiefs of the house of Uzulu used not to allow a mere 
 inferior to be even said to have power over the heaven; for 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 349 
 
 it was said that the heaven belonged only to the chief of that 
 place.” These facts yield a definite interpretation of others, 
 like the following, which show that the authority of the ter- 
 restrial ruler is increased by his alleged relation to the celestial 
 ruler ; be the celestial ruler the ghost of the remotest known 
 ancestor who founded the society, or of a conquering invader, 
 or of a superior stranger. 
 
 Of the chiefs among the Kukis, who are descendants of 
 Hindoo adventurers, we read : — 
 
 “All these Kajahs are supposed to have sprung from the same stock, 
 which it is believed originally had connection with the gods them- 
 selves; their persons are therefore looked upon with the greatest 
 respect and almost superstitious veneration, and their commands are in 
 every case law.” 
 
 Of the Tahitians Ellis says : — 
 
 “ The god and the king were generally supposed to share the authority 
 over the mass of mankind between them. The latter sometimes imper- 
 sonated the former. . . . The kings, in some of the islands, were sup- 
 
 posed to have descended from the gods. Their persons were always sacred.” 
 
 According to Mariner, “ Toritonga and Veachi (hereditary 
 divine chiefs in Tonga,) are both acknowledged descendants 
 of chief gods who formerly visited the islands of Tonga.” 
 And, in ancient Peru “ the Ynca gave them [his vassals] to 
 understand that all he did with regard to them was by an 
 order and revelation of his father, the Sun.” 
 
 This re-inforcement of natural pow 7 er by supernatural 
 power, becomes extreme where the ruler is at once a descend- 
 ant of the gods and himself a god : a union which is familiar 
 among peoples who do not distinguish the divine from the 
 human as we do. It was thus in the case just instanced — 
 that of the Peruvians. It was thus with the ancient Egyp- 
 tians : the monarch “ was the representative of the Divinity 
 on earth, and of the same substance.” Not only did he in 
 many cases become a god after death, but he was worshipped 
 as a god during life ; as witness this prayer to Eameses II. 
 
 “ When they had come before the king . . . they fell down to the 
 
 ground, and with their hands they prayed to the king. They praised 
 this divine benefactor . . „ speaking thus : — ‘We are come before 
 
350 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 tliee, the lord of heaven, lord of the earth, sun, life of the whole world, 
 lord of time . . . lord of prosperity, creator of the harvest, fashioner 
 
 and former of mortals, dispenser of breath to all men ; animater of the 
 whole company of the gods . . . thou former of the great, creator 
 
 of the small . . . thon our lord, onr snn, by whose words out of his 
 
 mouth Turn lives . . . grant us life out of thy hands . . . and 
 
 breath for our nostrils.’ ” 
 
 This prayer introduces us to a remarkable parallel. Eameses, 
 whose powers, demonstrated by his conquests, were regarded 
 as so transcendant, is here described as ruling not only the 
 lower world but also the upper world ; and a like royal power 
 is alleged in two existing societies where absolutism is simi- 
 larly unmitigated — China and J apan. As shown when treat- 
 ing of Ceremonial Institutions (§ 347) both the Emperor of 
 China and the Japanese Mikado, have such supremacy in 
 heaven that they promote its inhabitants from rank to rank 
 at will. 
 
 That this strengthening of political headship, if not by 
 ascribed godhood then by ascribed descent from a god (either 
 the apotheosized ancestor of the tribe or one of the elder 
 deities), was exemplified among the early Greeks, needs not 
 be shown. It was exemplified, too, among the Northern 
 Aryans. “ According to the old heathen faith, the pedigree 
 of the Saxon, Anglian, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish kings 
 — probably also those of the German and Scandinavian kings 
 generally — was traced to Odin, or to some of his immediate 
 companions or heroic sons.” 
 
 It is further to be noted that a god-descended ruler who is 
 also chief priest of the gods (as he habitually is), obtains a 
 more effective supernatural aid than does the ruler to whom 
 magical powers alone are ascribed. For in the first place the 
 invisible agents invoked by the magician are not conceived to 
 be those of highest rank ; whereas the divinely-descended 
 ruler is supposed to get the help of a supreme invisible agent. 
 And in the second place, the one form of influence over these 
 dreaded superhuman beings, tends much less than the other 
 to become a permanent attribute of the ruler. Though among 
 
FOLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 351 
 
 the Chibchas, we find a case in which magical power was 
 transferred to a successor — though “ the cazique of Sogamoso 
 made known that he [Bochica] had left him heir of all his 
 sanctity, and that he had the same power of making rain 
 when he liked,” and giving health or sickness (an assertion 
 believed by the people) ; yet this is an exceptional case. 
 Speaking generally, the chief whose relations with the other 
 world are those of a sorcerer does not transmit his relations ; 
 and he does not therefore establish a supernatural dynasty, as 
 does the chief of divine descent. 
 
 § 478. And now, having considered the several factors 
 which cooperate to establish political headship, let us consider 
 the process of cooperation through its ascending stages. The 
 truth to be noted is that the successive phenomena which 
 occur in the simplest groups, habitually recur in the same 
 order in compound groups, and again in doubly-compound 
 groups. 
 
 As, in the simple group, there is at first a state in which 
 there is no headship ; so, when simple groups which have 
 acquired political heads possessing slight authorities, are asso- 
 ciated, there is at first no headship of the cluster. The 
 Chinooks furnish an example. Describing them Lewis and 
 Clarke say : — “ As these families gradually expand into 
 bands, or tribes, or nations, the paternal authority is repre- 
 sented by the chief of each association. This chieftain, how- 
 ever, is not hereditary.” And then comes the further fact, 
 which here specially concerns us, that “ the chiefs of the 
 separate villages are independent of each other : ” there is no 
 general chieftain. 
 
 As headship in a simple group, at first temporary, ceases 
 when the war which initiates it ends ; so in a cluster of groups 
 which severally have recognized heads, a common headship at 
 first results from a war, and lasts no longer than the war. 
 Falkner says — “ In a general war, when many nations enter 
 into an alliance against a common enemy,” the Patagonians 
 
352 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 “ cliose an Apo, or Commander-in-chief, from among the 
 oldest or most celebrated of the Caciques/' The Indians of 
 the Upper Orinoco live “ in hordes of forty or fifty under a 
 family government, and they recognize a common chief only 
 in times of war/' So is it in Borneo. “ During war the 
 chiefs of the Sarebas Dyaks give an uncertain allegiance to a 
 head chief, or commander-in-chief.'' It has been the same 
 in Europe. Seeley remarks that the Sabines “ seem to have 
 had a central government only in war time." Again, “ Ger- 
 many had anciently as many republics as it had tribes. Except 
 in time of war, there was no chief common to all, or even to 
 any given confederation." 
 
 This recalls the fact, indicated when treating of Political 
 Integration, that the cohesion within compound groups is less 
 than that within simple groups, and that the cohesion within 
 the doubly compound is less than that within the compound. 
 What was there said of cohesion may here be said of the sub- 
 ordination conducing to it ; for we find that when, by con- 
 tinuous war, a permanent headship of a compound group has 
 been generated, it is less stable than the headships of the simple 
 groups are. Often it lasts only for the life of the man who 
 achieves it ; as among the Karens and the Maganga, instanced 
 in § 226, and as among the Dyaks, of whom Boyle says — 
 
 “ It is an exceptional case if a Dyak chief is raised to an acknow- 
 ledged supremacy over the other chiefs. If he is so raised he can lay 
 no claim to his power except that of personal merit and the consent of 
 his former equals ; and his death is instantly followed by the disruption 
 of his dominions / 5 
 
 Even where there has arisen a headship of the compound group 
 which lasts beyond the life of its founder, it remains for a long 
 time not equal in stability to the headships of the component 
 groups. Pallas, while describing the Mongol and Kalmuck 
 chiefs as having unlimited power over their dependants, says 
 that the khans had in general only an uncertain and weak 
 authority over the subordinate chiefs. Concerning the Arau- 
 canians, Thompson says “ the ulmenes are the lawful judges 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 353 
 
 of their vassals, and for this reason their authority is less pre- 
 carious than that of the higher officers ” — the central rulers. 
 Of the Kaffirs we read : — “ They are all vassals of the king, 
 chiefs, as well as those under them; but the subjects are 
 generally so blindly attached to their chiefs, that they will 
 follow them against the king.” Europe has furnished kindred 
 examples. Of the Homeric Greeks Mr. Gladstone writes : — • 
 “ It is probable that the subordination of the sub-chief to his 
 local sovereign was a closer tie than that of the local sovereign 
 to the head of Greece.” And during the early feudal period 
 in the West, allegiance to the minor but proximate ruler was 
 stronger than that to the major but remote ruler. 
 
 In the compound group, as in the simple group, the pro- 
 gress towards stable headship is furthered by transition from 
 succession by choice to succession by inheritance. During 
 early stages of the independent tribe, chieftainship when not 
 acquired by individual superiority tacitly yielded to, is ac- 
 quired by election. In North America it is so with the Aleuts, 
 the Comanches, and many more ; in Polynesia it is so with 
 the Land Dyaks ; and, before the Mahommedan conquest, it 
 was so in Java. Among the hill-peoples of India it is so with 
 the Nagas and others. In sundry regions the change to heredi- 
 tary succession is shown by different tribes of the same race. 
 Of the Karens we read that “ in many districts the chieftain- 
 ship is considered hereditary, but in more it is elective ” 
 Some Chinook villages have chiefs who inherit their powers, 
 though mostly they are chosen. Similarly, the com- 
 
 pound group is at first ruled by an elected head. Several 
 examples come to us from Africa. Bastian tells us that “ in 
 many parts of the Congo region the king is chosen by the 
 petty princes.” The crown of Yariba is not hereditary : 
 “ the chiefs invariably electing, from the wisest and most 
 sagacious of their own body.” And the king of Ibu, says 
 Allen, seems to be “ elected by a council of sixty elders, or 
 chiefs of large villages.” In Asia it is thus with the Kukis. 
 
 “ One, among all the Bajahs of each class, is chosen to be the Prudham 
 
354 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 or chief Rajah of that clan. The dignity is not hereditary, as is the 
 case with the minor Rajahships, but is enjoyed by each Rajah of the 
 clan in rotation.” 
 
 So lias it been in Europe. Though by the early Greeks here- 
 ditary right was in a considerable measure recognized, yet the 
 case of Telemachus implies “ that a practice, either approach- 
 ing to election, or in some way involving a voluntary action 
 on the part of the subjects, or of a portion of them, had to be 
 gone through.” The like is true of ancient Rome. That its 
 monarchy was elective “ is proved by the existence in later 
 times of an office of interrex , which implies that the kingly 
 power did not devolve naturally upon a hereditary successor.” 
 Later on it was thus with Western peoples. Up to the begin- 
 ning of the tenth century “ the formality of election sub- 
 sisted . . . in every European kingdom; and the imper- 
 
 fect right of birth required a ratification by public assent ” 
 And it was once thus with ourselves. Among the early 
 English the Bretwaldsliip, or supreme headship over the 
 minor kingdoms, was at first elective ; and the form of elec- 
 tion continued long traceable in our history. Moreover, it is 
 observable that the change to hereditary succession is by 
 assent, as in France. “ The first six kings of this dynasty 
 [the Capetian] procured the co-optation of their sons, by 
 having them crowned during their own lives. And this was 
 not done without the consent of the chief vassals.” 
 
 The stability of the compound headship, made greater by 
 efficient leadership in war and by establishment of hereditary 
 succession, is further increased when there cooperates the 
 additional factor — supposed supernatural origin or super- 
 natural sanction. Everywhere, up from a New Zealand 
 king, who is strictly tapu , or sacred, we may trace this in- 
 fluence ; and occasionally, where divine descent or magical 
 powers are not claimed, there is a claim to origin that is 
 extraordinary. Asia yields an example in the Fodli dynasty, 
 which reigned 150 years in South Arabia — a six-fingered 
 dynasty, regarded with awe by the people because of its con- 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 355 
 
 tinuously-inlierited malformation. Europe of the Merovin- 
 gian period yields an example. In pagan times the king’s 
 race had an alleged divine origin; but in Christian times, 
 says Waitz, when they could no longer mount back to the 
 gods, a more than natural origin was alleged : “ a sea-monster 
 ravished the wife of Chlogio as she sat by the sea-shore, 
 and from this embrace Merovech sprang.” Later days show 
 us the gradual acquisition of a sacred or semi-supernatural 
 character, where it did not originally exist. Divine assent to 
 their supremacy was asserted by the Carolingian kings. 
 During the later feudal age, rare exceptions apart, kings 
 “ were not far removed from believing themselves near rela- 
 tives of the masters of heaven. Kings and gods were col- 
 leagues.” In the 17th century this belief was endorsed by 
 divines. “ Kings,” says Bossuet, “ are gods, and share in a 
 manner the divine independence.” 
 
 So that the headship of a compound group, arising tempo- 
 rarily during war, then becoming, with frequent cooperation 
 of the groups, settled for life by election, passing presently 
 into the hereditary form, and gaining permanence as fast as 
 the law of succession grows w T ell-defined and undisputed, 
 acquires its greatest stability only when the king is regarded 
 as a deputy god, or when, if he is not supposed to inherit a 
 divine nature, he is supposed to have a divine commission. 
 
 
 § 479. Ascribed divine nature, or divine descent, or divine 
 commission, naturally gives to the political head unlimited 
 sway. In theory, and often to a large extent in practice, he 
 is owner of his subjects and of the territory they occupy. 
 
 Where militancy is pronounced, and the claims of a con- 
 queror unqualified, it is indeed to a considerable degree thus 
 with those uncivilized peoples who do not ascribe super- 
 natural characters to their rulers. Among the Zulu Kaffirs 
 the chief “ exercises supreme power over the lives of his 
 people the Bheel chiefs “ have a power over the lives and 
 property of their own subjects and in Fiji the subject is 
 
356 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 property. But it is still more thus where the ruler is con- 
 sidered more than human. Astley tells us that in Loango 
 the king is “ called samba and pongo , that is, god and, 
 according to Proyart, the Loango people “ say their lives 
 and goods belong to the king” In Wasoro (East Africa) 
 “ the king has unlimited power of life and death ... in 
 some tribes ... he is almost worshipped.” In Msam- 
 bara the people say “ we are all slaves of the Zumbe (king), 
 who is our Mulungu” [god]. “ By the state law of Dahomey, 
 as at Benin, all men are slaves to the king, and most women 
 are his wives and in Dahomey the king is called “ the 
 spirit.” The Malagasy speak of their king as “ our god and 
 he is lord of the soil, owner of all property, and master of 
 his subjects. Their time and services are at his command.” 
 In the Sandwich Islands the king, personating the god, utters 
 oracular responses ; and his power “ extends over the pro- 
 perty, liberty, and lives of his people.” Various Asiatic 
 rulers, whose titles ascribe to them divine descent and nature, 
 stand in like relations to their peoples. In Siam “the king 
 is master not only of the persons but really of the property 
 of his subjects : he disposes of their labour and directs their 
 movements at will.” Of the Burmese we read — “ their goods 
 likewise, and even their persons are reputed his [the king’s] 
 property, and on this ground it is that he selects for his con- 
 cubine any female that may chance to please his eye.” In 
 China “ there is only one who possesses authority — the 
 Emperor. ... A wang, or king, has no hereditary pos- 
 sessions, and lives upon the salary vouchsafed by the 
 Emperor. . . . He is the only possessor of the landed 
 property.” And the like is alleged of the divinely-descended 
 Japanese Mikado : “ his majesty, although often but a child 
 a few years old, still dispensed ranks and dignities, and the 
 ownership of the soil always in reality resided in him.” 
 
 Of course, where the political head has unlimited power — 
 where, as victorious invader, his subjects lie at his mercy, or 
 where, as divinely descended, his will may not be questioned 
 
POLITICAL HEADS— CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC, 
 
 357 
 
 without impiety, or where he unites the characters of con- 
 queror and god, he naturally absorbs every kind of authority. 
 He is at once military head, legislative head, judicial head, 
 ecclesiastical head. The fully developed king is the supreme 
 centre of every social structure and director of every social 
 function. 
 
 § 480. In a small tribe it is practicable for the chief per- 
 sonally to discharge all the duties of his office. Besides 
 leading the other warriors in battle, he has time to settle 
 disputes, he can sacrifice to the ancestral ghost, he can keep 
 the village in order, he can inflict punishments, he can regu- 
 late trading transactions ; for those governed by him are but 
 few, and they live within a narrow space. When he acquires 
 the headship of many united tribes, both the increased 
 amount of business and the wider area covered by his sub- 
 jects, put difficulties in the way of exclusively personal 
 administration. It becomes necessary to employ others for 
 the purposes of gaining information, conveying commands, 
 seeing them executed ; and in course of time the assistants 
 thus employed grow into established heads of departments 
 with deputed authorities. 
 
 While this development of governmental structures in- 
 creases the ruler’s power, by enabling him to deal with more 
 numerous affairs, it, in another way, decreases his power ; for 
 his actions are more and more modified by the instrumentali- 
 ties through which they are effected. Those who watch the 
 ■working of administrations, no matter of what kind, have 
 forced upon them the truth that a head regulative agency is 
 at once helped and hampered by its subordinate agencies. 
 In a philanthropic association, a scientific society, or a club, 
 those who govern find that the organized officialism which 
 they have created, often impedes, and not unfrequently 
 defeats, their aims. Still more is it so with the immensely 
 larger administrations of the State. Through deputies the 
 ruler receives his information; by them his orders are 
 
358 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 executed ; and as fast as his connexion with affairs becomes 
 indirect, his control over affairs diminishes ; until, in extreme 
 cases, he either dwindles into a puppet in the hands of his 
 chief deputy or has his place usurped by him. 
 
 Strange as it seems, the two causes which conspire to give 
 permanence to political headship, also, at a later stage, con- 
 spire to reduce the political head to an automaton, executing 
 the wills of the agents he has created. In the first place, 
 when hereditary succession is finally settled in some line of 
 descent rigorously prescribed, the possession of supreme 
 power becomes independent of capacity for exercising it. 
 The heir to a vacant throne may be, and often is, too young 
 for discharging its duties ; or he may be, and often is, too 
 feeble in intellect, too deficient in energy, or too much occu- 
 pied with the pleasures which his position offers in unlimited 
 amounts. The result is that in the one case the regent, and 
 in the other the chief minister, becomes the actual ruler. In 
 the second place, that sacredness which supposed divine origin 
 gives, makes him inaccessible to the ruled. All intercourse 
 between him and them must be through the agents he 
 surrounds himself with. Hence it becomes difficult or im- 
 possible for him to learn more than they choose him to know ; 
 and there follows inability to adapt his commands to the re- 
 quirements, and inability to discover whether his commands 
 have been fulfilled. His authority is consequently used to 
 give effect to the purposes of his agents. 
 
 Even in so relatively simple a society as that of Tonga, 
 we find an example. There is an hereditary sacred chief who 
 “ was originally the sole chief, possessing temporal as well as 
 spiritual power, and regarded as of divine origin,” but who is 
 now politically powerless. Abyssinia shows us something 
 analogous. Holding no direct communication with his sub- 
 jects, and having a sacredness such that even in council he 
 sits unseen, the monarch is a mere dummy. In Gondar, one 
 of the divisions of Abyssinia, the king must belong to the 
 royal house of Solomon, but any one of the turbulent chiefs 
 
POLITICAL HEADS— CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 359 
 
 who has obtained ascendancy by force of arms, becomes a 
 Eas — a prime minister or real monarch ; though he requires 
 “ a titular emperor to perform the indispensable ceremony of 
 nominating a Eas,” since the name, at least, of emperor “ is 
 deemed essential to render valid the title of Eas.” The case 
 of Thibet may be named as one in which the sacredness of 
 the original political head is dissociated from the claim based 
 on hereditary descent ; for the Grand Llama, considered as 
 “ God the Father,” incarnate afresh in each new occupant of 
 the throne, is discovered among the people at large by certain 
 indications of his godhood. But with his divinity, involving 
 disconnexion with temporal matters, there goes absence of 
 political power. A like state of things exists in Bliotan. 
 
 “ The Dhurma Baja is looked upon by the Bhotanese in the same 
 light as the Grand Lama of Thibet is viewed by his subjects — namely 
 as a perpetual incarnation of the Deity, or Bhudda himself in a corpo- 
 real form. During the interval between his death and reappearance, 
 or, more properly speaking, until he has reached an age sufficiently 
 mature to ascend his spiritual throne, the office of Dhurma Baja is 
 filled by proxy from amongst the priesthood . 35 
 
 And then along with this sacred ruler there co-exists a secular 
 ruler. Bliotan “ has two nominal heads, known to us and to 
 the neighbouring hill-tribes under the Hindoostanee names 
 of the Dhurma and the Deb Bajas. . . . The former is 
 the spiritual head, the latter the temporal one.” Though in 
 this case the temporal head has not great influence (probably 
 because the priest-regent, whose celibacy prevents him from 
 founding a line, stands in the way of unchecked assumption 
 of power by the temporal head), still the existence of a tem- 
 poral head implies a partial lapsing of political functions out 
 of the hands of the original political head. But the most 
 remarkable, and at the same time most familiar, example, is 
 that furnished by Japan. Here, the supplanting of inherited 
 authority by deputed authority is exemplified, not in the 
 central government alone, but in the local governments. 
 
 “ Next to the prince and his family came the karos or c elders . 5 Their 
 office became hereditary, and, like the princes, they in many instances 
 
360 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 became effete. The business of what we may call the clan would thus 
 fall into the hands of any clever man or set of men of the lower ranks, 
 who, joining ability to daring and unscrupulousness, kept the princes 
 and the karos out of sight, but surrounded with empty dignity, and, 
 commanding the opinion of the bulk of the samarai or military class, 
 wielded the real power themselves. They took care, however, to perform 
 every act in the name of the faineants , their lords, and thus we hear 
 of . . . daimios, just as in the case of the Emperors, accomplishing 
 deeds ... of which they were perhaps wholly ignorant.” 
 
 This lapsing of political power into the hands of ministers 
 was, in the case of the central government, doubly illustrated. 
 Successors as they were of a god-descended conqueror whose 
 rule was real, the Japanese Emperors gradually became only 
 nominal rulers ; partly because of the sacredness which sepa- 
 rated them from the nation, and partly because of the early 
 age at which the law of succession frequently enthroned 
 them. Their deputies consequently gained predominance. 
 The regency in the ninth century “ became hereditary in the 
 Fujiwara [sprung from the imperial house], and these regents 
 ultimately became all-powerful. They obtained the privilege 
 of opening all petitions addressed to the sovereign, and of pre- 
 senting or rejecting them at their pleasure.” And then, in 
 course of time, this usurping agency had its own authority 
 usurped in like manner. Again succession by fixed rule was 
 rigorously adhered to; and again seclusion entailed loss of 
 hold on affairs. “ High descent was the only qualification for 
 office, and unfitness for functions was not regarded in the 
 choice of officials.” Besides the Shogun’s four confidential 
 officers, “ no one else could approach him. Whatever might 
 be the crimes committed at Kama Koura, it was impossible, 
 through the intrigues of these favourites, to complain of 
 them to the Seogoun.” The result was that “ subsequently 
 this family . . . gave way to military commanders, who,” 
 
 however, often became the instruments of other chiefs. 
 
 Though less definitely, this process w T as exemplified during 
 early times in Europe. The Merovingian kings, to whom there 
 clung a tradition of supernatural origin, and whose order of 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 361 
 
 succession was so far settled that minors reigned, fell under 
 the control of those who had become chief ministers. Long 
 before Childeric, the Merovingian family had ceased to govern. 
 
 “ The treasures and the power of the kingdom had passed into the 
 hands of the prefects of the palace, who were called ‘ mayors of the 
 palace/ and to whom the supreme power really belonged. The prince 
 was obliged to content himself with bearing the name of king, having 
 flowing locks and a long beard, sitting on the chair of State, and repre- 
 senting the image of the monarch.” 
 
 § 481. From the Evolution-standpoint we are thus enabled 
 to discern the relative beneficence of institutions which, con- 
 sidered absolutely, are not beneficent; and are taught to 
 approve as temporary that which, as permanent, we abhor. 
 The evidence obliges us to admit that subjection to despots 
 has been largely instrumental in advancing civilization. 
 Induction and deduction alike prove this. 
 
 If, on the one hand, we group together those wandering 
 headless hordes which are found here and there over the 
 Earth, they show us that, in the absence of political organiza- 
 tion, little progress has taken place ; and if we contemplate 
 those settled simple groups which have but nominal heads, 
 we are shown that though there is some development of the 
 industrial arts and some cooperation, the advance is but 
 small. If, on the other hand, we glance at those ancient 
 societies in which considerable heights of civilization were 
 first reached, we see them under autocratic rule. In America, 
 purely personal government, restricted only by settled customs, 
 characterized the Mexican, Central American, and Chibclia 
 states ; and in Peru, the absolutism of the divine king was 
 unqualified. In Africa, ancient Egypt exhibited very con- 
 spicuously this connexion between despotic control and social 
 evolution. Throughout the distant past it was repeatedly 
 displayed in Asia, from the Accadian civilization downwards ; 
 and the still extant civilizations of Siam, Burmah, China, and 
 Japan, re-illustrate it. Early European societies, too, where 
 not characterized by centralized despotism, were still cha- 
 
362 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 racterized by diffused patriarchal despotism. Only among 
 modern peoples, whose ancestors passed through the discipline 
 given under this social form, and who have inherited its 
 effects, is civilization being dissociated from subjection to 
 individual will. 
 
 The necessity there has been for absolutism is best seen on 
 observing that, during inter-tribal and inter-national conflicts, 
 those have conquered who, other things equal, were the 
 more obedient to their chiefs and kings. And since in 
 early stages, military subordination and social subordination 
 go together, it results that, for a long time, the conquering 
 societies continued to be the despotically-governed societies. 
 Such exceptions as histories appear to show us, really prove 
 the rule. In the conflict between Persia and Greece, the 
 Greeks, but for a mere accident, would have been ruined by 
 that division of councils which results from absence of sub- 
 jection to a single head. And their habit of appointing a 
 dictator when in great danger from enemies, implies that the 
 Romans had discovered that efficiency in war requires un- 
 divided control. 
 
 Thus, leaving open the question whether, in the absence of 
 w r ar, wandering primitive groups could ever have developed 
 into settled civilized communities, we conclude that, under 
 such conditions as . there have been, those struggles for 
 existence among societies which have gone on consolidating 
 smaller into larger, until great nations have been produced, 
 necessitated the development of a social type characterized 
 by personal rule of a stringent kind. 
 
 § 482. To make clear the genesis of this leading political 
 institution, let us set down in brief the several influences 
 which have conspired to effect it, and the several stages 
 passed through. 
 
 In the rudest groups, resistance to the assumption of 
 supremacy by any individual, usually prevents the establish- 
 ment of settled headship; though some influence is com- 
 
POLITICAL HEADS — CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 
 
 363 
 
 rnonly acquired by superiority of strength, or courage, or 
 sagacity, or possessions, or the experience accompanying age. 
 
 In such groups, and in tribes somewhat more advanced, 
 two kinds of superiority conduce more than all others to 
 predominance — that of the warrior and that of the medicine- 
 man. Usually separate, but sometimes united in the same 
 person, and then greatly strengthening him, both of these 
 superiorities tending to initiate political headship, continue 
 thereafter to be important factors in developing it. 
 
 At first, however, the supremacy acquired by great natural 
 power, or supposed supernatural powder, or both, is transitory 
 — ceases with the life of one who has acquired it. So long 
 as the principle of efficiency alone operates, political headship 
 does not become settled. It becomes settled only when there 
 cooperates the principle of inheritance. 
 
 The custom of reckoning descent through females, which 
 characterizes many rude societies and survives in others that 
 have made considerable advances, is less favourable to esta- 
 blishment of permanent political headship than is the custom 
 of reckoning descent through males; and in sundry semi- 
 civilized societies distinguished by permanent political head- 
 ships, inheritance through males has been established in the 
 ruling house while inheritance through females survives in 
 the society at large. 
 
 Beyond the fact that reckoning descent through males 
 conduces to a more coherent family, to a greater culture of 
 subordination, and to a more probable union of inherited 
 position with inherited capacity, there is the more important 
 fact that it fosters ancestor-worship, and the consequent re- 
 inforcing of natural authority by supernatural authority. 
 Development of the ghost-theory, leading as it does to special 
 fear of the ghosts of powerful men, until, where many tribes 
 have been welded together by a conqueror, his ghost acquires 
 in tradition the pre-eminence of a god, produces two effects. 
 In the first place his descendant, ruling after him, is supposed 
 to partake of his divine nature ; and in the second place, by 
 7 
 
364 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 propitiatory sacrifices to him, is supposed to obtain his aid. 
 Rebellion hence comes to be regarded as alike wicked and 
 hopeless. 
 
 The processes by which political headships are established 
 repeat themselves at successively higher stages. In simple 
 groups chieftainship is at first temporary — ceases with the 
 war which initiated it. When simple groups that have 
 acquired permanent political heads, unite for military pur- 
 poses, the general chieftainship is originally but temporary. 
 As in simple groups chieftainship is at the outset habitually 
 elective, and becomes hereditary at a later stage ; so chief- 
 tainship of the compound group is habitually elective at the 
 outset, and only later passes into the hereditary. Similarly 
 in some cases where a doubly-compound society is formed. 
 Further, this later-established power of a supreme ruler, at 
 first given by election and presently gained by descent, is 
 commonly less than that of the local rulers in their own 
 localities ; and wdien it becomes greater, it is usually by the 
 help of ascribed divine origin or ascribed divine commission. 
 
 Where, in virtue of supposed supernatural genesis or 
 authority, the king has become absolute, and, owning both 
 subjects and territory, exercises all powers, he is obliged by 
 the multiplicity of his affairs to depute his powers. There 
 follows a reactive restraint due to the political machinery he 
 creates ; and this machinery ever tends to become too strong 
 for him. Especially where rigorous adhesion to the rule of 
 inheritance brings incapables to the throne, or where ascribed 
 divine nature causes inaccessibility save through agents, or 
 where both causes conspire, power passes into the hands of 
 deputies. The legitimate ruler becomes an automaton and 
 his chief agent the real ruler ; and this agent, again, in some 
 cases passing through parallel stages, himself becomes an auto- 
 maton and his subordinates the rulers. 
 
 Lastly, by colligation and comparison of the facts, we are 
 led to recognize the indirectly-achieved benefits which have 
 followed the directly-inflicted evils of personal government. 
 
POLITICAL HEADS— CHIEFS, KINGS, ETC. 365 
 
 Headship of the conquering chief has been a normal accom- 
 paniment of that political integration without which any high 
 degree of social evolution would probably have been impos- 
 sible. Only by imperative need for combination in war were 
 primitive men led into cooperation. Only by subjection to 
 imperative command was such cooperation made efficient. 
 And only by the cooperation thus initiated were made pos- 
 sible those other forms of cooperation characterizing civilized 
 life. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 § 483. In the preceding chapter we traced the development 
 of the first element in that tri-une political structure which 
 everywhere shows itself at the outset. We pass now to the 
 development of the second element — the group of leading 
 men among whom the chief is, at first, merely the most con- 
 spicuous. Under what conditions this so evolves as to sub- 
 ordinate the other two, what causes make it narrower, and 
 what causes widen it until it passes into the third, we have 
 here to observe. 
 
 If the innate feelings and aptitudes of a race have large 
 shares in determining the sizes and cohesions of the social 
 groups it forms, still more must they have large shares in de- 
 termining the relations which arise among the members of 
 such groups. While the mode of life followed tends to gene- 
 rate this or that political structure, its effects are always com- 
 plicated by the effects of inherited character. Whether or 
 not the primitive state in which governing power is equally 
 distributed among all warriors or all elders, passes into the 
 state in which governing power is monopolized by one, 
 depends in part on the life of the group as predatory or 
 peaceful, and in part on the natures of its members as 
 prompting them to oppose dictation more or less doggedly. 
 A few facts will make this clear. 
 
 The Arafuras (Papuan Islanders) who “ live in peace and 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 367 
 
 brotherly love/' have no other “ authority among them than 
 the decisions of their elders/’ Among the harmless Todas 
 “ all disputes and questions of right and wrong are settled 
 either by arbitration or by a Punchayet — i.e., a council of 
 five.” Of the Bodo and the Dhimals, described as averse to 
 military service, and “ totally free from arrogance, revenge, 
 cruelty, and fierte ,” we read that though each of their small 
 communities has a nominal head who pays the tribute on its 
 behalf, yet he is without power, and “ disputes are settled 
 among themselves by juries of elders/’ In these 
 
 cases, besides absence of the causes which bring about chiefly 
 supremacy, may be noted the presence of causes which 
 directly hinder it. The Papuans generally, typified by the 
 Arafuras above-named, while described by Modera, Ross, 
 and Kolff, as “ good-natured,” “ of a mild disposition,” kind 
 and peaceful to strangers, are said by Earl to be unfit for 
 military action : “ their impatience of control . . . utterly 
 
 precludes that organization which would enable” the Papuans 
 “ to stand their ground against encroachments.” The Bodo 
 and the Dhimals while “ they are void of all violence towards 
 their own people or towards their neighbours” also “resist 
 injunctions, injudiciously urged, with dogged obstinacy.” 
 And of a kindred “very fascinating people,” the Lepchas, 
 amiable, peaceful, kind, as travellers unite in describing 
 them, and who refuse to take service as soldiers, we are told 
 that they will “ undergo great privation rather than submit 
 to oppression or injustice.” 
 
 Where the repugnance to control is strong, an uncen- 
 tralized political organization is maintained notwithstanding 
 the warlike activities which tend to initiate chieftainship. 
 The Nagas “ acknowledge no king among themselves, and 
 deride the idea of such a personage among others their 
 “ villages are continually at feud “ every man being his own 
 master, his passions and inclinations are ruled by his share of 
 brute force.” And then we further find that — 
 
 M Petty disputes and disagreements about property are settled by a 
 
368 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 council of elders, the litigants voluntarily submitting to their arbitra- 
 tion. But correctly speaking, there is not the shadow of a constituted 
 authority in the Naga community, and, wonderful as it may seem, this 
 want of government does not lead to any marked degree of anarchy.” 
 Similarly among the warlike tribes of North America. 
 Speaking of these people at large, Schoolcraft says that “they 
 all wish to govern, and not to be governed. Every Indian 
 thinks he has a right to do as he pleases, and that no one is 
 better than himself ; and he will fight before he will give up 
 what he thinks right.” Of the Comanches, as an example, he 
 remarks that “ the democratic principle is strongly implanted 
 in them ;” and that for governmental purposes “ public 
 councils are held at regular intervals during the year.” Fur- 
 ther, we read that in districts of ancient Central America 
 there existed somewhat more advanced societies which, though 
 warlike, were impelled by a kindred jealousy to provide 
 against monopoly of power. The government was carried on 
 by an elective council of old men who appointed a war chief ; 
 and this war chief, “if suspected of plotting against the 
 safety of the commonwealth, or for the purpose of securing 
 supreme power in his own hands, was rigorously put to death 
 by the council.” 
 
 Though the specialities of character which thus lead certain 
 kinds of men in early stages to originate compound political 
 heads, and to resist, even under stress of war, the rise of 
 single political heads, are innate, we are not without clues to 
 the circumstances which have made them innate ; and with 
 a view to interpretations presently to be made, it will be 
 useful to glance at these. The Comanches and kindred 
 tribes, roaming about in small bands, active and skilful 
 horsemen, have, through long past periods, been so con- 
 ditioned as to make coercion of one man by another difficult. 
 So, too, has it been, though in another way, with the Nagas. 
 “ They inhabit a rough and intricate mountain range and 
 their villages are perched “ on the crests of ridges.” Again, 
 significant evidence is furnished by a remark of Captain 
 Burton to the effect that in Africa, as in Asia, there are three 
 
COMPOUND POLiITCAL HEADS. 
 
 369 
 
 distinct forms of government — military despotisms, feudal 
 monarchies, and rude republics: the rude republics being 
 those formed by “ the Bedouin tribes, the hill people, and the 
 jungle races.” Clearly, the names of these last show that 
 they inhabit regions which, hindering by their physic al 
 characters a centralized form of government, favour a more 
 diffused form of government, and the less decided political 
 subordination which is its concomitant. 
 
 These facts are obviously related to certain others already 
 named. We saw in § 17, and again in § 449, that it is rela- 
 tively easy to form a large society if the country is one within 
 which all parts are readily accessible, while it has barriers 
 through which exit is difficult ; and that, conversely, forma- 
 tion of a large society is prevented, or greatly delayed, by 
 difficulties of communication within the occupied area, and 
 by facilities of escape from it. Here we see, further, that not 
 only is political integration under its primary aspect of in- 
 creasing mass, hindered by these last-named physical condi- 
 tions, but that there is hindrance to the development of a more 
 integrated form of government. The ^circumstances which 
 impede social consolidation also impede the concentration of 
 political power. 
 
 The truth here chiefly concerning us, however, is that the 
 continued presence of the one or the other set of conditions, 
 fosters a character to which either the centralized political 
 organization or the diffused political organization is appro- 
 priate. Existence, generation after generation, in a region 
 where despotic control has arisen, produces an adapted type 
 of nature ; partly by daily habit and partly by survival of 
 those most fit for living under such control. Contrariwise, in 
 a region favouring preservation of their independence by 
 small groups, there is a strengthening, through successive 
 ages, of sentiments averse to restraint ; since, not only are 
 these sentiments exercised in all members of a group 
 by resisting the efforts from time to time made to sub- 
 ordinate it, but, on the average, those who most per- 
 
370 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 tinaciously resist are those who, remaining unsubdued, and 
 transmitting their mental traits to posterity, determine the 
 character of the race. 
 
 Having thus glanced at the effects of the factors, external 
 and internal, as displayed in simple tribes, we shall under- 
 stand how they cooperate when, by migration or otherwise, 
 such tribes fall into circumstances favouring the growth of 
 large societies. 
 
 § 484. The case of an uncivilized people of the nature de- 
 scribed, who have in recent times shown what occurs when 
 union of small groups into great ones is prompted, will best 
 initiate the interpretation. 
 
 The Iroquois nations, each made up of many tribes pre- 
 viously hostile, had to defend themselves against European 
 invaders. Combination for this purpose among these five 
 (and finally six) nations, necessitated a recognition of equality 
 among them ; since agreement to join would not have been 
 arrived at had it been required that some divisions should be 
 subject to others. The groups had to cooperate on the under- 
 standing that their “ rights, privileges and obligations” should 
 be the same. Though the numbers of permanent and here- 
 ditary sachems appointed by the respective nations to form 
 the Great Council, differed, yet the voices of the several 
 nations were equal. Omitting details of the organization, we 
 have to note, first, that for many generations, notwithstanding 
 the wars which this league carried on, its constitution re- 
 mained stable — no supreme individual arose; and, second, 
 that this equality among the powers of the groups co-existed 
 with inequality within each group : the people had no share 
 in its government. 
 
 A clue is thus furnished to the genesis of those compound 
 heads with which ancient history familiarizes us. We are 
 enabled to see how there came to co-exist in the same socie- 
 ties, some institutions of a despotic kind, with other institu- 
 tions of a kind appearing to be based on the principle of 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 371 
 
 equality, and often confounded witli free institutions. Let us 
 recall the antecedents of those early European peoples who 
 developed governments of this form. 
 
 During the wandering pastoral life, subordination to a 
 single head was made habitual. A recalcitrant member of 
 any group had either to submit to the authority under which 
 he had grown up, or, rebelling, had to leave the group and 
 face those risks which unprotected life in the wilderness 
 threatened. The establishment of this subordination was 
 furthered by the more frequent survival of groups in which 
 it was greatest ; since, in the conflicts between groups, those 
 of which the members were insubordinate, ordinarily being 
 both smaller and less able to cooperate effectually, w 7 ere the 
 more likely to disappear. But now to the fact that in such 
 families and clans, obedience to the father and to the patriarch 
 was fostered by circumstances, has to be added the fact above 
 emphasized, that circumstances also fostered the sentiment of 
 liberty in the relations between clans. The exercise of power 
 by one of them over another, was made difficult by wide 
 scattering and by great mobility; and with successful oppo- 
 sition to external coercion, or evasion of it, carried on through 
 numberless generations, the tendency to resent and resist all 
 strange authority was likely to become strong. 
 
 Whether, when groups thus disciplined aggregate, they 
 assume this or that form of political organization, depends 
 partly, as already implied, on the conditions into which they 
 fall. Even could we omit those differences between Mongols, 
 Semites, and Aryans, established in prehistoric times by 
 causes unknown to us, or even had complete likeness of 
 nature been produced among them by long-continued pastoral 
 life ; yet large societies formed by combinations of their 
 small hordes, could be similar in type only under similar 
 circumstances. In unfavourableness of circumstances is to 
 be found the reason why Mongols and Semites, where they 
 have settled and multiplied, have failed to maintain the 
 autonomies of their hordes after combination of them, and to 
 
372 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 evolve the resulting institutions. Even the Aryans, among 
 whom chiefly the less concentrated forms of political rule 
 have arisen, show us that almost everything depends on 
 favourable or unfavourable conditions fallen into. Originally 
 inheriting in common the mental traits generated during 
 their life in the Hindu Koosh and its neighbourhood, the 
 different divisions of the race have developed different insti- 
 tutions and accompanying characters. Those of them who 
 spread into the plains of India, where great fertility made 
 possible a large population, to the control of which there 
 were small physical impediments, lost their independence of 
 nature, and did not evolve political systems like those which 
 grew up among their Western kindred, under circumstances 
 furthering maintenance of the original character. 
 
 The implication is, then, that where groups of the patri- 
 archal type fall into regions permitting considerable growth 
 of population, but having physical structures which impede 
 the centralization of power, compound political heads will 
 arise, and for a time sustain themselves, through cooperation 
 of the two factors — independence of local groups and need 
 for union in war. Let us consider some examples. 
 
 § 485. The island of Crete has numerous high mountain 
 valleys containing good pasturage, and provides many seats 
 for strongholds — seats which ruins prove that the ancient 
 inhabitants utilized. Similarly with the mainland of Greece. 
 A complicated mountain system cuts off its parts from one 
 another and renders each difficult of access. Especially is 
 this so in the Peloponnesus ; and, above all, in the part occu- 
 pied by the Spartans. It has been remarked that the State 
 which possesses both sides of Taygetus, has it in its power to 
 be master of the peninsula : “ it is the Acropolis of the Pelo- 
 ponnese, as that country is of the rest of Greece.” 
 
 When, over the earlier inhabitants, there came successive 
 waves of Hellenic conquerors, these brought with them the 
 type of nature and organization common to the Aryans, dis- 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 373 
 
 playing tlie united traits above described. Such a people 
 taking possession of such a land, inevitably fell in course of 
 time “ into as many independent clans as the country itself 
 was divided by its mountain chains into valleys and dis- 
 tricts.” From separation resulted alienation ; so that those 
 remote from one another, becoming strangers, became ene- 
 mies. In early Greek times the clans, occupying mountain 
 villages, were so liable to incursions from one another that 
 the planting of fruit trees was a waste of labour. There 
 existed a state like that seen at present among such Indian- 
 hill tribes as the Nagas. 
 
 Though preserving the tradition of a common descent, and 
 owning allegiance to the oldest male representative of the 
 patriarch, a people spreading over a region which thus cut off 
 from one another even adjacent small groups, and still more 
 those remoter clusters of groups arising in course of genera- 
 tions, would inevitably become disunited in government: 
 subjection to a general head would be more and more difficult 
 to maintain, and subjection to local heads would alone con- 
 tinue practicable. At the same time there would arise, under 
 such conditions, increasing causes of insubordination. When 
 the various branches of a common family are so separated as 
 to prevent intercourse, their respective histories, and the lines 
 of descent of their respective heads, must become unknown, 
 or but partially known, to one another ; and claims to supre- 
 macy made now by this local head and now by that, are cer- 
 tain to be disputed. If we remember how, even in settled 
 societies having records, there have been perpetual conflicts 
 about rights of succession, and how, down to our own day, 
 there are frequent law-suits to decide on heirships to titles 
 and properties, we cannot but infer that in a state like that 
 of the early Greeks, the difficulty of establishing the legiti- 
 macy of general headships, conspiring with the desire to 
 assert independence and the ability to maintain it, inevitably 
 entailed lapse into numerous local headships. Of course, 
 under conditions varying in each locality, splittings-up of 
 
374 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 wider governments into narrower went to different extents ; 
 and naturally, too, re-establishments of wider governments or 
 extensions of narrower ones in some cases took place. But, 
 generally, the tendency under such conditions was to form 
 small independent groups, severally having the patriarchal 
 type of organization. Hence, then, the decay of such king- 
 ships as are implied in the Iliad* As Grote writes — “ When we 
 approach historical Greece, we find that (with the exception 
 of Sparta) the primitive, hereditary, unresponsible monarch, 
 uniting in himself all the functions of government, has ceased 
 to reign.”* 
 
 Let us now ask what will happen when a cluster of clans 
 of common descent, which have become independent and 
 hostile, are simultaneously endangered by enemies to whom 
 they are not at all akin, or but remotely akin ? Habitually 
 they will sink their differences and cooperate for defence. But 
 on what terms will they cooperate ? Even among friendly 
 groups, joint action would be hindered if some claimed supre- 
 macy ; and among groups having out-standing feuds there 
 could be no joint action save on a footing of equality. The 
 common defence would, therefore, be directed by a body 
 
 * While I am writing, the just-issued third volume of Mr. Skene’s Celtic 
 Scotland , supplies me with an illustration of the process above indicated. It 
 appears that the original Celtic tribes which formed the earldoms of Moray, 
 Buchan, Athol, Angus, Menteith, became broken up into clans ; and how 
 influential was the physical character of the country in producing this result, 
 we are shown by the fact that this change took place in the parts of them 
 which fell within the highland country. Describing the smaller groups 
 which resulted, Mr. Skene says : — “ While the clan, viewed as a single com* 
 munity, thus consisted of the chief, with his kinsmen to a certain limited 
 degree of relationship ; the commonalty who were of the same blood, who all 
 bore the same name, and his dependents, consisting of subordinate septs of 
 native men, who did not claim to be of the blood of the chief, but were either 
 probably descended from the more ancient occupiers of the soil, or were 
 broken men from other clans, who had taken protection with him. . . . 
 Those kinsmen of the chief who acquired the property of their land founded 
 families. . . . The most influential of these was that of the oldest cadet in 
 the family which had been longest separated from the main stem, and usually 
 presented the appearance of a rival house little less powerful than that of tho 
 chief.’ 1 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 375 
 
 formed of the heads of the cooperating small societies ; and 
 if the cooperation for defence was prolonged, or became 
 changed into cooperation for offence, this temporary control- 
 ling body would naturally grow into a permanent one, holding 
 the small societies together. The special characters of 
 
 this compound head would, of course, vary with the circum- 
 stances. Where the traditions of the united clans agreed in 
 identifying some one chief as the lineal representative of the 
 original patriarch or hero, from whom all descended, prece- 
 dence and some extra authority would be permitted to him. 
 Where claims derived from descent were disputed, personal 
 superiority or election would determine which member of the 
 compound head should take the lead. If within each of the 
 component groups chiefly power was unqualified, there would 
 result from union of chiefs a close oligarchy ; while the close- 
 ness of the oligarchy would become less in proportion as 
 recognition of the authority of each chief diminished. And 
 in cases where there came to be incorporated numerous 
 aliens, owing allegiance to the heads of none of the compo- 
 nent groups, there would arise influences tending still more 
 to widen the oligarchy. 
 
 Such, we may conclude, were the origins of those com- 
 pound headships of the Greek states which existed at the 
 beginning of the historic period. In Crete, where there sur- 
 vived the tradition of primitive kingship, but where disper- 
 sion and subdivision of clans had brought about a condition 
 in which f< different towns carried on open feuds, 5 ’ there were 
 “ patrician houses, deriving their rights from the early ages of 
 royal government , 55 who continued “ to retain possession of 
 the administration . 55 In Corinth the line of Herakleid kings 
 “ subsides gradually, through a series of empty names, into 
 the oligarchy denominated Bacchiadce. . . . The persons so 
 named were all accounted descendants of Herakles, and formed 
 the governing caste in the city . 55 So was it with Megara. 
 According to tradition, this arose by combination of several 
 villages inhabited by kindred tribes, which, originally in 
 
376 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 antagonism with Corinth, had, probably in the course of this 
 antagonism, become consolidated into an independent state. 
 At the opening of the historic period the like had happened 
 in Sikyon and other places. Sparta, too, “ always maintained, 
 down to the times of the despot Nabis, its primitive aspect 
 of a group of adjacent hill- villages rather than a regular city.” 
 Though in Sparta kingship had survived under an anomalous 
 form, yet the joint representatives of the primitive king, still 
 reverenced because the tradition of their divine descent was 
 preserved, had become little more than members of the 
 governing oligarchy, retaining certain prerogatives. And 
 though it is true that in its earliest historically-known stage, 
 the Spartan oligarchy did not present the form which would 
 spontaneously arise from the union of chiefs of clans for co- 
 operation in war — though it had become elective within a 
 limited class of persons ; yet the fact that an age of not less 
 than sixty was a qualification, harmonizes with the belief that 
 it at first consisted of the heads of the respective groups, who 
 were always the eldest sons of the eldest ; and that these 
 groups with their heads, described as having been in pre- 
 Lykurgean times, “the most lawless of all the Greeks,” 
 became united by that continuous militant life which dis- 
 tinguished them.* 
 
 # As bearing on historical interpretations at large, and especially on inter- 
 pretations to be made in this work, let me point out further reasons than 
 those given by Grote and others for rejecting the tradition that the Spartan 
 constitution was the work of Lykurgus. The universal tendency to ascribe 
 an effect to the most conspicuous proximate cause, is especially strong where 
 the effect is one of which the causation is involved. Our own time has fur- 
 nished an illustration in the ascription of Corn-law Repeal to Sir Robert 
 Peel, and after him to Messrs. Cobden and R right : leaving Colonel Thomp- 
 son un-named. In the next generation tbe man who for a time carried on 
 the fight single-handed, and forged sundry of the weapons used by the vic- 
 tors, will be unheard of in connexion with it. It is not enough, however, to 
 suspect that Lykurgus was simply the finisher of other men’s work. Wo 
 may reasonably suspect that the work was that of no man, but simply that 
 of the needs and the conditions. This may be seen in the institution of the 
 public mess. If we ask what will happen with a small people who, for gene- 
 rations spreading as conquerors, have a contempt for all industry, and who, 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 377 
 
 The Eomans exemplify the rise of a compound headship 
 under conditions which, though partially different from those 
 the Greeks were subject to, were allied fundamentally. In 
 its earliest-known state, Latium was occupied by village- 
 communities, which were united into cantons ; while these 
 cantons formed a league headed by Alba — a canton regarded 
 as the oldest and most eminent. This combination was for 
 joint defence ; as is shown by the fact that each group of 
 clan-villages composing a canton, had an elevated stronghold 
 in common, and also by the fact that the league of cantons 
 had for its centre and place of refuge, Alba, the most strongly 
 placed as well as the oldest. The component cantons of the 
 league were so far independent that there were wars between 
 them ; whence we may infer that when they cooperated for 
 joint defence it was on substantially equal terms. Thus 
 before Kome existed, the people who formed it had been 
 habituated to a kind of life such that, with great subordina- 
 tion in each family and clan, and partial subordination within 
 each canton (which was governed by a prince, council of elders, 
 and assembly of warriors), there went a union of heads of 
 cantons, who were in no degree subordinate one to another. 
 When the inhabitants of three of these cantons, the Eamnians, 
 Titles, and Luceres, began to occupy the tract on which Eome 
 stands, they brought with them their political organization. 
 
 when not' at war, pass their time in exercises fitting them for war, it becomes 
 manifest that at first the daily assembling to carry on these exercises will entail 
 the daily bringing of provisions by each. As happens in those pic-nics in 
 which all who join contribute to the common repast, a certain obligation 
 respecting quantities and qualities will naturally arise — an obligation which, 
 repeated daily, will pass from custom into law : ending in a specification of 
 the kinds and amounts of food. Further, it is to be expected that as the law 
 thus arises in an age when food is coarse and unvaried, the simplicity of the 
 diet, originally unavoidable, will eventually be considered as intended — as an 
 ascetic regimen deliberately devised. [When writing this I was not aware 
 that, as pointed out by Prof. Paley in Fraser's Magazine , for February, 
 1881, among the Greeks of later times, it was common to have dinners to 
 which each guest brought his share of provisions, and that those who con- 
 tributed little and consumed much were objects of satire. This fact increases 
 the probability that the Spartan mess originated as suggested.] 
 
378 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 The oldest Roman patricians bore the names of rural clans 
 belonging to these cantons. Whether, when seating them- 
 selves on the Palatine hills and on the Quirinal, they pre- 
 served their cantonal divisions, is not clear ; though it seems 
 probable a priori. But, however this may be, there is proof 
 that they fortified themselves against one another, as well as 
 against outer enemies. The “ mount-men ” of the Palatine 
 and the “ hill-men ” of the Quirinal were habitually at feud ; 
 and even among the minor divisions of those who occupied 
 the Palatine, there were dissensions. As Mommsen says, 
 primitive Rome was “ rather an aggregate of urban settle- 
 ments than a single city,” And that the clans who formed 
 these settlements brought with them their enmities, is to be 
 inferred from the fact that not only did they fortify the hills 
 on which they fixed themselves, but even “ the houses of the 
 old and powerful families were constructed somewhat after 
 the manner of fortresses.” 
 
 So that again, in the case of Rome, we see a cluster of 
 small independent communities, allied in blood but partially 
 antagonistic, which had to cooperate against enemies on such 
 terms as all would agree to. In early Greece the means of 
 defence were, as Grote remarks, greater than the means of 
 attack ; and it was the same in early Rome. Hence, while 
 coercive rule within the family and the group of related 
 families w 7 as easy, there was difficulty in extending coercion 
 over many such groups : fortified as they were against one 
 another. Moreover, the stringency of government within 
 each of the communities constituting the primitive city, was 
 diminished by facility of escape from one and admission into 
 another. As we have seen among simple tribes, desertions 
 take place when the rule is harsh ; and we may infer that, in 
 primitive Rome there was a check on exercise of force by the 
 more powerful families in each settlement over the less 
 powerful, caused by the fear that migration might w r eaken the 
 settlement and strengthen an adjacent one. Thus the cir- 
 cumstances were such that wffien, for defence of the city, co- 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 379 
 
 operation became needful, the heads of the clans included in 
 its several divisions came to have substantially equal powers. 
 The original senate was the collective body of clan-elders; 
 and “ this assembly of elders was the ultimate holder of the 
 ruling power it was “ an assembly of kings.” At 
 
 the same time, the heads of families in each clan, forming 
 the body of burgesses, stood, for like reasons, on equal 
 footing. Primarily for command in war, there was an elected 
 head, who was also chief magistrate. Though not having the 
 authority given by alleged divine descent, he had the autho- 
 rity given by supposed divine approval ; and, himself bearing 
 the insignia of a god, he retained till death the absoluteness 
 appropriate to one. But besides the fact that the choice, 
 originally made by the senate, had to be again practically 
 made by it in case of sudden vacancy ; and besides the fact 
 that each king, nominated by his predecessor, had to be ap- 
 proved by the assembled burgesses ; there is the fact that the 
 king's power was executive only. The assembly of burgesses 
 “ was in law superior to, rather than co-ordinate with, the 
 king.” Further, in the last resort was exercised the supreme 
 power of the senate ; which was the guardian of the law 
 and could veto the joint decision of king and burgesses. Thus 
 the constitution was in essence an oligarchy of heads of clans, 
 included in an oligarchy of heads of houses — a compound 
 oligarchy which became unqualified when kingship was sup- 
 pressed. And here should be emphasized the truth, 
 
 sufficiently obvious and yet continually ignored, that the 
 Eoman Ptepublic which remained when the regal power ended, 
 differed utterly in nature from those popular governments 
 with which it has been commonly classed. The heads of 
 clans, of whom the narrower governing body was formed, as 
 well as the heads of families who formed the wider governing- 
 body, were, indeed, jealous of one another's powers ; and in 
 so far simulated the citizens of a free state who individually 
 maintain their equal rights. But these heads severally 
 exercised unlimited powers over the members of their house- 
 
380 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 holds and over their clusters of dependents. A community 
 of which the component groups severally retained their in- 
 ternal autonomies, with the result that the rule within each 
 remained absolute, was nothing but an aggregate of small 
 despotisms. Institutions under which the head of each 
 group, besides owning slaves, had such supremacy that his 
 wife and children, including even married sons, had no more 
 legal rights than cattle, and were at his mercy in life and 
 limb, or could be sold into slavery, can be called free institu- 
 tions only by those who confound similarity of external out- 
 line with similarity of internal structure.* 
 
 § 48G. The formation of compound political heads in later 
 times, repeats this process in essentials if not in details. In 
 one way or other, the result arises when a common need for 
 defence compels cooperation, while there exists no means 
 of securing cooperation save voluntary agreement. 
 
 Beginning with the example of Venice, we notice first that 
 the region occupied by the ancient Veneti, included the exten- 
 sive marshy tract formed of the deposits brought down by 
 several rivers to the Adriatic — a tract which, in Strabo’s day, 
 was “ intersected in every quarter by rivers, streams, and 
 morasses so that ie Aquileia and Ravenna were then cities 
 in the marshes.” Having for their stronghold this region full 
 of spots accessible only to inhabitants who knew the intri- 
 cate ways to them, the Veneti maintained their independence, 
 spite of the efforts of the Romans to subdue them, until the 
 time of Csesar. In later days, kindred results were 
 
 more markedly displayed in that part of this region specially 
 characterized by inaccessibility. From early ages the islets, 
 or rather mud-banks, on which Venice stands, were inhabited 
 
 # I should have thought it needless to insist on so obvious a truth had it 
 not been that even still there continues this identification of things so utterly 
 different. Within these few years has been published a magazine-article by 
 a distinguished historian, describing the corruptions of the Roman Republic 
 during its latter days, with the appended moral that such were, and are, 
 likely to be the results of democratic government ! 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 381 
 
 by a maritime people. Each islet, secure in the midst of its 
 tortuous lagunes, had a popular government of annually- 
 elected tribunes. And these original governments, existing 
 at the time when there came several thousands of fugitives, 
 driven from the mainland by the invading Huns, survived 
 under the form of a rude confederation. As we have 
 seen happens generally, the union into which these inde- 
 pendent little communities were forced for purposes of de- 
 fence, was disturbed by feuds ; and it was only under the 
 stress of opposition to aggressing Lombards on the one side 
 and Sclavonic pirates on the other, that a general assembly of 
 nobles, clergy, and citizens, appointed a duke or doge to direct 
 the combined forces and to restrain internal factions : being 
 superior to the tribunes of the united islets and subject only 
 to this body which appointed him. What changes 
 
 subsequently took place — how, beyond the restraints imposed 
 by the general assembly, the doge was presently put under 
 the check of two elected councillors, and on important occa- 
 sions had to summon the principal citizens — how there came 
 afterwards a representative council, which underwent from 
 time to time modifications — does not now concern us. Here 
 we have simply to note that, as in preceding cases, the com- 
 ponent groups being favourably circumstanced for severally 
 maintaining their independence of one another, the impera- 
 tive need for union against enemies initiated a rude compound 
 headship, which, notwithstanding the centralizing effects of 
 war, long maintained itself in one or other form. 
 
 On finding allied results among men of a different race but 
 occupying a similar region, doubts respecting the process of 
 causation must be dissipated. Over the area, half land, half 
 water, formed of the sediment brought down by the Rhine and 
 adjacent rivers, there early existed scattered families. Living 
 on isolated sand-hills, or in huts raised on piles, they were so 
 secure amid their creeks and mud-banks and marshes, that 
 they remained unsubdued by the Romans. Subsisting at first 
 by fishing, with here and there such small agriculture as was 
 
382 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 possible, and eventually becoming maritime and commercial, 
 these people, in course of time, rendered their land more 
 habitable by damming out the sea; and they long enjoyed a 
 partial if not complete independence. In the third century, 
 “the low countries contained the only free people of the 
 German race.” Especially the Frisians, more remote than 
 the rest from invaders, “ associated themselves with the tribes 
 settled on the limits of the German Ocean, and formed with 
 them a connexion celebrated under the title of the ‘ Saxon 
 League/ ” Though at a later time, the inhabitants of the low 
 countries fell under Frankish invaders ; yet the nature of 
 their habited continued to give them such advantages in 
 resisting foreign control, that they organized themselves after 
 their own fashion notwithstanding interdicts. “ From the 
 time of Charlemagne, the people of the ancient Menapia, now 
 become a prosperous commonwealth, formed political associa- 
 tions to raise a barrier against the despotic violence of the 
 Franks,” Meanwhile the Frisians, who, after centuries of 
 resistance to the Franks, were obliged to yield and render 
 small tributary services, retained their internal autonomy. 
 They formed “a confederation of rude but self-governed 
 maritime provinces:” each of these seven provinces being 
 divided into districts severally governed by elective heads 
 with their councils, and the whole being under a general 
 elective head and a general council. 
 
 Of illustrations which modern times have furnished, must 
 be named those which again show us the effects of a moun- 
 tainous region. The most notable is, of course, that of 
 Switzerland. Surrounded by forests, “among marshes, and 
 rocks, and glaciers, tribes of scattered shepherds had, from the 
 early times of the Roman conquest, found a land of refuge 
 from the successive invaders of the rest of Helvetia.” In the 
 labyrinths of the Alps, accessible to those only who knew the 
 ways to them, their cattle fed unseen ; and against straggling- 
 bands of marauders who might discover their retreats, they 
 had great facilities for defence. These districts—which 
 
COMrOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 383 
 
 eventually became the cantons of Schweitz, Uri, and Unter- 
 walden, originally having but one centre of meeting, but 
 eventually, as population increased, getting three, and forming 
 separate political organizations — long preserved complete in- 
 dependence. With the spread of feudal subordination 
 throughout Europe, they became nominally subject to the 
 Emperor ; but, refusing obedience to the superiors set over 
 them, they entered into a solemn alliance, renewed from time 
 to time, to resist outer enemies. Details of their history need 
 not detain us. The fact of moment is that in these three 
 cantons, which physically favoured in so great a degree the 
 maintenance of independence by individuals and by groups, 
 the people, while framing for themselves free governments, 
 united on equal terms for joint defence. And it was these 
 typical “ Swiss,” as they were the first to be called, whose 
 union formed the nucleus of the larger unions which, through 
 varied fortunes, eventually grew r up. Severally independent 
 as were the cantons composing these larger unions, there at 
 first existed feuds among them, which were suspended during 
 times of joint defence. Only gradually did the league pass 
 from temporary and unsettled forms to a permanent and 
 settled form. Two facts of significance should be 
 
 added. One is that, at a later date, a like process of resist- 
 ance, federation, and emancipation from feudal tyranny, 
 among separate communities occupying small mountain 
 valleys, took place in the Grisons and in the Yalais: regions 
 which, though mountainous, were more accessible than those 
 of the Oberland and its vicinity. The other is that the more 
 level cantons neither so early nor so completely gained their 
 independence; and, further, that their internal constitutions 
 were less free in form. A marked contrast existed between 
 the aristocratic republics of Berne, Lucerne, Eribourg, and 
 Soleure, and the pure democracies of the forest cantons and 
 the Grisons; in the last of which “ every little hamlet 
 resting in an Alpine valley, or perched on mountain crag, 
 was an independent community, of which all the members 
 
384 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 were absolutely equal — entitled to vote in every assembly, 
 and qualified for every public function.” “ Each hamlet had 
 its own laws, jurisdiction, and privileges ; ” while the hamlets 
 were federated into communes, the communes into districts, 
 and the districts into a league. 
 
 Lastly, with the case of Switzerland may be associated that 
 of San Marino — a little republic which, seated in the Apen- 
 nines, and having its centre on a cliff a thousand feet high, 
 has retained its independence for fifteen centuries. Here 
 8,000 people are governed by a senate of 60 and by captains 
 elected every half-year : assemblies of the whole people being 
 called on important occasions. There is a standing army of 
 18 ; “ taxation is reduced to a mere nothing ; ” and officials are 
 paid by the honour of serving. 
 
 One noteworthy difference between the compound heads 
 arising under physical conditions of the kinds exemplified, 
 must not be overlooked — the difference between the oligarchic 
 form and the popular form. As shown at the outset of this 
 section, if each of the groups united by militant cooperation 
 is despotically ruled — if the groups are severally framed on 
 the patriarchal type, or are severally governed by men of 
 supposed divine descent ; then the compound head becomes 
 one in which the people at large have no share. But if, as in 
 these modern cases, patriarchal authority has decayed ; or if 
 belief in divine descent of rulers has been undermined by a 
 creed at variance with it ; or if peaceful habits have weakened 
 that coercive authority which war ever strengthens ; then the 
 compound head is no longer an assembly of petty despots. 
 With the progress of these changes it becomes more and more 
 a head formed of those who exercise power not by right of 
 position but by right of appointment. 
 
 § 487. There are other conditions which favour the rise of 
 compound heads, temporary if not permanent — those, namely, 
 which occur at the dissolutions of preceding organizations. 
 Among peoples habituated for ages to personal rule, having 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 385 
 
 sentiments appropriate to it, and no conception of anything 
 else, the fall of one despot is at once followed by the rise of 
 another ; or, if a large personally-governed empire collapses, 
 its parts severally generate governments for themselves of 
 like kind. But among less servile peoples, the breaking up 
 of political systems having single heads, is apt to be followed 
 by the establishment of others having compound heads; 
 especially where there is a simultaneous separation into parts 
 which have not local governments of stable kinds. Under 
 such circumstances there is a return to the primitive state. 
 The pre-existing regulative system having fallen, the members 
 of the community are left without any controlling power save 
 the aggregate will ; and political organization having to com- 
 mence afresh, the form first assumed is akin to that which we 
 see in the assembly of the savage horde, or in the modern 
 public meeting. Whence there presently results the rule of 
 a select few subject to the approval of the many. 
 
 In illustration may first be taken the rise of the Italian 
 republics. When, during the ninth and tenth centuries, the 
 German Emperors, who had long been losing their power to 
 restrain local antagonisms in Italy and the outrages of 
 wandering robber bands, failed more than ever to protect 
 their subject communities, and, as a simultaneous result, 
 exercised diminished control over them ; it became at once 
 necessary and practicable for the Italian towns to develop 
 political organizations of their own. Though in these towns 
 there were remnants of the old Roman organization, this had 
 obviously become effete • for, in time of danger, there was an 
 assembling of “ citizens at the sound of a great bell, to 
 concert together the means for their common defence.” 
 Doubtless on such occasions were marked out the rudiments 
 of those republican constitutions which afterwards arose. 
 Though it is alleged that the German Emperors allowed the 
 towns to form these constitutions, yet we may reasonably 
 conclude, rather, that having no care further than to get their 
 tribute, they made no efforts to prevent the towns from 
 
386 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 forming them. And though Sismondi says of the towns- 
 people — “ ils chercherent h se constituer sur le modele de la 
 republique romaine yet we may question whether, in those 
 dark days, the people knew enough of Roman institutions to 
 be influenced by their knowledge. With more probability 
 may we infer that “this meeting of all the men of the 
 state capable of bearing arms ... in the great square/’ 
 originally called to take measures for repelling aggressors — a 
 meeting which must, at the very outset, have been swayed 
 by a group of dominant citizens and must have chosen 
 leaders, was itself the republican government in its incipient 
 state. Meetings of this kind, first held on occasions of 
 emergency, would gradually come into use for deciding all 
 important public questions. Repetition would bring greater 
 regularity in the modes of procedure, and greater definiteness 
 in the divisions formed ; ending in compound political heads, 
 presided over by elected chiefs. And that this was the case 
 in those early stages of which there remain but vague 
 accounts, is shown by the fact that a similar, though some- 
 what more definite, process afterwards occurred at Florence, 
 w T hen the usurping nobles were overthrown. Records tell us 
 that in 1250 “ the citizens assembled at the same moment in 
 the square of Santa Croce ; they divided themselves into fifty 
 groups, of which each group chose a captain, and thus 
 formed companies of militia : a council of these officers was 
 the first-born authority of this newly revived republic.’’ 
 Clearly, that sovereignty of the people which, for a time, 
 characterized these small governments, would inevitably arise 
 if the political form grew out of the original public meeting ; 
 while it would be unlikely to have arisen had the political 
 form been artificially devised by a limited class. 
 
 That this interpretation harmonizes with the facts which 
 modern times have furnished, scarcely needs pointing out. 
 On an immensely larger scale and in ways variously modified, 
 here by the slow collapse of an old regime and there by com- 
 bination for war, the rise of the first French Republic and of 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 387 
 
 the American Republic have similarly shown us this tendency 
 towards resumption of the primitive form of political organi- 
 zation, when a decayed or otherwise incapable government 
 collapses. Obscured by complicating circumstances and 
 special incidents as these transformations were, we may 
 recognize in them the play of the same general causes. 
 
 § 488. In the last chapter we saw that, as conditions deter- 
 mine, the first element of the tri-une political structure may 
 be differentiated from the second in various degrees : begin- 
 ning with the warrior-chief, slightly predominant over other 
 warriors, and ending with the divine and absolute king 
 widely distinguished from the select few next to him. By 
 the foregoing examples we are shown that the second element 
 is, as conditions determine, variously differentiated from the 
 third: being at the one extreme qualitatively distinguished 
 in a high degree and divided from it by an impassable barrier, 
 and at the other extreme almost merged into it. 
 
 Here we are introduced to the truth next to be dealt with ; 
 that not only do conditions determine the various forms which 
 compound heads assume, but that conditions determine the 
 various changes they undergo. There are two leading kinds 
 of such changes — those through which the compound head 
 passes towards a less popular form, and those through which 
 it passes towards a more popular form. We will glance at 
 them in this order. 
 
 Progressive narrowing of the compound head is one of the 
 concomitants of continued military activity. Setting out 
 with the case of Sparta, the constitution of which in its early 
 form differed but little from that which the Iliad shows 
 us existed among the Homeric Greeks, we first see the 
 tendency towards concentration of power, in the regula- 
 tion, made a century after Lykurgus, that “ in case the people 
 decided crookedly, the senate with the kings should reverse 
 their decisions and then we see that later, in consequence 
 of the gravitation of property into fewer hands, “ the number 
 8 
 
388 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of qualified citizens went on continually diminishing : 99 the 
 implication being not only a relatively-increased power of the 
 oligarchy, but, probably, a growing supremacy of the wealthier 
 members within the oligarchy itself. Turning to the case of 
 Rome, ever militant, we find that in course of time inequali- 
 ties increased to the extent that the senate became "an 
 order of lords, filling up its ranks by hereditary succession, 
 and exercising collegiate misrule.” Moreover, “ out of the evil 
 of oligarchy there emerged the still worse evil of usurpation 
 of power by particular families.” In the Italian Republics, 
 again, perpetually at war one with another, there resulted a 
 kindred narrowing of the governing body. The nobility, 
 deserting their castles, began to direct “ the municipal govern- 
 ment of the cities, which consequently, during this period of 
 the Republics, fell chiefly into the hands of the superior fami- 
 lies.” Then at a later stage, when industrial progress had 
 generated wealthy commercial classes, these, competing with 
 the nobles for power, and finally displacing them, repeated 
 within their respective bodies this same process. The richer 
 gilds deprived the poorer of their shares in the choice of the 
 ruling agencies; the privileged class was continually dimi- 
 nished by disqualifying regulations ; and newly risen families 
 were excluded by those of long standing. So that, as Sis- 
 mondi points out, those of the numerous Italian Republics 
 which remained nominally such at the close of the fifteenth 
 century, were, like “ Sienna and Lucca, each governed by a 
 single caste of citizens : . . . had no longer popular govern- 
 ments.” A kindred result occurred among the Dutch. 
 During the wars of the Flemish cities with the nobles and 
 with one another, the relatively popular governments of the 
 towns were narrowed. The greater gilds excluded the lesser 
 from the ruling body ; and their members, “ clothed in the 
 municipal purple . . . ruled with the power of an aristo- 
 cracy . . . the local government was often an oligarchy, 
 while the spirit of the burghers was peculiarly democratic.” 
 And with these illustrations may be joined that furnished by 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 389 
 
 those Swiss cantons which, physically characterized in ways 
 less favourable than the others to personal independence, 
 were at the same time given to wars, offensive as well as 
 defensive. Berne, Lucerne, Fribourg, Soleure, acquired politi- 
 cal constitutions in large measure oligarchic ; and in “ Berne, 
 where the nobles had always been in the ascendant, the entire 
 administration had fallen into the hands of a few families, 
 with whom it had become hereditary.” 
 
 We have next to note as a cause of progressive modification 
 in compound heads, that, like simple heads, they are apt to 
 be subordinated by their administrative agents. The earliest 
 case to be named is one in which this effect is exemplified 
 along with the last — the case of Sparta. Originally appointed 
 by the kings to perform prescribed duties, the ephors first 
 made the kings subordinate, and eventually subordinated the 
 senate ; so that they became substantially the rulers. From 
 this we may pass to the instance supplied by Venice, where 
 power, once exercised by the people, gradually lapsed into 
 the hands of an executive body, the members of which, 
 habitually re-elected, and at death replaced by their children, 
 became an aristocracy, whence there eventually grew the 
 council of ten, who were, like the Spartan ephors, “ charged 
 to guard the security of the state with a power higher than 
 the law;” and who thus, “ restrained by no rule,” constituted 
 the actual government. Through its many revolutions and 
 changes of constitution, Florence exhibited like tendencies. 
 The appointed administrators, now signoria, now priors, 
 became able, during their terms of office, to effect their 
 private ends even to the extent of suspending the constitu- 
 tion : getting the forced assent of the assembled people, who 
 were surrounded by armed men. And then, eventually, the 
 head executive agent, nominally re-elected from time to time 
 but practically permanent, became, in the person of Cosmo de’ 
 Medici, the founder of an inherited headship. 
 
 But the liability of the compound political head to become 
 subject to its civil agents, is far less than its liability to 
 
390 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 become subject to its military agents. From the earliest 
 times this liability has been exemplified and commented 
 upon ; and, familiar though it is, I must here illustrate and 
 emphasize it, because it directly bears on one of the cardinal 
 truths of political theory. Setting out with the Greeks, we 
 observe that the tyrants, by whom oligarchies were so 
 often overthrown, had armed forces at their disposal. Either 
 the tyrant was “ the executive magistrate, upon whom the 
 oligarchy themselves had devolved important administrative 
 powers or he was a demagogue, who pleaded the alleged 
 interests of the community, “ in order to surround ” himself 
 “ with armed defenders : ” soldiers being in either case the 
 agents of his usurpation. And then, in Rome, we see the like 
 done by the successful general. As Macchiavelli remarks — 
 
 “ For the further abroad they [the generals] carried their arms, the 
 more necessary such prolongations [of their commissions] appeared, and 
 the more common they became ; hence it arose, in the first place, that 
 but a few of their Citizens could be employed in the command of armies, 
 and consequently few were capable of acquiring any considerable degree 
 of experience or reputation ; and in the next, that when a Commander 
 in chief was continued for a long time in that post, he had an oppor- 
 tunity of corrupting his army to such a degree that the Soldiers entirely 
 threw off their obedience to the Senate, and acknowledged no authority 
 but his. To this it was owing that Sylla and Marius found means 
 to debauch their armies and make them fight against their country ; 
 and that Julius Csesar was enabled to make himself absolute in Rome.” 
 
 The Italian Republics, again, furnish many illustrations. By 
 the beginning of the fourteenth century, those of Lombardy 
 “ all submitted themselves to the military power of some 
 nobles to whom they had entrusted the command of their 
 militias, and thus all lost their liberty.” Later times and 
 nearer regions yield instances. At home, Cromwell showed 
 how the successful general tends to become autocrat. In the 
 Netherlands the same thing was exemplified by the Van 
 Arteveldes, father and son, and again by Maurice of Nassau ; 
 and, but for form's sake, it would be needless to name the case 
 of Napoleon. It should be added that not only by command 
 of armed forces is the military chief enabled to seize on 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 391 
 
 supreme power; but acquired popularity, especially in a 
 militant nation, places him in a position which makes it 
 relatively easy to do this. Neither their own experience nor 
 the experiences of other nations throughout the past, pre- 
 vented the French from lately making Marshal Macmahon 
 executive head ; and even the Americans, in more than once 
 choosing General Grant for President, proved that, predomi- 
 nantly industrial though their society is, militant activity 
 promptly caused an incipient change towards the militant 
 type, of which an essential trait is the union of civil headship 
 with military headship. 
 
 From the influences which narrow compound political 
 headships, or change them into single ones, let us pass to the 
 influences which widen them. The case of Athens is, of 
 course, the first to be considered. To understand this we 
 must remember that up to the time of Solon, democratic 
 government did not exist in Greece. The only actual forms 
 were the oligarchic and the despotic ; and in those early days, 
 before political speculation began, it is unlikely that there 
 was recognized in theory, a social form entirely unknown in 
 practice. We have, therefore, to exclude the notion that 
 popular government arose in Athens under the guidance of 
 any preconceived idea. As having the same implication 
 should be added the fact that (Athens being governed by an 
 oligarchy at the time) the Solonian legislation served but to 
 qualify and broaden the oligarchy and remove crying in- 
 justices. In seeking the causes of change which 
 
 worked through Solon, and also made practicable the re-orga- 
 nization he initiated, we shall find them to lie in the direct and 
 indirect influences of trade. Grote comments on “ the anxiety, 
 both of Solon and of Drako, to enforce among their fellow- 
 citizens industrious and self-maintaining habits : ” a proof 
 that, even before Solon’s time, there was in Attica little or no 
 reprobation of “ sedentary industry, which in most other parts 
 of Greece was regarded as comparatively dishonourable.” 
 Moreover, Solon was himself in early life a trader ; and his 
 
392 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 legislation “ provided for traders and artizans a new home at 
 Athens, giving the first encouragement to that numerous 
 town-population, both in the city and in the Peiraeus, which 
 we find actually residing there in the succeeding century ” 
 The immigrants who flocked into Attica because of its greater 
 security, Solon was anxious to turn rather to manufacturing 
 industry than to cultivation of a soil naturally poor ; and one 
 result was “ a departure from the primitive temper of Atti- 
 cism, which tended both to cantonal residence and rural occu- 
 pation ; ” while another result was to increase the number of 
 people who stood outside those gentile and phratric divisions, 
 which were concomitants of the patriarchal type and of per- 
 sonal rule. And then the constitutional changes made by 
 Solon were in leading respects towards industrial organiza- 
 tion. The introduction of a property-qualification for classes, 
 instead of a birth-qualification, diminished the rigidity of the 
 political form ; since aquirement of wealth by industry, or 
 otherwise, made possible an admission into the oligarchy, or 
 among others of the privileged. By forbidding self-enslave- 
 ment of the debtor, and by emancipating those who had been 
 self-enslaved, his laws added largely to the enfranchised class 
 as distinguished from the slave-class. Otherwise regarded, 
 this change, leaving equitable contracts untouched, prevented 
 those inequitable contracts under which, by a lien on himself, 
 a man gave more than an equivalent for the sum he borrowed. 
 And with a decreasing number of cases in which there existed 
 the relation of master and slave, went an increasing number 
 of cases in which benefits were exchanged under agreement. 
 The odium attaching to that lending at interest which ended 
 in slavery of the debtor, having disappeared, legitimate lending 
 became general and unopposed ; the rate of interest was free ; 
 and accumulated capital was made available. Then, as co- 
 operating cause, and as ever-increasing consequence, came the 
 growth of a population favourably circumstanced for acting 
 in concert Urban people who, daily in contact, gather one 
 another’s ideas and feelings, and who, by quickly-diffused 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 393 
 
 intelligence are rapidly assembled, can cooperate far more 
 readily than people scattered through rural districts. With 
 all which direct and indirect results of industrial develop- 
 ment, must be joined the ultimate result on character, pro- 
 duced by daily fulfilling and enforcing contracts — a discipline 
 which, while requiring each man to recognize the claims of 
 others, also requires him to maintain his own. In Solon 
 himself this attitude which joins assertion of personal rights 
 with respect for the rights of others, was well exemplified ; 
 since, when his influence was great he refused to become a 
 despot, though pressed to do so, and in his latter days he 
 resisted at the risk of death the establishment of a despo- 
 tism. In various w^ays, then, increasing industrial 
 
 activity tended to widen the original oligarchic structure. 
 And though these effects of industrialism, joined with subse- 
 quently-accumulated effects, were for a long time held in 
 check by the usurping Peisistratidse, yet, being ready to show 
 themselves when, some time after the expulsion of these 
 tyrants, there came the Kleisthenian revolution, they were 
 doubtless instrumental in then initiating the popular form of 
 government. 
 
 Though not in so great a degree, yet in some degree, the 
 same causes operated in liberalizing the Eoman oligarchy. 
 Eome “ was indebted for the commencement of its import- 
 ance to international commerce;” and, as Mommsen points 
 out, “ the distinction between Eome and the mass of the 
 other Latin towns, must certainly be traced back to its com- 
 mercial position, and to the type of character produced by 
 that position . . . Eome was the emporium of the Latin 
 districts.” Moreover, as in Athens, though doubtless to a 
 smaller extent, trade brought an increasing settlement of 
 strangers, to whom rights were given, and who, joined with 
 emancipated slaves and with clients, formed an industrial 
 population, the eventual inclusion of which in the burgess- 
 body caused that widening of the constitution effected by 
 Servius Tullius. 
 
39 4 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTION’S. 
 
 The Italian Republics of later days again show us, in nume- 
 rous cases, this connexion between trading activities and a 
 freer form of rule. The towns were industrial centres. 
 
 “The merchants of Genoa, Pisa, Florence, and Venice supplied 
 Europe with the products of the Mediterranean and of the East : the 
 bankers of Lombardy instructed the world in the mysteries of finance, 
 and foreign exchanges : Italian artificers taught the workmen of other 
 countries the highest skill in the manufactures of steel, iron, bronze, 
 silk, glass, porcelain, and jewelry. Italian shops, with their dazzling 
 array of luxuries, excited the admiration and envy of foreigners from 
 less favoured lands.” 
 
 Then, on looking into their histories, we find that industrial 
 gilds were the bases of their political organizations ; that the 
 upper mercantile classes became the rulers, in some cases 
 excluding the nobles ; and that while external wars and in- 
 ternal feuds tended continually to revive narrower, or more 
 personal, forms of rule, rebellions of the industrial citizens 
 occasionally happening, tended to re-establish popular rule. 
 
 When we join with these the like general connexions that 
 arose in the Netherlands and in the Hanse towns — when we 
 remember the liberalization of our own political institutions 
 which has gone along with growing industrialism — when we 
 observe that the towns more than the country, and the great 
 industrial centres more than the small ones, have given the 
 impulses to these changes; it becomes unquestionable that 
 while by increase of militant activities compound headships 
 are narrowed, they are widened in proportion as industrial 
 activities become predominant. 
 
 § 489. In common with the results reached in preceding 
 chapters, the results above reached show that types of poli- 
 tical organization are not matters of deliberate choice. It is 
 common to speak of a society as though it had, once upon a 
 time, decided on the form of government which thereafter 
 existed in it. Even Mr. Grote, in his comparison between the 
 institutions of ancient Greece and those of mediaeval Europe 
 (vol. iii. pp. 10 — 12), tacitly implies that conceptions of the 
 
COMPOUND POLITICAL HEADS. 
 
 395 
 
 advantages or disadvantages of this or that arrangement, fur- 
 nished motives for establishing or maintaining it. But, as 
 gathered together in the foregoing sections, the facts show 
 that as with the genesis of simple political heads, so with 
 the genesis of compound political heads, conditions and not 
 intentions determine. 
 
 Recognizing the truth that independence of character is a 
 factor, but ascribing this independence of character to the 
 continued existence of a race in a habitat which facilitates 
 evasion of control, we saw that with such a nature so con- 
 ditioned, cooperation in war causes the union on equal terms 
 of groups whose heads are joined to form a directive council. 
 And according as the component groups are governed more 
 or less autocratically, the directive council is more or less 
 oligarchic. We have seen that in localities differing so 
 widely as do mountain regions, marshes or mud islands, and 
 jungles, men of different races have developed political heads 
 of this compound kind. And on observing that the localities, 
 otherwise so unlike, are alike in being severally made up of 
 parts difficult of access, we cannot question that to this is 
 mainly due the governmental form under which their in- 
 habitants unite. 
 
 Besides the compound heads which are thus indigenous in 
 places favouring them, there are other compound heads which 
 arise after the break-up of preceding political organizations. 
 Especially apt are they so to arise where the people, not 
 scattered through a wide district but concentrated in a town, 
 can easily assemble bodily. Control of every kind having 
 disappeared, it happens in such cases that the aggregate will 
 has free play, and there establishes itself for a time that 
 relatively-popular form with which all government begins ; 
 but, regularly or irregularly, a superior few become differen- 
 tiated from the many ; and of predominant men some one is 
 made, directly or indirectly, most predominant. 
 
 Compound heads habitually become, in course of time, 
 either narrower or wider. They are narrowed by militancy, 
 
396 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 which tends ever to concentrate directive power in fewer 
 hands, and, if continued, almost certainly changes them into 
 simple heads. Conversely, they are widened by industrialism. 
 This, by gathering together aliens detached from the restraints 
 imposed by patriarchal, feudal, or other such organizations ; 
 by increasing the number of those to be coerced in compa- 
 rison with the number of those who have to coerce them ; by 
 placing this larger number in conditions favouring concerted 
 action ; by substituting for daily-enforced obedience, the daily 
 fulfilment of voluntary obligations and daily maintenance of 
 claims ; tends ever towards equalization of citizenship. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 § 490. Two parts of the primitive tri-une political struc- 
 ture have, in the last two chapters, been dealt with sepa- 
 rately ; or, to speak strictly, the first has been considered as 
 independent of the second, and again, the second as inde- 
 pendent of the first : incidentally noting its relations to the 
 third. Here we have to treat of the two in combination. 
 Instead of observing how from the chief, little above the rest, 
 there is, under certain conditions, evolved the absolute ruler, 
 entirely subordinating the select few and the many; and 
 instead of observing how, under other conditions, the select 
 few become an oligarchy tolerating no supreme man, and 
 keeping the multitude in subjection ; we have now to observe 
 the cases in which there is established a cooperation between 
 the first and the second. 
 
 After chieftainship has become settled, the chief continues 
 to have sundry reasons for acting in concert with his head 
 men. It is needful to conciliate them ; it is needful to get 
 their advice and willing assistance ; and, in serious matters, 
 it is desirable to divide responsibility with them. Hence the 
 prevalence of consultative assemblies. In Samoa, “ the chief 
 of the village and the heads of families formed, and still form, 
 the legislative body of the place” Among the Fulahs, 
 “ before undertaking anything important or declaring w 7 ar, 
 the king [of Babbali] is obliged to summon a council of 
 
398 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Mallams and the principal people.” Of the Mandingo states 
 we read that “ in all affairs of importance, the king calls an 
 assembly of the principal men, or elders, by whose counsels 
 he is directed.” And such cases might be multiplied inde- 
 finitely. 
 
 That we may understand the essential nature of this in- 
 stitution, and that we may see why, as it evolves, it assumes 
 the characters it does, we must once more go back to the 
 beginning. 
 
 § 491. Evidence coming from many peoples in all times, 
 shows that the consultative body is, at the outset, nothing 
 more than a council of war. It is in the open-air meeting of 
 armed men, that the cluster of leaders is first seen performing 
 that deliberative function in respect of military measures, 
 which is subsequently extended toother measures. Long after 
 its deliberations have become more general in their scope, 
 there survive traces of this origin. 
 
 In Rome, where the king was above all things the general, 
 and where the senators, as the heads of clans, were, at the 
 outset, war-chiefs, the burgesses were habitually, when called 
 together, addressed as “ spear-men : ” there survived the title 
 which was naturally given to them when they were present 
 as listeners at war-councils. So during later days in Italy, 
 when the small republics grew up. Describing the assem- 
 bling of “ citizens at the sound of a great bell, to concert 
 together the means of their common defence,” Sismondi says 
 — “ this meeting of all the men of the State capable of bearing 
 arms, was called a Parliament.” Concerning the gatherings 
 of the Poles in early times we read : — “ Such assemblies, 
 before the establishment of a senate, and while the kings were 
 limited in power, were of frequent occurrence, and . . . were 
 attended by all who bore arms;” and at a later stage “ the 
 comitici paludata , which assembled during an interregnum, 
 consisted of the whole body of nobles, who attended in the 
 open plain, aimed and equipped as if for battle ” In Hungary, 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 399 
 
 too, up to the beginning of the sixteenth century, “les 
 eisgneurs, a cheval et armes de pied en cap comme pour alter 
 en guerre, se reunissaient dans le champ de courses de Rakos, 
 pres de Pesth, et la discutaient en plain air les affaires pub- 
 liques .” Again, “ the supreme political council is the nation 
 in arms,” says Stubbs of the primitive Germans ; and though, 
 during the Merovingian period, the popular power declined, 
 yet “ under Chlodovech and his immediate successors, the 
 People assembled in arms had a real participation in the 
 resolutions of the king.” Even now the custom of going 
 weapon in hand, is maintained where the primitive political 
 form remains. “ To the present day,” writes M. de Laveleye, 
 “ the inhabitants of the outer Rhodes of Appenzell come to 
 the general assembly, one year at Hundwyl and the other at 
 Trogen, each carrying in his hand an old sword or ancient 
 rapier of the middle ages.” Mr. Freeman, too, was witness 
 to a like annual gathering in Uri, where those who joined to 
 elect their chief magistrate, and to deliberate, came armed. 
 
 It may, indeed, be alleged that in early unsettled times, 
 the carrying of weapons by each freeman was needful for 
 personal safety ; especially when a place of meeting far from 
 his home had to be reached. But there is evidence that 
 though this continued to be a cause for going prepared for 
 fight, it was not by itself a sufficient cause. While we read 
 of the ancient Scandinavians that “all freemen capable of 
 bearing arms were admitted” to the national assembly, and 
 that after his election from “ among the descendants of the 
 sacred stock,” “ the new sovereign was elevated amidst the 
 clash of arms and the shouts of the multitude we also read 
 that “ nobody, not even the king or his champions, were 
 allowed to come armed to the assizes.” 
 
 Even apart from such evidence, there is ample reason to 
 infer that the council of war originated the consultative body, 
 and gave outlines to its structure. Defence against enemies 
 was everywhere the need which first prompted joint deli- 
 beration. For other purposes individual action, or action in 
 
400 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 small parties, might suffice; but for insuring the general 
 safety, combined action of the whole horde or tribe was ne- 
 cessary ; and to secure this combined action must have been 
 the primary motive for a political gathering. Moreover, 
 certain constitutional traits of early assemblies among the 
 civilized, point to councils of war as having initiated them. 
 If we ask what must happen when the predominant men of 
 a tribe debate military measures in presence of the rest, the 
 reply is that in the absence of a developed political organiza- 
 tion, the assent of the rest to any decision must be obtained 
 before it can be acted upon ; and the like must at first happen 
 when many tribes are united. As Gibbon says of the diet of 
 the Tartars, formed of chiefs of tribes and their martial 
 trains, “ the monarch wdio reviews the strength, must consult 
 the inclination, of an armed people.” Even if, under such 
 conditions, the ruling few could impose their will on the 
 many, armed like themselves, it would be impolitic to do so ; 
 since success in war would be endangered by dissension. 
 Hence would arise the usage of putting to the surrounding 
 warriors, the question whether they agreed to the course 
 which the council of chiefs had decided upon. There would 
 grow up a form such as that which had become established 
 for governmental purposes at large among the early Eomans, 
 whose king or general, asked the assembled burgesses or 
 “ spear-men,” whether they approved of the proposal made ; 
 or like that ascribed by Tacitus to the primitive Germans, 
 who, now with murmurs and now with brandishing of spears, 
 rejected or accepted the suggestions of their leaders. More- 
 over, there would naturally come just that restricted expres- 
 sion of popular opinion which we are told of. The Boman 
 burgesses were allowed to answer only “yes” or “no” to any 
 question put to them ; and this is exactly the simple answer 
 which the chief and head warriors would require from the 
 rest of the warriors when war or peace were the alternatives. 
 A kindred restriction existed among the Spartans. In addi- 
 tion to the senate and co-ordinate kings, there was “an 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 401 
 
 Ekklesia or public assembly of citizens, convened for the 
 purpose of approving or rejecting propositions submitted to 
 them, with little or no liberty of discussion’" — a usage quite 
 explicable if we assume that in the Homeric agora, from 
 which the Spartan constitution descended, the assembled 
 chiefs had to gain the assent of their followers before im- 
 portant actions could be undertaken. 
 
 Concluding, then, that war originates political deliberation, 
 and that the select body which especially carries on this deli- 
 beration first takes shape on occasions when the public safety 
 has to be provided for, we shall be prepared the better to 
 understand the traits which characterize the consultative 
 body in later stages of its development. 
 
 § 492. Already we have seen that at the outset the militant 
 class was of necessity the land-owning class. In the savage 
 tribe there are no owners of the tract occupied, save the warriors 
 who use it in common for hunting. During pastoral life 
 good regions for cattle-feeding are jointly held against intru- 
 ders by force of arms. And where the agricultural stage has 
 been reached, communal possession, family possession, and 
 individual possession, have from time to time to be defended 
 by the sword. Hence, as w r as shown, the fact that in early 
 stages the bearing of arms and the holding of land habitually 
 go together. 
 
 While, as among hunting peoples, land continues to be held 
 in common, the contrasts which arise between the few and 
 the many, are such only as result from actual or supposed 
 personal superiority of one kind or other. It is true that, as 
 pointed out, differences of wealth, in the shape of chattels, 
 boats, slaves, &c., cause some class-differentiations ; and that 
 thus, even before private land-owning begins, quantity of 
 possessions aids in distinguishing the governing from the 
 governed. When the pastoral state is arrived at and the 
 patriarchal type established, such ownership as there is vests 
 in the eldest son of the eldest ; or if, as Sir Henry Maine 
 
402 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 says, he is to be considered as trustee for the group, still his 
 trusteeship joins with his military headship in giving him 
 supremacy. At a later stage, when lands come to be occupied 
 by settled families and communities, and land-ownership 
 gains definiteness, this union of traits in each head of a group 
 becomes more marked ; and, as was shown when treating of 
 the differentiation of nobles from freemen, several influences 
 conspire to give the eldest son of the eldest, superiority in 
 extent of landed possessions, as well as in degree of power. 
 Nor is this fundamental relation changed when a nobility of 
 service replaces a nobility of birth, and when, as presently 
 happens, the adherents of a conquering invader are rewarded 
 by portions of the subjugated territory. Throughout, the 
 tendency continues to be for the class of military superiors 
 to be identical with the class of large landowners. 
 
 It follows, then, that beginning with the assemblage of 
 armed freemen, all of them holding land individually or in 
 groups, whose council of leaders, deliberating in presence of 
 the rest, are distinguished only as being the most capable 
 warriors, there will, through frequent wars and progressing 
 consolidations, be produced a state in which this council of 
 leaders becomes further distinguished by the greater estates, 
 and consequent greater powers, of its members. Becom- 
 ing more and more contrasted with the armed freemen at 
 large, the consultative body will tend gradually to subor- 
 dinate it, and, eventually separating itself, will acquire inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 The growth of this temporary council of war in which the 
 king, acting as general, summons to give their advice the 
 leaders of his forces, into the permanent consultative body in 
 which the king, in his capacity of ruler, presides over the 
 deliberations of the same men on public affairs at large, is 
 exemplified in various parts of the world. The consultative 
 body is everywhere composed of minor chiefs, or heads of 
 clans, or feudal lords, in whom the military and civil rule of 
 local groups is habitually joined with wide possessions ; and 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 403 
 
 the examples frequently exhibit this composition on both a 
 small and a large scale — both locally and generally. A 
 
 rude and early form of the arrangement is shown in Africa. 
 "We read of the Kaffirs that “ every chief chooses from among 
 his most wealthy subjects five or six, who act as counsellors 
 to him. . . the great council of the king is composed of 
 the chiefs of particular kraals.” A Eechuana tribe “ gene- 
 rally includes a number of towns or villages, each having its 
 distinct head, under whom there are a number of subordinate 
 chiefs,” who “ all acknowledge the supremacy of the principal 
 one. His power, though very great and in some instances 
 despotic, is nevertheless controlled by the minor chiefs, who 
 in their piclios or pitshos , their parliament, or public meetings, 
 use the greatest plainness of speech in exposing what they 
 consider culpable or lax in his government.” Of the Wan- 
 yamwezi, Burton says that the Sultan is “ surrounded by a 
 council varying from two to a score of chiefs and elders. . . 
 
 His authority is circumscribed by a rude balance of power ; 
 the chiefs around him can probably bring as many warriors 
 into the field as he can.” Similarly in Ashantee. “ The 
 caboceers and captains . . . claim to be heard on all ques- 
 tions relating to war and foreign politics. Such matters 
 are considered in a general assembly ; and the king sometimes 
 finds it prudent to yield to the views and urgent representa- 
 tions of the majority.” From the ancient American 
 
 states, too, instances may be cited. In Mexico “general 
 assemblies were presided over by the king every eighty days. 
 They came to these meetings from all parts of the country ; ” 
 and then we read, further, that the highest rank of nobility, 
 the Teuctli, “took precedence of all others in the senate, 
 both in the order of sitting and voting : ” showing what was 
 the composition of the senate. It was so, too, with the 
 Central Americans of Yera Paz. “ Though the supreme rule 
 was exercised by a king, there were inferior lords as his 
 coadjutors, who mostly were titled lords and vassals ; they 
 formed the royal council . . . and joined the king in his 
 
404 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 palace as often as they were called upon.” Turning to 
 
 Europe, mention may first be made of ancient Poland. 
 Originally formed of independent tribes, “ each governed by 
 its own hniaz , or judge, whom age or reputed wisdom had 
 raised to that dignity,” and each led in war by a temporary 
 voivod or captain, these tribes had, in the course of that com- 
 pounding and re-compounding which wars produced, differen- 
 tiated into classes of nobles and serfs, over whom w~as an 
 elected king. Of the organization which existed before the 
 king lost his power, we are told that — 
 
 “ Though each of these palatines, bishops, and barons, could thus advise 
 his sovereign, the formation of a regular senate was slow, and com- 
 pleted only when experience had proved its utility. At first, the only 
 subjects on which the monarch deliberated with his barons related to 
 war : what he originally granted through courtesy, or through diffidence 
 in himself, or with a view to lessen his responsibility in case of failure, 
 they eventually claimed as a right.” 
 
 So, too, during internal wars and wars against Pome, the 
 primitive Germanic tribes, once semi-nomadic and but slightly 
 organized, passing through the stage in which armed chiefs 
 and freemen periodically assembled for deliberations on war 
 and other matters, evolved a kindred structure. In Carolin- 
 gian days the great political gathering of the year was 
 simultaneous with the great military levy ; and the military 
 element entered into the foreground. Armed service being 
 the essential thing, and questions of peace and war being 
 habitually dominant, it resulted that all freemen, while under 
 obligation to attend, had also a right to be present at the 
 assembly and to listen to the deliberations. And then con- 
 cerning a later period, as Hallam writes — 
 
 " In all the German principalities a form of limited monarchy pre- 
 vailed, reflecting, on a reduced scale, the general constitution of the 
 Empire. As the Emperors shared their legislative sovereignty with the 
 diet, so all the princes who belonged to that assembly had their own 
 provincial states, composed of their feudal vassals and of their mediate 
 towns within their territory.” 
 
 In France, too, provincial estates existed for local rule; and 
 there were consultative assemblies of general scope. Thus 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 405 
 
 an " ordinance of 1228, respecting the heretics of Languedoc, 
 is rendered with the advice of our great men and prud- 
 hommes ; ” and one “ of 1246, concerning levies and re- 
 demptions in Anjou and Maine,” says that “ having called 
 around us, at Orleans, the barons and great men of the said 
 counties, and having held attentive counsel with them,” &c. 
 
 To meet the probable criticism that no notice has been 
 taken of the ecclesiastics usually included in the consultative 
 body, it is needful to point out that due recognition of them 
 does not involve any essential change in the account above 
 given. Though modern usages lead us to think of the priest- 
 class as distinct from the warrior-class, yet it was not origi- 
 nally distinct. With the truth that habitually in militant 
 societies, the king is at once commander-in-chief and high 
 priest, carrying out in both capacities the dictates of his deity, 
 we may join the truth that the subordinate priest is usually a 
 direct or indirect aider of the wars thus supposed to be 
 divinely prompted. In illustration of the one truth may be 
 cited the fact that before going to war, Eadama, king of 
 Madagascar, “ acting as priest as well as general, sacrificed a 
 cock and a heifer, and offered a prayer at the tomb of Andria- 
 Masina, his most renowned ancestor.” And in illustration of 
 the other truth may be cited the fact that among the Hebrews, 
 whose priests accompanied the army to battle, we read of 
 Samuel, a priest from childhood upwards, as conveying to 
 Saul God’s command to “ smite Amalek,” and as having 
 himself hewed Agag in pieces. More or less active partici- 
 pation in war by priests we everywhere find in savage and 
 semi-civilized societies ; as among the Dakotas, Mundrucus, 
 Abipones, Khonds, whose priests decide on the time for war, 
 or give the signal for attack ; as among the Tahitians, whose 
 priests “ bore arms, and marched with the warriors to battle ; ” 
 as among the Mexicans, whose priests, the habitual instiga- 
 tors of wars, accompanied their idols in front of the army, and 
 “ sacrificed the first taken prisoners at once ; ” as among the 
 ancient Egyptians, of whom we read that “ the priest of a 
 
406 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 god was often a military or naval commander;’ And the 
 naturalness of the connexion thus common in rude and in 
 ancient societies, is shown by its revival in later societies, 
 notwithstanding an adverse creed. After Christianity had 
 passed out of its early non-political stage into the stage in 
 which it became a State-religion, its priests, during actively 
 militant periods, re-acquired the primitive militant character. 
 “ By the middle of the eighth century [in France], regular 
 military service on the part of the clergy was already fully 
 developed.” In the early feudal period, bishops, abbots, and 
 priors, became feudal lords, with all the powers and responsi- 
 bilities attaching to their positions. They had bodies of troops 
 in their pay, took towns and fortresses, sustained sieges, led 
 or sent troops in aid of kings. And Orderic, in 1094, 
 describes the priests as leading their parishioners to battle, 
 and the abbots their vassals. Though in recent times Church 
 dignitaries do not actively participate in war, yet their 
 advisatory function respecting it — often prompting rather 
 than restraining — has not even now ceased ; as among our- 
 selves was lately shown in the vote of the bishops, w T ho, with 
 one exception, approved the invasion of Afghanistan. 
 
 That the consultative body habitually includes ecclesiastics, 
 does not, therefore, conflict with the statement that, beginning 
 as a war-council, it grows into a permanent assembly of minor 
 military heads. 
 
 § 493. Under a different form, there is here partially 
 repeated what was set forth when treating of oligarchies : the 
 difference arising from inclusion of the king as a co-operative 
 factor. Moreover, much that was before said respecting the 
 influence of war in narrowing oligarchies, applies to that 
 narrowing of the primitive consultative assembly by which 
 there is produced from it a body of land-owning military 
 nobles. But the consolidation of small societies into large 
 ones effected by war, brings other influences which join in 
 working this result. 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 407 
 
 In early assemblies of men similarly armed, it must happen 
 that though the inferior many will recognize that authority 
 of the superior few which is due to their leaderships as 
 warriors, to their clan-headships, or to their supposed super- 
 natural descent ; yet the superior few, conscious that they are 
 no match for the inferior many in a physical contest, will be 
 obliged to treat their opinions with some deference — will not 
 be able completely to monopolize power. But as fast as 
 there progresses that class-differentiation before described, and 
 as fast as the superior few acquire better weapons than the 
 inferior many, or, as among various ancient peoples, have war- 
 chariots, or, as in mediaeval Europe, wear coats of mail or plate 
 armour and are mounted on horses, they, feeling their advantage, 
 will pay less respect to the opinions of the many. And the 
 habit of ignoring their opinions will be followed by the habit of 
 regarding any expression of their opinions as an impertinence. 
 
 This usurpation will be furthered by the growth of those 
 bodies of armed dependents with which the superior few 
 surround themselves — mercenaries and others, who, while 
 unconnected with the common freemen, are bound by fealty 
 to their employers. These, too, with better weapons and 
 defensive appliances than the mass, will be led to regard 
 them with contempt and to aid in subordinating them. 
 
 Not only on the occasions of general assemblies, but from 
 day to day in their respective localities, the increasing powers 
 of the nobles thus caused, will tend to reduce the freemen 
 more and more to the rank of dependents ; and especially so 
 where the military service of such nobles to their king is 
 dispensed with or allowed to lapse, as happened in Denmark 
 about the thirteenth century. 
 
 “ The free peasantry, who were originally independent proprietors of 
 the soil, and had an equal suffrage with the highest nobles in the land, 
 were thus compelled to seek the protection of these powerful lords, and 
 to come under vassalage to some neighbouring Herremand, or bishop, 
 or convent. The provincial diets, or Lands-Ting, were gradually super- 
 seded by the general national parliament of the Dannehnf Adel Ting, 
 or Herredag ; the latter being exclusively composed of the princes, pre- 
 
408 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 lates, and other great men of the kingdom. ... As the influence 
 of the peasantry had declined, whilst the burghers did not yet enjoy 
 any share of political power, the constitution, although disjointed and 
 fluctuating, was rapidly approaching the form it ultimately assumed ; 
 that of a feudal and sacerdotal oligarchy.” 
 
 Another influence conducing to loss of power by the armed 
 freemen, and gain of power by the armed chiefs who form 
 the consultative body, follows that widening of the occupied 
 area which goes along with the compounding and re-com- 
 pounding of societies. As Eichter remarks of the Mero- 
 vingian period, “ under Chlodovecli and his immediate 
 successors, the people assembled in arms had a real participa- 
 tion in the resolutions of the king. But, with the increasing 
 size of the kingdom, the meeting of the entire people became 
 impossible : ” only those who lived near the appointed places 
 could attend. Two facts, one already given under another 
 head, may be named as illustrating this effect. “The 
 greatest national council in Madagascar is an assembly of the 
 people of the capital, and the heads of the provinces, districts, 
 towns, villages,” &c. ; and, speaking of the English Witenage- 
 mot, Mr. Freeman says — “ sometimes we find direct mention 
 of the presence of large and popular classes of men, as the 
 citizens of London or Winchester : ” the implication in both 
 cases being that all freemen had a right to attend, but that 
 only those on the spot could avail themselves of the right. 
 This cause for restriction, which is commented upon by Mr. 
 Freeman, operates in several ways. When a kingdom has 
 become large, the actual cost of a journey to the place fixed 
 for the meeting, is too great to be borne by a man who owns 
 but a few acres. Further, there is the indirect cost entailed 
 by loss of time, which, to one who personally labours or 
 superintends labour, is serious. Again, there is the danger, 
 which in turbulent times is considerable, save to those who go 
 with bodies of armed retainers. And, obviously, these deter- 
 rent causes must tell where, for the above reasons, the incen- 
 tives to attend have become small. 
 
 Yet one more cause co-operates. An assembly of all the 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 409 
 
 armed freemen included in a large society, could they be 
 gathered, would be prevented from taking active part in the 
 proceedings, both by its size and by its lack of organization. 
 A multitude consisting of those who have come from scattered 
 points over a wide country, mostly unknown to one another, 
 unable to hold previous communication and therefore without 
 plans, as well as without leaders, cannot cope with the rela- 
 tively small but well-organized body of those having common 
 ideas and acting in concert. 
 
 Nor should there be omitted the fact that when the causes 
 above named have conspired to decrease the attendance of 
 men in arms who live afar off, and when there grows up the 
 usage of summoning the more important among them, it 
 naturally happens that in course of time the receipt of a 
 summons becomes the authority for attendance, and the 
 absence of a summons becomes equivalent to the absence of 
 a right to attend. 
 
 Here, then, are several influences, all directly or indirectly 
 consequent upon war, which join in differentiating the con- 
 sultative body from the mass of armed freemen out of which 
 it arises. 
 
 § 494. Given the ruler, and given the consultative body 
 thus arising, there remains to ask — What are the causes of 
 change in their relative powers ? Always between these two 
 authorities there must be a struggle — each trying to subordi- 
 nate the other. Under what conditions, then, is the king 
 enabled to over-ride the consultative body ? and under what 
 conditions is the consultative body enabled to over-ride the 
 king ? 
 
 A belief in the superhuman nature of the king gives him 
 an immense advantage in the contest for supremacy. If he is 
 god-descended, open opposition to his will by his advisers is 
 out of the question ; and members of his council, singly or in 
 combination, dare do no more than tender humble advice. 
 Moreover, if the line of succession is so settled that there 
 
410 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 rarely or never occur occasions on which the king has to be 
 elected by the chief men, so that they have no opportunity of 
 choosing one who will conform to their wishes, they are 
 further debarred from maintaining any authority. Hence, 
 habitually, we do not find consultative bodies having an inde- 
 pendent status in the despotically-governed countries of the 
 East, ancient or modern. Though we read of the Egyptian 
 king that “ he appears to have been attended in war by the 
 council of the thirty, composed apparently of privy councillors, 
 scribes, and high officers of state,” the implication is that the 
 members of this council were functionaries, having such 
 powers only as the king deputed to them. Similarly in 
 Babylonia and Assyria, attendants and others who performed 
 the duties of ministers and advisers to the god-descended 
 rulers, did not form established assemblies for deliberative 
 purposes. In ancient Persia, too, there was a like condition. 
 The hereditary king, almost sacred and bearing extravagant 
 titles, though subject to some check from princes and nobles 
 of royal blood who were leaders of the army, and who ten- 
 dered advice, was not under the restraint of a constituted 
 body of them. Throughout the history of Japan down to our 
 own time, a kindred state of things existed. The Daimios 
 were required to reside in the capital during prescribed inter- 
 vals, as a precaution against insubordination ; but they were 
 never, while there, called together to take any share in the 
 government. So too is it in China. We are told that, 
 “ although there is nominally no deliberative or advisatory 
 body in the Chinese government, and nothing really analo- 
 gous to a congress, parliament, or tiers etat, still necessity 
 compels the emperor to consult and advise with some of his 
 officers.” Nor does Europe fail to yield us evidence of like 
 meaning. I do not refer only to the case of Russia, but 
 more especially to the case of France during the time 
 when monarchy had assumed an absolute form. In the age 
 when divines like Bossuet taught that “ the king is account- 
 able to no one . . . the whole state is in him, and the will 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 411 
 
 of the whole people is contained in his in the age when 
 the king (Louis XIV.), “ imbued with the idea of his omnipo- 
 tence and divine mission/' “ was regarded by his subjects with 
 adoration/' he “ had extinguished and absorbed even the 
 minutest trace, idea, and recollection of all other authority 
 except that which emanated from himself alone/' Along 
 with establishment of hereditary succession and acquirement 
 of semi-divine character, such power of the other estates as 
 existed in early days had disappeared. 
 
 Conversely, there are cases showing that where the king 
 has never had, or does not preserve, the prestige of supposed 
 descent from a god, and v T here he continues to be elective, 
 the powder of the consultative body is apt to over-ride the 
 royal power, and eventually to suppress it. The first to be 
 named is that of Borne. Originally “ the king convoked the 
 senate wdien he pleased, and laid before it his questions ; no 
 senator might declare his opinion unasked ; still less might the 
 senate meet without being summoned." But here, where the 
 king, though regarded as having divine approval tvas not held 
 to be of divine descent, and where, though usually nominated 
 by a predecessor he was sometimes practically elected by the 
 senate, and always submitted to the form of popular assent, 
 the consultative body presently became supreme. “ The 
 senate had in course of time been converted from a corporation 
 intended merely to advise the magistrates, into a board com- 
 manding the magistrates and self-governing." Afterwards 
 “ the right of nominating and cancelling senators originally 
 belonging to the magistrates was withdrawn from them /' 
 and finally, “ the irremovable character and life-tenure of the 
 members of the ruling order who obtained seat and vote, was 
 definitely consolidated:" the oligarchic constitution became 
 pronounced. The history of Poland yields another example. 
 After unions of simply-governed tribes had produced small 
 states, and generated a nobility ; and after these small states 
 had been united ; there arose a kingship. At first elective, as 
 kingships habitually are, this continued so — never became 
 
412 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 hereditary. On the occasion of each election out of the royal 
 clan, there was an opportunity of choosing for king one whose 
 character the turbulent nobles thought fittest for their own 
 purposes ; and hence it resulted that the power of the king- 
 ship decayed. Eventually — 
 
 “ Of the three orders into which the state was divided, the king, though 
 his authority had been anciently despotic, was the least important. His 
 dignity was unaccompanied with power ; he was merely the president 
 of the senate, and the chief judge of the republic.” 
 
 And then there is the instance furnished by Scandinavia, 
 already named in another relation. Danish, Norwegian, and 
 Swedish kings were originally elective ; and though, on sundry 
 occasions, hereditary succession became for a time the usage, 
 there were repeated lapses into the elective form, with the 
 result that predominance was gained by the feudal chieftains 
 and prelates forming the consultative body. 
 
 § 495. The second element in the tri-une political struc- 
 ture is thus, like the first, developed by militancy. By this 
 the ruler is eventually separated from all below him ; and by 
 this the superior few are gradually integrated into a delibera- 
 tive body, separated from the inferior many. 
 
 That the council of war, formed of leading warriors who 
 debate in presence of their followers, is the germ out of which 
 the consultative body arises, is implied by the survival of 
 usages which show that a political gathering is originally a 
 gathering of armed men. In harmony with this implication 
 are such facts as that after a comparatively settled state has 
 been reached, the power of the assembled people is limited to 
 accepting or rejecting the proposals made, and that the mem- 
 bers of the consultative body, summoned by the ruler, who is 
 also the general, give their opinions only wdien invited by him 
 to do so. 
 
 Nor do we lack clues to the process by which the primitive 
 war-council grows, consolidates, and separates itself. Within 
 the >varrior class, which is also the land-owning class, war 
 
CONSULTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 413 
 
 produces increasing differences of wealth as well as increas- 
 ing differences of status ; so that, along with the com- 
 pounding and re-compounding of groups, brought about 
 by war, the military leaders come to be distinguished as 
 large land-owners and local rulers. Hence members of the 
 consultative body become contrasted with the freemen at 
 large, not only as leading warriors are contrasted with their 
 followers, but still more as men of wealth and authority. 
 
 This increasing contrast between the second and third 
 elements of the tri-une political structure, ends in separation 
 when, in course of time, war consolidates large territories. 
 Armed freemen scattered over a wide area are deterred from 
 attending the periodic assemblies by cost of travel, by cost of 
 time, by danger, and also by the experience that multitudes 
 of men unprepared and unorganized, are helpless in presence 
 of an organized few, better armed and mounted, and with 
 bands of retainers. So that passing through a time during 
 which only the armed freemen living near the place of meet- 
 ing attend, there comes a time when even these, not being 
 summoned, are considered as having no right to attend ; and 
 thus the consultative body becomes completely differentiated. 
 
 Changes in the relative powers of the ruler and the con- 
 sultative body are determined by obvious causes. If the king 
 retains or acquires the repute of supernatural descent or 
 authority, and the law of hereditary succession is so settled 
 as to exclude election, those who might else have formed a 
 consultative body having co-ordinate power, become simply 
 appointed advisers. But if the king has not the prestige of 
 supposed sacred origin or commission, the consultative body 
 retains power ; and if the king continues to be elective, it is 
 liable to become an oligarchy. 
 
 Of course it is not alleged that all consultative bodies have 
 been generated in the way described, or are constituted in 
 like manner. Societies broken up by wars or dissolved by 
 revolutions, may preserve so little of their primitive organiza- 
 tions that there remain no classes of the kinds out of which 
 
414 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 such consultative bodies as those described arise. Or, as we 
 see in our own colonies, societies may have been formed in 
 ways which have not fostered classes of land-owning militant 
 chiefs, and therefore do not furnish the elements out of which 
 consultative bodies, in their primitive shapes, are composed. 
 Under conditions of these kinds the assemblies answering to 
 them, so far as may be, in position and function, arise under 
 the influence of tradition or example ; and in default of men 
 of the original kind are formed of others — generally, how- 
 ever, of those who by position, seniority, or previous official 
 experience, are more eminent than those forming popular 
 assemblies. It is only to what may be called normal consulta- 
 tive bodies which grow up during that compounding and re- 
 compounding of small societies into larger ones which war 
 effects, that the foregoing account applies ; and the senates, 
 or superior chambers, which come into existence under later 
 and more complex conditions, may be considered as homolo- 
 gous to them in function and composition so far only as the 
 new conditions permit. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 § 496. Amid the varieties and complexities of political 
 organization, it has proved not impossible to discern the ways 
 in which simple political heads and compound political heads 
 are evolved; and how, under certain conditions, the two 
 become united as ruler and consultative body. But to see 
 how a representative body arises, proves to be more difficult ; 
 for both process and product are more variable. Less specific 
 results must content us. 
 
 As hitherto, so again, we must go back to the beginning to 
 take up the clue. Out of that earliest stage of the savage 
 horde in which there is no supremacy beyond that of the 
 man whose strength, or courage, or cunning, gives him pre- 
 dominance, the first step is to the practice of election — - 
 deliberate choice of a leader in war. About the conducting 
 of elections in rude tribes, travellers say little : probably the 
 methods used are various. But we have accounts of elections 
 as they were made by European peoples during early times. 
 In ancient Scandinavia, the chief of a province chosen by the 
 assembled people, was thereupon “ elevated amidst the clash 
 of arms and the shouts of the multitude ; ” and among the 
 ancient Germans he was raised on a shield, as also was the 
 popularly-approved Merovingian king. Recalling, as this 
 ceremony does, the chairing of a newly-elected member of 
 parliament up to recent times ; and reminding us that origi- 
 nally an election was by show of hands ; we are taught that 
 the choice of a representative was once identical with the 
 
416 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 choice of a chief. Our House of Commons had its roots in 
 local gatherings like those in which uncivilized tribes select 
 head warriors. 
 
 Besides conscious selection there occurs among rude peoples 
 selection by lot. The Samoans, for instance, by spinning a 
 cocoa-nut, which, on coming to rest, points to one of the sur- 
 rounding persons, thereby single him out. Early historic 
 races supply illustrations ; as the Hebrews in the affair of 
 Saul and Jonathan, and as the Homeric Greeks when fixing 
 on a champion to fight with Hector. In both these last cases 
 there was belief in supernatural interference: the lot was 
 supposed to be divinely determined. And probably at the 
 outset, choice by lot for political purposes among the Athe- 
 nians, and for military purposes among the Bomans, as also 
 in later times the use of the lot for choosing deputies in some 
 of the Italian republics, and in Spain (as in Leon during the 
 twelfth century) was influenced by a kindred belief ; though 
 doubtless the desire to give equal chances to rich and poor, or 
 else to assign without dispute a mission which was onerous or 
 dangerous, entered into the motive or was even predominant. 
 Here, however, the fact to be noted is that this mode of 
 choice which plays a part in representation, may also be 
 traced back to the usages of primitive peoples. 
 
 So, too, we find foreshadowed the process of delegation. 
 Groups of men who open negociations, or who make their 
 submission, or who send tribute, habitually appoint certain 
 of their number to act for them. The method is, indeed, 
 necessitated ; since a tribe cannot well perform such actions 
 bodily. Whence, too, it appears that the sending of repre- 
 sentatives is, at the first stage, originated by causes like those 
 which re-originate it at a later stage. Eor as the will of the 
 tribe, readily displayed in its assemblies to its own members, 
 cannot be thus displayed to other tribes, but must, in respect 
 of inter-tribal matters be communicated by deputy ; so in a 
 large nation, the people of each locality, able to govern them- 
 selves locally, but unable to join the peoples of remote 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 417 
 
 localities in deliberations which concern them all, have to 
 send one or more persons to express their will. Distance in 
 both cases changes direct utterance of the popular voice into 
 indirect utterance. 
 
 Before observing the conditions under which this singling 
 out of individuals in one or other way for specified duties, 
 comes to be used in the formation of a representative body, 
 we must exclude classes of cases not relevant to our present 
 inquiry. Though representation as ordinarily conceived, and 
 as here to be dealt with, is associated with a popular form of 
 government, yet the connexion between them is not a neces- 
 sary one. In some places and times representation has co- 
 existed with entire exclusion of the masses from power. In 
 Poland, both before and after the so-called republican form 
 was assumed, the central diet, in addition to senators 
 nominated by the king, was composed of nobles elected in 
 provincial assemblies of nobles : the people at large being 
 powerless and mostly serfs. In Hungary, too, up to recent 
 times, the privileged class which, even after it had been 
 greatly enlarged readied only “ one-twentieth of the adult 
 males,” alone formed the basis of representation. “ A Hun- 
 garian county before the reforms of 1848 might be called a 
 direct aristocratical republic : ” all members of the noble class 
 having a right to attend the local assembly and vote in 
 appointing a representative noble to the general diet; but 
 members of the inferior classes having no shares in the 
 government. 
 
 Other representative bodies than those of an exclusively 
 aristocratic kind, must be named as not falling within the 
 scope of this chapter. As Duruy remarks — “ Antiquity was 
 not as ignorant as is supposed of the representative sys- 
 tem. . . . Each Eoman province had its general assem- 
 blies. . . . Thus the Lycians possessed a true legislative 
 body formed by the deputies of their twenty-three towns. ,, 
 “This assembly had even executive functions.” And Gaul, 
 Spain, all the eastern provinces, and Greece, had like assem- 
 
418 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 blies. But, little as is known of them, the inference is 
 tolerably safe that these were but distantly allied in genesis 
 and position to the bodies we now distinguish as representa- 
 tive. Nor are we concerned with those senates and councils 
 elected by different divisions of a town-population (such as 
 were variously formed in the Italian republics) which served 
 simply as agents whose doings were subject to the directly- 
 expressed approval or disapproval of the assembled citizens. 
 Here we must limit ourselves to that kind of representative 
 body which arises in communities occupying areas so large 
 that their members are obliged to exercise by deputy such 
 powers as they possess ; and, further, we have to deal exclu- 
 sively with cases in which the assembled deputies do not 
 replace pre-existing political agencies but cooperate witli 
 them. 
 
 It will be well to set out by observing, more distinctly 
 than we have hitherto done, what part of the primitive 
 political structure it is from which the representative body, 
 as thus conceived, originates. 
 
 § 497. Broadly, this question is tacitly answered by the 
 contents of preceding chapters. For if, on occasions of public 
 deliberation, the primitive horde spontaneously divides into 
 the inferior many and the superior few, among whom some one 
 is most influential ; and if, in the course of that compounding 
 and re-compounding of groups which war brings about, the 
 recognized war-chief develops into the king, while the superior 
 few become the consultative body formed of minor military 
 leaders ; it follows that any third co-ordinate political power 
 must be either the mass of the inferior itself, or else some 
 agency acting on its behalf. Truism though this may be 
 called, it is needful here to set it down ; since, before 
 inquiring under what circumstances the growth of a repre- 
 sentative system follows the growth of popular power, we 
 have to recognize the relation between the two. 
 
 The undistinguished mass, retaining a latent supremacy in 
 
REPKESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 419 
 
 simple societies not yet politically organized, though it is 
 brought under restraint as fast as war establishes obedience, 
 and conquests produce class-differentiations, tends, when 
 occasion permits, to re-assert itself. The sentiments and 
 beliefs, organized and transmitted, which, during certain 
 stages of social evolution, lead the many to submit to the 
 few, come, under some circumstances, to be traversed by other 
 sentiments and beliefs. Passing references have been in 
 several places made to these. Here we must consider them 
 seriatim and more at length. 
 
 One factor in the development of the patriarchal group 
 during the pastoral stage, was shown to be the fostering of 
 subordination to its head by war ; since, continually, there 
 survived the groups in which subordination was greatest. 
 But if so, the implication is that, conversely, cessation of 
 war tends to diminish subordination. Members of the com- 
 pound family, originally living together and fighting together, 
 become less strongly bound in proportion as they have less 
 frequently to cooperate for joint defence under their head. 
 Hence, the more peaceful the state the more independent 
 become the multiplying divisions forming the gens, the 
 phratry, and the tribe. With progress of industrial life arises 
 greater freedom of action — especially among the distantly- 
 related members of the group. 
 
 So must it be, too, in a feudally-governed assemblage. 
 While standing quarrels with neighbours are ever leading to 
 local battles — while bodies of men-at-arms are kept ready, 
 and vassals are from time to time summoned to fight — 
 while, as a concomitant of military service, acts of homage 
 are insisted upon; there is maintained a regimental sub- 
 jection running through the group. But as fast as aggres- 
 sions and counter-aggressions become less frequent, the 
 carrying of arms becomes less needful; there is less occa- 
 sion for periodic expressions of fealty; and there is an 
 increase of daily actions performed without direction of a 
 superior, whence a fostering of individuality of character. 
 
420 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 These changes are furthered by the decline of superstitious 
 beliefs concerning the natures of head men, general and local. 
 As before shown, the ascription of superhuman origin, or 
 supernatural power, to the king, greatly strengthens his 
 hands ; and where the chiefs of component groups have a 
 sacredness due to nearness in blood to the semi-divine 
 ancestor worshipped by all, or are members of an invading, 
 god-descended race, their authority over dependents is largely 
 enforced. By implication then, whatever undermines ancestor- 
 worship, and the system of beliefs accompanying it, favours 
 the growth of popular power. Doubtless the spread of 
 Christianity over Europe, by diminishing the prestige of 
 governors, major and minor, prepared the way for greater 
 independence of the governed. 
 
 These causes have relatively small effects where the people 
 are scattered. In rural districts the authority of political 
 superiors is weakened with comparative slowness. Even after 
 peace has become habitual, and local heads have lost their 
 semi-sacred characters, there cling to them awe-inspiring 
 traditions : they are not of ordinary flesh and blood. Wealth 
 which, through long ages, distinguishes the nobleman exclu- 
 sively, gives him both actual power and the power arising 
 from display. Fixed literally or practically, as the several 
 grades of his inferiors are during days when locomotion is 
 difficult, he long remains for them the solitary sample of a 
 great man. Others are only known by hearsay ; he is known 
 by experience. Inspection is easily maintained by him over 
 dependent and sub-dependent people ; and the disrespectful 
 or rebellious, if they cannot be punished overtly, can be 
 deprived of occupation, or otherwise so hindered in their 
 lives that they must submit or migrate. Down to our own 
 day, the behaviour of peasants and farmers to the squire, is 
 suggestive of the strong restraints which kept rural popula- 
 tions in semi-servile states after primitive controlling 
 influences had died away. 
 
 Converse effects may be expected under converse condi- 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 421 
 
 /r 
 
 tions; namely, where large numbers become closely aggre- 
 gated. Even if such large numbers are formed of groups 
 severally subordinate to heads of clans, or to feudal lords, 
 sundry influences combine to diminish subordination. When 
 there are present in the same place many superiors to whom 
 respectively their dependents owe obedience, these superiors 
 tend to dwarf one another. The power of no one is so im- 
 posing if there are daily seen others who make like displays. 
 Further, when groups of dependents are mingled, supervision 
 cannot be so well maintained by their heads. And this which 
 hinders the exercise of control, facilitates combination among 
 those to be controlled : conspiracy is made easier and detec- 
 tion of it more difficult. Again, jealous of one another, as 
 these heads of clustered groups are likely in such circum- 
 stances to be, they are prompted severally to strengthen 
 themselves; and to this end, competing for popularity, are 
 tempted to relax the restraints over their inferiors and to 
 give protection to inferiors ill-used by other heads. Still 
 more are their powers undermined when the assemblage 
 includes many aliens. As before implied, this above all 
 causes favours the growth of popular power. In proportion 
 as immigrants, detached from the gentile or feudal divisions 
 they severally belong to, become numerous, they weaken the 
 structures of the divisions among which they live. Such 
 organization as these strangers fall into is certain to be a 
 looser one; and their influence acts as a dissolvent to the 
 surrounding organizations. 
 
 And here we are brought back to the truth which cannot 
 
 be too much insisted upon, that growth of popular power is 
 in all ways associated with trading activities. For only by 
 trading activities can many people be brought to live in close 
 contact. Physical necessities maintain the wide dispersion 
 of a rural population ; while physical necessities impel the 
 gathering together of those who are commercially occupied. 
 Evidence from various countries and times shows that periodic 
 gatherings for religious rites, or other public purposes, furnish 
 
422 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 opportunities for buying and selling, which are habitually 
 utilized ; and this connexion between the assembling of many 
 people and the exchanging of commodities, which first shows 
 itself at intervals, becomes a permanent connexion where 
 many people become permanently assembled — where a town 
 grows up in the neighbourhood of a temple, or around a 
 stronghold, or in a place favoured by local circumstances for 
 some manufacture. 
 
 Industrial development further aids popular emancipation 
 by generating an order of men whose power, derived from 
 their wealth, competes with, and begins in some cases to 
 exceed, the power of those who previously were alone wealthy 
 — the men of rank. While this initiates a conflict which 
 diminishes the influence previously exercised by patriarchal 
 or feudal heads only, it also initiates a milder form of sub- 
 ordination. Eising, as the rich trader habitually does in early 
 times, from the non-privileged class, the relation between 
 him and those under him is one from which there is excluded 
 the idea of personal subjection. In proportion as the indus- 
 trial activities grow predominant, they make familiar a con- 
 nexion between employer and employed which differs from 
 the relation between master and slave, or lord and vassal, by 
 not including allegiance. Under earlier conditions there does 
 not exist the idea of detached individual life — life which 
 neither receives protection from a clan-head or feudal supe- 
 rior, nor is carried on in obedience to him. But in town 
 populations, made up largely of refugees, who either become 
 small traders or are employed by great ones, the experience 
 of a relatively-independent life becomes common, and the 
 conception of it clear. 
 
 And the form of cooperation distinctive of the industrial 
 state thus arising, fosters the feelings and thoughts appro- 
 priate to popular power. In daily usage there is a balancing 
 of claims ; and the idea of equity is, generation after genera- 
 tion, made more definite. The relations between employer 
 and employed, and between buyer and seller, can be main- 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 423 
 
 tained only on condition that the obligations on either side 
 are fulfilled. Where they are not fulfilled the relation lapses, 
 and leaves outstanding those relations in which they are ful- 
 filled. Commercial success and growth have thus, as their 
 inevitable concomitants, the maintenance of the respective 
 rights of those concerned, and a strengthening consciousness 
 of them. 
 
 In brief, then, dissolving in various ways the old relation 
 of status , and substituting the new relation of contract (to 
 use Sir Henry Maine’s antithesis), progressing industrialism 
 brings together masses of people who by their circumstances 
 are enabled, and by their discipline prompted, to modify the 
 political organization which militancy has bequeathed. 
 
 § 498. It is common to speak of free forms of government 
 as having been initiated by happy accidents. Antagonisms 
 between different powers in the State, or different factions, 
 have caused one or other of them to bid for popular support, 
 with the result of increasing popular power. The king’s 
 jealousy of the aristocracy has induced him to enlist the 
 sympathies of the people (sometimes serfs but more fre- 
 quently citizens) and therefore to favour them ; or, otherwise, 
 the people have profited by alliance with the aristocracy in 
 resisting royal tyrannies and exactions. Doubtless, the facts 
 admit of being thus presented. With conflict there habitually 
 goes the desire for allies ; and throughout mediaeval Europe 
 while the struggles between monarchs and barons were 
 chronic, the support of the towns was important. Germany, 
 France, Spain, Hungary, furnish illustrations. 
 
 But it is an error to regard occurrences of these kinds as 
 causes of popular powder. They are to be regarded rather as 
 the conditions under which the causes take effect. These 
 incidental weakenings of pre-existing institutions, do but 
 furnish opportunities for the action of the pent-up force which 
 is ready to work political changes. Three factors in this 
 force may be distinguished : — the relative mass of those com- 
 
424 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 posing the industrial communities as distinguished from those 
 embodied in the older forms of organization ; the permanent 
 sentiments and ideas produced in them by their mode of 
 life ; and the temporary emotions roused by special acts of 
 oppression or by distress. Let us observe the cooperation of 
 these. 
 
 Two instances, occurring first in order of time, are fur- 
 nished by the Athenian democracy. The condition which 
 preceded the Solonian legislation, was one of violent dis- 
 sension among political factions ; and there was also “ a 
 general mutiny of the poorer population against the rich, re- 
 sulting from misery combined with oppression.” The more 
 extensive diffusion of power effected by the revolution which 
 Kleisthenes brought about, occurred under kindred circum- 
 stances. The relatively-detached population of immigrant 
 traders, had so greatly increased between the time of Solon 
 and that of Kleisthenes, that the four original tribes forming 
 the population of Attica had to be replaced by ten. And 
 then this augmented mass, largely composed of men not 
 under clan-discipline, and therefore less easily restrained by 
 the ruling classes, forced itself into predominance at a time 
 when the ruling classes were divided. Though it is said that 
 Kleisthenes “ being vanquished in a party contest with his 
 rival, took the people into partnership” — though the change 
 is represented as being one thus personally initiated ; yet in 
 the absence of that voluminous popular will which had long 
 been growing,, the political re-organization could not have 
 been made, or, if made, could not have been maintained. 
 The remark which Grote quotes from Aristotle, “ that sedi- 
 tions are generated by great causes but out of small incidents,” 
 if altered slightly by writing “political changes” instead of 
 “seditions,” fully applies. Tor clearly, once having been 
 enabled to assert itself, this popular power could not be forth- 
 with excluded. Kleisthenes could not under such circum- 
 stances have imposed on so large a mass of men arrangements 
 at variance with their wishes. Practically, therefore, it was the 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 425 
 
 growing industrial power which then produced, and thereafter 
 preserved, the democratic organization. Turning to 
 
 Italy, we first note that the establishment of the small 
 republics, referred to in a preceding chapter as having been 
 simultaneous with the decay of imperial power, may here be 
 again referred to more specifically as having been simul- 
 taneous with that conflict of authorities which caused this 
 decay. Says Sismondi, “ the war of investitures gave wing 
 to this universal spirit of liberty and patriotism in all the 
 municipalities of Lombardy, of Piedmont, Venetia, Romagna, 
 and Tuscany.” In other words, while the struggle between 
 Emperor and Pope absorbed the strength of both, it became 
 possible for the people to assert themselves. And at a later 
 time, Florence furnished an instance similar in nature if 
 somewhat different in form. 
 
 “ At the moment when ‘ Florence expelled the Medici, that republic 
 was bandied between three different parties/ Savonarola took advan- 
 tage of this state of affairs to urge that the people should reserve their 
 power to themselves, and exercise it by a council. His proposition was 
 agreed to, and this ‘ council was declared sovereign/ ” 
 
 In the case of Spain, again, popular power increased during 
 the troubles accompanying the minority of Fernando IY. ; 
 and of the periodic assemblies subsequently formed by 
 deputies from certain towns (which met without authority of 
 the Government) we read that — 
 
 “ The desire of the Government to frustrate the aspiring schemes of 
 the Infantes de la Cerda, and their numerous adherents, made the 
 attachment of these assemblies indispensable. The disputes during the 
 minority of Alfonso XI. more than ever favoured the pretensions of 
 the third estate. Each of the candidates for the regency paid assiduous 
 court to the municipal authorities, in the hope of obtaining the neces- 
 sary suffrages / 5 
 
 And how all this was consequent on industrial development, 
 appears in the facts that many, if not most, of these associated 
 towns, had arisen during a preceding age by the re-coloniza- 
 tion of regions desolated during the prolonged contests of 
 Moors and Christians ; and that these “ poblaciones,” or com- 
 munities of colonists, which, scattered over these vast tracts 
 
426 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 grew into prosperous towns, had been formed of serfs and 
 artizans to whom various privileges, including those of self- 
 government, were given by royal charter. With 
 
 which examples must be joined the example familiar to all. 
 For in England it was during the struggle between king and 
 barons, when the factions were nearly balanced, and when 
 the town-populations had been by trade so far increased that 
 their aid was important, that they came to play a noticeable 
 part, first as allies in war and afterwards as sharers in govern- 
 ment. It cannot be doubted that when summoning to the 
 parliament of 1265, not only knights of the shire but also 
 deputies from cities and boroughs, Simon of Montfort w T as 
 prompted by the desire to strengthen himself against the 
 royal party supported by the Pope. And whether he sought 
 thus to increase his adherents, or to obtain larger pecuniary 
 means, or both, the implication equally is that the urban 
 populations had become a relatively-important part of the 
 nation. This interpretation harmonizes with subsequent 
 events. For though the representation of towns afterwards 
 lapsed, yet it shortly revived, and in 1295 became established. 
 As Hume remarks, such an institution could not “have 
 attained to so vigorous a growth and have flourished in the 
 midst of such tempests and convulsions,” unless it had been 
 one, “ for which the general state of things had already pre- 
 pared the nation the truth here to be added being that this 
 “ general state of things” was the augmented mass, and hence 
 augmented influence, of the free industrial communities. 
 
 Confirmation is supplied by cases showing that power 
 gained by the people during times when the regal and aris- 
 tocratic powers are diminished by dissension, is lost again if, 
 while the old organization recovers its stability and activity, 
 industrial growth does not make proportionate progress. 
 Spain, or more strictly Castile, yields an example. Such 
 share in government as was acquired by those industrial 
 communities which grew up during the colonization of the 
 waste lands, became, in the space of a few reigns characterized 
 
KEPBE SENT ATIYE BODIES. 427 
 
 by successful wars and resulting consolidations, scarcely more 
 than nominal. 
 
 § 499. It is instructive to note how that primary incentive 
 to cooperation which initiates social union at large, continues 
 afterwards to initiate special unions within the general union. 
 For just as external militancy sets up and carries on the 
 organization of the whole, so does internal militancy set up 
 and carry on the organization of the parts ; even when those 
 parts, industrial in their activities, are intrinsically non- 
 militant. On looking into their histories we find that the 
 increasing clusters of people who, forming towns, lead lives 
 essentially distinguished by continuous exchange of services 
 under agreement, develop their governmental structures 
 during their chronic antagonisms with the surrounding mili- 
 tant clusters. 
 
 We see, first, that these settlements of traders, growing 
 important and obtaining royal charters, were by doing this 
 placed in quasi-militant positions — became in modified ways 
 holders of fiefs from their king, and had the associated re- 
 sponsibilities. Habitually they paid dues of sundry kinds 
 equivalent in general nature to those paid by feudal tenants ; 
 and, like them, they were liable to military service. In 
 Spanish chartered towns “ this was absolutely due from every 
 inhabitant and “ every man of a certain property was bound 
 to serve on horseback or pay a fixed sum.” In France “ in 
 the charters of incorporation which towns received, the 
 number of troops required was usually expressed.” And in 
 the chartered royal burghs of Scotland “ every burgess was a 
 direct vassal of the crown.” 
 
 Next observe that industrial towns (usually formed by 
 coalescence of pre-existing rural divisions rendered populous 
 because local circumstances favoured some form of trade, and 
 presently becoming places of hiding for fugitives, and of 
 security for escaped serfs) began to stand toward the small 
 feudally-governed groups around them, in relations like those 
 
428 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 in which these stood to one another : competing with them 
 for adherents, and often fortifying themselves. Sometimes, 
 too, as in France in the 13th century, towns became suze- 
 rains, while communes had the right of war in numerous 
 cases; and in England in early days the maritime towns 
 carried on wars with one another. 
 
 Again there is the fact that these cities and boroughs, 
 which by royal charter or otherwise had acquired powers of 
 administering their own affairs, habitually formed within 
 themselves combinations for protective purposes. In England, 
 in Spain, in France, in Germany (sometimes with assent of 
 the king, sometimes notwithstanding his reluctance as in 
 England, sometimes in defiance of him, as in ancient Holland) 
 there rose up gilds, which, having their roots in the natural 
 unions among related persons, presently gave origin to frith- 
 gilds and merchant-gilds ; and these, defensive in their rela- 
 tions to one another, formed the bases of that municipal 
 organization which carried on the general defence against 
 aggressing nobles. 
 
 Once more, in countries where the antagonisms between 
 these industrial communities and the surrounding militant 
 communities were violent and chronic, the industrial com- 
 munities combined to defend themselves. In Spain the 
 “ poblaciones,” which when they flourished and grew into 
 large places were invaded and robbed by adjacent feudal 
 lords, formed leagues for mutual protection ; and at a later 
 date there arose, under like needs, more extensive confedera- 
 tions of cities and towns, which, under severe penalties for 
 non-fulfilment of the obligations, bound themselves to aid 
 one another in resisting aggressions, whether by king or 
 nobles. In Germany, too, we have the perpetual alliance 
 entered into by sixty towns on the Ehine in 1255, when, 
 during the troubles that followed the deposition of the 
 Emperor Frederic II., the tyranny of the nobles had become 
 insupportable. And we have the kindred unions formed 
 under like incentives in Holland and in France. So that, 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 429 
 
 both in small and in large ways, the industrial groups here 
 and there growing up within a nation, are, in many cases, 
 forced by local antagonisms partially to assume activities 
 and structures like those which the nation as a whole is 
 forced to assume in its antagonisms with nations around. 
 
 Here the implication chiefly concerning us is that if indus- 
 trialism is thus checked by a return to militancy, the growth 
 of popular power is arrested. Especially where, as happened 
 in the Italian republics, defensive war passes into offensive 
 war, and there grows up an ambition to conquer other terri- 
 tories and towns, the free form of government proper to 
 industrial life, becomes qualified by, if it does not revert to, 
 the coercive form accompanying militant life. Or where, as 
 happened in Spain, the feuds between towns and nobles con- 
 tinue through long periods, the rise of free institutions is 
 arrested; since, under such conditions, there can be neither 
 that commercial prosperity which produces large urban popu- 
 lations, nor a cultivation of the associated mental nature. 
 Whence it may be inferred that the growth of popular power 
 accompanying industrial growth in England, was largely due 
 to the comparatively small amount of this warfare between 
 the industrial groups and the feudal groups around them. 
 The effects of the trading life were less interfered with ; and 
 the local governing centres, urban and rural, were not pre- 
 vented from uniting to restrain the general centre. 
 
 § 500. And now let us consider more specifically how the 
 governmental influence of the people is acquired. By the 
 histories of organizations of whatever kind, we are shown 
 that the purpose originally subserved by some arrangement is 
 not always the purpose eventually subserved. It is so here. 
 Assent to obligations rather than assertion of rights has ordi- 
 narily initiated the increase of popular power. Even the 
 transformation effected by the revolution of Kleisthenes at 
 Athens, took the form of a re-distribution of tribes and demes 
 for purposes of taxation and military service. In Eome, too, 
 
430 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 that enlargement of the oligarchy which occurred under 
 Servius Tullius, had for its ostensible motive the imposing on 
 plebeians of obligations which up to that time had been 
 borne exclusively by patricians. But we shall best under- 
 stand this primitive relation between duty and power, in 
 which the duty is original and the power derived, by going 
 back once more to the beginning. 
 
 For when we remember that the primitive political assembly 
 is essentially a war-council, formed of leaders who debate in 
 presence of their followers ; and when we remember that in 
 early stages all free adult males, being warriors, are called on to 
 join in defensive or offensive actions ; we see that, originally, 
 the attendance of the armed freemen is in pursuance of the 
 military service to which they are bound, and that such power 
 as, when thus assembled, they exercise, is incidental. Later 
 stages yield clear proofs that this is the normal order ; for it 
 recurs where, after a political dissolution, political organiza- 
 tion begins de novo. Instance the Italian cities, in which, as 
 we have seen, the original “ parliaments,” summoned for 
 defence by the tocsin, included all the men capable of bearing 
 arms : the obligation to fight coming first, and the right to 
 vote coming second. And, naturally, this duty of attendance 
 survives when the primitive assemblage assumes other 
 functions than those of a militant kind ; as witness the before- 
 named fact that among the Scandinavians it was “ disrepu- 
 table for freemen not to attend ” the annual assembly ; and 
 the further facts that in France the obligation to be present at 
 the hundred-court in the Merovingian period, rested upon all 
 full freemen ; that in the Carolingian period “ non-attendance 
 is punished by fines” ; that in England the lower freemen, as 
 well as others, were “ bound to attend the shire-moot and 
 hundred-moot ” under penalty of “ large fines for neglect of 
 duty and that in the thirteenth century in Holland, when 
 the burghers were assembled for public purposes, “ anyone 
 ringing the town bell, except by general consent, and anyone 
 not appearing when it tolls, are liable to a fine.” 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 431 
 
 After recognizing this primitive relation between popular 
 duty and popular power, we shall more clearly understand 
 the relation as it re-appears when popular power begins to 
 revive along with the growth of industrialism. For here, 
 again, the fact meets us that the obligation is primary and the 
 power secondary. It is mainly as furnishing aid to the ruler, 
 generally for war purposes, that the deputies from towns 
 begin to share in public affairs. There recurs under a com- 
 plex form, that which at an early stage we see in a simple 
 form. Let us pause a moment to observe the transition. 
 
 As was shown when treating of Ceremonial Institutions, 
 the revenues of rulers are derived, at first wholly and after- 
 wards partially, from presents. The occasions on which 
 assemblies are called together to discuss public affairs (mainly 
 military operations for which supplies are needed) naturally 
 become the occasions on which the expected gifts are offered 
 'and received. When by successful wars the militant king 
 consolidates small societies into a large one — when there 
 comes an “ increase of royal power in intension as the king- 
 dom increases in extension ” (to quote the luminous expres- 
 sion of Prof. Stubbs) ; and when, as a consequence, the quasi- 
 voluntary gifts become more and more compulsory, though 
 still retaining such names as donum and auxilium ; it generally 
 happens that these exactions, passing a bearable limit, lead to 
 resistance : at first passive and in extreme cases active. If 
 by consequent disturbances the royal power is much weakened, 
 the restoration of order, if it takes place, is likely to take 
 place on the understanding that, with such modifications as 
 may be needful, the primitive system of voluntary gifts shall 
 be re-established. Thus, when in Spain the death of Sancho I. 
 was followed by political dissensions, the deputies from thirty- 
 two places, who assembled at Valladolid, decided that demands 
 made by the king beyond the customary dues should be 
 answered by death of the messenger ; and the need for gaining 
 the adhesion of the towns during the conflict with a pre- 
 tender, led to an apparent toleration of this attitude. Simi- 
 
432 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 larly in the next century, during disputes as to the regency 
 while Alphonse XI. was a minor, the cortes at Burgos 
 demanded that the towns should “contribute nothing beyond 
 what was prescribed in” their charters. Kindred causes 
 wrought kindred results in France ; as when, by an insur- 
 rectionary league, Louis Hutin was obliged to grant charters 
 to the nobles and burgesses of Picardy and of Normandy, 
 renouncing the right of imposing undue exactions; and as 
 when, on sundry occasions, the States-general were assembled 
 for the purpose of reconciling the nation to imposts levied 
 to carry on wars. Nor must its familiarity cause us to omit 
 the instance furnished by our own history, when, after pre- 
 liminary steps towards that end at St. Alban's and St. 
 Edmund’s, nobles and people at Eunnymede effectually 
 restrained the king from various tyrannies, and, among others, 
 from that of imposing taxes, without the consent of his sub- 
 jects. 
 
 And now what followed from arrangements which, with 
 modifications due to local conditions, were arrived at in several 
 countries under similar circumstances ? Evidently when the 
 king, hindered from enforcing unauthorized demands, had to 
 obtain supplies by asking his subjects, or the more powerful 
 of them, his motive for summoning them, or their representa- 
 tives, became primarily that of getting these supplies. The 
 predominance of this motive for calling together national 
 assemblies, may be inferred from its predominance previously 
 shown in connexion with local assemblies ; as instance a 
 writ of Henry I. concerning shire-moots, in which, professing 
 to restore ancient custom, he says — “ I will cause those courts 
 to be summoned when I will for my own sovereign necessity, 
 at my pleasure.” To vote money is therefpre the primary 
 purpose for which chief men and representatives are as- 
 sembled. 
 
 § 501. From the ability to prescribe conditions under which 
 money will be voted, grows the ability, and finally the right, 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 433 
 
 to join in legislation. This connexion is vaguely typified in 
 early stages of social evolution. Making gifts and getting 
 redress go together from the beginning. As was said of Gulab 
 Singh, when treating of presents— “ even in a crowd one 
 could catch his eye by holding up a rupee and crying out, 
 ‘Maharajah, a petition/ He would pounce down like a hawk 
 on the money, and, having appropriated it, would patiently 
 hear out the petitioner.”* I have in the same place given 
 further examples of this relation between yielding support to 
 the governing agency, and demanding protection from it ; and 
 the examples there given may be enforced by such others as 
 that, among ourselves in early days, “ the king's court itself, 
 though the supreme judicature of the kingdom, was open to 
 none that brought not presents to the king/’ and that, 
 as shown by the exchequer rolls, every remedy for a grievance 
 or security against aggression had to be paid for by a bribe : 
 a state of things which, as Hume remarks, was paralleled on 
 the Continent. 
 
 Such being the original connexion between support of the 
 political head and protection by the political head, the inter- 
 pretation of the actions of parliamentary bodies, when they 
 arise, becomes clear. Just as in rude assemblies of king, 
 military chiefs, and armed freemen, preserving in large 
 measure the primitive form, as those in France during the 
 Merovingian period, the presentation of gifts went along with 
 the transaction of public business, judicial as well as military 
 — just as in our own ancient shire-moot, local government, in- 
 cluding the administration of justice, was accompanied by the 
 furnishing of ships and the payment of “ a composition for 
 the feorm-fultum, or sustentation of the king so when, after 
 successful resistance to excess of royal power, there came 
 
 * Reference to the passage since made shows not only this initial relation, 
 but still more instructively shows that at the very beginning there arises the 
 question whether protection shall come first and payment afterwards, or pay- 
 ment first and protection afterwards. For the passage continues : — “ Once a 
 man after this fashion making a complaint, when the Maharajah was taking 
 the rupee, closed his hand on it, and said, ‘ No, first hear what I have to say.’ ” 
 
434 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 assemblies of nobles and representatives summoned by the 
 king, there re-appeared, on a higher platform, these simulta- 
 neous demands for money on the one side and for justice on 
 the other. We may assume it as certain that with an average 
 humanity, the conflicting egoisms of those concerned will be 
 the main factors ; and that on each side the aim will be to 
 give as little, and get as much, as circumstances allow. F ranee, 
 Spain, and England, yield examples which unite in showing 
 this. 
 
 When Charles Y. of France, in 1357, dismissing the States- 
 general for alleged encroachments on his rights, raised money 
 by further debasing the coinage, and caused a sedition in 
 Paris which endangered his life, there was, three months later, 
 a re-convocation of the States, in which the petitions of the 
 former assembly were acceded to, while a subsidy for war 
 purposes was voted. And of an assembled States-general in 
 1366, Hallam writes : — “ The necessity of restoring the coinage 
 is strongly represented as the grand condition upon which 
 they consented to tax the people, who had been long defrauded 
 by the base money of Philip the Fair and his successors.” 
 Again, in Spain, the incorporated towns, made liable by their 
 charters only for certain payments and services, had continually 
 to resist unauthorized demands ; while the kings, continually 
 promising not to take more than their legal and customary 
 dues, were continually breaking their promises. In 1328 
 Alfonso XI. “ bound himself not to exact from his people, or 
 cause them to pay, any tax, either partial or general, not 
 hitherto established by law, without the previous grant of all 
 the deputies convened by the Cortes.” And how little such 
 pledges were kept is shown by the fact that, in 1393, the Cortes 
 w T ho made a grant to Henry III., joined the condition that — 
 “ He should swear before one of the archbishops not to take or demand 
 any money, service, or loan, or anything else of the cities and towns, nor 
 of individuals belonging to them, on any pretence of necessity, until the 
 three estates of the kingdom should first be duly summoned and 
 assembled in Cortes according to ancient usage.” 
 
 Similarly in England during the time when parliamentary 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 435 
 
 power was being established. While, with national consoli- 
 dation, the royal authority had been approaching to absolute- 
 ness, there had been, by reaction, arising that resistance which, 
 resulting in the Great Charter, subsequently initiated the 
 prolonged struggle between the king, trying to break through 
 its restraints, and his subjects trying to maintain and to 
 strengthen them. The twelfth article of the Charter having 
 promised that no scutage or aid save those which were esta- 
 blished should be imposed without consent of the national 
 council, there perpetually recurred, both before and after the 
 expansion of Parliament, endeavours on the king’s part to 
 get supplies without redressing grievances, and endeavours on 
 the part of Parliament to make the voting of supplies con- 
 tingent on fulfilment of promises to redress grievances. 
 
 On the issue of this struggle depended the establishment of 
 popular power ; as we are shown by comparing the histories 
 of the French and Spanish Parliaments with that of the 
 English Parliament. Quotations above given prove that the 
 Cortes originally established, and for a time maintained, the 
 right to comply with or to refuse the king’s requests for 
 money, and to impose their conditions ; but they eventually 
 failed to get their conditions fulfilled. 
 
 “ In the struggling condition of Spanish liberty under Charles I., the 
 crown began to neglect answering the petitions of Cortes, or to use un- 
 satisfactory generalities of expression. This gave rise to many remon- 
 strances. The deputies insisted, in 1523, on having answers before they 
 granted money. They repeated the same contention in 1525, and 
 obtained a general law, inserted in the Recopilacion, enacting that the 
 king should answer all their petitions before he dissolved the assembly. 
 This, however, was disregarded as before.” 
 
 And thereafter rapidly went on the decay of parliamentary 
 power. Different in form but the same in nature, was the 
 change which occurred in France. Having at one time, as 
 shown above, made the granting of money conditional on the 
 obtainment of justice, the States-general was induced to 
 surrender its restraining powers. Charles VII. — 
 
 “ obtained from the States of the royal domains which met in 1439 that 
 10 
 
436 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 they [the tailles] should be declared permanent, and from 1444 he levied 
 them as such, i.e . uninterruptedly and without previous vote. . . . 
 The permanence of the tailles was extended to the provinces annexed 
 to the crown, but these preserved the right of voting them by their pro- 
 vincial estates. ... In the hands of Charles VII., and Louis XI., 
 the royal impost tended to be freed from all control. . . . Its amount 
 increased more and more.” 
 
 Whence, as related by Dareste, it resulted that “ when the 
 tailles and aides . . . had been made permanent, the 
 convocation of the States -general ceased to be necessary. 
 They were little more than show assemblies.” But in our 
 own case, during the century succeeding the final establish- 
 ment of Parliament, frequent struggles necessitated by royal 
 evasions, trickeries, and falsehoods, brought increasing power 
 to withhold supplies until petitions had been attended to. 
 
 Admitting that this issue was furthered by the conflicts of 
 political factions, which diminished the coercive power of the 
 king, the truth to be emphasized is that the increase of a free 
 industrial population was its fundamental cause. The calling 
 together knights of the shire, representing the class of small 
 landowners, which preceded on several occasions the calling 
 together deputies from towns, implied the growing im- 
 portance of this class as one from which money was to be 
 raised ; and when deputies from towns were summoned to the 
 Parliament of 1295, the form of summons shows that the 
 motive was to get pecuniary aid from portions of the popula- 
 tion which had become relatively considerable and rich. 
 Already the king had on more than one occasion sent special 
 agents to shires and boroughs to raise subsidies from them 
 for his wars. Already he had assembled provincial councils 
 formed of representatives from cities, boroughs, and market- 
 towns, that he might ask them for votes of money. And 
 when the great Parliament was called together, the reason set 
 forth in the writs was that wars with Wales, Scotland, and 
 France, were endangering the realm : the implication being 
 that the necessity for obtaining supplies led to this recogni- 
 tion of the towns as well as the counties. 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 437 
 
 So too was it in Scotland. The first known occasion on 
 which representatives from burghs entered into political 
 action, was when there was urgent need for pecuniary help 
 from all sources; namely, “at Cambuskenneth on the 15th 
 day of July, 1326, when Bruce claimed from his people a 
 revenue to meet the expenses of his glorious war and the 
 necessities of the State, which was granted to the monarch 
 by the earls, barons, burgesses, and free tenants, in full 
 parliament assembled.” 
 
 In which cases, while we are again shown that the obliga- 
 tion is original and the power derived, we are also shown that 
 it is the increasing mass of those who carry on life by volun- 
 tary cooperation instead of compulsory cooperation — partly 
 the rural class of small freeholders and still more the urban 
 class of traders — which initiates popular representation. 
 
 § 502. Still there remains the question — How does the 
 representative body become separate from the consultative 
 body ? Betaining the primitive character of councils of war, 
 national assemblies w T ere in the beginning mixed. The dif- 
 ferent “ arms,” as the estates were called in Spain, originally 
 formed a single body. Knights of the shire when first sum- 
 moned, acting on behalf of numerous smaller tenants of the 
 king owing military service, sat and voted with the greater 
 tenants. Standing, as towns did at the outset, very much in the 
 position of fiefs, those who represented them were not unallied 
 in legal status to feudal chiefs ; and, at first assembling with 
 these, in some cases remained united with them, as appears to 
 have been habitually the case in France and Spain. Under 
 what circumstances, then, do the consultative and representa- 
 tive bodies differentiate ? The question is one to which there 
 seems no very satisfactory answer. 
 
 Quite early we may see foreshadowed a tendency to part, 
 determined by unlikeness of functions. During the Carolin- 
 gian period in France, there were two annual gatherings : a 
 larger which all the armed freemen had a right to attend, and 
 
438 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 a smaller formed of the greater personages deliberating on 
 more special affairs. 
 
 “ If the weather was fine, all this passed in the open air ; if not, in 
 distinct buildings. . . . When the lay and ecclesiastical lords were 
 . . . separated from the multitude, it remained in their option to sit 
 together, or separately, according to the affairs of which they had to 
 treat.” 
 
 And that unlikeness of functions is a cause of separation 
 we find evidence in other places and times. Describing the 
 armed national assemblies of the Hungarians, originally 
 mixed, Levy writes : — “ La derniere reunion de ce genre eut 
 lieu quelque temps avant la bataille de Mohacs ; mais bientot 
 apres, la diete se divisa en deux chambres: la table des 
 magnats et la table des deputes.” In Scotland, again, in 
 1367 — 8, the three estates having met, and wishing, for 
 reasons of economy and convenience, to be excused from 
 their functions as soon as possible, “ elected certain persons to 
 hold Parliament, who were divided into two bodies, one for 
 the general affairs of the king and kingdom, and another, a 
 smaller division, for acting as judges upon appeals.” In the 
 case of England we find that though, in the writs calling 
 together Simon of Montfort’s Parliament, no distinction was 
 made between magnates and deputies, yet when, a generation 
 after, Parliament became established, the writs made a dis- 
 tinction : “ counsel is deliberately mentioned in the invitation 
 to the magnates, action and consent in the invitation to 
 representatives.” Indeed it is clear that since the earlier- 
 formed body of magnates w T as habitually summoned for 
 consultative purposes, especially military, while the represen- 
 tatives afterwards added were summoned only to grant 
 money, there existed from the outset a cause for separation. 
 Sundry influences conspired to produce it. Difference of 
 language, still to a considerable extent persisting and imped- 
 ing joint debate, furnished a reason. Then there was the 
 effect of class-feeling, of which we have definite proof. 
 Though they were in the same assembly, the deputies from 
 boroughs “ sat apart both from the barons and knights, who 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 439 
 
 disdained to mix with such mean personages ; ” and probably 
 the deputies themselves, little at ease in presence of imposing 
 superiors, preferred sitting separately. Moreover, it was 
 customary for the several estates to submit to taxes in dif- 
 ferent proportions ; and this tended to entail consultation 
 among the members of each by themselves. Finally, we read 
 that “ after they [the deputies] had given their consent to 
 the taxes required of them, their business being then finished, 
 they separated, even though the Parliament still continued to 
 sit, and to canvass the national business.” In which last fact 
 we are clearly shown that though aided by other causes, 
 unlikeness of duties was the essential cause which at length 
 produced a permanent separation between the representative 
 body and the consultative body. 
 
 Thus at first of little account, and growing in power only 
 because the free portion of the community occupied in pro- 
 duction and distribution grew in mass and importance, so that 
 its petitions, treated with increasing respect and more fre- 
 quently yielded to, began to originate legislation, the repre- 
 sentative body came to be that part of the governing agency 
 which more and more expresses the sentiments and ideas of 
 industrialism. While the monarch and upper house are the 
 products of that ancient regime of compulsory cooperation 
 the spirit of which they still manifest, though in decreasing 
 degrees, the lower house is the product of that modern regime 
 of voluntary cooperation which is replacing it ; and in an 
 increasing degree, this low r er house carries out the wishes of 
 people habituated to a daily life regulated by contract instead 
 of by status. 
 
 § 503. To prevent misconception it must be remarked, 
 before summing up, that an account of representative bodies 
 which have been in modern days all at once created, is not 
 here called for. Colonial legislatures, consciously framed in 
 conformity with traditions brought from the mother-country, 
 illustrate the genesis of senatorial and representative bodies 
 
440 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 in but a restricted sense: showing, as they do, how the 
 structures of parent societies reproduce themselves in derived 
 societies, so far as materials and circumstances allow; but 
 not showing how these structures were originated. Still less 
 need we notice those cases in which, after revolutions, peoples 
 who have lived under despotisms are led by imitation sud- 
 denly to establish representative bodies. Here we are con- 
 cerned only with the gradual evolution of such bodies. 
 
 Originally supreme, though passive, the third element in 
 the tri-une political structure, subjected more and more as 
 militant activity develops an appropriate organization, begins 
 to re-acquire power when war ceases to be chronic. Subordi- 
 nation relaxes as fast as it becomes less imperative. Awe of 
 the ruler, local or general, and accompanying manifestations 
 of fealty, decrease ; and especially so where the prestige of 
 supernatural origin dies out. Where the life is rural the old 
 relations long survive in qualified forms ; but clans or feudal 
 groups clustered together in towns, mingled with numbers of 
 unattached immigrants, become in various ways less con- 
 trollable ; while by their habits their members are educated 
 to increasing independence. The small industrial groups 
 thus growing up within a nation consolidated and organized 
 by militancy, can but gradually diverge in nature from the 
 rest. For a long time they remain partially militant in their 
 structures and in their relations to other parts of the com- 
 munity. At first chartered towns stand substantially on the 
 footing of fiefs, paying feudal dues and owing military 
 service. They develop, within themselves, unions, more or less 
 coercive in character, for mutual protection. They often 
 carry on wars with adjacent nobles and with one another. 
 They not uncommonly form leagues for joint defence. And 
 where the semi-militancy of towns is maintained, industrial 
 development and accompanying increase of popular power 
 are arrested. 
 
 But where circumstances have favoured manufacturing and 
 commercial activities, and growth of the population devoted 
 
REPRESENTATIVE BODIES. 
 
 441 
 
 to them, this, as it becomes a large component of the society, 
 makes its influence felt. The primary obligation to render 
 money and service to the head of the State, often reluctantly 
 complied with, is resisted when the exactions are great ; and 
 resistance causes conciliatory measures. There comes asking 
 assent rather than resort to compulsion. If absence of 
 violent local antagonisms permits, then on occasions when 
 the political head, rousing anger by injustice, is also weakened 
 by defections, there comes cooperation with other classes 
 of oppressed ' subjects. Men originally delegated simply 
 that they may authorize imposed burdens, are enabled as 
 the power behind them increases, more and more firmly to 
 insist on conditions ; and the growing practice of yielding to 
 their petitions as a means to obtaining their aid, initiates the 
 practice of letting them share in legislation. 
 
 Finally, in virtue of the general law of organization that 
 difference of functions entails differentiation and division of 
 the parts performing them, there comes a separation. At 
 first summoned to the national assembly for purposes par- 
 tially like and partially unlike those of its other members, 
 the elected members show a segregating tendency, which, 
 where the industrial portion of the community continues to 
 gain power, ends in the formation of a representative body 
 distinct from the original consultative body. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MINISTKIES. 
 
 § 504. Men chosen by the ruler to help him, we meet with 
 in early stages of social evolution — men whose positions and 
 duties are then vague and variable. At the outset there is 
 nothing to determine the selection of helpers save considera- 
 tions of safety, or convenience, or liking. Hence we find 
 ministers of quite different origins. 
 
 Relationship leads to the choice in some places and times; 
 as with the Bachassins, among whom the chief’s brother 
 conveys his orders and sees them executed; as of old in 
 Japan, where the Emperor’s son was prime minister and the 
 daimios had cadets of their families as counsellors; as in 
 ancient Egypt where “ the principal officers of the Court or 
 administration appear to have been at the earliest period the 
 relatives” of the king. Though in some cases family -jealousy 
 excludes kinsmen from these places of authority, in other 
 cases family-feeling and trust, and the belief that the desire 
 for family-predominance will ensure loyalty, lead to the 
 employment of brothers, cousins, nephews, &e. 
 
 More general appears to be the unobtrusive growth of per- 
 sonal attendants, or household servants, into servants of State. 
 Those who are constantly in contact with the ruler have 
 opportunities of aiding or hindering intercourse with him, 
 of biassing him by their statements, and of helping or 
 impeding the execution of his commands; and they thus 
 gain power, and tend to become advising and executive 
 
MINISTRIES. 
 
 443 
 
 agents. From the earliest times onwards we meet with 
 illustrations. In ancient Egypt — 
 
 “ The office of fan-bearer to the king was a highly honourable post, 
 which none but the royal princes, or the sons of the first nobility, were 
 permitted to hold. These constituted a principal part of his staff ; and 
 in the field they either attended on the monarch to receive his orders, 
 or were despatched to have the command of a division.” 
 
 In Assyria the attendants who thus rose to power were not 
 relatives, but were habitually eunuchs; and the like hap- 
 pened in Persia. “ In the later times, the eunuchs acquired 
 a vast political authority, and appear to have then filled all 
 the chief offices of state. They were the king’s advisers in 
 the palace, and his generals in the field.” Kindred illustra- 
 tions are furnished by the West. Shown among the primitive 
 Germans, the tendency for officers of the king’s household to 
 become political officers, was conspicuous in the Merovingian 
 period : the seneschal, the marshal, the chamberlain, grew 
 into public functionaries. Dowm to the later feudal period 
 in France, the public and household administrations of .the 
 king were still undistinguished. So was it in old English 
 times. According to Kemble, the four great officers of the 
 Court and Household were the Hraege Thegn (servant of the 
 wardrobe) ; the Steallere and Horsthegn (first, Master of the 
 Horse, then General of the Household Troops, then Constable 
 or Grand Marshal) ; the Discthegn (or thane of the table — 
 afterwards Seneschal) ; the Butler (perhaps Byrele or Scenca). 
 The like held under the conquering Normans ; and it holds in 
 a measure down to the present time. 
 
 Besides relatives and servants, friends are naturally in some 
 cases fixed on by the ruler to get him information, give him 
 advice, and carry out his orders. Among ancient examples the 
 Hebrews furnish one. Remarking that in the small kingdoms 
 around Israel in earlier times, it was customary for the ruler 
 to have a single friend to aid him, Ewald points out that 
 under David, with a larger State and a more complex ad- 
 ministration, “ the different departments are necessarily more 
 subdivided, and new offices of ‘ friends ’ or ministers of the 
 
444 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 king assume a sort of independent importance.” Like 
 needs produced kindred effects in the first days of the Eoman 
 empire. Duruy writes : — 
 
 “ Augustus, who called himself a plain Eoman citizen, could not, like a 
 king, have ministers, but only friends who aided him with their experi- 
 ence. . . . The multitude of questions . . . induced him afterwards to 
 distribute the chief affairs regularly among his friends. . . . This council 
 was gradually organized.” 
 
 And then in later days and other regions, we see that out of 
 the group known as “ friends of the king ” there are often 
 some, or there is one, in whom confidence is reposed and to 
 whom power is deputed. In Eussia the relation of Lefort to 
 Peter the Great, in Spain that of Albuquerque to Don Pedro, 
 and among ourselves that of Gaveston to Edward II., 
 sufficiently illustrate the genesis of ministerial power out of 
 the power gained by personal friendship and consequent 
 trust. And then with instances of this kind are to be 
 joined instances showing how attachment between the sexes 
 comes into play. Such facts as that after xilbuquerque fell, 
 all offices about the court were filled by relations of the 
 king's mistress ; that in France under Louis XV. “ the only 
 visible government was that by women” from Mme. de 
 Prie to Mme. du Barry ; and that in Eussia during the reign 
 of Catherine II., her successive lovers acquired political 
 power, and became some of them prime ministers and 
 practically autocrats ; will serve adequately to recall a ten- 
 dency habitually displayed. 
 
 Eegarded as able to help the ruler supernaturally as well 
 as naturally, the priest is apt to become his chosen ally and 
 agent. The Tahitians may be named as having a prime 
 minister who is also chief priest. In Africa, among the 
 Eggarahs (Inland Negroes), a priest “officiates as minister of 
 war.” How political power of priests results from their sup- 
 posed influence with the gods, is well shown by the case of 
 Mizteca (part of Mexico). 
 
 “The high-priests were highly respected by the caziques, who did 
 nothing without their advice ; they commanded armies, and ruled the 
 
MINISTRIES. 
 
 445 
 
 state, reproved vice, and when there was no amendment, threatened 
 famine, plague, war, and the anger of the gods.” 
 
 Other places in ancient America — Guatemala, Yera Paz, &c., 
 furnish kindred facts ; as do historic peoples from the earliest 
 times downwards. In ancient Egypt the king’s advisers 
 mostly belonged to the priestly caste. Under the Roman 
 emperors ecclesiastics became ministers and secret counsellors. 
 In mediaeval days Dominican and Franciscan monks held the 
 highest political offices. And in later times the connexion 
 was shown by the ministerial power of cardinals, or, as in 
 Russia, of patriarchs. This acquisition of leading political 
 functions by functionaries of the church, has in some cases 
 special causes in addition to the general cause. A royal 
 chaplain (uniting the character of personal attendant with 
 that of priest) stands in a relation to the king which almost 
 necessitates acquisition of great influence. Moreover, being 
 fitted by culture for secretarial work, he falls naturally into 
 certain State-duties; as he did into those of chancellor among 
 ourselves in early days. 
 
 Recognizing the fact that at the outset, these adminis- 
 trative agents, whatever further characters they have, are 
 usually also soldiers, and are included in the primitive consul- 
 tative body, of which they become specialized parts, w'e may 
 say of them generally, that they are relatives, friends, attend- 
 ants, priests, brought into close relations with the ruler, out 
 of whom he is obliged by stress of business to choose assist- 
 ants ; and that at first vague and irregular, their appointments 
 and functions gradually acquire definiteness. 
 
 § 505. Amid much that is too indefinite for generalization, 
 a few tolerably constant traits of ministers, and traits of 
 ministries, may be briefly indicated. 
 
 That a trusted agent commonly acquires power over his 
 principal, is a fact everywhere observable. Even in a gen- 
 tleman’s household a head servant of long standing not 
 unfrequently gains such influence, that his master is in 
 
446 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 various matters guided by him — almost controlled by him. 
 With chief officers of State it has often been the same ; and 
 especially where hereditary succession is well established. 
 A ruler who, young, or idle, or pleasure-seeking, performs his 
 duties by proxy, or who, through personal liking or entire 
 trust, is led to transfer his authority, presently becomes so 
 ill informed concerning affairs, or so unused to modes of pro- 
 cedure, as to be almost poAverless in the hands of his agent. 
 
 Where hereditary succession pervades the society and fixes 
 its organization, there is sometimes shown a tendency to 
 inheritance, not of the rulership only, but also of these 
 offices which grow into deputy-rulerships. Under the Nor- 
 man dukes before the Conquest, the places of seneschal, 
 cup-bearer, constable, and chamberlain, were “ hereditary 
 grand serjeanties.” In England in Henry II.’s time, succes- 
 sion to the posts of high-steward, constable, chamberlain, and 
 butler, followed from father to son in the houses of Leicester, 
 Miles, Yere, and Albini. So was it with the Scotch in King 
 David’s reign : “ the offices of great steward and high constable 
 had become hereditary in the families of Stewart and De 
 Morevil.” And then in Japan the principle of inheritance of 
 ministerial position had so established itself as to insure 
 ministerial supremacy. In these cases there come 
 
 into play influences and methods like those which conduce to 
 hereditary kingship. When, as during the later feudal period 
 in France, we see efforts made to fix in certain lines of 
 descent, the chief offices of State (efforts which, in that case, 
 sometimes succeeded and sometimes failed), we are shown 
 that ministers use the facilities which their places give them, 
 to establish succession to these places in their own families, 
 in the same way that early kings do. Just as, during the 
 stage of elective kingship, the king is apt to use the advan- 
 tages derived from his position to secure the throne for his 
 son, by getting him chosen during his own life, and thus to 
 initiate hereditary succession ; so the minister who has been 
 allowed to acquire great power, is prompted to employ it for 
 
MINISTRIES. 
 
 447 
 
 the purpose of establishing a monopoly of his office among 
 his own descendants. Generally his desire is effectually 
 antagonized by that of the ruler; but where, as in Japan, 
 seclusion of the ruler impedes his hold on affairs, this desire 
 of the minister takes effect. 
 
 Since there ever tend to arise these struggles between a 
 king and one or more of those who serve him — since his efforts 
 to maintain his authority are sometimes so far defeated that 
 lie is obliged to accept assistants who are hereditary ; there 
 results a jealousy of those whose interests are at variance 
 with his own, and an endeavour to protect himself by ex- 
 cluding them from office. There comes a motive for choosing 
 as ministers men who, having no children, cannot found 
 houses which, growing powerful, may compete for supremacy ; 
 and hence in certain times the preference for celibate priests. 
 Or, from allied motives, men neither clerical nor military are 
 selected; as in France, where in the 15th and 17th centuries, 
 members of the bourgeois class came to be preferred. A policy 
 like that shown in the befriending of towns as a set-off against 
 feudal chiefs, prompted the official employment of citizens 
 instead of nobles. Under other conditions, again, there is a 
 jealousy of ecclesiastics and an exclusion of them from power. 
 For generations before the time of Peter the Great, the head 
 of the church in Eussia was “ considered the second person in 
 the empire ; he was consulted on all State-affairs, until at 
 length, their [his] spiritual pride outrunning all decorum, 
 venturing upon, and even attempting to control the sovereign 
 power, it was resolved by Peter the Great to abolish the 
 patriarchate altogether.” Between Louis XIY. and the Pope, 
 there was a conflict for supremacy over the French church ; 
 and on more occasions than one, certain of the clergy 
 encouraged “the absolutist pretensions of the Eoman Pontiffs 
 the result being that such prelates as held office were those 
 v/ho subordinated clerical to political aims, and that by 
 Louis XIY., after 1661, “no churchman was allowed to touch 
 the great engine of State-go vernment,” Among ourselves may 
 
448 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 be traced, if less clearly, the working of kindred tendencies. 
 During the 15th century, “ clergymen were secretaries of 
 government, the privy seals, cabinet councillors, treasurers 
 of the crown, ambassadors, commissioners to open parlia- 
 ment, and to Scotland; presidents of the king’s council, 
 supervisors of the royal works, chancellors, keepers of the 
 records, the masters of the rolls, &c. but with antagonism to 
 the Church came partial, and in later days complete, disappear- 
 ance of the clerical element from the administration. Under 
 Henry VIII. the King’s secretary, and afterwards the chan- 
 cellor, ceased to be ecclesiastics ; while of the council of six- 
 teen executors appointed to govern during the minority of 
 his son, three only were in holy orders. And though, during 
 a subsequent temporary revival of papal influence, there was 
 a re-acquirement of ministerial position by priests, they after- 
 wards again ceased to be chosen. 
 
 Whether a ruler is able to prevent high offices of State 
 from being held by men whose ambitions and interests he 
 fears, depends, however, upon his acquirement of adequate 
 predominance. A class which, being powerful, is excluded 
 as therefore dangerous, being still more powerful, cannot be 
 excluded; and is apt either to monopolize administrative 
 functions or practically to dictate the choice of ministers. In 
 ancient Egypt, where the priesthood was pre-eminent in 
 influence, the administration was chiefly officered by its 
 members, with the result that at one time there was usurpa- 
 tion of the kingship by priests ; and the days during which 
 the Catholic church was most powerful throughout Europe, 
 were the days during which high political posts were very 
 generally held by prelates. In other cases supremacy of 
 the military class is shown ; as in Japan, where soldiers have 
 habitually been the ministers and practically usurpers ; as in 
 feudal England, when Henry III. was obliged by the barons 
 to accept Hugh Le Despenser as chief justiciary, and other 
 nominees as officers of his household ; or as when, in the 
 East, down to our own time, changes of ministry are insisted 
 
MINISTRIES. 
 
 449 
 
 on by the soldiery. Naturally in respect of these administra- 
 tive offices, as in respect of all other places of power, there 
 arises a conflict between the chiefs of the warrior class, who 
 are the agents of the terrestrial ruler, and the chiefs of the 
 clerical class, who profess to be agents of the celestial ruler ; 
 and the predominance of the one or the other class, is in 
 many cases implied by the extent to which it fills the chief 
 offices of State. 
 
 Such facts show us that where there has not yet been 
 established any regular process for making the chief advisers 
 and agents of the ruler into authorized exponents of public 
 opinion, there nevertheless occurs an irregular process by 
 which some congruity is maintained between the actions of 
 these deputy rulers and the will of the community ; or, at 
 any rate, the will of that part which can express its will. 
 
 § 506. Were elaboration desirable, and collection of the 
 needful data less difficult, a good deal might here be added 
 respecting the development of ministries. 
 
 Of course it could, in multitudinous cases, be shown 
 how, beginning as simple, they become compound — the soli- 
 tary assistant to the chief, helping him in all ways, develop- 
 ing into the numerous great officers of the king, dividing 
 among them duties which have become extensive and in- 
 volved. Along with this differentiation of a ministry might 
 also be traced the integration of it that takes place under 
 certain conditions : the observable change being from a state 
 in which the departmental officers separately take from the 
 ruler their instructions, to a state in which they form an 
 incorporated body. There might be pursued an inquiry 
 respecting the conditions under which this incorporated body 
 gains power and accompanying responsibility ; with the pro- 
 bable result of showing that development of an active 
 executive council, and accompanying reduction of the original 
 executive head to an automatic state, characterizes that re- 
 presentative form of government proper to the industrial 
 
450 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 type. But while results neither definite nor important are 
 likely to he reached, the reaching of such as are promised 
 would necessitate investigation at once tedious and unsatis- 
 factory. 
 
 For such ends as are here in view, it suffices to recognize 
 the general facts above set forth. As the political head is at 
 first but a slightly-distinguished member of the group — now 
 a chief whose private life and resources are like those of any 
 other warrior, now a patriarch or a feudal lord who, becoming 
 predominant over other patriarchs or other feudal lords, at first 
 lives like them on revenues derived from private possessions 
 — so the assistants of the political head take their rise from 
 the personal connexions, friends, servants, around him : they 
 are those who stand to him in private relations of blood, or 
 liking, or service. With the extension of territory, the in- 
 crease of affairs, and the growth of classes having special 
 interests, there come into play influences which differentiate 
 some of those wdio surround the ruler into public functionaries, 
 distinguished from members of his family and his household. 
 And these influences, joined with special circumstances, de- 
 termine the kinds of public men who come into power. 
 Where the absoluteness of the political head is little or not 
 at all restrained, he makes arbitrary choice irrespective of 
 rank, occupation, or origin. If, being predominant, there are 
 nevertheless classes of whom he is jealous, exclusion of these 
 becomes his policy ; while if his predominance is inadequate, 
 representatives of such classes are forced into office. And 
 this foreshadows the system under which, along with decline 
 of monarchical power, there grows up an incorporated body 
 of ministers having for its recognized function to execute 
 the public will. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 § 507. This title is needed because the classes of facts to 
 be here dealt with, cover a wider area than those comprehended 
 under the title “ Local Governments.” 
 
 We have to deal with two kinds of appliances for control, 
 originally one but gradually becoming distinguished. Alike 
 among peoples characterized by the reckoning of kinship 
 through females, and among peoples characterized by descent 
 of property and power through males, the regulative system 
 based on blood-relationship is liable to be involved with, and 
 subordinated by, a regulative system originating from military 
 leadership. Authority established by triumph in war, not 
 unfrequently comes into conflict with authority derived from 
 the law of succession, when this has become partially settled, 
 and initiates a differentiation of political headship from family 
 headship. We have seen that, from primitive stages upwards, 
 the principle of efficiency and the principle of inheritance are 
 both at work in determining men’s social positions; and where, 
 as happens in many cases, a war-chief is appointed when the 
 occasion arises, notwithstanding the existence of a chief of 
 acknowledged legitimacy, there is a tendency for transmitted 
 power to be over-ridden by power derived from capacity. 
 From the beginning, then, there is apt to grow up a species of 
 government distinct from family-government ; and the apti- 
 tude takes effect where many family-groups, becoming united. 
 
452 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 carry on militant activities. The growth of the family into 
 the gens, of the gens into the phratry, of the phratry into the 
 tribe, implies the multiplication of groups more and more 
 remotely akin, and less and less easily subordinated by the 
 head of some nominally-leading group ; and when local aggre- 
 gation brings interfusion of tribes which, though of the same 
 stock, have lost their common genealogy, the rise of some 
 headship other than the headships of family-groups becomes 
 imminent. Though such political headship, passing through 
 the elective stage, often becomes itself inheritable after the 
 same manner as the original family-headships, yet it consti- 
 tutes a new kind of headship. 
 
 Of the local governing agencies to which family-headships 
 and political headships give origin, as groups become com- 
 pounded and re-compounded, we will consider first the poli- 
 tical, as being most directly related to the central governing 
 agencies hitherto dealt with. 
 
 o 
 
 § 508. According to the relative powers of conqueror and 
 conquered, war establishes various degrees of subordination. 
 Here the payment of tribute and occasional expression of 
 homage, interfere but little with political independence ; and 
 there political independence is almost or quite lost. Generally, 
 however, at the outset the victor either finds it necessary to 
 respect the substantial autonomies of the vanquished societies, 
 or finds it his best policy to do this. Hence, before inte- 
 gration has proceeded far, local governments are usually 
 nothing more than those governments of the parts which 
 existed before they were united into a whole. 
 
 We find instances of undecided subordination everywhere. 
 In Tahiti “ the actual influence of the king over the haughty 
 and despotic district chieftains, was neither powerful nor 
 permanent. ,, Of our own political organization in old English 
 times Kemble writes : — “ the whole executive government 
 may be considered as a great aristocratic association, of which 
 the ealdormen were the constituent earls, and the king little 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 453 
 
 more than president” Similarly during early feudal times ; 
 as, for example, in France. “ Under the first Capetians, we 
 find scarcely any general act of legislation. . . . Everything 
 was local, and all the possessors of fiefs first, and afterwards 
 all the great suzerains, possessed the legislative power within 
 their domains.” This is the kind of relation habitually seen 
 during the initial stages of those clustered groups in which 
 one group has acquired power over the rest. 
 
 In cases where the successful invader, external to the cluster 
 instead of internal, is powerful enough completely to subju- 
 gate all the groups, it still happens that the pre-existing local 
 organizations commonly survive. Ancient American states 
 yield examples. “ When the kings of Mexico, Tezcuco, and 
 Tacuba conquered a province, they used to maintain in their 
 authority all the natural chiefs, the highest as well as the 
 lower ones.” Concerning certain rulers of Chibcha com- 
 munities, who became subject to Bogota, we read that the 
 Zipa subdued them, but left them their jurisdiction and left 
 the succession to the caziqueship in their families. And as 
 was pointed out under another head, the victorious Yncas 
 left outstanding the political headships and administrations of 
 the many small societies they consolidated. Such is, in fact, 
 the most convenient policy. As is remarked by Sir Henry 
 Maine, “ certain institutions of a primitive people, their cor- 
 porations and village-communities, will always be preserved 
 by a suzerain-state governing them, on account of the facilities 
 which they afford to civil and fiscal administration and the 
 like may be said of the larger regulative structures. Indeed 
 the difficulty of suddenly replacing an old local organization 
 by an entirely new one, is so great that almost of necessity the 
 old one is in large measure retained. 
 
 The autonomies of local governments, thus sometimes 
 scarcely at all interfered with and in other cases but partially 
 suppressed, manifest themselves in various ways. The 
 original independence of groups continues to be shown 
 by the right of private war between them. They retain their 
 
454 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 local gods, their ecclesiastical organizations, their religious 
 festivals. And in time of general war the contingents they 
 severally furnish remain separate. Egyptian nomes, Greek 
 cities, feudal lordships, yield illustrations. 
 
 § 509. The gradual disappearance of local autonomies is 
 a usual outcome of the struggle between the governments of 
 the parts, which try to retain their powers, and the central 
 government, which tries to diminish their powers. 
 
 In proportion as his hands are strengthened, chiefly by 
 successful wars, the major political head increases his 
 restraints over the minor political heads ; first by stopping 
 private wars among them, then by interfering as arbitrator, 
 then by acquiring an appellate jurisdiction. Where the local 
 rulers have been impoverished by their struggles with one 
 another, or by futile attempts to recover their independence, 
 or by drafts made on their resources for external wars — where, 
 also, followers of the central ruler have grown into a new order 
 of nobles, with gifts of conquered or usurped lands as rewards 
 for services ; the way is prepared for administrative agencies 
 centrally appointed. Thus in France, when the monarch 
 became dominant, the seigneurs were gradually deprived of 
 legislative authority. Eoyal confirmation became requisite 
 to make signorial acts valid ; and the crown acquired the 
 exclusive right of granting charters, the exclusive right of 
 ennobling, the exclusive right of coining. Then with decline 
 in the power of the original local rulers came deputies of the 
 king overlooking them : provincial governors holding office at 
 the king’s pleasure were nominated. In subsequent periods 
 grew up the administration of intendants and their sub-dele- 
 gates, acting as agents of the crown ; and whatever small local 
 powers remained were exercised under central supervision. 
 English history at various stages yields kindred illustrations. 
 When Mercia was formed out of petty kingdoms, the local 
 kings became ealdormen; and a like change took place 
 afterwards on a larger scale. “ From the time of Ecgberht 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 455 
 
 onwards there is a marked distinction between the King and 
 the Ealdorman. The King is a sovereign, the Ealdorman 
 is only a magistrate/’ Just noting that under Cnut, eal- 
 dormen became subordinated by the appointment of earls, 
 and again that under William I. earldoms were filled up afresh, 
 we observe that after the Wars of the Eoses had weak- 
 ened them, the hereditary nobles had their local powers inter- 
 fered with by those of centrally-appointed lords-lieutenant. 
 Not only provincial governing agencies of a personal kind 
 come to be thus subordinated as the integration furthered by 
 war progresses, but also those of a popular kind. The old 
 English Scirgerefa, who presided over the Sciregemot, was at 
 first elective, but was afterwards nominated by the king. 
 Under a later regime there occurred a kindred change: 
 “ 9 Edward II. abolished the popular right to election” to the 
 office of sheriff. And similarly, “from the beginning of 
 Edward III/s reign, the appointment of conservators ” of the 
 peace, who were originally elected, “ was vested in the crown,” 
 “ and their title changed to that of justices.” 
 
 With sufficient distinctness such facts show us that, rapidly 
 where a cluster of small societies is subjugated by an 
 invader, and slowly where one among them acquires an 
 established supremacy, the local rulers lose their directive 
 powers and become executive agents only ; discharging what- 
 ever duties they retain as the servants of newer local agents. 
 In the course of political integration, the original governing 
 centres of the component parts become relatively automatic 
 in their functions. 
 
 § 510. A further truth to be noted is that there habitually 
 exists a kinship in structure between the general government 
 and the local governments. Several causes conspire to pro- 
 duce this kinship. 
 
 Where one of a cluster of groups has acquired power 
 over the rest, either directly by the victories of its ruler 
 over them, or indirectly by his successful leadership of 
 
456 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the confederation in war, this kinship becomes a matter of 
 course. For under such conditions the general government 
 is but a development of that which was previously one of 
 the local governments. We have a familiar illustration 
 furnished by old English times in the likeness between the 
 hundred-moot (a small local governing assembly), the 
 shire-moot (constituted in an analogous way, but having 
 military, judicial, and fiscal duties of a wider kind, and 
 headed by a chief originally elected), and the national 
 witanagemot (containing originally the same class-elements, 
 though in different proportions, headed by a king, also at first 
 elected, and discharging like functions on a larger scale). 
 This similarity recurs under another phase. Sir Henry Maine 
 says : — 
 
 “ It has often, indeed, been noticed that a Feudal Monarchy was an 
 exact counterpart of a Feudal Manor, but the reason of the correspon- 
 dence is only now beginning to dawn upon us, which is, that both of 
 them were in their origin bodies of assumed kinsmen settled on land 
 and undergoing the same transmutation of ideas through the fact of 
 settlement.” 
 
 Of France in the early feudal period, Maury says, “the 
 court of every great feudatory, was the image, of course 
 slightly reduced, of that of the king and the facts he names 
 curiously show that locally, as generally, there was a develop- 
 ment of servants into ministerial officers. Kindred evidence 
 comes from other parts of the world — Japan, several African 
 States, sundry Polynesian islands, ancient Mexico, Mediaeval 
 India, &c. ; where forms of society essentially similar to those 
 of the feudal system exist or have existed. 
 
 Where the local autonomy has been almost or quite 
 destroyed, as by a powerful invading race bringing with it 
 another type of organization, we still see the same thing; for 
 its tendency is to modify the institutions locally as it 
 modifies them generally. From early times eastern king- 
 doms have shown us this ; as instance the provincial rulers, 
 or satraps, of the Persians. “ While . . . they remained in 
 office they were despotic — they represented the Great King, 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 457 
 
 and were clothed with a portion of his majesty, . . . They 
 wielded the power of life and death.” And down to the 
 present day this union of central chief- despot with local sub- 
 despots survives ; as is implied by Eawlinson’s remark that 
 these ancient satraps had “ that full and complete authority 
 which is possessed by Turkish pashas and modem Persian 
 khans or beys — an authority practically uncontrolled.” Other 
 ancient societies of quite other types displayed this tendency 
 to assimilate the structures of the incorporated parts to that 
 of the incorporating whole. Grecian history shows us that 
 oligarchic Sparta sought to propagate oligarchy as a form of 
 government in dependent territories, while democratic Athens 
 propagated the democratic form. And, similarly, where 
 Pome conquered and colonized, there followed the Eoman 
 municipal system. 
 
 This last instance reminds us that as the character of the 
 general government changes, the character of the local 
 government changes too. In the Eoman empire that progress 
 towards a more concentrated form of rule which con- 
 tinued militancy brought, spread from centre to periphery. 
 “ Under the Kepublic every town had, like Eome, a popular 
 assembly which was sovereign for making the law and ‘ creat- 
 ing’ magistrates; ” but with the change towards oligarchic 
 and personal rule in Eome, popular power in the provinces 
 decreased : “ the municipal organization, from being demo- 
 cratic, became aristocratic.” In France, as monarchical power 
 approached absoluteness, similar changes were effected in 
 another way. The government seized on municipal offices, 
 “ erecting them into hereditary offices, and . . . selling them 
 at the highest price : . . . a permanent mayor and assessors 
 were imposed upon all the municipalities of the kingdom, which 
 ceased to be elective ; ” and then these magistrates began to 
 assume royal airs — spoke of the sanctity of their magistracy, 
 the veneration of the people, &c. Our own history interest- 
 ingly shows simultaneous movements now towards freer, and 
 now towards less free, forms, locally and generally. When, 
 
458 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 under King John, the central government was liberalized, 
 towns acquired the power to elect their own magistrates. 
 Conversely when, at the Eestoration, monarchical power 
 increased, there was a framing of the “ municipalities on a 
 more oligarchical model.” And then comes the familiar case 
 of the kindred liberalizations of the central government 
 and the local governments which have occurred in our own 
 time. 
 
 § 511. From those local governing agencies which have 
 acquired a political character, we turn now to those which 
 have retained the primitive family character. Though with 
 the massing of groups, political organization and rule become 
 separate from, and predominant over, family-organization 
 and rule, locally as well as generally, yet family- organization 
 and rule do not disappear ; but in some cases retaining their 
 orginal nature, in some cases give origin to other local 
 organizations of a governmental kind. Let us first note how 
 wide-spread is the presence of the family-cluster, considered 
 as a component of the political society. 
 
 Among the uncivilized Bedouins we see it existing sepa- 
 rately : “ every large family with its relations constituting a 
 small tribe by itself.” But, says Palgrave, “ though the clan 
 and the family form the basis and are the ultimate expression 
 of the civilized Arab society, they do not, as is the case 
 among the Bedouins, sum it up altogether.” That is, political 
 union has left outstanding the family-organization, but has 
 added something to it. And it was thus with Semitic societies 
 of early days, as those of the Hebrews. Everywhere it has 
 been thus with the Ayrans. 
 
 1 The [Irish] Sept is a body of kinsmen whose progenitor is no longer 
 living, but whose descent from him is a reality. . . . An association of 
 this sort is well known to the law of India as the Joint Undivided 
 Family. . . . The family thus formed by the continuance of several 
 generations in union, is identical in outline with a group very familiar 
 to the students of the older Eoman law — the Agnatic Kindred.” 
 
 Hot only where descent in the male line has been established, 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 459 
 
 but also where the system of descent through females con- 
 tinues, this development of the family into gens, pliratry, 
 and tribe, is found. It was so with such ancient American 
 peoples, as those of Yucatan, where, within each town, tribal 
 divisions were maintained ; and, according to Mr. Morgan 
 and Major Powell, it is still so with such American tribes as 
 the Iroquois and the Wyandottes. 
 
 After its inclusion in a political aggregate, as before its in- 
 clusion, the family-group evolves a government jwasi-political 
 in nature. According to the type of race and the system 
 of descent, this family-government may be, as among ancient 
 Semites and Ayrans, an unqualified patriarchal despotism ; or 
 it may be, as among the Hindoos at present, a personal rule 
 arising by selection of a head from the leading family of the 
 group (a selection usually falling on the eldest) ; or it may 
 be, as in American tribes like those mentioned, the govern- 
 ment of an elected council of the gens, which elects its chief. 
 That is to say, the triune structure which tends to arise in 
 any incorporated assembly, is traceable in the compound 
 family-group, as in the political group : the respective com- 
 ponents of it being variously developed according to the 
 nature of the people and the conditions. 
 
 The government of each aggregate of kinsmen repeats, 
 on a small scale, functions like those of the government of 
 the political aggregate. As the entire society revenges itself 
 on other such societies for injury to its members, so does the 
 family-cluster revenge itself on other family-clusters included 
 in the same society. This fact is too familiar to need illus- 
 tration ; but it may be pointed out that even now, in parts of 
 Europe where the family-organization survives, the family 
 vendettas persist. “ L’Albanais vous dira froidement . . . 
 Akeni-Dgiak? avez-vous du sang a venger dans votre 
 famille and then, asking the name of your tribe, he puts his 
 hand on his pistol. With this obligation to take vengeance 
 goes, of course, reciprocal responsibility. The family in all 
 its branches is liable as a whole, and in each part, for the 
 
460 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 injuries done by its members to members of other families ; 
 just as the entire society is held liable by other entire 
 societies. This responsibility holds not alone for lives taken 
 by members of the family-group, but also for damages they 
 do to property, and for pecuniary claims, 
 
 “ Dans les districts Albanais libres, les dettes sont contractces a terme. 
 En cas de non-paiement, on a recours aux chefs de la tribu du 
 debiteur, et si cenx-ci refusent de faire droit, on arrete le premier 
 venu qui appartient a cette tribn, et on Faccable de manvais traitements 
 jusqu’a ce qu’il s’entende avec le veritable debiteur, ou qu J il paie lui- 
 meme ses dettes, risque a se pouvoir ensuite devant les anciens de sa 
 tribu ou de poursuivre par les armes celui qui lui a valu ce dommage,” 
 
 And of the old English msegth we read that “ if any one was 
 imprisoned for theft, witchcraft, &c., his kindred must pay 
 the fine . . . and must become surety for his good conduct 
 on his release/’ 
 
 While, within the political aggregate, each compound 
 family-group thus stood towards other such included groups 
 in quasi-political relations, its government exercised internal 
 control. In the gens as constituted among the American 
 peoples above named, there is administration of affairs by its 
 council. The gentile divisions among historic peoples were 
 ruled by their patriarchs ; as are still those of the Hindoos by 
 their chosen elders. And then besides this judicial organi- 
 zation within the assemblage of kindred, there is the religious 
 organization, arising from worship of a common ancestor, 
 which entails periodic joint observances. 
 
 Thus the evidence shows us that while the massing 
 together of groups by war, has, for its concomitant, develop- 
 ment of a political organization which dominates over the 
 organizations of communities of kindred, yet these com- 
 munities of kindred long survive, and partially retain their 
 autonomies and their constitutions. 
 
 § 512. Social progress,* however, transforms them in sundry 
 ways — differentiating them into groups which gradually lose 
 their family-characters. One cause is change from the wander- 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 461 
 
 ing life to tlie settled life, with the implied establishment of 
 definite relations to the land, and the resulting multipli- 
 cation and interfusion. 
 
 To show that this process and its consequences are 
 general, I may name the calpulli of the ancient Mexicans, 
 which “ means a district inhabited by a family ... of ancient 
 origin ; ” whose members hold estates which “ belong not to 
 each inhabitant, but to the calpulli ; ” who have chiefs chosen 
 out of the tribe ; and who “ meet for dealing with the com- 
 mon interests, and regulating the apportionment of taxes, and 
 also what concerns the festivals.” And then I may name 
 as being remote in place, time, and race, the still-existing 
 Russian mir, or village-commune ; which is constituted by 
 descendants of the same family-group of nomads who became 
 settled ; which is “ a judicial corporation . . . proprietor of 
 the soil, of which individual members have but the usufruct 
 or temporary enjoyment;” which is governed by “ the heads 
 of families, assembled in council under the presidency of the 
 s tarosta or mayor, whom they have elected.” Just noting these 
 allied examples, we may deal more especially with the Teu- 
 tonic mark, which was “ formed by a primitive settlement of 
 a family or kindred,” when, as said by Caesar of the Suevi, 
 the land was divided among “ gentes et cognationes homi- 
 num.” In the words of Kemble, marks were — 
 
 “ Great family-unions, comprising households 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 dis- 
 tantly connected . . . ; some, admitted into communion by marriage, 
 others by adoption, others by emancipation ; but all recognizing a 
 brotherhood, a kinsmanship 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.” 
 
 To which add that, in common with family-groups as already 
 described, the cluster of kindred constituting the mark had, 
 like both smaller and larger clusters, a joint obligation to 
 
462 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 defend and avenge its members, and a joint responsibility for 
 their actions. 
 
 And now we are prepared for observing sundry influences 
 which conspire to change the grouping of kindred into poli- 
 tical grouping, locally as well as generally. In the first place, 
 there is that admission of strangers into the family, gens, or 
 tribe, which we have before recognized as a normal process, 
 from savage life upwards. Livingstone, remarking of the 
 Bakwains that “ the government is patriarchal/’ describes 
 each chief man as having his hut encircled by the huts of his 
 wives, relatives, and dependents, forming a kotla : “ a poor 
 man attaches himself to the kotla of a rich one and is con- 
 sidered a child of the latter.” Here we see being done 
 informally, that which was formally done in the Roman 
 household and the Teutonic mark. In proportion as the 
 adopted strangers increase, and in proportion also as the 
 cluster becomes diluted by incorporating with Itself emanci- 
 pated dependents, the links among its members become 
 weakened and its character altered. In the second place, 
 when, by concentration and multiplication, different clusters 
 of kindred placed side by side, become interspersed, and there 
 ceases to be a direct connexion between locality and kinship, 
 the family or gentile bonds are further weakened. And then 
 there eventually results, both for military and fiscal pur- 
 poses, the need for a grouping based on locality instead of on 
 relationship. An early illustration is furnished by the 
 Kleisthenian revolution in Attica, which made a division of 
 the territory into demes, replacing for public purposes tribal 
 divisions by topographical divisions, the inhabitants of each 
 of which had local administrative powers and public respon- 
 sibilities. 
 
 We are here brought to the vexed question about the origin 
 of tythings and hundreds. It was pointed out that the 
 ancient Peruvians had civil as well as military divisions 
 into tens and hundreds, with their respective officers. In 
 China, where there is pushed to an extreme the principle of 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 463 
 
 making groups responsible for their members, the clan-divi- 
 sions are not acknowledged by the government, but only the 
 tytliings and hundreds : the implication being that these last 
 were results of political organization as distinguished from 
 family-organization. In parts of Japan, too, “ there is a sort of 
 subordinate system of wards, and heads of tens and hundreds, 
 in the Otonos of towns and villages, severally and collectively 
 responsible for each other’s good conduct.” We have seen 
 that in Eome, the groupings into hundreds and tens, civil 
 as well as military, became political substitutes for the 
 gentile groupings. Under the Frankish law, “ the tything- 
 man is Decanus , the hundred-man Centenarius ; ” and what- 
 ever may have been their indigenous names, divisions into 
 tens and hundreds appear to have had (judging from the state- 
 ments of Tacitus) an independent origin among the Germanic 
 races. 
 
 And now remembering that these hundreds and tytliings, 
 formed within the marks or other large divisions, still 
 answered in considerable degrees to groups based on kinship 
 (since the heads of families of which they were constituted as 
 local groups, were ordinarily closer akin to one another 
 than to the heads of families similarly grouped in other parts 
 of the mark), we go on to observe that there survived in 
 them, or were re-developed in them, the family-organization, 
 rights, and obligations. I do not mean merely that by 
 their hundred-moots, &c., they had their internal administra- 
 tions ; but I mean chiefly that they became groups which 
 had towards other groups the same joint claims and duties 
 which family-groups had. Responsibility for its members, 
 previously attaching exclusively to the cluster of kindred 
 irrespective of locality, was in a large measure transferred to 
 the local cluster formed but partially of kindred. For this 
 transfer of responsibility an obvious cause arose as the 
 gentes and tribes spread and became mingled. While the 
 family-community was small and closely aggregated, an offence 
 committed by one of its members against another such com- 
 
464 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 munity could usually be brought home to it bodily, if not 
 to the sinning member; and as a whole it had to take 
 the consequences. But when the family-community, multi- 
 plying, began to occupy a wide area, and also became inter- 
 fused with other family-communities, the transgressor, while 
 often traceable to some one locality within the area, was 
 often not identifiable as of this or that kindred; and the con- 
 sequences of his act, when they could not be visited on his 
 family, which was not known, were apt to be visited on the 
 inhabitants of the locality, who were known. Hence the 
 genesis of a system of suretyship which is so ancient and 
 so widespread. Here are illustrations : — 
 
 “This then is my will, that every man be in surety, both within the 
 towns and without the towns.” — Eadg. ii. Supp. § 3. 
 
 “ And we will that every freeman be brought into a hundred and into 
 a tithing, who desires to be entitled to lad or wer , in case any one should 
 slay him after he have reached the age of xii years : or let him not other- 
 wise be entitled to any free rights, be he householder, be he follower.” — 
 Cnut, ii. § xx. 
 
 “ ... in all the vills throughout the kingdom, all men are bound to be 
 in a guarantee by tens, so that if one of the ten men offend, the other 
 nine may hold him to right.” — Edw. Conf., xx. 
 
 Speaking generally of this system of mutual guarantee, as 
 exhibited among the Russians, as well as among the Franks, 
 Koutorga says — 
 
 “ Tout membre de la societe devait entrer dans une decanie, laquelle 
 avait pour mission la defence et la garantie de tous en general et de 
 chacun en particular ; c’est-ei-dire que la decanie devait venger le citoyen 
 qui lui appartenait et exiger le w^ehrgeld, s’il avait ete tue ; mais en 
 meme temps elle se portait caution pour tous les seins.” 
 
 In brief, then, this form of local governing agency, 
 developing out of, and partially replacing, the primitive 
 family-form, was a natural concomitant of the multiplication 
 and mixture resulting from a settled life. 
 
 § 513. There remains to be dealt with an allied kind of local 
 governing agency — a kind which, appearing to have been 
 once identical with the last, eventually diverged from it. 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 465 
 
 Kemble concludes that the word “ gegyldan ” means 
 " those who mutually pay for one another . . . the associates 
 of the tithing and the hundred;” and how the two were 
 originally connected, we are shown by the statement that as 
 late as the 10th century in London, the citizens were united 
 into frithgylds, “ or associations for the maintenance of the 
 peace, each consisting of ten men ; while ten such gylds 
 were gathered into a hundred.” Prof. Stubbs writes : — 
 
 "The collective responsibility for producing an offender, which had 
 lain originally on the msegth or kindred of the accused, was gradually 
 devolved on the voluntary association of the guild ; and the guild super- 
 seded by the local responsibility of the tithing.” 
 
 Here we have to ask whether there are not grounds for con- 
 cluding that this transfer of responsibility originally took 
 place through development of the family-cluster into the 
 gild, in consequence of the gradual loss of the family-cha- 
 racter by incorporation of unrelated members. That we do 
 not get evidence of this in written records, is probably due 
 to the fact that the earlier stages of the change took place 
 before records were common. But we shall see reasons fox 
 believing in such earlier stages if we take into account facts 
 furnished by extinct societies and societies less developed 
 than those of Europe. 
 
 Of the skilled arts among the Peruvians, Prescott re- 
 marks : — “ these occupations, like every other calling and 
 office in Peru, always descended from father to son ; ” and 
 Clavigero says of the Mexicans “ that they perpetuated the 
 arts in families to the advantage of the State : ” the reason 
 Gomara gives why “ the poor taught their sons their own 
 trades,” being that “ they could do so without expense ” — a 
 reason of general application. Heeren’s researches into 
 ancient Egyptian usages, have led him to accept the state- 
 ment of early historians, that “ the son was bound to carry 
 on the trade of his father and that alone ; ” and he cites a 
 papyrus referring to an institution naturally connected with 
 this usage — “ the guild or company of curriers or leather- 
 
466 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTION'S. 
 
 dressers.” Then of the Greeks, Hermann tell us that various 
 arts and professions were — 
 
 “ peculiar to certain families, whose claims to an exclusive exercise of 
 them generally ascended to a fabulous origin. We moreover find 
 ‘ pupil and son 5 for many successive generations designated by the same 
 term ; and closely connected with the exclusiveness and monopoly of 
 many professions, is the little respect in which they were, in some 
 instances, held by the rest of the people : a circumstance which Greek 
 authors themselves compare with the prejudice of caste prevalent among 
 other nations.” 
 
 China, as at present existing, yields evidence : — 
 
 “The popular associations in cities and towns are chiefly based upon a 
 community of interests, resulting either from a similarity of occupation, 
 when the leading persons of the same calling form themselves into 
 guilds, or from the municipal regulations requiring the householders 
 living in the same street to unite to maintain a police, and keep the 
 peace of their division. Each guild has an assembly-hall, where its 
 members meet to hold the festival of their patron saint.” 
 
 And, as I learn from the J apanese minister, a kindred state of 
 things once existed in J apan. Children habitually followed 
 the occupations of their parents; in course of generations 
 there resulted clusters of relatives engaged in the same trade ; 
 and these clusters developed regulative arrangements within 
 themselves. Whether the fact that in Japan, as in the East 
 generally, the clustering of traders of one kind in the same 
 street, arises from the original clustering of the similarly- 
 occupied kindred, I find no evidence; but since, in early 
 times, mutual protection of the members of a trading kindred, 
 as of other kindred, was needful, this seems probable. Fur- 
 ther evidence of like meaning may be disentangled from the 
 involved phenomena of caste in India. In No. CXLII of 
 the Calcutta Review , in an interesting essay by Jogendra 
 Chandra Ghosh, caste is regarded as “ a natural development 
 of the Indian village-communities ; ” as “ distinguished not 
 only by the autonomy of each guild,” “ but by the mutual 
 relations between these autonomous guilds ; ” and as being 
 so internally organized “ that caste government does not 
 recognize the finding or the verdict of any court other than 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 467 
 
 what forms part of itself/’ In answer to my inquiries, the 
 writer of this essay has given me a mass of detailed informa- 
 tion, from which I extract the following : — 
 
 “ A Hindoo joint family signifies (1) that the members all mess together ; 
 (2) and live in the same house ; (3) that the male members and un- 
 married girls are descended from a common ancestor ; and (4) that the 
 male members put their incomes together. . . . The integral character 
 of the family is destroyed when the joint mess and common purse cease 
 to exist. However, the branches thus disunited continue to observe 
 certain close relations as gnatis up to some seven or fourteen generations 
 from the common ancestor. Beyond that limit they are said to be 
 merely of the same gotra 
 
 Passing over the detailed constitution of a caste as consist- 
 ing of many such gotras , and of the groups produced by their 
 intermarriages under restrictions of exogamy of the gotras 
 and endogamy of the caste — passing over the feasts, sacrificial 
 and other, held among members of the joint family when 
 their groups have separated ; I turn to the facts of chief 
 significance. Though, under English rule, inheritance of 
 occupation is no longer so rigorous, yet — 
 
 “ the principle is universally recognized that every caste is bound to 
 follow a particular occupation and no other. . . . The partition of the 
 land, or the house as well, is governed by the law of equal succession ; 
 and as fresh branches set up new houses, they are found all clustered 
 together, with the smallest space between them for roadway. . . . But 
 when, as in bazaars , men take up houses for commercial purposes, the 
 clustering is governed either by family and caste -relations, or by 
 common avocations [which imply some caste-kinship] and facility of 
 finding customers.” 
 
 In which facts we may see pretty clearly that were there 
 none of the complications consequent on the intermarriage 
 regulations, there would simply result groups united by 
 occupation as well as by ancestry, clustering together, and 
 having their internal governments. 
 
 Returning from consideration of these facts supplied by 
 other societies, let us now observe how numerous are the 
 reasons for concluding that the gild, familiar to us as a 
 union of similarly-occupied workers, was originally a union 
 of kindred. In the primitive compound family there was 
 
468 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 worship of the common ancestor ; and the periodic sacrificial 
 feasts were occasions on which all the descendants assembled. 
 Describing the origin of gilds, Thierry writes 
 “Dans Fancienne Scandinavie, ceux qni se reunissaient aux epoques 
 solennelles pour sacrifier ensemble terminaient la ceremonie par un 
 festin religieux. Assis autour du feu et de la chaudiere du sacrifice, ils 
 buvaient a la ronde et vidaient successivement trois cornes remplies de 
 biere, Tune pour les dieux, Fautre pour les braves du vieux temps, et la 
 troisieme pour les parents et les amis dont les tombes, marquees par des 
 monticules de gazon, se voyaient §a et la dans la plaine ; on appelait 
 celle-ci la coupe de Famitie. Le nom d’amiti6 (minne) se donnait aussi 
 quelquefois a la reunion de ceux qui offraient en commun le sacrifice, 
 et, d’ordinaire, cette reunion etait appelee ghilde .” 
 
 And Brentano, giving a similar account, says — “ f Gild ’ meant 
 originally the sacrificial meal made up of the common contri- 
 butions ; then a sacrificial banquet in general ; and lastly a 
 society/' Here we find a parallelism with the observances of 
 the Hindoo joint-family, consisting of clusters of relatives 
 carrying on the same occupation, who meet at feasts which 
 were primarily sacrificial to ancestors; and we find a 
 parallelism with the religious observances of such clusters 
 of similarly-occupied relatives as the Asklepiadse among 
 the Greeks; and we find a parallelism with the gild- 
 feasts of the ancestor- worshipping Chinese, held in honour of 
 the patron saint : all suggesting the origin of those religious 
 services and feasts habitual in early gilds of our own 
 society. To state briefly the further likenesses of 
 
 nature : — We have, in the primitive compound family, 
 the obligation of blood-revenge for slain relatives ; and in 
 early gilds, as in ancient Sleswig, there was blood-revenge 
 for members of the gild. We have, in the compound 
 family, responsibility for transgressions of its members ; and 
 gilds were similarly responsible : the wergylds falling in part 
 on them, after murders were compounded for by money. We 
 have, in the compound family, joint claims to sustenance 
 derived from the common property and labour ; and in the 
 gild we have the duty of maintaining incapable members. 
 Within the family there was control of private conduct, either 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 469 
 
 by a despotic head or by a council, as there is now within the 
 local clusters of the Hindoo castes ; and in like manner the 
 ordinances of gilds extended to the regulation of personal 
 habits. Lastly, this family or caste government, as still 
 shown us in India, includes in its punishments excommuni- 
 cation ; and so, too, was there outlawry from the gild.* 
 
 It is inferable, then, that the gild was evolved from the 
 family. Continuance of a business, art, or profession, among 
 descendants, is, in early stages, almost inevitable. Acquisi- 
 tion of skill in it by early practice is easy ; the cost of teaching 
 is inappreciable ; and retention of the “ craft ” or “ mystery ” 
 within the family is desirable : there being also the reason 
 that while family-groups are in antagonism, the teaching of 
 one another’s members cannot usually be practicable. But 
 in course of time there come into play influences by which 
 the character of the gild as an assemblage of kindred 
 is obscured. Adoption, which, as repeatedly pointed out, 
 is practised by groups of all kinds, needs but to become 
 common to cause this constitutional change. We have seen 
 that among the Greeks, “pupil” and “son” had the same name. 
 At the present time in J apan, an apprentice, standing in the 
 position of son to his master, calls him “ father and in our 
 own craft-gilds “the apprentice became a member of the 
 family of his master, who instructed him in his trade, and 
 who, like a father, had to watch over his morals, as well as 
 his work.” The eventual admission of the apprentice 
 into the gild, when he was a stranger in blood to its mem- 
 bers, qualified, in so far, its original nature; and where, 
 through successive generations, the trade was a prosperous 
 
 * A friend who has read this chapter in proof, points out to me passages 
 in which Brentano draws from these parallelisms a like inference. Re- 
 ferring to the traits of certain fully-developed gilds, he says : — “ If we con- 
 nect them with what historians relate about the family in those days, we 
 may still recognize in them the germ from which, in later times, at a certain 
 stage of civilization, the Gild had necessarily to develop itself , . . the family 
 appears as the pattern and original type, after which all the later Gilds were 
 formed,” 
 
470 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 one, tempting masters to get more help than their own sons 
 could furnish, this process would slowly bring about predomi- 
 nance of the unrelated members, and an ultimate loss of the 
 family-character. After which it would naturally happen 
 that the growing up of new settlements and towns, bringing 
 together immigrants who followed the same calling but were 
 not of the same blood, would lead to the deliberate forma- 
 tion of gilds after the pattern of those existing in older 
 places : an appearance of artificial origin being the result ; 
 just as now, in our colonies, there is an apparently artificial 
 origin of political institutions which yet, a3 being fashioned 
 like those of the mother-country, where they were slowly 
 evolved, are traceable to a natural origin. 
 
 Any one who doubts the transformation indicated, may be 
 reminded of a much greater transformation of allied- kind. 
 The gilds of London, — goldsmiths’, fishmongers’, and the 
 rest, — were originally composed of men carrying on the 
 trades implied by their names ; but in each of these com- 
 panies the inclusion of persons of other trades, or of no trade, 
 has gone to the extent that few if any of the members carry 
 on the trades which their memberships imply. If, then, 
 the process of adoption in this later form, has so changed 
 the gild that, while retaining its identity, it has lost its 
 distinctive trade-character, we are warranted in concluding 
 that still more readily might the earlier process of adop- 
 tion into the simple family or the compound family practis- 
 ing any craft, eventually change the gild from a cluster 
 of kindred to a cluster formed chiefly of unrelated persons. 
 
 § 514. Involved and obscure as the process has been, the 
 evolution of local governing agencies is thus fairly compre- 
 hensible. We divide them into two kinds, which, starting 
 from a common root, have diverged as fast as small societies 
 have been integrated into large ones. 
 
 Through successive stages of consolidation, the political 
 heads of the once-separate parts pass from independence to 
 
LOCAL GOVERNING AGENCIES. 
 
 471 
 
 dependence, and end in being provincial agents — first partially- 
 conquered chiefs paying tribute ; then fully-conquered chiefs 
 governing under command ; then local governors who are 
 appointed by the central governor and hold power under 
 approval : becoming eventually executive officers. 
 
 There is habitually a kinship in character between the 
 controlling systems of the parts and the controlling system 
 of the whole (assuming unity of race), consequent on the 
 fact that both are ultimately products of the same individual 
 nature. With a central despotism there goes local despotic 
 rule ; with a freer form of the major government there goes 
 a freer form of the minor governments ; and a change either 
 way in the one is followed by a kindred change in the 
 other. 
 
 While, with the compounding of small societies into large 
 ones, the political ruling agencies which develop locally as 
 well as generally, become separate from, and predominant 
 over, the ruling agencies of family-origin, these last do not 
 disappear ; but, surviving in their first forms, also give 
 origin to differentiated forms. The assemblage of kindred long 
 continues to have a qualified semi* political autonomy, with 
 internal government and external obligations and claims. 
 And while family-clusters, losing their definiteness by inter- 
 fusion, slowly lose their traits as separate independent 
 societies, there descend from them clusters which, in some 
 cases united chiefly by locality and in others chiefly by 
 occupation, inherit their traits, and constitute governing 
 agencies supplementing the purely political ones. 
 
 It may be added that these supplementary governing 
 agencies, proper to the militant type of society, dissolve as 
 the industrial type begins to predominate. Defending their 
 members, held responsible for the transgressions of their 
 members, and exercising coercion over their members, they 
 are made needful by, and bear the traits of, a regime of 
 chronic antagonisms ; and as these die away their raison 
 d'etre disappears. Moreover, artificially restricting, as they 
 
472 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 do, tlie actions of each member, and also making him re- 
 sponsible for other deeds than his own, they are at variance 
 with that increasing assertion of individuality which accom- 
 panies developing industrialism. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 § 515. Indirectly, much has already been said concerning 
 the subject now to be dealt with. Originally identical as is 
 the political organization with the military organization, it 
 has been impossible to treat of the first without touching on 
 the second. After exhibiting the facts under one aspect we 
 have here to exhibit another aspect of them ; and at the same 
 time to bring into view classes of related facts thus far unob- 
 served. But, first, let us dwell a moment on the alleged 
 original identity. 
 
 In rude societies all adult males are warriors ; and, conse- 
 quently, the army is the mobilized community, and the com- 
 munity is the army at rest, as was remarked in § 259. 
 
 With this general truth we may join the general truth 
 that the primitive military gathering is also the primitive poli- 
 tical gathering. Alike in savage tribes and in communities 
 like those of our rude ancestors, the assemblies which are 
 summoned for purposes of defence and offence, are the 
 assemblies in which public questions at large are decided. 
 
 Next stands the fact, so often named, that in the normal 
 course of social evolution, the military head grows into the 
 political head. This double character of leading warrior and 
 civil ruler, early arising, ordinarily continues through long 
 stages; and where, as not unfrequently happens, military 
 headship becomes in a measure separated from political 
 
474 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 headship, continued warfare is apt to cause a re-identifi- 
 cation of them. 
 
 As societies become compounded and re-compounded, coin- 
 cidence of military authority with political authority is shown 
 in detail as well as in general — in the parts as in the whole. 
 The minor war-chiefs are also minor civil rulers in their 
 several localities; and the commanding of their respective 
 groups of soldiers in the field, is of like nature with the 
 governing of their respective groups of dependents at home. 
 
 Once more, there is the general fact that the economic 
 organizations of primitive communities, coincide with their 
 military organizations. In savage tribes war and hunting 
 are carried on by the same men ; while their wives (and their 
 slaves where they have any) do the drudgery of domestic 
 life. And, similarly, in rude societies that have become 
 settled, the military unit and the economic unit are the same. 
 The soldier is also the landowner. 
 
 Such, then, being the primitive identity of the political 
 organization with military organization, we have in this 
 chapter to note the ways in which the two differentiate. 
 
 • § 516. We may most conveniently initiate the inquiry by 
 observing the change which, during social evolution, takes 
 place in the incidence of military obligations ; and by recog- 
 nizing the accompanying separation of the fighting body from 
 the rest of the community. 
 
 Though there are some tribes in which military service 
 (for aggressive war at any rate) is not compulsory, as the 
 Comanches, Dakotas, Chippewas, whose war-chiefs go about 
 enlisting volunteers for their expeditions ; yet habitually where 
 political subordination is established, every man not privately 
 possessed as a chattel is bound to fight when called on. There 
 have been, and are, some societies of considerably-advanced 
 structures in which this state of things continues. In ancient 
 Peru the common men were all either actually in the army 
 or formed a reserve occupied in labour ; and in modern Siam 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 475 
 
 the people “ are all soldiers, and owe six months’ service 
 yearly to their prince” But, usually, social progress is accom- 
 panied by a narrowed incidence of military obligation. 
 
 When the enslavement of captives is followed by the rear- 
 ing of their children as slaves, as well as by the consigning 
 of criminals and debtors to slavery — when, as in some cases, 
 there is joined with the slave-class a serf-class composed of 
 subjugated people not detached from their homes ; the com- 
 munity becomes divided into two parts, on one of which only 
 does military duty fall. Whereas, in previous stages, the 
 division of the whole society had been into men as fighters 
 and women as workers, the division of workers now begins to 
 include men ; and these continue to form an increasing part 
 of the total male population. Though we are told that in 
 Aslrantee (where everyone is in fact owned by the king) the 
 slave-population “ principally constitutes ihe military force,” 
 and that in Rabbah (among the Fulahs) the army is com- 
 posed of slaves liberated “ on consideration of their taking up 
 arms yet, generally, those in bondage are not liable to mili- 
 tary service : the causes being partly distrust of them (as was 
 shown among the Spartans when forced to employ the helots) 
 partly contempt for them as defeated men or the offspring of 
 defeated men, and partly a-desire to devolve on others, labours 
 at once necessary and repugnant. Causes aside, however, the 
 evidence proves that the army at this early stage usually 
 coincides with the body of freemen ; who are also the body 
 of landowners. This, as before shown in § 458, was the 
 case in Egypt, Greece, Rome, and Germany. How natural 
 is this incidence of military obligation, we see in the facts 
 that in ancient Japan and mediaeval India, there were 
 systems of military tenure like that of the middle ages in 
 Europe ; and that a kindred connexion had arisen even in 
 societies like those of Tahiti and Samoa. 
 
 Extent of estate being a measure of its owner’s ability 
 to bear burdens, there grows up a connexion between 
 the amount of land held and the amount of military aid 
 
4:76 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 to be rendered. Thus in Greece under Solon, those whose 
 properties yielded less than a certain revenue were exempt 
 from duty as soldiers, save in emergencies. In Eome, with a 
 view to better adjustment of the relation between means and 
 requirements, there was a periodic “ revision of the register of 
 landed property, which was at the same time the levy-roll.” 
 Throughout the middle ages this principle was acted upon 
 by proportioning the numbers of warriors demanded to the 
 sizes of the fiefs ; and again, afterwards, by requiring from 
 parishes their respective contingents. 
 
 A dissociation of military duty from land-ownership 
 begins when land ceases to be the only source of wealth. 
 The growth of a class of free workers, accumulating pro- 
 perty by trade, is followed by the imposing on them, also, of 
 obligations to fight or to provide fighters. Though, as appa- 
 rently in the cases of Greece and Eome, the possessions in 
 virtue of which citizens of this order at first become liable, 
 are lands in which they have invested ; yet, at later stages, 
 they become liable as possessors of other property. Such, at 
 least, is the interpretation we may give to the practice of 
 making industrial populations furnish their specified numbers 
 of warriors ; whether, as during the Eoman conquests, it took 
 the shape of requiring “ rich and populous ” towns to maintain 
 cohorts of infantry or divisions of cavalry, or whether, as with 
 chartered towns in mediaeval days, there was a contract with 
 the king as suzerain, to supply him with stated numbers of 
 men duly armed. 
 
 Later on, the same cause initiates a further change. As 
 fast as industry increases the relative quantity of trans- 
 ferable property, it becomes more easy to compound for 
 service in war ; either by providing a deputy or by paying to 
 the ruler a sum which enables him to provide one. Origi- 
 nally the penalty for non-fulfilment of military obligation 
 was loss of lands ; then a heavy fine, which, once accepted, 
 it became more frequently the custom to bear; then an 
 habitual compounding for the special services demanded ; 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 477 
 
 then a levying of dues, such as those called scutages, in place 
 of special compositions. Evidently, industrial growth made 
 this change possible ; both by increasing the population from 
 which the required numbers of substitutes could be obtained, 
 and by producing the needful floating capital. 
 
 So that whereas in savage and semi-civilized communities 
 of warlike kinds, the incidence of military obligation is such 
 that each free man has to serve personally, and also to pro- 
 vide his own arms and provisions ; the progress from this 
 state in which industry does but occupy the intervals between 
 wars, to a state in which war does but occasionally break the 
 habitual industry, brings an increasing dissociation of mili- 
 tary obligation from free citizenship : military obligation at 
 the same time tending to become a pecuniary burden levied 
 in proportion to property of whatever land. Though where 
 there is a conscription, personal service is theoretically due 
 from each on whom the lot falls, yet the ability to buy a sub- 
 stitute brings the obligation back to a pecuniary one. And 
 though we have an instance in our own day of universal 
 military obligation not thus to be compounded for, we see 
 that it is part of a reversion to the condition of predominant 
 militancy. 
 
 § 517. An aspect of this change not yet noted, is the 
 simultaneous decrease in the ratio which the fighting part of 
 the community bears to the rest. With the transition from 
 nomadic habits to settled habits, there begins an economic 
 resistance to militant action, which increases as industrial life 
 develops, and diminishes the relative size of the military body. 
 
 Though in tribes of hunters the men are as ready for war 
 at one time as at another, yet in agricultural societies there 
 obviously exists an impediment to unceasing warfare. In 
 the exceptional case of the Spartans, the carrying on of rural 
 industry was not allowed to prevent daily occupation of all 
 freemen in warlike exercises ; but, speaking generally, the 
 sowing and reaping of crops hinder the gathering together 
 
478 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of freemen for offensive or defensive purposes. Hence in 
 course of time come decreased calls on them. The ancient 
 Suevi divided themselves so as alternately to share war- 
 duties and farm-work : each season the active warriors re- 
 turned to till the land, while their places were “ supplied by 
 the husbandmen of the previous year.” Alfred established 
 in England a kindred alternation between military service 
 and cultivation of the soil. In feudal times, again, the same 
 tendency was shown by restrictions on the duration and 
 amount of the armed aid which a feudal tenant and his re- 
 tainers had to give — now for sixty, for forty, for twenty days, 
 down even to four ; now alone, and again with specified num- 
 bers of followers ; here without limit of distance, and there 
 within the bounds of a county. Doubtless, insubordination 
 often caused resistances to service, and consequent limitations 
 of this kind. But manifestly, absorption of the energies in 
 industry, directly and indirectly antagonized militant action ; 
 with the result that separation of the fighting body from the 
 general body of citizens was accompanied by a decrease in its 
 relative mass. 
 
 There are two cooperating causes for this decrease of its 
 relative mass, which are of much significance. One is the 
 increasing costliness of the soldier, and of war appliances, 
 which goes along with that social progress made possible by 
 industrial growth. In the savage state each warrior provides 
 his own weapons ; and, on war-excursions, depends on himself 
 for sustenance. At a higher stage this ceases to be the case. 
 When chariots of war, and armour, and siege-implements 
 come to be used, there are presupposed sundry specialized and 
 skilled artizan-classes ; implying a higher ratio of the industrial 
 part of the community to the militant part. And when, 
 later on, there are introduced fire-arms, artillery, ironclads, 
 torpedoes, and the like, we see that there must co-exist 
 a large and highly-organized body of producers and dis- 
 tributors ; alike to furnish the required powers and bear the 
 entailed cost. That is to say, tlie f war-machinery, both living 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 479 
 
 and dead, cannot be raised in efficiency without lowering 
 the ratio it bears to those sustaining structures which give it 
 efficiency. 
 
 The other cooperating cause which simultaneously comes 
 into play, is directly due to the compounding and re-compound- 
 ing of societies. The larger nations become, and the greater the 
 distances over which their military actions range, the more 
 expensive do those actions grow. It is with an army as with 
 a limb, the effort put forth is costly in proportion to the 
 remoteness of the acting parts from the base of operations. 
 Though it is true that a body of victorious invaders may raise 
 some, or the whole, of its supplies from the conquered society, 
 yet before it has effected conquest it cannot do this, but is 
 dependent for maintenance on its own society, of which it 
 then forms an integral part: where it ceases to form an 
 integral part and wanders far away, living on spoils, like 
 Tatar hordes in past ages, we are no longer dealing with 
 social organization and its laws, but with social destruction. 
 Limiting ourselves to societies which, permanently localized, 
 preserve their individualities, it is clear that the larger the 
 integrations formed, the greater is the social strain conse- 
 quent on the distances at which fighting has to be done ; and 
 the greater the amount of industrial population required to 
 bear the strain. Doubtless, improved means of communica- 
 tion may all at once alter the ratio ; but this does not conflict 
 with the proposition when qualified by saying — other things 
 equal. 
 
 In three ways, therefore, does settled life, and the develop- 
 ment of civilization, so increase the economic resistance to 
 militant action, as to cause decrease of the ratio borne by 
 the militant part to the non-militant part. 
 
 § 518. With those changes in the incidence of military 
 obligation which tend to separate the body of soldiers 
 from the body of workers, and with those other changes 
 which tend to diminish its relative size, there go changes 
 
4S0 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 which tend to differentiate it in a further way. The first of 
 these to be noted is the parting of military headship from 
 political headship. 
 
 We have seen that the commencement of social organization 
 is the growth of the leading warrior into the civil governor. 
 To illustrative facts before named may be added the fact 
 that an old English ruler, as instance Hengist, was originally 
 called “ Here-toga ” — literally army-leader ; and the office 
 developed into that of king only after settlement in Britain. 
 But with establishment of hereditary succession to political 
 headship, there comes into play an influence which tends to 
 make the chief of the State distinct from the chief of the 
 army. That antagonism between the principle of inheritance 
 and the principle of efficiency, everywhere at work, has from 
 the beginning been conspicuous in this relation, because of 
 the imperative need for efficient generalship. Often, as shown 
 in § 473, there is an endeavour to unite the two qualifications ; 
 as, for example, in ancient Mexico, where the king, before being 
 crowned, had to fill successfully the position of commander- 
 in-chief. But from quite early stages we find that where 
 hereditary succession has been established, and there does not 
 happen to be inheritance of military capacity along with 
 political supremacy, it is common for headship of the warriors 
 to become a separate post filled by election. Says Waitz, 
 “ among the Guaranis the chieftainship generally goes from 
 father to first-born son. The leader in war is, however, 
 elected.” In Ancient Nicaragua “ the war-chief was elected 
 by the warriors to lead them, on account of his ability and 
 bravery in battle ; but the civil or hereditary chief often 
 accompanies the army.” Of the New Zealanders we read 
 that “ hereditary chiefs were generally the leaders,” but not 
 always : others being chosen on account of bravery. And 
 among the Sakarran Dyaks there is a war chief, in addition 
 to the ordinary chief. In the case of the Bedouins the original 
 motive has been defeated in a curious way. 
 
 “ During a campaign in actual warfare, the authority of the sheikh 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 481 
 
 of the tribe is completely set aside, and the soldiers are wholly under 
 the command of the agyd. . . . The office of agyd is hereditary in a 
 certain family, from father to son ; and the Arabs submit to the com- 
 mands of an agyd, whom they know to be deficient both in bravery and 
 judgment, rather than yield to the orders of their sheikh during the 
 actual expedition ; for they say that expeditions headed by the sheikh, 
 are always unsuccessful.” 
 
 It should be added that in some cases we see coming into 
 play further motives. Forster tells ns that in Tahiti the 
 king sometimes resigns the post of commander-in-chief of 
 the fighting force, to one of his chiefs : conscious either of his 
 own unfitness or desirous of avoiding danger. And then in 
 some cases the anxiety of subjects to escape the evils follow- 
 ing loss of the political head, leads to this separation ; as 
 when, among the Hebrews, “ the men of David sware unto 
 him, saying, Thou shalt go no more out with us to battle, 
 that thou quench not the light of Israel ; ” or as when, in 
 France in 923, the king was besought by the ecclesiastics 
 and nobles who surrounded him, to take no part in the im- 
 pending fight. 
 
 At the same time the ruler, conscious that military com- 
 mand gives great power to its holder, frequently appoints as 
 army-leader his son or other near relative : thus trying to 
 prevent the usurpation so apt to occur (as, to add another 
 instance, it occurred among the Hebrews, whose throne was 
 several times seized by captains of the host). The Iliad shows 
 that it was usual for a Greek king to delegate to his heir 
 the duty of commanding his troops. In Merovingian times 
 kings’ sons frequently led their fathers’ armies ; and of the 
 Carolingians we read that while the king commanded the 
 main levy, “ over other armies his sons were placed, and to 
 them the business of commanding was afterwards increas- 
 ingly transferred.” It was thus in ancient Japan. When the 
 emperor did not himself command his troops, “ this charge 
 was only committed to members of the Imperial house,” 
 and “ the power thus remained with the sovereign.” In 
 ancient Peru there was a like alternative. “ The army was 
 
482 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 put under tlie direction of some experienced chief of the royal 
 blood, or, more frequently, headed by the Ynca in person.” 
 
 The widening civil functions of the political head, obviously 
 prompt this delegation of military functions. But while the 
 discharge of both becomes increasingly difficult as the nation 
 enlarges ; and while the attempt to discharge both is danger- 
 ous ; there is also danger in doing either by deputy. At the 
 same time that there is risk in giving supreme command of a 
 distant army to a general, there is also risk in going with the 
 army and leaving the government in the hands of a vice- 
 gerent ; and the catastrophes from the one or the other 
 cause, which, spite of precautions, have taken place, show us 
 alike that there is, during social evolution, an inevitable ten- 
 dency to the differentiation of the military headship from the 
 political headship, but that this differentiation can become 
 permanent only under certain conditions. 
 
 The general fact would appear to be that while militant 
 activity is great, and the whole society has the organiza- 
 tion appropriate to it, the state of equilibrium is one in which 
 the political head continues to be also the militant head ; 
 that in proportion as there grows up, along with industrial 
 life, a civil administration distinguishable from the military 
 administration, the political head tends to become increas- 
 ingly civil in his functions, and to delegate, now occasionally, 
 now generally, his militant functions ; that if there is a 
 return to great militant activity, with consequent reversion to 
 militant structure, there is liable to occur a re-establishment 
 of the primitive type of headship, by usurpation on the part 
 of the successful general — either practical usurpation, where 
 the king is too sacred to be displaced, or complete usurpation 
 where he is not too sacred; but that where, along with 
 decreasing militancy, there goes increasing civil life and ad- 
 ministration, headship of the army becomes permanently 
 differentiated from political headship, and subordinated to it. 
 
 § 519. While, in the course of social evolution, there has 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 483 
 
 been going on this separation of the fighting body from the 
 community at large, this diminution in its relative mass, and 
 this establishment of a distinct headship to it, there has been 
 going on an internal organization of it. 
 
 The fighting body is at first wholly without structure. 
 Among savages a battle is a number of single combats : the 
 chief, if there is one, being but the warrior of most mark, who 
 fights like the rest. Through long stages this disunited action 
 continues. The Iliad tells of little more than the personal en- 
 counters of heroes, which were doubtless multiplied in detail 
 by their unmentioned followers ; and after the decay of that 
 higher military organization which accompanied Greek and 
 Roman civilization, this chaotic kind of fighting recurred 
 throughout mediaeval Europe. During the early feudal 
 period everything turned on the prowess of individuals. War, 
 says Gautier, consisted of “ bloody duels ;” and even much 
 later the idea of personal action dominated over that of com- 
 bined action. But along with political progress, the subjec- 
 tion of individuals to their chief is increasingly shown by 
 fulfilling his commands in battle. Action in the field 
 becomes in a higher degree concerted, by the absorption of 
 their wills in his will. 
 
 A like change presently shows itself on a larger scale. 
 While the members of each component group have their actions 
 more and more combined, the groups themselves, of which 
 an army is composed, pass from disunited action to united 
 action. When small societies are compounded into a larger 
 one, their joint body of warriors at first consists of the tribal 
 clusters and family-clusters assembled together, but retaining 
 their respective individualities. The head of each Hottentot 
 kraal, “ has the command, under the chief of his nation, of the 
 troops furnished out by his kraal.” Similarly, the Malagasy 
 “ kept their own respective clans, and every clan had its own 
 leader.” Among the Chibchas, “ each cazique and tribe came 
 with different signs on their tents, fitted out with the mantles 
 by which they distinguished themselves from each other.” A 
 12 
 
484 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 kindred arrangement existed in early Eoman times : the city- 
 army was “ distributed into tribes, curiae, and families.” It 
 was so, too, with the Germanic peoples, who, in the field, 
 “ arranged themselves, when not otherwise tied, in families 
 and affinities or, as is said by Kemble of our ancestors in 
 old English times, “ each kindred was drawn up under an 
 officer of its own lineage and appointment, and the several 
 members of the family served together/' This organization, 
 or lack of organization, continued throughout the feudal period. 
 In France, in the 14th century, the army was a “ horde of 
 independent chiefs, each with his own following, each doing 
 his own will and, according to Froissart, the different groups 
 “ were so ill-informed ” that they did not always know of a 
 discomfiture of the main body. 
 
 Besides that increased subordination of local heads to the 
 general head which accompanies political integration, and 
 which must of course precede a more centralized and com- 
 bined mode of military action, two special causes may be 
 recognized as preparing the way for it. 
 
 One of these is unlikeness of kinds in the arms used. 
 Sometimes the cooperating tribes, having habituated them- 
 selves to different weapons, come to battle already marked 
 off from one another. In such cases the divisions by 
 weapons correspond with the tribal divisions ; as seems to 
 have been to some extent the case with the Hebrews, among 
 whom the men of Benjamin, of Gad, and of Judah, were 
 partially thus distinguished. But, usually, the unlikenesses of 
 arms consequent on unlikenesses of rank, initiate these milit- 
 ary divisions which tend to traverse the divisions arising from 
 tribal organization. The army of the ancient Egyptians 
 included bodies of charioteers, of cavalry, and of foot ; and 
 the respective accoutrements of the men forming these bodies, 
 differing in their costliness, implied differences of social posi- 
 tion. The like may be said of the Assyrians. Similarly, the 
 Iliad shows us among the early Greeks a state in which the 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 485 
 
 contrasts in weapons due to contrasts in wealth, had not 
 yet resulted in differently-armed bodies, such as are formed 
 at later stages with decreasing regard for tribal or local divi- 
 sions. And it was so in Western Europe during times when 
 each feudal superior led his own knights, and his followers of 
 inferior grades and weapons. Though within each group there 
 were men differing alike in their rank and in their arms, yet 
 what we may call the vertical divisions between groups were 
 not traversed by those horizontal divisions throughout the 
 whole army, which unite all who are similarly armed. This 
 wider segregation it is, however, which we observe taking 
 place with the advance of military organization. The supre- 
 macy acquired by the Spartans was largely due to the fact 
 that Lykurgus “ established military divisions quite distinct 
 from the civil divisions, whereas in the other states of Greece, 
 until a period much later . . . the two were confounded — 
 the hoplites or horsemen of the same tribe or ward being 
 marshalled together on the field of battle.” With the pro- 
 gress of the Roman arms there occurred kindred changes. 
 The divisions came to be related less to rank as dependent 
 on tribal organization, and more to social position as deter- 
 mined by property ; so that the kinds of arms to be borne 
 and the services to be rendered, were regulated by the sizes 
 of estates, with the result of “ merging all distinctions of a 
 gentile and local nature in the one common levy of the com- 
 munity.” In the field, divisions so established stood thus : — 
 4< The four first ranks of each phalanx were formed of the full-armed 
 hoplites of the first class, the holders of an entire hide [?] ; in the fifth 
 and sixth were placed the less completely equipped farmers of the second 
 and third class ; the two last classes were annexed as rear ranks to the 
 phalanx. 
 
 And though political distinctions of clan-origin were not 
 thus directly disregarded in the cavalry, yet they were in- 
 directly interfered with by the addition of a larger troop of 
 non-burgess cavalry. That a system of divisions which tends 
 to obliterate those of rank and locality, has been reproduced 
 
486 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 during the re-development of military organization in modern 
 times, is a familiar fact. 
 
 A concomitant cause of this change has all along been 
 that interfusion of the gentile and tribal groups entailed by 
 aggregation of large numbers. As before pointed out, the 
 Kleisthenian re-organization in Attica, and the Servian re- 
 organization in Rome, were largely determined by the im- 
 practicability of maintaining the correspondence between 
 tribal divisions and military obligations ; and a redistribution 
 of military obligations naturally proceeded on a numerical 
 basis. By various peoples, we find this step in organization 
 taken for civil purposes or military purposes, or both. To 
 cases named in § 512, may be added that of the Hebrews, 
 who were grouped into tens, fifties, hundreds and thousands. 
 Even the barbarous Araucanians divided themselves into 
 regiments of a thousand, sub-divided into companies of a 
 hundred. Evidently numerical grouping conspires with 
 classing by arms to obliterate the primitive divisions. 
 
 This transition from the state of incoherent clusters, each 
 having its own rude organization, to the state of a coherent 
 w T hole, held together by an elaborate organization running 
 throughout it, of course implies a concomitant progress in 
 the centralization of command. As the primitive horde 
 becomes more efficient for war in proportion as its members 
 grow obedient to the orders of its chief ; so, the army formed 
 of aggregated hordes becomes more efficient in proportion as 
 the chiefs of the hordes fall under the power of one supreme 
 chief. And the above-described transition from aggregated 
 tribal and local groups to an army formed of regular 
 divisions and sub-divisions, goes along with the development 
 of grades of commanders, successively subordinated one to 
 another. A controlling system of this kind is developed 
 by the uncivilized, where considerable military efficiency has 
 been reached ; as at present among the Araucanians, the 
 Zulus, the Uganda people, who have severally three grades of 
 officers ; as in the past among the ancient Peruvians and 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 487 
 
 ancient Mexicans, who had respectively several grades ; and 
 as also among the ancient Hebrews. 
 
 § 520. One further general change has to be noticed — the 
 change from a state in which the army now assembles and 
 now disperses, as required, to a state in which it becomes 
 permanently established. 
 
 While, as among savages, the male adults are all warriors, 
 the fighting body, existing in its combined form only during 
 war, becomes during peace a dispersed body carrying on in 
 parties or separately, hunting and other occupations; and 
 similarly, as we have seen, during early stages of settled life 
 the armed freemen, owning land jointly or separately, all 
 having to serve as soldiers when called on, return to their 
 farming when war is over : there is no standing army. But 
 though after the compounding of small societies into larger 
 ones by war, and the rise of a central power, a kindred system 
 long continues, there come the beginnings of another system. 
 Of course, irrespective of form of goverment, frequent wars 
 generate permanent military forces; as they did in early 
 times among the Spartans ; as later among the Athenians ; 
 and as among the Romans, when extension of territory 
 brought frequent needs for repressing rebellions. Recognizing 
 these cases, we may pass to the more usual cases, in which 
 a permanent military force originates from the body of armed 
 attendants surrounding the ruler. Early stages show us 
 this nucleus. In Tahiti the king or chief had warriors 
 among his attendants ; and the king of Ashantee has a body- 
 guard clad in skins of wild beasts — leopards, panthers, &c. 
 As was pointed out when tracing the process of political 
 differentiation, there tend everywhere to gather round a pre- 
 dominant chieftain, refugees and others who exchange armed 
 service for support and protection ; and so enable the pre- 
 dominant chieftain to become more predominant. Hence the 
 comites attached to the princeps in the early German com- 
 munity, the huscarlas or housecarls surrounding old English 
 
488 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 kings, and the antrustions of the Merovingian rulers. These 
 armed followers displayed in little, the characters of a stand- 
 ing army ; not simply as being permanently united, but also 
 as being severally bound to their prince or lord by relations 
 of personal fealty, and as being subject to internal govern- 
 ment under a code of martial law, apart from the govern- 
 ment of the freemen ; as was especially shown in the large 
 assemblage of them, amounting to 6,000, which was formed 
 by Cnut. 
 
 In this last case we see how small body-guards, growing as 
 the conquering chief or king draws to his standard adven- 
 turers, fugitive criminals, men who have fled from injustice, 
 &c., pass unobtrusively into troops of soldiers who fight for 
 pay. The employment of mercenaries goes back to the 
 earliest times — being traceable in the records of the Egyptains 
 at all periods ; and it continues to re-appear under certain 
 conditions : a primary condition being that the ruler shall 
 have acquired a considerable revenue. Whether of home 
 origin or foreign origin, these large bodies of professional 
 soldiers can be maintained only by large pecuniary means ; 
 and, ordinarily, possession of these means goes along with 
 such power as enables the king to exact dues and fines. In 
 early stages the members of the fighting body, when sum- 
 moned for service, have severally to provide themselves not 
 only with their appropriate arms, but also with the needful 
 supplies of all kinds : there being, while political organiza- 
 tion is little developed, neither the resources nor the adminis- 
 trative machinery required for another system. But the 
 economic resistance to militant action, which, as we have 
 seen, increases as agricultural life spreads, leading to occa- 
 sional non-attendance, to confiscations, to heavy fines in 
 place of confiscations, then to fixed money-payments in place 
 of personal services, results in the growth of a revenue which 
 serves to pay professional soldiers in place of the vassals who 
 have compounded. And it then becomes possible, instead of 
 hiring many such substitutes for short times, to hire a smaller 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 489 
 
 number continuously — so adding to the original nucleus of a 
 permanent armed force. Every further increase of royal 
 power, increasing the ability to raise money, furthers this 
 differentiation. As Ranke remarks of France, “ standing 
 armies, imposts, and loans, all originated together.” 
 
 Of course the primitive military obligation falling on all 
 freemen, long continues to be shown in modified ways. 
 Among ourselves, for instance, there were the various laws 
 under which men were bound, according to their incomes, to 
 have in readiness specified supplies of horses, weapons, and 
 accoutrements, for themselves and others when demanded. 
 Afterwards came the militia-laws, under which there 
 fell on men in proportion to their means, the obligations 
 to provide duly armed horse-soldiers or foot-soldiers, per- 
 sonally or by substitute, to be called out for exercise at 
 specified intervals for specified numbers of days, and to be 
 provided with subsistence. There may be instanced, again, 
 such laws as those under which in France, in the 15th cen- 
 tury, a corps of horsemen was formed by requiring all the 
 parishes to furnish one each. And there are the various more 
 modern forms of conscription, used, now to raise temporary 
 forces, and now to maintain a permanent army. Everywhere, 
 indeed, freemen remain potential soldiers when not actual 
 soldiers. 
 
 § 521. Setting out with that undifferentiated state of the 
 body politic in which the army is co-extensive with the 
 adult male population, we thus observe several ways in 
 which there goes on the evolution which makes it a 
 specialized part. 
 
 There is the restriction in relative mass, which, first seen 
 in the growth of a slave-population, engaged in work instead 
 of war, becomes more decided as a settled agricultural life 
 occupies freemen, and increases the obstacles to military 
 service. There is, again, the restriction caused by that 
 growing costliness of the individual soldier accompanying 
 
490 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the development of arms, accoutrements, and ancillary ap- 
 pliances of warfare. And there is the yet additional restric- 
 tion caused by the intenser strain which military action puts 
 on the resources of a nation, in proportion as it is carried 
 on at a greater distance. 
 
 With separation of the fighting body from the body-politic 
 at large, there very generally goes acquirement of a sepa- 
 rate head. Active militancy ever tends to maintain union 
 of civil rule with military rule, and often causes re-union of 
 them where they have become separate; but with the 
 primary differentiation of civil from military structures, is 
 commonly associated a tendency to the rise of distinct con- 
 trolling centres for them. This tendency, often defeated by 
 usurpation where wars are frequent, takes effect under oppo- 
 site conditions ; and then produces a military head subordi- 
 nate to the civil head. 
 
 While the whole society is being developed by differen- 
 tiation of the army from the rest, there goes on a develop- 
 ment within the army itself. As in the primitive horde the 
 progress is from the uncombined fighting of individuals to 
 combined fighting under direction of a chief ; so, on a larger 
 scale, when small societies are united into great ones, the 
 progress is from the independent fighting of tribal and local 
 groups, to fighting under direction of a general commander. 
 And to effect a centralized control, there arises a graduated 
 system of officers, replacing the set of primitive heads of 
 groups, and a system of divisions which, traversing the 
 original divisions of groups, establish regularly-organized 
 masses having different functions. 
 
 With developed structure of the fighting body comes per- 
 manence of it. While, as in early times, men are gathered 
 together for small wars and then again dispersed, efficient 
 organization of them is impracticable. It becomes practicable 
 only among men who are constantly kept together by wars 
 or preparations for wars ; and bodies of such men growing up, 
 replace the temporarily-summoned bodies. 
 
MILITARY SYSTEMS. 
 
 491 
 
 Lastly, we must not omit to note that while the army 
 becomes otherwise distinguished, it becomes distinguished by 
 retaining and elaborating the system of status ; though in the 
 rest of the community, as it advances, the system of contract 
 is spreading and growing definite. Compulsory cooperation 
 continues to be the principle of the military part, however 
 widely the principle of voluntary cooperation comes into play 
 throughout the civil part. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 § 522. That we may be prepared for recognizing the 
 primitive identity of military institutions with institutions 
 for administering justice, let us observe how close is the kin- 
 ship between the modes of dealing with external aggression 
 and internal aggression, respectively. 
 
 We have the facts, already more than once emphasized, that 
 at first the responsibilities of communities to one another 
 are paralleled by the responsibilities to one another of family- 
 groups within each community ; and that the kindred claims 
 are enforced in kindred ways. Various savage tribes show us 
 that, originally, external war has to effect an equalization of 
 injuries, either directly in kind or indirectly by compen- 
 sations. Among the Chinooks, “ has the one party a larger 
 number of dead than the other, indemnification must be 
 made by the latter, or the war is continued and among the 
 Arabs “ when peace is to be made, both parties count up their 
 dead, and the usual blood-money is paid for excess on either 
 side.” By which instances we are shown that in the wars 
 between tribes, as in the family-feuds of early times, a 
 death must be balanced by a death, or else must be com- 
 pounded for ; as it once was in Germany and in England, by 
 specified numbers of sheep and cattle, or by money. 
 
 Not only are the wars which societies carry on to effect the 
 righting of alleged wrongs, thus paralleled by family-feuds in 
 the respect that for retaliation in kind there may be substi- 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 493 
 
 tuted a penalty adjudged by usage or authority; but they are 
 paralleled by feuds between individuals in the like respect. 
 From the first stage in which each man avenges himself by 
 force on a transgressing neighbour, as the whole community 
 does on a transgressing community, the transition is to a 
 stage in which he has the alternative of demanding justice at 
 the hands of the ruler. We see this beginning in such places 
 as the Sandwich Islands, where an injured person who is too 
 weak to retaliate, appeals to the king or principal chief ; and 
 in quite advanced stages, option between the two methods 
 of obtaining redress survives. The feeling shown down to the 
 13th century by Italian nobles, who “ regarded it as dis- 
 graceful to submit to laws rather than do themselves justice 
 by force of arms,” is traceable throughout the history of 
 Europe in the slow yielding of private rectification of wrongs 
 to public arbitration. “A capitulary of Charles the Bald 
 bids them [the freemen] go to court armed as for war, for 
 they might have to fight for their jurisdiction and our own 
 history furnishes an interesting example in the early form of 
 an action for recovering land : the “ grand assize ” which tried 
 the cause, originally consisted of knights armed with swords. 
 Again we have evidence in such facts as that in the 12 th 
 century in France, legal decisions were so little regarded 
 that trials often issued in duels. Further proof is yielded by 
 such facts as that judicial duels (which were the authorized 
 substitutes for private wars between families) continued in 
 France down to the close of the 14th century; that in 
 England, in 17G8, a legislative proposal to abolish trial by 
 battle, was so strongly opposed that the measure was dropped ; 
 and that the option of such trial was not disallowed till 1819. 
 
 We may observe, also, that this self-protection gradually 
 gives place to protection by the State, only under stress of 
 public needs — especially need fqr military efficiency. Edicts 
 of Charlemagne and of Charles the Bald, seeking to stop the 
 disorders consequent on private wars, by insisting on appeals 
 to the ordained authorities, and threatening punishment of 
 
494 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 those who disobeyed, sufficiently imply the motive ; and this 
 motive was definitely shown in the feudal period in France, 
 by an ordinance of 1296, which “ prohibits private wars and 
 judicial duels so long as the king is engaged in war.” 
 
 Once more the militant nature of legal protection is seen 
 in the fact that, as at first, so now, it is a replacing of indi- 
 vidual armed force by the armed force of the State — always 
 in reserve if not exercised. “ The sword of justice” is a 
 phrase sufficiently indicating the truth that action against 
 the public enemy and action against the private enemy are in 
 the last resort the same. 
 
 Thus recognizing the original identity of the functions, we 
 shall be prepared for recognizing the original identity of the 
 structures by which they are carried on. 
 
 § 523. For that primitive gathering of armed men which, 
 as we have seen, is at once the council of war and the 
 political assembly, is at the same time the judicial body. 
 
 Of existing savages the Hottentots show this. The court 
 of justice “consists of the captain and all the men of the 
 kraal. . . . J Tis held in the open fields, the men squatting in 
 a circle. . . . All matters are determined by a majority.” . . . 
 If the prisoner is “ convicted, and the court adjudges him 
 worthy of death, sentence is executed upon the spot.” The 
 captain is chief executioner, striking the first blow ; and is 
 followed up by the others. The records of various historic 
 peoples yield evidence of kindred meaning. Taking first 
 the Greeks in Homeric days, we read that “ sometimes the 
 king separately, sometimes the kings or chiefs or Gerontes, 
 in the plural number, are named as deciding disputes and 
 awarding satisfaction to complainants; always however in 
 public, in the midst of the assembled agora,” in which 
 the popular sympathies were expressed: the meeting thus 
 described, being the same with that in which questions 
 of war and peace were debated. That in its early form 
 the Eoman gathering of “ spearmen,” asked by the king to 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 495 
 
 say “ yes ” or “ no ” to a proposed military expedition or to 
 some State-measure, also expressed its opinion concerning 
 criminal charges publicly judged, is implied by the fact that 
 “ the king could not grant a pardon, for that privilege was 
 vested in the community alone.” Describing the gatherings 
 of the primitive Germans, Tacitus says : — “ The multitude 
 sits armed in such order as it thinks good ... It is lawful 
 also in the Assembly to bring matters for trial and to bring 
 charges of capital crimes ... In the same assembly chiefs 
 are chosen to administer justice throughout the districts and 
 villages. Each chief in so doing has a hundred companions of 
 the commons assigned to him, to strengthen at once his judg- 
 ment and his dignity.” A kindred arrangement is ascribed by 
 Lelevel to the Poles in early times, and to the Slavs at large. 
 Among the Danes, too, “ in all secular affairs, justice was 
 administered by the popular tribunal of the Lands- Ting for 
 each province, and by the Herreds-Ting for the smaller dis- 
 tricts or sub-divisions.” Concerning the Irish in past times. 
 Prof. Leslie quotes Spenser to the effect that it was their 
 usage “ to make great assemblies together upon a rath or hill, 
 there to v parley about matters and wrongs between township 
 and township, or one private person and another.” And then 
 there comes the illustration furnished by old English times. 
 The local moots of various kinds had judicial functions; and 
 the witenagemot sometimes acted as a high court of justice. 
 
 Interesting evidence that the original military assembly 
 was at the same time the original judicial assembly, is sup- 
 plied by the early practice of punishing freemen for non- 
 attendance. Discharge of military obligation being imperative, 
 the fining of those who did not come to the armed gathering 
 naturally followed; and fining for absence having become 
 the usage, survived when, as for judicial purposes, the need 
 for the presence of all was not imperative. Thence the 
 interpretation of the fact that non-attendance at the hundred- 
 court was thus punishable. 
 
 In this connexion it may be added that, in some cases 
 
496 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 where the primitive form continued, there was manifested an 
 incipient differentiation between the military assembly and 
 the judicial assembly. In the Carolingian period, judicial 
 assemblies began to be held under cover ; and freemen were 
 forbidden to bring their arms. As was pointed out in § 491, 
 among the Scandinavians no one was allowed to come armed 
 when the meeting was for judicial purposes. And since we 
 also read that in Iceland it was disreputable (not punishable) 
 for a freeman to be absent from the annual gathering, the 
 implication is that the imperativeness of attendance dimi- 
 nished with the growing predominance of civil functions. 
 
 § 524, The judicial body being at first identical with the 
 politico-military body, has necessarily the same triune 
 structure ; and we have now to observe the different forms it 
 assumes according to the respective developments of its three 
 components. We may expect to find kinship between these 
 forms and the concomitant political forms. 
 
 Where, with development of militant organization, the 
 power of the king has become greatly predominant over that 
 of the chiefs and over that of the people, his supremacy is 
 shown by his judicial absoluteness, as well as by his absolute- 
 ness in political and military affairs. Such shares as the 
 elders and the multitude originally had in trying causes, 
 almost or quite disappear. But though in these cases the 
 authority of the king as judge, is unqualified by that of his 
 head men and his other subjects, there habitually survive 
 traces of the primitive arrangement. For habitually his 
 decisions are given in public and in the open air. Petitioners 
 for justice bring their cases before him when he makes his 
 appearance out of doors, surrounded by his attendants and 
 by a crowd of spectators ; as we have seen in § 372 that they 
 do down to the present day in Kashmere. By the Hebrew 
 rulers, judicial sittings were held “in the gates” — the 
 usual meeting-places of Eastern peoples. Among the earty 
 Romans the king administered justice “in the place of 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 497 
 
 public assembly, sitting on a ‘ chariot-seat/ ” Mr. Gomme’s 
 Primitive Folk-Moots contains sundry illustrations showing 
 that among the Germans in old times, the Konigs-stuhl, or 
 king’s judgment-seat, was on the green sward ; that in other 
 cases the stone steps at the town-gates constituted the seat 
 before which causes were heard by him ; and that again, 
 in early French usage, trials often took place under trees. 
 According to Joinville this practice long continued in France. 
 “ Many a time did it happen that, in summer, he [Lewis IX] would go 
 and sit in the forest of Vincennes after mass, and would rest against an 
 oak, and make us sit round him ... he asked them with his own 
 mouth, ‘ Is there any one who has a suit V . . . I have seen him some- 
 times in summer come to hear his people's suits in the garden of Paris.” 
 
 And something similar occurred in Scotland under David I. 
 All which customs among various peoples, imply survival of 
 the primitive judicial assembly, changed only by concentra- 
 tion in its head of power originally shared by the leading 
 men and the undistinguished mass. 
 
 Where the second component of the triune political 
 structure becomes supreme, this in its turn monopolizes 
 judicial functions. Among the Spartans the oligarchic 
 senate, and in a measure the smaller and chance-selected 
 oligarchy constituted by the ephors, joined judicial functions 
 with their political functions. Similarly in Athens under the 
 aristocratic rule of the Eupatridse, we find the Areopagus 
 formed of its members, discharging, either itself or through its 
 nine chosen Archons, the duties of deciding causes and 
 executing decisions. In later days, again, we have the case of 
 the Venetian council of ten. And then, certain incidents of 
 the middle ages instructively show us one of the processes by 
 which judicial power, as well as political power, passes from 
 the hands of the freemen at large into the hands of a 
 smaller and wealthier class. In the Carolingian period, 
 besides the bi-annual meetings of the hundred- court, it was — 
 
 “ convoked at the Grafs will and pleasure, to try particular cases . . . 
 in the one case, as in the other, non-attendance was punished ... it was 
 found that the Grafs used their right to summon these extraordinary 
 
498 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Courts in excess, with a view, by repeated fines and amercements, to 
 ruin the small freeholders, and thus to get their abodes into their own 
 hands. Charlemagne introduced a radical law-reform . . . the great 
 body of the freemen were released from attendance at the Gebotene 
 Dinge , at which, from thenceforth, justice was to be administered under 
 the presidency, ex officio , of the Centenar , by . . . permanent jurymen 
 . . . chosen de melioribus — i.e. y from the more well-to-do freemen.” 
 
 But iii other cases, and especially where concentration 
 in a town renders performance of judicial functions less 
 burdensome, we see that along with retention or acquire- 
 ment of predominant power by the third element in the 
 triune political structure, there goes exercise of judicial func- 
 tions by it. The case of Athens, after the replacing of oli- 
 garchic rule by democratic rule, is, of course, the most 
 familiar example of this. The Kleisthenian revolution made 
 the annually-appointed magistrates personally responsible to 
 the people j udicially assembled ; and when, under Perildes, 
 there were established the dikasteries, or courts of paid jurors 
 chosen by lot, the administration of justice was transferred 
 almost wholly to the body of freemen, divided for convenience 
 into committees. Among the Frieslanders, who in early times 
 were enabled by the nature of their habitat to maintain a 
 free form of political organization, there continued the popu- 
 lar judicial assembly: — “ When the commons were summoned 
 for any particular purpose, the assembly took the name of the 
 Bodthing. The bodthing was called for the purpose of passing 
 judgment in cases of urgent necessity / 7 And M. de Laveleye, 
 describing the Teutonic mark as still existing in Holland, 
 “ especially in Drenthe / 7 a tract “ surrounded on all sides by 
 a marsh and bog 77 (again illustrating the physical conditions 
 favourable to maintenance of primitive free institutions), goes 
 on to say of the inhabitants as periodically assembled : — 
 
 “ They appeared in arms ; and no one could absent himself, under pain 
 of a fine. This assembly directed all the details as to the enjoyment of 
 the common property ; appointed the works to be executed ; imposed 
 pecuniary penalties for the violation of rules, and nominated the officers 
 charged with the executive power.” 
 
 The likeness between the judicial form and the political 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 499 
 
 form is further shown where the government is neither despotic 
 nor oligarchic, nor democratic, but mixed. For in our own 
 case we see a system of administering justice which, like the 
 political system, unites authority that is in a considerable 
 degree irresponsible, with popular authority. In old English 
 times a certain power of making and enforcing local or “ bye- 
 laws ” was possessed by the township ; and in more important 
 and definite ways the hundred-moot and the shire-moot dis- 
 charged judicial and executive functions: their respective 
 officers being at the same time elected. But the subsequent 
 growth of feudal institutions, followed by the development of 
 royal power, was accompanied by diminution of the popular 
 share in judicial business, and an increasing assignment of it 
 to members of the ruling classes and to agents of the crown. 
 And at present we see that the system, as including the 
 power of juries (which arose by selection of representative 
 men, though not in the interest of the people), is in part 
 popular ; that in the summary jurisdiction of unpaid magis- 
 trates who, though centrally appointed, mostly belong to the 
 wealthy classes, and especially the landowners, it is in part 
 aristocratic; that in the regal commissioning of judges it 
 continues monarchic ; and that yet, as the selection of magis- 
 trates and judges is practically in the hands of a ministry 
 executing, on the average, the public will, royal power and 
 class-power in the administration of justice are exercised 
 under popular control. 
 
 § 525. A truth above implied and now to be definitely 
 observed, is that along with the consolidation of small societies 
 into large ones effected by war, there necessarily goes an 
 increasing discharge of judicial functions by deputy. 
 
 As the primitive king is very generally himself both 
 commander-in-chief and high priest, it is not unnatural that 
 his delegated judicial functions should be fulfilled both by 
 priests and soldiers. Moreover, since the consultative body, 
 where it becomes established and separated from the multi- 
 
500 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 tude, habitually includes members of both these classes, such 
 judicial powers as it exercises cannot at the outset be mono- 
 polized by members of either. And this participation is 
 further seen to arise naturally on remembering how, as before 
 shown, priests have in so many societies united military 
 functions with clerical functions ; and how, in other cases, 
 becoming local rulers, having the same tenures and obliga- 
 tions with purely military local rulers, they acquire, in com- 
 mon with them, local powers of judgment and execution ; as 
 did mediaeval prelates. Whether the ecclesiastical class or 
 the class of warrior-chiefs acquires judicial predominance, 
 probably depends mainly on the proportion between men’s 
 fealty to the successful soldier, and their awe of the priest 
 as a recipient of divine communications. 
 
 Among the Zulus, who, with an undeveloped mythology, 
 have no great deities and resulting organized priesthood, the 
 king “ shares his power with two soldiers of his choice. These 
 two form the supreme judges of the country.” Similarly 
 with the Eggarahs (Inland Negroes), whose fetisli-men do not 
 form an influential order, the first and second judges are 
 “also commanders of the forces in time of war.” Passing 
 to historic peoples, we have in Attica, in Solon’s time, the 
 nine archons, who, while possessing a certain sacredness as 
 belonging to the Eupatridae, united judicial with military 
 functions — more especially the polemarch. In ancient Rome, 
 that kindred union of the two functions in the consuls, 
 who called themselves indiscriminately, prwtores or judices, 
 naturally resulted from their inheritance of both functions 
 from the king they replaced ; but beyond this there is the 
 fact that though the pontiffs had previously been judges in 
 secular matters as well as in sacred matters, yet, after the esta- 
 blishment of the republic, the several orders of magistrates were 
 selected from the non-clerical patricians, — the original soldier- 
 class. And then throughout the middle ages in Europe, we 
 have the local military chiefs, whether holding positions like 
 those of old English thanes or like those of feudal barons, acting 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 501 
 
 as judges in tlieir respective localities. Perhaps the clearest 
 illustration is that furnished by Japan, where a long-con- 
 tinued and highly-developed military regime , has been 
 throughout associated with the monopoly of judicial func- 
 tions by the military class : the apparent reason being that 
 in presence of the god-descended Mikado, supreme in heaven 
 as on earth, the indigenous Shinto religion never developed 
 a divine ruler whose priests acquired, as his agents, an autho- 
 rity competing with terrestrial authority. 
 
 But mostly there is extensive delegation of judicial powers 
 to the sacerdotal class, in early stages. We find it among 
 existing uncivilized peoples, as the Kalmucks, whose priests, 
 besides playing a predominant part in the greatest judicial 
 council, exercise local jurisdiction ; in the court of each sub- 
 ordinate chief, one of the high priests is head judge. Of 
 extinct uncivilized or semi-civilized peoples, may be named 
 the Indians of Yucatan, by whom priests were appointed as 
 judges in certain cases — judges who took part in the execu- 
 tion of their own sentences. Originally, if not afterwards, the 
 giving of legal decisions was a priestly function in ancient 
 Egypt ; and that the priests were supreme judges among 
 the Hebrews is a familiar fact : the Deuteronomic law con- 
 demning to death any one who disregarded their verdicts. 
 In that general assembly of the ancient Germans which, as 
 we have seen, exercised judicial powers, the priests were 
 prominent ; and, according to Tacitus, in war “ none but the 
 priests are permitted to judge offenders, to inflict bonds or 
 stripes; so that chastisement appears not as an act of military 
 discipline, but as the instigation of the god whom they sup- 
 pose present with warriors.” In ancient Britain, too, accord- 
 ing to Caesar, the druids alone had authority to decide in both 
 civil and criminal cases, and executed their own sentences : 
 the penalty for disobedience to them being excommunication. 
 Grimm tells us that the like held among the Scandinavians. 
 “ In their judicial character the priests seem to have exercised 
 a good deal of control over the people ... In Iceland, even 
 
502 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 under Christianity, the judges retained the name and several 
 of the functions of heathen goftar ” And then we have the 
 illustration furnished by that rise of ecclesiastics to the posi- 
 tions of judges throughout mediaeval Europe, which accom- 
 panied belief in their divine authority. When, as during the 
 Merovingian period and after, “ the fear of hell, the desire of 
 winning heaven,” and other motives, prompted donations and 
 bequests to the Church, till a large part of the landed pro- 
 perty fell into its hands — when there came increasing 
 numbers of clerical aud semi-clerical dependents of the 
 Church, over whom bishops exercised judgment and disci- 
 pline — when ecclesiastical influence so extended itself that, 
 wdiile priests became exempt from the control of laymen, lay 
 authorities became subject to priests ; there was established 
 a judicial power of this divinely-commissioned class to which 
 even kings succumbed. So was it in England too. Before the 
 Conquest, bishops had become the assessors of ealdormen in 
 the scire-gemot, and gave judgments on various civil matters. 
 With that recrudescence of military organization which fol- 
 lowed the Conquest, came a limitation of their jurisdiction 
 to spiritual offences and causes concerning clerics. But 
 in subsequent periods ecclesiastical tribunals, bringing under 
 canon law numerous ordinary transgressions, usurped more 
 and more the duties of secular judges: their excommuni- 
 cations being enforced by the temporal magistrates. More- 
 over, since prelates as feudal nobles were judges in their 
 respective domains ; and since many major and minor judicial 
 offices in the central government were filled by prelates; 
 it resulted that the administration of justice was largely, if 
 not mainly, in the hands of priests. 
 
 This sharing of delegated judicial functions between the 
 military class and the priestly class, with predominance here 
 of the one and there of the other, naturally continued while 
 there was no other class having wealth and influence. But 
 with the increase of towns and the multiplication of traders, 
 who accumulated riches and acquired education, previously 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 503 
 
 possessed only by ecclesiastics, judicial functions fell more 
 and more into their hands. Sundry causes conspired to pro- 
 duce this transfer. One was lack of culture among the 
 nobles, and their decreasing ability to administer laws, ever 
 increasing in number and in complexity. Another was the 
 political unfitness of ecclesiastics, who grew distasteful to 
 rulers in proportion as they pushed further the powers and 
 privileges which their supposed divine commission gave them. 
 Details need not detain us. The only general fact needing 
 to be emphasized, is that this transfer ended in a differen- 
 tiation of structures. For whereas in earlier stages, judicial 
 functions were discharged by men who were at the same time 
 either soldiers or priests, they came now to be discharged by 
 men exclusively devoted to them. 
 
 § 526. Simultaneously, the evolution of judicial systems 
 is displayed in several other ways. One of them is the ad- 
 dition of judicial agents who are locomotive to the pre-exist- 
 ing stationary judicial agents. 
 
 During the early stages in which the ruler administers 
 justice in person, he does this now in one place and now in 
 another ; according as affairs, military or judicial, carry him to 
 this or that place in his kingdom. Societies of various types 
 in various times yield evidence. Historians of ancient Peru 
 tell us that “ the Ynca gave sentence according to the 
 crime, for he alone was judge wheresoever he resided, and 
 all persons wronged had recourse to him. ,, Of the German 
 emperor in the 12th century we read that “ not only did 
 he receive appeals, but his presence in any duchy or county 
 suspended the functions of the local judges.” France 
 in the 15th century supplies an instance. King Charles 
 “ spent two or three years in travelling up and down the 
 kingdom . . . maintaining justice to the satisfaction of his 
 subjects/’ In Scotland something similar was done by 
 David I., who “ settled marches, forest rights, and rights of 
 pasture : ” himself making the marks which recorded his 
 
504 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 decisions, or seeing them made. In England, “ Edgar and 
 Canute had themselves made judicial circuits and there is 
 good evidence of such judicial travels in England up to the 
 time of the Great Charter. Sir Henry Maine has quoted 
 documents showing that King John, in common with earlier 
 kings, moved about the country with great activity, and held 
 his court wherever he might happen to be. 
 
 Of course with the progress of political integration and 
 consequent growing power of the central ruler, there come 
 more numerous cases in which appeal is made to him to rectify 
 the wrongs committed by local rulers ; and as State-business 
 at large augments and complicates, his inability to do this 
 personally leads to doing it by deputy. In France, in Char- 
 lemagne’s time, there were the “ Missi Regii, who held 
 assizes from place to place f and then, not forgetting that 
 during a subsequent period the chief heralds in royal state, as 
 the king’s representatives, made circuits to judge and punish 
 transgressing nobles, we may pass to the fact that in the later 
 feudal period, when the business of the king’s court became 
 too great, commissioners were sent into the provinces to 
 judge particular cases in the king’s name : a method which 
 does not appear to have been there developed further. But 
 in England, in Henry II.’s time, kindred causes prompted 
 kindred steps which initiated a permanent system. Instead 
 of listening to the increasing number of appeals made to his 
 court, personally or through his lieutenant the justiciar, the 
 king commissioned his constable, chancellor, and co-justiciar 
 to hear pleas in the different counties. Later, there came a 
 larger number of these members of the central judicial court 
 who made these judicial journeys : part of them being clerical 
 and part military. And hence eventually arose the esta- 
 blished circuits of judges who, like their prototypes, had to 
 represent the king and exercise supreme authority. 
 
 It should be added that here again we meet with proofs 
 that in the evolution of arrangements conducing to the main- 
 tenance of individual rights, the obligations are primary and 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 505 
 
 the claims derived. For the business of these travelling 
 judges, like the business of the king’s court by which they 
 were commissioned, was primarily fiscal and secondarily 
 judicial. They were members of a central body that was at 
 once Exchequer and Curia Regis , in which financial functions 
 at first predominated ; and they were sent into the provinces 
 largely, if not primarily, for purposes of assessment : as in- 
 stance the statement that in 1168, “ the four Exchequer 
 officers who assessed the aid pur fille marier , acted not only 
 as taxers but as judges.” In which facts we see harmony 
 with those before given, showing that support of the ruling 
 agency precedes obtainment of protection from it. 
 
 § 527. With that development of a central government 
 which accompanies consolidation of small societies into a large 
 one, and with the consequent increase of its business, entailing 
 delegation of functions, there goes, in the judicial organiza- 
 tion as in the other organizations, a progressive differen- 
 tiation. The evidence of this is extremely involved; both 
 for the reason that in most cases indigenous judicial agencies 
 have been subordinated but not destroyed by those which 
 conquest has originated, and for the reason that kinds of 
 power, as well as degrees of power, have become distinguished. 
 A few leading traits only of the process can here be indicated. 
 
 The most marked differentiation, already partially implied, 
 is that between the lay, the ecclesiastical, and the military 
 tribunals. From those early stages in which the popular 
 assembly, with its elders and chief, condemned military de- 
 faulters, decided on ecclesiastical questions, and gave judg- 
 ments about offences, there has gone on a divergence which, 
 accompanied by disputes and struggles concerning jurisdiction, 
 has parted ecclesiastical courts and courts martial from the 
 courts administering justice in ordinary civil and criminal 
 cases. Just recognizing these cardinal specializations, we 
 may limit our attention to the further specializations which 
 have taken place within the last of the three structures. 
 
506 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Originally the ruler, with or without the assent of the 
 assembled people, not only decides : he executes his deci- 
 sions, or sees them executed. For example, in Dahomey the 
 king stands by, and if the deputed officer does not please 
 him, takes the sword out of his hand and shows him 
 how to cut off a head. An account of death-punishment 
 among the Bedouins ends with the words— “ the executioner 
 being the sheikh himself.” Our own early history affords 
 traces of personal executive action by the king ; for there 
 came a time when he was interdicted from arresting any 
 one himself, and had thereafter to do it in all cases by 
 deputy. And this interprets for us the familiar truth that, 
 through his deputies the sheriffs, who are bound to act 
 personally if they cannot themselves find deputies, the 
 monarch continues to be theoretically the agent who carries 
 the law into execution : a truth further implied by the fact 
 that execution in criminal cases, nominally authorized by 
 him though actually by his minister, is arrested if his assent 
 is withheld by his minister. And these facts imply that a 
 final power of judgment remains with the monarch, not- 
 withstanding delegation of his judicial functions. How this 
 happens we shall see on tracing the differentiation. 
 
 Naturally, when a ruler employs assistants to hear com- 
 plaints and redress grievances, he does not give them abso- 
 lute authority ; but reserves the power of revising their 
 decisions. We see this even in such rude societies as that 
 of the Sandwich Islands, where one who is dissatisfied with 
 the decision of his chief may appeal to the governor, and 
 from the governor to the king; or as in ancient Mexico, 
 where “none of the judges were allowed to condemn to death 
 without communicating with the king, who had to pass the 
 sentence.” And the principle holds where the political head- 
 ship is compound instead of simple. “ When the hegemony 
 of Athens became, in fact, more and more a dominion, the 
 civic body of Attica claimed supreme judicial authority over 
 all the allies. The federal towns only retained their lower 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 507 
 
 courts.” Obviously by such changes are produced unlikenesses 
 of degree and differences of kind in the capacities of judicial 
 agencies. As political subordination spreads, the local 
 assemblies which originally judged and executed in cases of 
 all kinds, lose part of their functions; now by restriction 
 in range of jurisdiction, now by subjection of their decisions 
 to supervision, now by denial of executive power. To trace 
 up the process from early stages, as for instance from the 
 stage in which the old English tything-moot discharged 
 administrative, judicial, and executive functions, or from the 
 stage in which the courts of feudal nobles did the like, 
 is here alike impracticable and unnecessary. Reference to 
 such remnants of power as vestries and manorial courts 
 possess, will sufficiently indicate the character of the change. 
 But along with degradation of the small and local judicial 
 agencies, goes development of the great and central ones; 
 and about this something must be said. 
 
 Returning to the time when the king with his servants 
 and chief men, surrounded by the people, administers justice 
 in the open air, and passing to the time when his court, held 
 more frequently under cover and consequently with less of 
 the popular element, still consists of king as president and 
 his household officers with other appointed magnates as coun- 
 sellors (who in fact constitute a small and permanent part 
 of that general consultative body occasionally summoned) ; 
 we have to note two causes which cooperate to produce a 
 division of these remaining parts of the original triune body 
 — one cause being the needs of subjects, and the other the 
 desire of the king. So long as the king’s court is held 
 wherever he happens to be, there is an extreme hindrance to 
 the hearing of suits, and much entailed loss of money and 
 time to suitors. To remedy this evil came, in our own 
 case, the provision included in the Great Charter that the 
 common pleas should no longer follow the king’s court, but 
 be held in some certain place. This place was fixed in the 
 palace of Westminster. And then as Blackstone points out — 
 13 
 
508 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTION'S. 
 
 “This precedent was soon after copied by King Philip the Fair in 
 France, who about the year 1302, fixed the parliament of Paris to abide 
 constantly in that metropolis ; which before used to follow the person 
 of the king wherever he went . . . And thus also, in 1495, the Emperor 
 Maximilian I. fixed the imperial chamber, which before always travelled 
 with the court and household, to be constantly at Worms.” 
 
 As a sequence of these changes it of course happens that 
 suits of a certain kind come habitually to be decided with- 
 out the king’s presence : there results a permanent transfer of 
 part of his judicial power. Again, press of business or 
 
 love of ease prompts the king himself to hand over such 
 legal matters as are of little interest to him. Thus in 
 France, while we read that Charles V., when regent, sat in 
 his council to administer justice twice a week, and Charles YI. 
 once, we also read that in 1370 the king declared he would 
 no longer try the smaller causes personally. Once initiated 
 and growing into a usage, this judging by commission, be- 
 coming more frequent as affairs multiply, is presently other- 
 wise furthered : there arises the doctrine that the king ought 
 not, at any rate in certain cases, to join in judgment. Thus 
 “at the trial of the duke of Brittany in 1378, the peers of 
 France protested against the presence of the king.” Again 
 <£ at the trial of the Marquis of Saluces, under Francis I., 
 that monarch was made to see that he could not sit.” When 
 Lewis XIII. wished to be judge in the case of the Duke de 
 la Yalette, he was resisted by the judges, who said that it 
 was without precedent. And in our own country there came 
 a time when “James I. was informed by the judges that he 
 had the right to preside in the court, but not to express his 
 opinion:” a step towards that exclusion finally reached. 
 
 While the judicial business of the political head thus lapses 
 into the hands of appointed agencies, these agencies them- 
 selves, severally parting with certain of their functions one to 
 another, become specialized. Among ourselves, even before 
 there took place the above-named separation of the per- 
 manently-localized court of common pleas, from the king’s 
 court which moved about with him, there had arisen within 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 509 
 
 the king’s court an incipient differentiation. Causes concern- 
 ing revenue were dealt with in sittings distinguished from 
 the general sittings of the king’s court, by being held in 
 another room ; and establishment of this custom produced 
 a division. Adaptation of its parts to unlike ends led to 
 divergence of them; until, out of the original Curia Regis, had 
 come the court of exchequer and the court of common pleas ; 
 leaving behind the court of king’s bench as a remnant of the 
 original body. When the office of justiciar (who, represent- 
 ing the king in his absence, presided over these courts) was 
 abolished, the parting of them became decided ; and though, 
 for a length of time, competition for fees led to trenching on 
 one another’s functions, yet, eventually, their functions 
 became definitely marked off*. A further important 
 
 development, different but allied, took place. We have seen 
 that when appointing others to judge for him, the king 
 reserves the power of deciding in cases which the law 
 has not previously provided for, and also the power of 
 supervising the decisions made by his deputies. Naturally 
 this power comes to be especially used to over-ride deci- 
 sions which, technically according to law, are practically 
 unjust: the king acquires an equity jurisdiction. At first 
 exercised personally, this jurisdiction is liable to be deputed ; 
 and in our own case was so. The chancellor, one of the 
 king’s servants, who “ as a baron of the exchequer and as a 
 leading member of the curia” had long possessed judicial func- 
 tions, and who was the officer to present to the king petitions 
 concerning these “ matters of grace and favour,” became 
 presently himself the authority who gave decisions in equity 
 qualifying the decisions of law ; and thus in time resulted 
 the court of chancery. Minor courts with minor functions 
 also budded out from the original Curia Regis. This body 
 included the chief officers of the king’s household, each of 
 whom had a jurisdiction in matters . pertaining to liis special 
 business ; and hence resulted the court of the chamberlain, 
 the court of the steward, the court of the earl marshal (now 
 
510 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 at Herald’s College), the court of the constable (no longer 
 extant), the court of the admiral, &c. 
 
 In brief, then, we find proofs that, little trace as its struc- 
 ture now shows of such an origin, our complex judicial 
 system, alike in its supreme central parts and in its various 
 small local parts, has evolved by successive changes out of 
 the primitive gathering of people, head men, and chief. 
 
 § 528. Were further detail desirable, there might here be 
 given an account of police-systems ; showing their evolution 
 from the same primitive triune body whence originate the 
 several organizations delineated in this and preceding chapters. 
 As using force to subdue internal aggressors, police are like 
 soldiers, who use force to subdue external aggressors ; and the 
 two functions, originally one, are not even now quite sepa- 
 rated either in their natures or their agents. For besides 
 being so armed that they are in some countries scarcely dis- 
 tinguishable from soldiers, and besides being subject to mili- 
 tary discipline, the police are, in case of need, seconded by 
 soldiers in the discharging of their duties. To indicate the 
 primitive identity it will suffice to name two facts. During 
 the Merovingian period in France, armed bands of serfs, 
 attached to the king’s household and to the households 
 of dukes, were employed both as police and for garrison pur- 
 poses ; and in feudal England, tlie posse comitcttus , consisting 
 of all freemen between fifteen and sixty, under command 
 of the sheriff, was the agent for preserving internal peace at 
 the same time that it was available for repelling invasions, 
 though not for foreign service — an incipient differentiation 
 between the internal and external defenders which became 
 in course of time more marked. Letting this brief indication 
 suffice, it remains only to sum up the conclusions above 
 reached. 
 
 Evidences of sundry kinds unite in showing that judicial 
 action and military action, ordinarily having for their common 
 end the rectification of real or alleged wrongs, are closely 
 
JUDICIAL AND EXECUTIVE SYSTEMS. 
 
 511 
 
 allied at the outset. The sword is the ultimate resort in 
 either case : use of it being in the one case preceded by a 
 w T ar of words carried on before some authority whose aid is 
 invoked, while in the other case it is not so preceded. As 
 is said by Sir Henry Maine, “the fact seems to be that 
 contention in Court takes the place of contention in arms, 
 but only gradually takes its place.” 
 
 Thus near akin as the judicial and military actions origi- 
 nally are, they are naturally at first discharged by the same 
 agency — the primitive triune body formed of chief, head men, 
 and people. This which decides on affairs of war and settles 
 questions of public policy, also gives judgments concerning 
 alleged wrongs of individuals and enforces its decisions. 
 
 According as the social activities develop one or other 
 element of the primitive triune body, there results one or 
 other form of agency for the administration of law. If 
 continued militancy makes the ruling man all-powerful, he 
 becomes absolute judicially as in other ways : the people lose 
 all share in giving decisions, and the judgments of the chief 
 men who surround him are overridden by his. If con- 
 ditions favour the growth of the chief men into an oligarchy, 
 the body they form becomes the agent forjudging and punish- 
 ing offences as for other purposes : its acts being little or not 
 at all qualified by the opinion of the mass. While if the sur- 
 rounding circumstances and mode of life are such as to 
 prevent supremacy of one man, or of the leading men, its 
 primitive judicial power is preserved by the aggregate of 
 freemen — or is regained by it where it re-acquires predomi- 
 nance. And where the powers of these three elements are 
 mingled in the political organization, they are also mingled 
 in the judicial organization. 
 
 In those cases, forming the great majority, in which 
 habitual militancy entails subjection of the people, partial or 
 complete, and in which, consequently, political power and 
 judicial power come to be exercised exclusively by the several 
 orders of chief men, the judicial organization which arises as 
 
512 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the society enlarges and complicates, is officered by the 
 sacerdotal class, or the military class, or partly the one and 
 partly the other: their respective shares being apparently 
 dependent on the ratio between the degree of conscious 
 subordination to the human ruler and the degree of conscious 
 subordination to the divine ruler, whose will the priests are 
 supposed to communicate. But with the progress of indus- 
 trialism and the rise of a class which, acquiring property and 
 knowledge, gains consequent influence, the judicial system 
 comes to be largely, and at length chiefly, officered by men 
 derived from this class ; and these men become distinguished 
 from their predecessors not only as being of other origin, 
 but also as being exclusively devoted to judicial functions. 
 
 While there go on changes of this kind, there go on 
 changes by which the origin ally-simple and comparatively- 
 uniform judicial system, is rendered increasingly complex. 
 Where, as in ordinary cases, there has gone along with 
 achievement of supremacy by the king, a monopolizing 
 of judicial authority by him, press of business presently 
 obliges him to appoint others to try causes and give judg- 
 ments : subject of course to his approval. Already his court, 
 originally formed of himself, his chief men, and the sur- 
 rounding people, has become supreme over courts constituted 
 in analogous ways of local magnates and their inferiors — so 
 initiating a differentiation ; and now by delegating certain of 
 his servants or assessors, at first with temporary commissions 
 to hear appeals locally, and then as permanent itinerant judges, 
 a further differentiation is produced. And to this are added 
 yet further differentiations, kindred in nature, by which other 
 assessors of his court are changed into the heads of 
 specialized courts, which divide its business among them. 
 Though this particular course has been taken in but a single 
 case, yet it serves to exemplify the general principle under 
 which, in one way or other, there arises out of the primitive 
 simple judicial body, a centralized and heterogeneous judicial 
 organization. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LAWS. 
 
 § 529. If, going back once more to tlie primitive horde, we 
 ask what happens when increase of numbers necessitates 
 migration — if we ask what it is which causes the migrating 
 part to fall into social arrangements like those of the parent 
 part, and to behave in the same way ; the obvious reply is 
 that the inherited natures of its members, regulated by the 
 ideas transmitted from the past, cause these results. That \ 
 guidance by custom which we everywhere find among rude 1 
 peoples, is the sole conceivable guidance at the outset. 
 
 To recall vividly the truth set forth in § 467, that the rudest 
 men conform their lives to ancestral usages, I may name such 
 further illustrations as that the Sandwich Islanders had 
 “ a kind of traditionary code . . . followed by general con- 
 sent ; ” and that by the Bechuanas, government is carried on 
 according to “ long-acknowledged customs/' A more specific 
 statement is that made by Mason concerning the Karens, 
 among whom “ the elders are the depositaries of the laws, both 
 moral and political, both civil and criminal, and they give 
 them as they receive them, and as they have been brought 
 down from past generations” orally. Here, however, we 
 have chiefly to note that this government by custom, persists 
 through long stages of progress, and even still largely in- 
 fluences judicial administration. Instance the fact that as 
 late as the 14th century in France, an ordinance declared that 
 “ the whole kingdom is regulated by ‘ custom,' and it is as 
 
514 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ‘ custom’ that some of our subjects make use of the written 
 law." Instance the fact that our own Common Law is mainly 
 an embodiment of the “ customs of the realm/’ which have 
 gradually become established : its older part, nowhere existing 
 in the shape of enactment, is to be learnt only from text- 
 books ; and even parts, such as mercantile law, elaborated in 
 modern times, are known only through reported judgments, 
 given in conformity with usages proved to have been pre- 
 viously followed. Instance again the fact, no less signi- 
 ficant, that at the present time custom perpetually re-appears 
 as a living supplementary factor ; for it is only after judges’ 
 decisions have established precedents which pleaders after- 
 wards quote, and subsequent judges follow, that the applica- 
 tion of an act of parliament becomes settled. So that while 
 in the course of civilization written law tends to replace 
 traditional usage, the replacement never becomes complete. 
 
 | And here we are again reminded that law, whether written 
 or unwritten, formulates the rule of the dead over the living. 
 In addition to that power which past generations exercise 
 over present generations by transmitting their natures, bodily 
 and mental ; and in addition to the power they exercise over 
 them by bequeathed private habits and modes of life ; there 
 is this power they exercise through these regulations for 
 public conduct handed down orally or in writing. Among 
 savages and in barbarous societies, the authority of laws thus 
 derived is unqualified ; and even in advanced stages of civili- 
 zation, characterized by much modifying of old laws and 
 making of new ones, conduct is controlled in a far greater 
 degree by the body of inherited laws than by those laws 
 which the living make. 
 
 I emphasize these obvious truths for the purpose of point- 
 ing out that they imply a tacit ancestor-worship. I wish to 
 make it clear that when asking in any case — What is the 
 Law? we are asking — What was the dictate of our fore- 
 fathers ? And my object in doing this is to prepare the way 
 for showing that unconscious conformity to the dictates of the 
 
LAWS. 
 
 515 
 
 dead, thus shown, is, in early stages, joined with conscious 
 conformity to their dictates. 
 
 § 530. For along with development of the ghost-theory, 
 there arises the practice of appealing to ghosts, and to the gods 
 evolved from ghosts, for directions in special cases, in addi- 
 tion to the general directions embodied in customs. There 
 come methods by which the will of the ancestor, or the dead 
 chief, or the derived deity, is sought ; and the reply given, 
 usually referring to a particular occasion, originates in some 
 cases a precedent, from which there results a law added to the 
 body of laws the dead have transmitted. 
 
 The seeking of information and advice from ghosts, takes 
 here a supplicatory and there a coercive form. The Yeddahs, 
 who ask the spirits of their ancestors for aid, believe that 
 in dreams they tell them where to hunt ; and then we read 
 of the Scandinavian diviners, that they “ dragged the ghosts 
 of the departed from their tombs and forced the dead to tell 
 them what would happen cases which remind us that 
 among the Hebrews, too, there were supernatural directions 
 given in dreams as well as information derived from invoked 
 spirits. This tendency to accept special guidance from the 
 dead, in addition to the general guidance of an inherited code, 
 is traceable in a transfigured shape even among ourselves ; for 
 besides conforming to the orally-declared wish of a deceased 
 parent, children are often greatly influenced in their conduct 
 by considering what the deceased parent would have desired 
 or advised: his imagined injunction practically becomes a 
 supplementary law. 
 
 Here, however, we are chiefly concerned with that more 
 developed form of such guidance which results where the 
 spirits of distinguished men, regarded with special fear and 
 trust, become deities. Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics reveal 
 two stages of it. The “ Instructions ” recorded by King 
 Easlfotephet are given by his father in a dream. “ Son of the 
 Sun Amenemhat — deceased : — He says in a dream — unto his 
 
516 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 son the Lord intact, — he says rising up like a god : — Listen 
 to what I speak unto thee/” And then another tablet 
 narrates how Thothmes IV, travelling when a prince, and 
 taking his siesta in the shade of the Sphinx, was spoken to in a 
 dream by that god, who said — “ Look at me ! . . . Answer 
 me that you will do me what is in my heart ” &c. ; and when 
 he ascended the throne, Thothmes fulfilled the injunction. 
 Analogous stages were well exemplified among the ancient 
 Peruvians. There is a tradition that Huayna Ccapac, wish- 
 ing to marry his second sister, applied for assent to the dead 
 body of his father; “but the dead body gave no answer, 
 while fearful signs appeared in the heavens, portending 
 blood.” Moreover, as before pointed out in § 477, “ the Ynca 
 gave them (the vassals) to understand that all he did with 
 regard to them was by an order and revelation of his father, 
 the Sun.” Turning to extant races, we see that in the Poly- 
 nesian Islands, where the genesis of a pantheon by ancestor 
 worship is variously exemplified, divine direction is habitually 
 sought through priests. Among the Tahitians, one “ mode by 
 which the god intimated his will,” was to enter the priest, 
 who then “ spoke as entirely under supernatural influence.” 
 Mariner tells us that in Tonga, too, when the natives wished 
 to consult the gods, there was a ceremony of invocation; and 
 the inspired priest then uttered the divine command. Similar 
 beliefs and usages are described by Turner as existing in 
 Samoa. Passing to another region, we find among the Todas 
 of the Indian hills, an appeal for supernatural guidance in 
 judicial matters. 
 
 “ When any dispute arises respecting their wives or their buffaloes, it 
 has to be decided by the priest, who affects to become possessed by the 
 Bell-god, and . . . pronounces the deity’s decision upon the point in 
 dispute.” 
 
 These instances serve to introduce and interpret for us 
 those which the records of historic peoples yield. Taking 
 first the Hebrews, we have the familiar fact that the laws 
 for general guidance were supposed to be divinely communi- 
 cated ; and we have the further fact that special directions 
 
LAWS. 
 
 517 
 
 were often sought. Through the priest who accompanied 
 the army, the commander “ inquired of the Lord ” about any 
 military movement of importance, and sometimes received 
 very definite orders ; as when, before a battle with the 
 Philistines, David is told to “ fetch a compass behind them, 
 and come upon them over against the mulberry trees.” 
 Sundry Ayran peoples furnish evidence. In common with 
 other Indian codes, the code of Manu, “ according to Hindoo 
 mythology, is an emanation from the supreme God.” So, 
 too, was it with the Greeks. Hot forgetting the tradition 
 that by an ancient Cretan king, a body of laws was brought 
 down from the mountain where Jupiter was said to be buried, 
 we may pass to the genesis of laws from special divine com- 
 mands, as implied in the Homeric poems. Speaking of these 
 Grote says : — 
 
 “ The appropriate Greek word for human laws never occurs : amidst a 
 very wavering phraseology, we can detect a gradual transition from the 
 primitive idea of a personal goddess, Themis, attached to Zeus, first to 
 his sentences or orders called Themistes, and next by a still farther 
 remove to various established customs which those sentences were 
 believed to sanctify — the authority of religion and that of custom 
 coalescing into one indivisible obligation.” 
 
 Congruous in nature was the belief that “ Lycurgus ob- 
 tained not only his own consecration to the office of legis- 
 lator, but his laws themselves from the mouth of the Delphic 
 God.” To which add that we have throughout later Greek 
 times, the obtainment of special information and direc- 
 tion through oracles. Evidence that among the Eomans there 
 had occurred a kindred process, is supplied by the story that 
 the ancient laws were received by Numa from the goddess 
 Egeria ; and that Huma appointed augurs by whose inter- 
 pretation of signs the will of the gods was to be ascertained. 
 Even in the 9th century, under the Carolingians, there were 
 brought before the nobles “ articles of law named capitula , 
 which the king himself had drawn up by the inspiration of 
 God.” 
 
 Without following out the influence of like beliefs in later 
 
518 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 times, as seen in trial by ordeal and trial by judicial 
 combat, in both of which God was supposed indirectly to 
 give judgment, the above evidence makes it amply manifest 
 that, in addition to those injunctions definitely expressed, or 
 embodied in usages tacitly accepted from seniors and 
 through them from remote ancestors, there are further in- 
 junctions more consciously attributed to supernatural beings 
 — either the ghosts of parents and chiefs who were personally 
 known, or the ghosts of more ancient traditionally-known 
 chiefs which have been magnified into gods. Whence it 
 follows that originally, under both of its forms, law embodies 
 the dictates of the dead to the living. 
 
 § 531. And here we are at once shown how it happens that 
 throughout early stages of social evolution, no distinction is 
 made between sacred law and secular law. Obedience to 
 established injunctions of whatever kind, originating in 
 reverence for supposed supernatural beings of one or other 
 order, it results that at first all these injunctions have the 
 same species of authority. 
 
 The Egyptian wall-sculptures, inscriptions, and papyri, 
 everywhere expressing subordination of the present to the 
 past, show us the universality of the religious sanction for 
 rules of conduct. Of the Assyrians Layard says : — 
 
 “ The intimate connection between the public and private life of the 
 Assyrians and their religion, is abundantly proved by the sculptures. 
 ... As among most ancient Eastern nations, not only all public and 
 social duties, but even the commonest forms and customs, appear to 
 have been more or less influenced by religion. . . . All his [the king’s] 
 acts, whether in war or peace, appear to have been connected with the 
 national religion, and were believed to be under the special protection 
 and superintendence of the deity.” 
 
 That among the Hebrews there existed a like connexion, is 
 conspicuously shown us in the Pentateuch ; where, besides 
 the commandments specially so-called, and besides religious 
 ordinances regulating feasts and sacrifices, the doings of the 
 priests, the purification by scapegoat, &e., there are numerous 
 
LAWS. 
 
 519 
 
 directions for daily conduct — directions concerning kinds of 
 food and modes of cooking ; directions for proper farming in 
 respect of periodic fallows, not sowing mingled grain, &c. ; 
 directions for the management of those in bondage, male and 
 female, and the payment of hired labourers ; directions about 
 trade-transactions and the sales of lands and houses ; along 
 with sumptuary laws extending to the quality and fringes of 
 garments and the shaping of beards: instances sufficiently 
 showing that the rules of living, down even to small details, 
 had a divine origin equally with the supreme laws of con- 
 duct. The like was true of the Ayrans in early stages. 
 The code of Manu was a kindred mixture of sacred and 
 secular regulations — of moral dictates and rules for carrying 
 on ordinary affairs. Says Tiele of the Greeks after the Doric 
 migration “ No new political institutions, no fresh culture, 
 no additional games, were established without the sanction of 
 the Pythian oracle.” And again we read — 
 
 " Chez les Grecs et cliez les Eomains, comme chez les Hindous, la loi fut 
 d’abord une partie de la religion. Les anciens codes des cites etaient 
 un ensemble de rites de prescriptions liturgiques de prieres, en meme 
 temps que de dispositions legislatives. Les regies du droit de propriety 
 et du droit de succession y etaient eparses au milieu des regies des 
 sacrifices, de la sepulture et du culte des morts.” 
 
 Originating in this manner, law acquires stability. Possess- 
 ing a supposed supernatural sanction, its rules have a rigidity 
 enabling them to restrain men’s actions in greater degrees 
 than could any rules having an origin recognized as natural. 
 They tend thus to produce settled social arrangements ; both 
 directly, by their high authority, and indirectly by limiting 
 the actions of the living ruler. As was pointed out in § 468, 
 early governing agents, not daring to transgress inherited 
 usages and regulations, are practically limited to interpreting 
 and enforcing them : their legislative power being exercised 
 only in respect of matters not already prescribed for. Thus 
 of the ancient Egyptians we read : — “ It was not on his 
 [the king’s] own will that his occupations depended, but on 
 those rules of duty and propriety which the wisdom of his 
 
520 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ancestors had framed, with a just regard for the welfare of 
 the king and of his people.” And how persistent is this 
 authority of the sanctified past over the not-yet-sanctified 
 present, we see among ourselves, in the fact that every legis- 
 lator has to bind himself by oath to maintain certain political 
 arrangements which our ancestors thought good for us. 
 
 While the unchangeableness of law, due to its supposed 
 sacred origin, greatly conduces to social order during those 
 early stages in w T hich strong restraints are most needed, there 
 of course results an unadaptiveness w’hich impedes progress 
 when there arise new conditions to be met. Hence come into 
 use those “ legal fictions,” by the aid of which nominal 
 obedience is reconciled with actual disobedience. Alike in 
 Roman law and in English law, as pointed out by Sir Henry 
 Maine, legal fictions have been the means of modifying 
 statutes which were transmitted as immutable ; and so fitting 
 them to new requirements : thus uniting stability with that 
 plasticity which allows of gradual transformation. 
 
 § 532. Such being the origin and nature of laws, it becomes 
 manifest that the cardinal injunction must be obedience. 
 Conformity to each particular direction pre-supposes allegiance 
 to the authority giving it ; and therefore the imperativeness 
 of subordination to this authority is primary. 
 
 That direct acts of insubordination, shown in treason and 
 rebellion, stand first in degree of criminality, evidently fol- 
 lows. This truth is seen at the present time in South 
 Africa. “ According to a horrible law of the Zulu despots, 
 when a chief is put to death they exterminate also his sub- 
 jects.” It was illustrated by the ancient Peruvians, among 
 whom “ a rebellious city or province was laid waste, and its 
 inhabitants exterminated ; ” and again by the ancient Mexi- 
 cans, by whom one guilty of treachery to the king “ was put 
 to death, with all his relations to the fourth degree.” A 
 like extension of punishment occurred in past times in Japan, 
 where, when “ the offence is committed against the state, 
 
LAWS. 
 
 521 
 
 punishment is inflicted upon the whole race of the offender ” 
 Of efforts thus wholly to extinguish families guilty of dis- 
 loyalty, the Merovingians yielded an instance : king Gunt- 
 chram swore that the children of a certain rebel should be 
 destroyed up to the ninth generation. And these examples 
 naturally recall those furnished by Hebrew traditions. When 
 Abraham, treating Jahveh as a terrestrial superior (just as 
 existing Bedouins regard as god the most powerful living 
 ruler known to them) entered into a covenant under which, 
 for territory given, he, Abraham, became a vassal, circumcision 
 was the prescribed badge of subordination ; and the sole 
 capital offence named was neglect of circumcision, implying 
 insubordination : J ahveh elsewhere announcing himself as “ a 
 jealous god,” and threatening punishment “ upon the children 
 unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.” 
 And the truth thus variously illustrated, that during stages in 
 which maintenance of authority is most imperative, direct dis- 
 loyalty is considered the blackest of crimes, we trace down 
 through later stages in such facts as that, in feudal days, so 
 long as the fealty of a vassal was duly manifested, crimes, 
 often grave and numerous, were overlooked. 
 
 Less extreme in its flagitiousness than the direct dis- 
 obedience implied by treason and rebellion, is, of course, the 
 indirect disobedience implied by breach of commands. This, 
 however, where strong rule has been established, is regarded 
 as a serious offence, quite apart from, and much exceeding, that 
 which the forbidden act intrinsically involves. Its greater 
 gravity was distinctly enunciated by the Peruvians, among 
 whom, says Garcilasso, “ the most common punishment was 
 death, for they said that a culprit was not punished for the 
 delinquencies he had committed, but for having broken the 
 commandment of the Ynca, who was respected as God.” The 
 like conception meets us in another country where the ab- 
 solute ruler is regarded as divine. Sir E. Alcock quotes 
 Thunberg to the effect that in Japan, “ most crimes are 
 punished with death, a sentence which is inflicted with less 
 
522 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 regard to the magnitude of the crime than to the audacity of 
 the attempt to transgress the hallowed laws of the empire.” 
 And then, beyond the criminality which disobeying the ruler 
 involves, there is the criminality involved by damaging the 
 ruler’s property, where his subjects and their services belong 
 wholly or partly to him. In the same way that maltreating 
 a slave, and thereby making him less valuable, comes to be 
 considered as an aggression on his owner — in the same way 
 that even now among ourselves a father’s ground for proceed- 
 ing against a seducer is loss of his daughter’s services ; so, 
 where the relation of people to monarch is servile, there arises 
 the view that injury done by one person to another, is injury 
 done to the monarch’s property. An extreme form of this 
 view is alleged of Japan, where cutting and maiming of the 
 king’s dependents “ becomes wounding the king, or regicide.” 
 And hence the general principle, traceable in European juris- 
 prudence from early days, that a transgression of man against 
 man is punishable mainly, or in large measure, as a trans- 
 gression against the State. It was thus in ancient Eome : 
 “ every one convicted of having broken the public peace, 
 expiated his offence with his life.” An early embodiment 
 of the principle occurs in the Salic law, under which “ to the 
 wehrgeld is added, in a great number of cases, . . . the frecl , 
 a sum paid to the king or magistrate, in reparation for the 
 violation of public peace ; ” and in later days, the fine paid 
 to the State absorbed the wehrgeld. Our own history simi- 
 larly shows us that, as authority extends and strengthens, the 
 guilt of disregarding it takes precedence of intrinsic guilt. 
 “ ‘ The king’s peace 5 was a privilege which attached to the 
 sovereign’s court and castle, but which he could confer on 
 other places and persons, and which at once raised greatly 
 the penalty of misdeeds committed in regard to them.” 
 Along with the growing check on the right of private revenge 
 for wrongs — along with the increasing subordination of minor 
 and local jurisdictions — along with that strengthening of a 
 central authority which these changes imply, “ offences against 
 
LAWS. 
 
 523 
 
 the law become offences against the king, and the crime of 
 disobedience a crime of contempt to be expiated by a special 
 sort of fine.” And we may easily see how, where a ruler 
 gains absolute power, and especially where lie has the prestige 
 of divine origin, the guilt of contempt comes to exceed the 
 intrinsic guilt of the forbidden act. 
 
 A significant truth may be added. On remembering that 
 Peru, and Japan till lately, above named as countries in 
 which the crime of disobedience to the ruler was considered 
 so great as practically to equalize the flagitiousness of all 
 forbidden acts, had societies in which militant organization, 
 carried to its extreme, assimilated the social government at 
 large to the government of an army ; we are reminded that 
 even in societies like our own, there is maintained in the 
 army the doctrine that insubordination is the cardinal 
 offence. Disobedience to orders is penal irrespective of the 
 nature of the orders or the motive for the disobedience ; and 
 an act which, considered in itself, is quite innocent, may be 
 visited with death if done in opposition to commands. 
 
 While, then, in that enforced conformity to inherited 
 customs which plays the part of law in the earliest stages, we 
 see insisted upon the duty of obedience to ancestors at large, 
 irrespective of the injunctions to be obeyed, which are 
 often trivial or absurd — while in the enforced conformity to 
 special directions given in oracular utterances by priests, or in 
 “ themistes,” &c., which form a supplementary source of law, 
 we see insisted upon the duty of obedience, in small tilings 
 as in great, to certain recognized spirits of the dead, or deities 
 derived from them ; we also see that obedience to the edicts 
 of the terrestrial ruler, whatever they may be, becomes, as his 
 power grows, a primary duty. 
 
 § 533. What has been said in the foregoing sections brings 
 out with clearness the truth that rules for the regulation of 
 conduct have four sources. Even in early stages we see that 
 beyond the inherited usages which have a quasi-religious sane- 
 
524 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 tion ; and beyond the special injunctions of deceased leaders, 
 which have a more distinct religious sanction ; there is some, 
 though a slight, amount of regulation derived from the will 
 of the predominant man ; and there is also the effect, vague 
 but influential, of the aggregate opinion. Not dwelling on the 
 first of these, which is slowly modified by accretions derived 
 from the others, it is observable that in the second we have 
 the germ of the law afterwards distinguished as divine ; that 
 in the third we have the germ of the law which gets its sanc- 
 tion from allegiance to the living governor ; and that in the 
 fourth we have the germ of the law which eventually becomes 
 recognized as expressing the public will. 
 
 Already I have sufficiently illustrated those kinds of laws 
 which originate personally, as commands of a feared invisible 
 ruler and a feared visible ruler. But before going further, it 
 will be well to indicate more distinctly the kind of law which 
 originates impersonally, from the prevailing sentiments and 
 ideas, and which we find clearly shown in rude stages before 
 the other two have become dominant. A -few extracts will 
 exhibit it. Schoolcraft says of the Chippewayans — 
 
 u Thus, though they have no regular government, as every man is lord in 
 his own family, they are influenced more or less by certain principles 
 which conduce to their general benefit.” 
 
 Of the unorganized Shoshones Bancroft writes — 
 
 “ Every man does as he likes. Private revenge, of course, occasionally 
 overtakes the murderer, or, if the sympathies of the tribe be with the 
 murdered man, he may possibly be publicly executed, but there are no 
 fixed laws for such cases.” 
 
 In like manner the same writer tells us of the Haidahs that — - 
 “ Crimes have no punishment by law ; murder is settled for with rela- 
 tives of the victim, by death or by the payment of a large sum ; and 
 sometimes general or notorious offenders, especially medicine -men, are 
 put to death by an agreement among leading men.” 
 
 Even where government is considerably developed, public 
 opinion continues to be an independent source of law. Ellis 
 says that — 
 
 “ In cases of theft in the Sandwich Islands, those who had been robbed 
 retaliated upon the guilty party, by seizing whatever they could find ; 
 
LAWS. 
 
 525 
 
 and this mode of obtaining redress was so supported by public opinion, 
 that the latter, though it might be the stronger party, dare not offer 
 resistance.” 
 
 By which facts we are reminded that where central authority 
 and administrative machinery are feeble, the laws thus inform- 
 ally established by aggregate feeling are enforced by making 
 revenge for wrongs a socially-imposed duty ; while failure to 
 revenge is made a disgrace, and a consequent danger. In 
 ancient Scandinavia, “ a man’s relations and friends who had 
 not revenged his death, would instantly have lost that repu- 
 tation which constituted their principal security.” So that, 
 obscured as this source of law becomes when the popular ele- 
 ment in the triune political structure is entirely subordinated, 
 yet it was originally conspicuous, and never ceases to exist. 
 And now having noted the presence of this, along with the 
 other mingled sources of law, let us observe how the several 
 sources, along with their derived laws, gradually become 
 distinguished. 
 
 Recalling the proofs above given that where there has 
 been established a definite political authority, inherited from 
 apotheosized chiefs and made strong by divine sanction, laws 
 of all kinds have a religious character ; we have first to note 
 that a differentiation takes place between those regarded as 
 sacred and those recognized as secular. An illustration of 
 this advance is furnished us by the Greeks. Describing the 
 state of things exhibited in the Homeric poems, Grote re- 
 marks that “ there is no sense of obligation then existing, 
 between man and man as such — and very little between 
 each man and the entire community of which he is a member;” 
 while, at the same time, “ the tie which binds a man to his 
 father, his kinsman, his guest, or any special promisee 
 towards wkom he has taken the engagement of an oath, is 
 conceived in conjunction with the idea of Zeus, as witness 
 and guarantee allegiance to a divinity is the source of 
 obligation. But in historical Athens, “ the great impersonal 
 authority called ‘ The Laws ’ stood out separately, both as 
 
526 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 guide and sanction, distinct from religious duty or private 
 sympathies.” And at the same time there arose the distinc- 
 tion between breach of the sacred law and breach of the 
 secular law : “ the murderer came to be considered, first as 
 having sinned against the gods, next as having deeply injured 
 the society, and thus at once as requiring absolution and 
 deserving punishment.” A kindred differentiation 
 
 early occurred in Rome. Though, during the primitive 
 period, the head of the State, at once king and high priest, 
 and in his latter capacity dressed as a god, was thus the 
 mouth-piece of both sacred law and secular law ; yet, after- 
 wards, with the separation of the ecclesiastical and political 
 authorities, came a distinction between breaches of divine 
 ordinances and breaches of human ordinances. In the 
 words of Sir Henry Maine, there were “laws punishing 
 sins. There were also laws punishing torts. The con- 
 ception of offence against God produced the first class of 
 ordinances ; the conception of offence against one’s neighbour 
 produced the second ; but the idea of offence against the State 
 or aggregate community did not at first produce a true 
 criminal jurisprudence.” In explanation of the last statement 
 it should, however, be added that since, during the regal 
 period, according to Mommsen, “judicial procedure took the 
 form of a public or a private process, according as the king 
 interposed of his own motion, or only when appealed to by 
 the injured party;” and since “the former course was taken 
 only in cases which involved a breach of the public peace 
 it must be inferred that wdien kingship ceased, there survived 
 the distinction between transgression against the individual 
 and transgression against the State, though the mode of 
 dealing with this last had not, for a time, a definite 
 form. Again, even among the Hebrews, more per- 
 
 sistently theocratic as their social system was, we see a con- 
 siderable amount of this change, at the same time that we 
 are shown one of its causes. The Mishna contains many 
 detailed civil laws ; and these manifestly resulted from the 
 
LAWS. 
 
 527 
 
 growing complication of affairs. The instance is one showing 
 ns that primitive sacred commands, originating as they do in 
 a comparatively undeveloped state of society, fail to cover 
 the cases which arise as institutions become involved. In 
 respect of these there consequently grow up rules having 
 a known human authority only. By accumulation of such 
 rules, is produced a body of human laws distinct from the 
 divine laws ; and the offence of disobeying the one becomes 
 unlike the offence of disobeying the other. Though 
 
 in Christianized Europe, throughout which the indigenous 
 religions were superseded by an introduced religion, the 
 differentiating process was interfered with; yet, on setting 
 out from the stage at which this introduced religion had 
 acquired that supreme authority proper to indigenous re- 
 ligions, we see that the subsequent changes were of like 
 nature with those above described. Along with that mingling 
 of structures shown in the ecclesiasticism of kings and the 
 secularity of prelates, there went a mingling of political and 
 religious legislation. Gaining supreme power, the Church 
 interpreted sundry civil offences as offences against God; 
 and even those which w^ere left to be dealt with by the 
 magistrate were considered as thus left by divine ordi- 
 nance. But subsequent evolution brought about stages 
 in which various transgressions, held to be committed 
 against both sacred and secular law, were simultaneously 
 expiated by religious penance and civil punishment ; and there 
 followed a separation which, leaving but a small remnant of 
 ecclesiastical offences, brought the rest into the category of 
 offences against the State and against individuals. 
 
 And this brings us to the differentiation of equal, if not 
 greater, significance, between those laws which derive their 
 obligation from the will of the governing agency, and those laws 
 which derive their obligation from the consensus of individual 
 interests — between those laws which, having as their direct end 
 the maintenance of authority, only indirectly thereby conduce 
 to social welfare, and those which, directly and irrespective 
 
528 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of authority, conduce to social welfare : of which last, law, 
 in its modern form, is substantially an elaboration. Already 
 I have pointed out that the kind of law initiated by the 
 consensus of individual interests, precedes the kind of law 
 initiated by political authority. Already I have said that 
 though, as political authority develops, laws acquire the shape 
 of commands, even to the extent that those original prin- 
 ciples of social order tacitly recognized at the outset, come 
 to be regarded as obligatory only because personally enacted, 
 yet that the obligation derived from the consensus of indi- 
 vidual interests survives, if obscured. And here it remains 
 to show that as the power of the political head declines — as 
 industrialism fosters an increasingly free population — as 
 the third element in the triune political structure, long sub- 
 ordinated, grows again predominant ; there again grows pre- 
 dominant this primitive source of law — the consensus of 
 individual interests. We have further to note that in its 
 re-developed form, as in its original form, the kind of law 
 hence arising has a character radically distinguishing it from 
 the kinds of law thus far considered. Both the divine 
 laws and the human laws which originate from personal 
 authority, have inequality as their common essential principle ; 
 while the laws which originate impersonally, in the consensus of 
 individual interests, have equality as their essential principle. 
 Evidence is furnished at the very outset. For w r hat is this 
 lex talionis which, in the rudest hordes of men, is not only 
 recognized but enforced by general opinion ? Obviously, as 
 enjoining an equalization of injuries or losses, it tacitly 
 assumes equality of claims among the individuals concerned. 
 The principle of requiring “ an eye for an eye and a tooth for 
 a tooth,” embodies the primitive idea of justice everywhere: 
 the endeavour to effect an exact balance being sometimes 
 quite curious. Thus we read in Arbousset and Daumas : — 
 
 “ A Basuto whose son had been wounded on the head with a staff, came 
 to entreat me to deliver up the offender, — 4 with the same staff and on 
 the same spot where my son was beaten, will I give a blow on the head 
 of the man who did it.’ ” 
 
LAWS. 
 
 529 
 
 A kindred effort to equalize in this literal way, the nffence 
 and the expiation, occurs in Abyssinia ; where, when the 
 murderer is given over to his victim’s family, “the nearest 
 of kin puts him to death with the same kind of weapon as 
 that with which he had slain their relative.” As the last 
 case shows, this primitive procedure, when it does not assume 
 the form of inflicting injury for injury between individuals, 
 assumes the form of inflicting injury for injury between 
 families or tribes, by taking life for life. With the instances 
 given in § 522 may be joined one from Sumatra. 
 
 “ When in an affray [between families], there happen to be several 
 persons killed on both sides, the business of justice is only to state 
 the reciprocal losses, in the form of an account current, and order the 
 balance to be discharged if the numbers be unequal.” 
 
 And then, from this rude justice which insists on a balancing 
 of losses between families or tribes, it results that so long as 
 their mutual injuries are equalized, it matters not whether 
 the blameable persons are or are not those who suffer ; and 
 hence the system of vicarious punishment — hence the fact that 
 vengeance is wreaked on any member of the transgressing 
 family or tribe. Moreover, ramifying in these various ways, 
 the principle applies where not life but property is con- 
 cerned. Schoolcraft tells us that among the Dakotas, “injury 
 to property is sometimes privately revenged by destroying 
 other property in place thereof and among the Araueanians, 
 families pillage one another for the purpose of making their 
 losses alike. The idea survives, though changed in 
 
 form, when crimes come to be compounded for by gifts or 
 payments. Very early we see arising the alternative between 
 submitting to vengeance or making compensation. Kane 
 says of certain North American races, that “ horses or other 
 Indian valuables ” were accepted in compensation for murder. 
 With the Dakotas “ a present of white wampum,” if accepted, 
 condones the offence. Among the Araueanians, homicides 
 “ can screen themselves from punishment by a composition 
 with the relations of the murdered.” Recalling, as these few 
 instances do, the kindred alternatives recognized throughout 
 
530 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 primitive Europe, they also make us aware of a significant 
 difference. For with the rise of class-distinctions in primitive 
 Europe, the rates of compensation, equal among members of 
 each class, had ceased to be equal between members of dif- 
 ferent classes. Along with the growth of personally- derived 
 law, there had been a departure from the impersonally- 
 derived law as it originally existed. 
 
 But now the truth to be noted is that, with the relative 
 weakening of kingly or aristocratic authority and relative 
 strengthening of popular authority, there revives the partially- 
 suppressed kind of law derived from the consensus of indi- 
 vidual interests ; and the kind of law thus originating tends 
 continually to replace all other law. For the chief business 
 of courts of justice at present, is to enforce, without respect of 
 persons, the principle, recognized before governments arose, 
 that all members of the community, however otherwise dis- 
 tinguished, shall be similarly dealt with when they aggress 
 one upon another. Though the equalization of injuries by 
 retaliation is no longer permitted ; and though the Govern- 
 ment, reserving to itself the punishment of transgressors, does 
 little to enforce restitution or compensation ; yet, in pur- 
 suance of the doctrine that all men are equal before the law, 
 it has the same punishment for transgressors of every class. 
 And then in respect of unfulfilled contracts or disputed debts, 
 from the important ones tried at Assizes to the trivial ones 
 settled in County Courts, its aim is to maintain the rights and 
 obligations of citizens without regard for wealth or rank. Of 
 course in our transition state the change is incomplete. But 
 the sympathy with individual claims, and the consensus of 
 individual interests accompanying it, lead to an increasing 
 predominance of that kind of law which provides directly 
 for social or’der; as distinguished from that kind of lav/ 
 which indirectly provides for social order by insisting on 
 obedience to authority, divine or human. With decline of 
 the regime of status and growth of the regime of contract, 
 personally-derived law more and more gives place to impel- 
 
LAWS. 
 
 531 
 
 sonally-derived law ; and this of necessity, since a formulated 
 inequality is implied by the compulsory cooperation of the 
 one, while, by the voluntary cooperation of the other, there is 
 implied a formulated equality. 
 
 So that, having first differentiated from the laws of sup- 
 posed divine origin, the laws of recognized human origin 
 subsequently re-differentiate into those which ostensibly have 
 the will of the ruling agency as their predominant sanction, 
 and those which ostensibly have the aggregate of private 
 interests as their predominant sanction ; of which two the last 
 tends, in the course of social evolution, more and more to 
 absorb the first. Necessarily, however, while militancy con- 
 tinues, the absorption remains incomplete ; since obedience 
 to a ruling will continues to be in some cases necessary. 
 
 § 534. A right understanding of this matter is so important, 
 that I must be excused for briefly presenting two further 
 aspects of the changes described : one concerning the accom- 
 panying sentiments, and the other concerning the accompany- 
 ing theories. 
 
 As laws originate partly in the customs inherited from the 
 undistinguished dead, partly in the special injunctions of the 
 distinguished dead, partly in the average will of the undis- 
 tinguished living, and partly in the will of the distinguished 
 living, the feelings responding to them, allied though differ- 
 ent, are mingled in proportions that vary under diverse cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 A ccording to the nature of the society, one or other sanction 
 predominates ; and the sentiment appropriate to it obscures 
 the sentiments appropriate to the others, without, however, 
 obliterating them. Thus in a theocratic society, the crime of 
 murder is punished primarily as a sin against God ; but not 
 without there being some consciousness of its criminality as 
 a disobedience to the human ruler who enforces the divine 
 command, as well as an injury to a family, and, by implication, 
 to the community. Where, as among the Bedouins or in 
 14 
 
532 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Sumatra, there is no such supematurally-derived injunction, 
 and no consequent reprobation of disobedience to it, the loss 
 entailed on the family of the victim is the injury recognized ; 
 and, consequently, murder is not distinguished from man- 
 slaughter. Again, in Japan and in Peru, unqualified abso- 
 luteness of the living ruler is, or was, accompanied by the 
 belief that the criminality of murder consisted primarily in 
 transgression of his commands ; though doubtless the establish- 
 ment of such commands implied, both in ruler and people, 
 some recognition of evil, individual or general, caused by 
 breach of them. In ancient Eome, the consciousness of 
 injury done to the community by murder was decided ; and 
 the feeling enlisted on behalf of public order was that which 
 mainly enforced the punishment. And then among ourselves 
 when a murder is committed, the listener to an account of it 
 shudders not mainly because the alleged command of God 
 has been broken, nor mainly because there has been a breach 
 of “ the Queen’s peace but his strongest feeling of repro- 
 bation is that excited by the thought of a life taken away, 
 with which is joined a secondary feeling due to the diminution 
 of social safety which every such act implies. In these 
 
 different emotions which give to these several sanctions 
 their respective powers, we see the normal concomitants of 
 the social states to which such sanctions are appropriate. 
 More especially we see how that weakening of the sentiments 
 offended by breaches of authority, divine or human, which 
 accompanies growth of the sentiments offended by injuries 
 to individuals and the community, is naturally joined with 
 revival of that kind of law which originates in the consensus 
 of individual interests — the law which was dominant before 
 personal authority grew up, and which again becomes domi- 
 nant as personal authority declines. 
 
 At the same time there goes on a parallel change of theory. 
 Along with a rule predominantly theocratic, there is current 
 a tacit or avowed doctrine, that the acts prescribed or for- 
 bidden are made right or wrong solely by divine command ; 
 
LAWS# 
 
 533 
 
 and though this doctrine survives through subsequent stages 
 (as it does still in our own religious world), yet belief in it 
 becomes nominal rather than real. Where there has been 
 established an absolute human authority, embodied in a 
 single individual, or, as occasionally, in a few, there comes 
 the theory that law has no other source than the will of this 
 authority : acts are conceived as proper or improper accord- 
 ing as they do or do not conform to its dictates. With 
 progress towards a popular form of government, this theory 
 becomes modified to the extent that though the obligation to 
 do this and refrain from that is held to arise from State- 
 enactment ; yet the authority which gives this enactment its 
 force is the public desire. Still it is observable that along 
 with a tacit implication that the consensus of individual 
 interests affords the warrant for law, there goes the overt 
 assertion that this warrant is derived from the formulated 
 will of the majority : no question being raised whether this 
 formulated will is or is not congruous with the consensus of 
 individual interests. In this current theory there obviously 
 survives the old idea that there is no other sanction for law 
 than the command of embodied authority ; though the autho- 
 rity is now a widely different one. 
 
 But this theory, much in favour witli “ philosophical 
 politicians,” is a transitional theory. The ultimate theory, 
 which it foreshadows, is that the source of legal obligation is 
 the consensus of individual interests itself, and not the will of 
 a majority determined by their opinion concerning it ; which 
 may or may not be right. Already, even in legal theory, 
 especially as expounded by French jurists, natural law or 
 law of nature, is recognized as a source of formulated law : 
 the admission being thereby made that, primarily certain in- 
 dividual claims, and secondarily the social welfare furthered 
 by enforcing such claims, furnish a warrant for law, ante- 
 ceding political authority and its enactments. Already in 
 the qualification of Common Law by Equity, which avowedly 
 proceeds upon the law of “ honesty and reason and of nations ” 
 
534 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 there is involved the pre-supposition that, as similarly-con- 
 stituted beings, men have certain rights in common, main- 
 tenance of which, while directly advantageous to them in- 
 dividually, indirectly benefits the community ; and that thus 
 the decisions of equity have a sanction independent alike of 
 customary law and parliamentary votes. Already in respect 
 of religious opinions there is practically conceded the right of 
 the individual to disobey the law, even though it expresses 
 the will of a majority. Whatever disapproval there may be 
 of him as a law-breaker, is over-ridden by sympathy with his 
 assertion of freedom of judgment. There is a tacit recog- 
 nition of a warrant higher than that of State-enactments, 
 whether regal or popular in origin. These ideas and feelings 
 are all significant of progress towards the view, proper to the 
 developed industrial state, that the justification for a law is 
 that it enforces one or other of the conditions to harmonious 
 social cooperation ; and that it is unjustified (enacted by no 
 matter how high an authority or how general an opinion) if 
 it traverses these conditions. 
 
 And this is tantamount to saying that the impersonally- 
 derived law which revives as personally-derived law declines, 
 and which gives expression to the consensus of individual 
 interests, becomes, in its final form, simply an applied system 
 of ethics — or rather, of that part of ethics which concerns 
 men’s just relations with one another and with the community. 
 
 § 535. Returning from this somewhat parenthetical dis- 
 cussion, we might here enter on the development of laws, not 
 generally but specially ; exhibiting them as accumulating in 
 mass, as dividing and sub-dividing in their kinds, as becom- 
 ing increasingly definite, as growing into coherent and com- 
 plex systems, as undergoing adaptations to new conditions. 
 But besides occupying too much space, such an exposition 
 would fall outside the lines of our subject. Present require- 
 ments are satisfied by the results above set forth, which may 
 be summarized as follows. 
 
LAWS. 
 
 535 
 
 Setting out with the truth, illustrated even in the very 
 rudest tribes, that the ideas conveyed, sentiments inculcated, 
 and usages taught, to children by parents who themselves 
 were similarly taught, eventuate in a rigid set of customs ; we 
 recognize the fact that at first, as to the last, law is mainly 
 an embodiment of ancestral injunctions. 
 
 To the injunctions of the undistinguished dead, which, 
 qualified by the public opinion of the living in cases not 
 prescribed for, constitute the code of conduct before any 
 political organization has arisen, there come to be added the 
 injunctions of the distinguished dead, when there have arisen 
 chiefs who, in some measure feared and obeyed during life, 
 after death give origin to ghosts still more feared and obeyed. 
 And when, during that compounding of societies effected 
 by war, such chiefs develop into kings, their remembered 
 commands and the commands supposed to be given by their 
 ghosts, become a sacred code of conduct, partly embodying 
 and partly adding to the code pre-established by custom. 
 The living ruler, able to legislate only in respect of matters 
 unprovided for, is bound by these transmitted commands of 
 the unknown and the known who have passed away ; save 
 only in cases where the living ruler is himself regarded as 
 divine, in which cases his injunctions become laws having 
 a like sacredness. Hence the trait common to societies in 
 early stages, that the prescribed rules of conduct of whatever 
 kind have a religious sanction. Sacrificial observances, 
 public duties, moral injunctions, social ceremonies, habits 
 of life, industrial regulations, and even modes of dressing, 
 stand on the same footing. 
 
 Maintenance of the unchangeable rules of conduct thus 
 originating, which is requisite for social stability during those 
 stages in which the type of nature is yet but little fitted for 
 harmonious social cooperation, pre-supposes implicit obedience; 
 and hence disobedience becomes the blackest crime. Treason 
 and rebellion, whether against the divine or the human ruler 
 bring penalties exceeding all others in severity. The breaking 
 
536 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of a law is punished not because of the intrinsic criminality of 
 the act committed, but because of the implied insubordina- 
 tion. And the disregard of governmental authority continues, 
 through subsequent stages, to constitute, in legal theory, the 
 primary element in a transgression. 
 
 In societies that become large and complex, there arise forms 
 of activity and intercourse not provided for in the sacred code ; 
 and in respect of these the ruler is free to make regulations. 
 As such regulations accumulate there comes into exist- 
 ence a body of laws of known human origin ; and though 
 this acquires an authority due to reverence for the men who 
 made it and the generations wdiich approved it, yet it has not 
 the sacredness of the god-descended body of laws : human 
 law differentiates from divine law. But in societies which 
 remain predominantly militant, these two bodies of laws 
 continue similar in the respect that they have a personally- 
 derived authority. The avowed reason for obeying them is 
 that they express the will of a divine ruler, or the will of a 
 human ruler, or, occasionally, the will of an irresponsible 
 oligarchy. 
 
 But with the progress of industrialism and growth of a 
 free population wdiich gradually acquires political power, the 
 humanly-derived law begins to sub-divide; and that part 
 which originates in the consensus of individual interests, 
 begins to dominate over the part which originates in the 
 authority of the ruler. So long as the social type is one 
 organized on the principle of compulsory cooperation, law, 
 having to maintain this compulsory cooperation, must be 
 primarily concerned in regulating status , maintaining in- 
 equality, enforcing authority ; and can but secondarily con- 
 sider the individual interests of those forming the mass. 
 But in proportion as the principle of voluntary cooperation 
 more and more characterizes the social type, fulfilment of 
 contracts and implied assertion of equality in men's rights, 
 become the fundamental requirements, and the consensus of 
 individual interests the chief source of law r : such authority 
 
LAWS. 
 
 537 
 
 as law otherwise derived continues to have, being recognized 
 as secondary, and insisted upon only because maintenance of 
 law for its own sake indirectly furthers the general welfare. 
 
 Finally, we see that the systems of laws belonging to these 
 successive stages, are severally accompanied by the senti- 
 ments and theories appropriate to them ; and that the 
 theories at present current, adapted to the existing compromise 
 between militancy and industrialism, are steps towards the 
 ultimate theory, in conformity with which law will have no 
 other justification than that gained by it as maintainer of the 
 conditions to complete life in the associated state. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PROPERTY. 
 
 § 536. The fact referred to in § 292, that even intelligent 
 animals display a sense of proprietorship, negatives the belief 
 propounded by some, that individual property was not recog- 
 nized by primitive men. When we see the claim to exclusive 
 possession understood by a dog, so that he fights in defence 
 of his masters clothes if left in charge of them, it becomes 
 impossible to suppose that even in their lowest state men 
 were devoid of those ideas and emotions which initiate private 
 ownership. All that may be fairly assumed is that these 
 ideas and sentiments were at first less developed than they 
 have since become. 
 
 It is true that in some extremely rude hordes, rights of pro- 
 perty are but little respected. Lichtenstein tells us that 
 among the Bushmen, “ the weaker, if he would preserve his 
 own life, is obliged to resign to the stronger, his weapons, his 
 wife, and even his children and there are some degraded 
 North American tribes in which there is no check on the 
 more powerful who choose to take from the less powerful : 
 their acts are held to be legitimized by success. But absence 
 of the idea of property, and the accompanying sentiment, 
 is no more implied by these forcible appropriations than it 
 is implied by the forcible appropriation which a bigger 
 schoolboy makes of the toy belonging to a less. It 
 
 is also true that even where force is not used, individual 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 539 
 
 claims are in considerable degrees over-ridden or imperfectly 
 maintained. We read of the Chippewayans that “ Indian 
 law requires the successful hunter to share the spoils of the 
 chase with all present and Hillliouse says of the Arawaks 
 that though individual property is “ distinctly marked 
 amongst them/’ “yet they are perpetually borrowing and 
 lending, without the least care about payment.” But such 
 instances merely imply that private ownership is at first ill- 
 defined, as we might expect, a priori , that it would be. 
 
 Evidently the thoughts and feelings which accompany the 
 act of taking possession, as when an animal clutches its prey, 
 and which at a higher stage of intelligence go along with the 
 grasping of any article indirectly conducing to gratification, 
 are the thoughts and feelings to which the theory of property 
 does but give a precise shape. Evidently the use in legal 
 documents of such expressions as “ to have and to hold,” and 
 to be “seized” of a thing, as well as the survival up to 
 comparatively late times of ceremonies in which a portion 
 (rock or soil) of an estate bought, representing the whole, 
 actually passed from hand to hand, point back to this 
 primitive physical basis of ownership. Evidently the de- 
 veloped doctrine of property, accompanying a social state in 
 which men’s acts have to be mutually restrained, is a 
 doctrine which on the one hand asserts the freedom to take 
 and to keep within specified limits, and denies it beyond 
 those limits — gives positiveness to the claim while restricting 
 it. And evidently the increasing definiteness thus given to 
 rights of individual possession, may be expected to show itself 
 first where definition is relatively easy and afterwards where 
 it is less easy. This we shall find that it does. 
 
 § 537. While in early stages it is difficult, not to say impos- 
 sible, to establish and mark off individual claims to parts of 
 the area wandered over in search of food, it is not difficult to 
 mark off the claims to movable things and to habitations ; 
 and these claims we find habitually recognized. The follow- 
 
540 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ing passage from Bancroft concerning certain North American 
 savages, well illustrates the distinction : — 
 
 “Captain Cook found among the Alits very * strict notions of their 
 having a right to the exclusive property of everything that their 
 country produces/ so that they claimed pay for even wood, water, and 
 grass. The limits of tribal property are very clearly defined, but indi- 
 viduals rarely claim any property in land. Houses belong to the. men 
 who combine to build them. Private wealth consists of boats and 
 implements for obtaining food, domestic utensils, slaves, and blankets.” 
 A like condition is shown us by the Comanches : — 
 
 “ They recognize no distinct rights of meum and tuum, except to per- 
 sonal property ; holding the territory they occupy, and the game that 
 depastures upon it, as common to all the tribe : the latter is appro- 
 priated only by capture.” 
 
 And the fact that among these Comanches, as among other 
 peoples, “ prisoners of war belong to the captors, and may be 
 sold or released at their will,” further shows that the right of 
 property is asserted where it is easily defined. Of the 
 Brazilian Indians, again, Yon Martius tells us that, — 
 
 “ Huts and utensils are considered as private property ; but even with 
 regard to them certain ideas of common possession prevail. The same 
 hut is often occupied by more families than one ; and many utensils are 
 the joint property of all the occupants. Scarcely anything is considered 
 strictly as the property of an individual except his arms, accoutrements, 
 pipe, and hammock.” 
 
 Dr. Bink’s account of the Esquimaux shows that among 
 them, too, while there is joint ownership of houses made 
 jointly by the families inhabiting them, there is separate 
 ownership of weapons, fishing boats, tools, etc. Thus it is 
 made manifest that private right, completely recognized 
 where recognition of it is easy, is partially recognized where 
 partial recognition only is possible — where the private rights 
 of companions are entangled with it. Instances of other 
 kinds equally prove that among savages claims to possession 
 are habitually marked off when practicable : if not fully, yet 
 partially. Of the Chippewayans “who have no regular 
 government ” to make laws or arbitrate, we yet read that, — 
 
 “ In the former instance [when game is taken in inclosures by a hunt- 
 ing party], the game is divided among those who have been engaged in 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 54:1 
 
 the pursuit of it. In the latter [when taken in private traps] it is con- 
 sidered as private property; nevertheless, any unsuccessful hunter 
 passing by, may take a deer so caught, leaving the head, skin, and 
 saddle, for the owner.” 
 
 In cases, still more unlike, but similar in the respect that 
 there exists an obvious connexion between labour expended 
 and benefit achieved, rude peoples re-illustrate this same 
 individualization of property. Burckhardt tells us of the 
 Bedouins that wells are exclusive property, either of a whole 
 tribe, or of individuals whose ancestors dug the wells.” 
 
 Taken together such facts make it indisputable that in early 
 stages, private appropriation, carried to a considerable extent, 
 is not carried further because circumstances render extension 
 of it impracticable. 
 
 § 538. Recognition of this truth at once opens the way to 
 explanation of primitive land-ownership ; and elucidates the 
 genesis of those communal and family tenures which have 
 prevailed so widely. 
 
 While subsistence on wild food continues, the wandering 
 horde inhabiting a given area, must continue to make joint use 
 of the area; both because no claim can be shown by any 
 member to any portion, and because the marking out of small 
 divisions, if sharing were agreed upon, would be impracticable. 
 Where pastoral life has arisen, ability to drive herds hither 
 and thither within the occupied region is necessary. In the 
 absence of cultivation, cattle and their owners could not 
 survive were each owner restricted to one spot: there is 
 nothing feasible but united possession of a wide tract. And 
 when there comes a transition to the agricultural stage, 
 either directly from the hunting stage or indirectly through 
 the pastoral stage, several causes conspire to prevent, or to 
 check, the growth of private land-ownership. 
 
 There is first the traditional usage. Joint ownership con- 
 tinues after circumstances no longer render it imperative,, 
 because departure from the sacred example of forefathers is^ 
 resisted. Sometimes the resistance is insuperable ; as with 
 
542 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the Kechabites and the people of Petra, who by their vow 
 “were not allowed to possess either vineyards or corn- 
 fields or houses ” but were bound “ to continue the nomadic 
 life.” And obviously, where the transition to a settled state 
 is effected, the survival of habits and sentiments esta- 
 blished during the nomadic state, must long prevent posses- 
 sion of land by individuals. Moreover, apart from 
 
 opposing ideas and customs, there are physical difficulties 
 in the way. Even did any member of a pastoral horde which 
 had become partially settled, establish a claim to exclusive 
 possession of one part of the occupied area, little advantage 
 could be gained before there existed the means of keeping out 
 the animals belonging to others. Common use of the greater 
 part of the surface must long continue from mere inability 
 to set up effectual divisions. Only small portions can at first 
 be fenced off. Yet a further reason why land-owning 
 
 by individuals, and land-owning by families, establish them- 
 selves very slowly, is that at first each particular plot has 
 but a temporary value. The soil is soon exhausted; t and 
 in the absence of advanced arts of culture becomes useless. 
 Such tribes as those of the Indian hills show us that primitive 
 cultivators uniformly follow the practice of clearing a tract of 
 ground, raising from it two or three crops, and then abandon- 
 ing it : the implication being that whatever private claim had 
 arisen, lapses, and the surface, again becoming wild, reverts to 
 the community. 
 
 Thus throughout long stages of incipient civilization, the 
 impediments in the way of private land-ownership are great 
 and the incentives to it small. Besides the fact that primitive 
 men, respecting the connexion between effort expended and 
 benefit gained, and therefore respecting the right of property 
 in things made by labour, recognize no claim thus estab- 
 lished by an individual to a portion of land ; and besides the 
 fact that in the adhesion to inherited usage and the inability 
 effectually to make bounds, there are both moral and physical 
 obstacles to the establishment of any such individual 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 543 
 
 monopoly ; there is the fact that throughout early stages 
 of settled life, no motive to maintain permanent private 
 possession of land comes into play. Manifestly, therefore, it 
 is not from conscious assertion of any theory, or in pur- 
 suance of any deliberate policy, that tribal and communal 
 proprietorship of the areas occupied originate; but simply 
 from the necessities of the case. 
 
 Hence the prevalence among unrelated peoples of this 
 public ownership of land, here and there partially qualified 
 by temporary private ownership. Some hunting tribes of 
 North America show us a stage in which even the com- 
 munal possession is still vague. Concerning the Dakotas 
 Schoolcraft says — 
 
 “ Each village has a certain district of country they hunt in, but do not 
 object to families of other villages hunting with them. Among the 
 Dacotas, I never knew an instance of blood being shed in any disputes 
 or difficulties on the hunting grounds.” 
 
 Similarly of the Comanches, he remarks that “ no dispute 
 ever arises between tribes with regard to their hunting 
 grounds, the whole being held in common.” Of the semi- 
 settled and more advanced Iroquois, Morgan tells us that — 
 “No individual could obtain the absolute title to land, as that was 
 vested by the laws of the Iroquois in all the people ; but he could 
 reduce unoccupied lands to cultivation to any extent he pleased ; and so 
 long as he continued to use them, his right to their enjoyment was pro- 
 tected and secured.” 
 
 Sundry pastoral peoples of South Africa show us the sur- 
 vival of such arrangements under different conditions. 
 
 “ The land which they [the Bechuanas] inhabit is the common pro- 
 perty of the whole tribe, as a pasture for their herds.” 
 
 “ Being entirely a pastoral people, the Damaras have no notion of 
 permanent habitations. The whole country is considered public pro- 
 perty. . . . There is an understanding that he who arrives first at any 
 given locality, is the master of it as long as he chooses to remain there.” 
 
 Kaffir custom “does not recognize private property in the soil 
 beyond that of actual possession.” 
 
 “No one possesses landed property ” [among the Koosas] ; “he sows 
 his corn wherever he can find a convenient spot.” 
 
 And various of the uncivilized, who are mainly or wholly 
 
POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 541 
 
 agricultural, exhibit but slight modifications of this usage. 
 Though by the New Zealanders some extra claim of the chief 
 is recognized, yet “ all free persons, male and female, consti- 
 tuting the nation, were proprietors of the soil: ,, there is a 
 qualified proprietorship of land, obtained by cultivation, 
 which does not destroy the proprietorship of the nation or 
 tribe. In Sumatra, cultivation gives temporary ownership but 
 nothing more. We read that the ground “on which a man 
 plants or builds, with the consent of his neighbours, becomes 
 a species of nominal property ” ; but when the trees which 
 he has planted disappear in the course of nature, “ the land 
 reverts to the public.” From a distant region may be cited an 
 instance where the usages, though different in form, involve 
 the same principle. Among the modern Indians of Mexico — 
 
 “ Only a house-place and a garden are hereditary ; the fields belong to 
 the village, and are cultivated every year without anything being paid 
 for rent. A portion of the land is cultivated in common, and the pro- 
 ceeds are devoted to the communal expenses.” 
 
 This joint ownership of land, qualified by individual owner- 
 ship only so far as circumstances and habits make it easy to 
 mark off individual claims, leads to different modes of using 
 the products of the soil, according as convenience dictates. 
 Anderson tells us that in “Damara-land, the carcases of all 
 animals — whether wild or domesticated — are considered 
 public property.” Among the Todas — 
 
 “ Whilst the land is in each case the property of the village itself, 
 
 . . . the cattle which graze on it are the private property of individuals, 
 being males. . . . The milk of the entire herd is lodged in the paltlichi, 
 village dairy, from which each person, male and female, receives for his 
 or her daily consumj)tion ; the unconsumed balance being divided, as 
 personal and saleable property, amongst the male members of all ages, 
 in proportion to the number of cattle which each possesses in the herd.” 
 
 And then in some cases joint cultivation leads to a kindred 
 system of division. 
 
 “ When harvest is over,” the Congo people “ put all the kidney -beans 
 into one heap, the Indian wheat into another, and so of other grain : 
 then giving the Macolonte [chief] enough for his maintenance, and laying 
 aside what they design for sowing, the rest is divided at so much to 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 545 
 
 every cottage, according to the number of people each contains. Then 
 all the women together till and sow the land for a new harvest.” 
 
 In Europe an allied arrangement is exhibited by the southern 
 Slavs. “ The fruits of agricultural labour are consumed in 
 common, or divided equally among the married couples ; but 
 the produce of each man's industrial labour belongs to him 
 individually." Further, some of the Swiss allmends show 
 us a partial survival of this system ; for besides lands which 
 have become in large measure private, there are “ communal 
 vineyards cultivated in common," and “there are also cornlands 
 cultivated in the same manner," and “the fruit of their joint 
 labour forms the basis of the banquets, at which all the 
 members of the commune take part." 
 
 Thus we see that communal ownership and family owner- 
 ship at first arose and long continued because, in respect of land, 
 no other could well be established. Eecords of the civilized 
 show that w r ith them in the far past, as at present with the 
 uncivilized, private possession, beginning with movables, 
 extends itself to immovables only under certain conditions. 
 We have evidence of this in the fact named by Mayer, that 
 “ the Hebrew language has no expression for ‘ landed pro- 
 perty ; ’ " and again in the fact alleged by Mommsen of the 
 Eomans, that “ the idea of property was primarily associated 
 not with immovable estate, but with ‘ estate in slaves and 
 cattle.' " And if, recalling the circumstances of pastoral life, 
 as carried on alike by Semites and Ayrans, we remember that, 
 as before shown, the patriarchal group is a result of it ; we 
 may understand how, in passing into the settled state, there 
 would be produced such forms of land-tenure by the clan and 
 the family as, with minor variations, characterized primitive 
 European societies. It becomes comprehensible why among 
 the Eomans “ in the earliest times, the arable land was cul- 
 tivated in common, probably by the several clans ; each of 
 these tilled its own land, and thereafter distributed the pro- 
 duce among the several households belonging to it." We are 
 shown that there naturally arose such arrangements as those 
 
546 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of the ancient Teutonic mark — a territory held “ by a primi- 
 tive settlement of a family or kindred,” each free male 
 member of which had “ a right to the enjoyment of the 
 woods, the pastures, the meadow, and the arable land of the 
 mark but whose right was “ of the nature of usufruct or 
 possession only,” and whose allotted private division became 
 each season common grazing land after the crop had been 
 taken off, while his more permanent holding was limited to 
 his homestead and its immediate surroundings. And we may 
 perceive how the community’s ownership might readily, as 
 circumstances and sentiments determined, result here in an 
 annual use of apportioned tracts, here in a periodic re-par- 
 titioning, and here in tenures of more permanent kinds, — still 
 subject to the supreme right of the whole public. 
 
 § 539. Induction and deduction uniting to show, as they do, 
 that at first land is common property, there presents itself the 
 question— How did possession of it become individualized ? 
 There can be little doubt as to the general nature of the 
 answer. Force, in one form or other, is the sole cause 
 adequate to make the members of a society yield up their 
 joint claim to the area they inhabit. Such force may be that 
 of an external aggressor or that of an internal aggressor ; but 
 in either case it implies militant activity. 
 
 The first evidence of this which meets us is that the primi- 
 tive system of land-ownership has lingered longest where 
 circumstances have been such as either to exclude war or 
 to minimize it. Already I have referred to a still-extant 
 Teutonic mark existing in Drenthe, “ surrounded on all sides 
 by marsh and bog,” forming “ a kind of island of sand and 
 heath and this example, before named as showing the sur- 
 vival of free judicial institutions where free institutions at 
 large survive, simultaneously shows the communal land- 
 ownership which continues while men are unsubordinated. 
 After this typical case may be named one not far distant, 
 and somewhat akin — that, namely, which occurs “in the 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 547 
 
 sandy district of the Campine and beyond the Meuse, in 
 the Ardennes region,” where there is great “ want of commu- 
 nication the implied difficulty of access and the poverty of 
 surface making relatively small the temptation to invade. 
 So that while, says Laveleye, “ except in the Ardennes, 
 the lord had succeeded in usurping the eminent domain, 
 without however destroying the inhabitants’ rights of user,” 
 in the Ardennes itself, the primitive communal possession 
 survived. Other cases show that the mountainous character 
 of a locality, rendering subjugation by external or internal 
 force impracticable, furthers maintenance of this primitive 
 institution, as of other primitive institutions. In Switzerland, 
 and especially in its Alpine parts, the allmends above men- 
 tioned, which are of the same essential nature as the Teutonic 
 marks, have continued down to the present day. Sundry 
 kindred regions present kindred facts. Ownership of land by 
 family-communities is still to be found “ in the hill-districts 
 of Lombardy.” In the poverty-stricken and mountainous por- 
 tion of Auvergne, as also in the hilly and infertile depart- 
 ment of Nievre, there are still, or recently have been, these 
 original joint-ownerships of land. And the general remark 
 concerning the physical circumstances in which they occur, is 
 that Ci it is to the wildest and most remote spots that we 
 must go in search of them” — a truth again illustrated 
 “ in the small islands of Hcedic and Honat, situated not far 
 from Belle Isle ” on the French coast, and also in our own 
 islands of Orkney and Shetland. 
 
 Contrariwise, we find that directly by invasion, and in- 
 directly by the chronic resistance to invasion which gene- 
 rates those class-inequalities distinguishing the militant type, 
 there is produced individualization of land-ownership, in one 
 or other form. All the world over, conquest gives a posses- 
 sion that is unlimited because there is no power to dispute 
 it. Along with other spoils of war, the land becomes a spoil ; 
 and, according to the nature of the conquering society, is 
 owned wholly by the despotic conqueror, or, partially and in 
 
548 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 dependent ways, by his followers. Of the first result there 
 are many instances. “ The kings of Abyssinia are above all 
 laws . . . the land and persons of their subjects are equally 
 their property.” “ In Kongo the king hath the sole property 
 of goods and lands, which he can grant away at pleasure.” 
 And § 479 contains sundry other examples of militant socie- 
 ties in which the monarch, otherwise absolute, is absolute 
 possessor of the soil. Of the second result instances were 
 given in § 458 ; and I may here add some others. Ancient 
 Mexico supplies one. 
 
 “ Montezuma possessed in most of the villages . . . and especially in 
 those he had conquered, fiefs which he distributed among those called 
 6 the gallant fellows of Mexico.’ These were men who had distinguished 
 themselves in war.” 
 
 Under a more primitive form the like was done in Iceland by 
 the invading Norsemen. 
 
 “ When a chieftain had taken possession of a district, he allotted to 
 each of the freemen who accompanied him a certain portion of land, 
 erected a temple (hof), and became, as he had been in Norway, the 
 chief, the pontiff, and the judge of the herad.” 
 
 But, as was shown when treating of political differentia- 
 tion, it is not only by external aggressors that the joint pos- 
 session by all freemen of the area they inhabit is over-ridden. 
 It is over-ridden, also, by those internal aggressors whose 
 power becomes great in proportion as the militancy of the 
 society becomes chronic. With the personal subordination 
 generated by warfare, there goes such subordination of owner- 
 ship, that lands previously held absolutely by the community, 
 come to be held subject to the claims of the local magnate ; 
 until, in course of time, the greater part of the occupied area 
 falls into his exclusive possession, and only a small part con- 
 tinues to be common property. 
 
 To complete the statement it must be added that occasion- 
 ally, though rarely, the passing of land into private hands 
 takes place neither by forcible appropriation, nor by the gra- 
 dual encroachment of a superior, but by general agreement. 
 Where there exists that form of communal ownership under 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 549 
 
 which joint cultivation is replaced by separate cultivation of 
 parts portioned out — where there results from this a system 
 of periodic redistribution, as of old in certain Greek states, as 
 among the ancient Suevi, and as even down to our own times 
 in some of the Swiss allmends ; ownership of land by indi- 
 viduals may and does arise from cessation of the redistribu- 
 tion. Says M. de Laveleye concerning the Swiss allmends — 
 “in the work of M. Rowalewsky, we see how the communal 
 lands became private property by the periodic partitioning 
 becoming more and more rare, and finally falling into 
 desuetude.’* When not otherwise destroyed, land-owning by 
 the commune tends naturally to end in this way. For besides 
 the inconveniences attendant on re-localization of the mem- 
 bers of the commune, positive losses must be entailed by it 
 on many. Out of the whole number, the less skilful and less 
 diligent will have reduced their plots to lower degrees of 
 fertility ; and the rest will have a motive for opposing a re- 
 distribution which, depriving them of the benefits of past 
 labours, makes over these or parts of them to the relatively 
 unworthy. Evidently this motive is likely, in course of 
 time, to cause refusal to re-divide; and permanent private 
 possession will result. 
 
 § 540. An important factor not yet noticed has cooperated 
 in individualizing property, both movable and fixed ; namely, 
 the establishment of measures of quantity and value. Only 
 the rudest balancing of claims can be made before there come 
 into use appliances for estimating amounts. At the outset, 
 ownership exists only in respect of things actually made or 
 obtained by the labour of the owner; and is therefore nar- 
 rowly limited in range. But when exchange arises and 
 spreads, first under the indefinite form of barter and then 
 under the definite form of sale and purchase by means of a 
 circulating medium, it becomes easy for ownership to extend 
 itself to other things. Observe how clearly this extension 
 depends on the implied progress of industrialism. 
 
550 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 It was pointed out in § 319 that during the pastoral stage, 
 it is impracticable to assign to each member of the family- 
 community, or to each of its dependents, such part of the pro- 
 duce or other property as is proportionate to the value of his 
 labour. Though in the case of J acob and Laban the bargain 
 made for services was one into which some idea of equiva- 
 lence entered, yet it was an extremely rude idea ; and by no 
 such bargains could numerous transactions, or transactions of 
 smaller kinds, be effected. On asking what must happen 
 when the patriarchal group, becoming settled, assumes one or 
 other enlarged form, we see that reverence for traditional 
 usages, and the necessity of union for mutual defence, con- 
 spire to maintain the system of joint production and joint 
 consumption : individualization of property is still hindered. 
 Though under such conditions each person establishes private 
 ownership in respect of things on which he has expended 
 separate labour, or things received in exchange for such 
 products of his separate labour ; yet only a small amount of 
 property thus distinguished as private, can be acquired. The 
 greater part of his labour, mixed with that of others, brings 
 returns inseparable from the returns of their labours ; and the 
 united returns must therefore be enjoyed in common. But 
 as fast as it becomes safer to dispense with the protection of 
 the family-group ; and as fast as increasing commercial inter- 
 course opens careers for those who leave their groups ; and as 
 fast as the use of money and measures gives definiteness to 
 exchanges ; there come opportunities for accumulating indi- 
 vidual possessions, as distinguished from joint possessions. 
 And since among those who labour together and live together, 
 there will inevitably be some who feel restive under the 
 imposed restraints, and also some (usually the same) who 
 feel dissatisfied with the equal sharing among those whose 
 labours are not of equal values ; it is inferable that these 
 opportunities will be seized : private ownership will spread 
 at the expense of public ownership. Some illustrations 
 may be given. Speaking of the family-communities of the 
 
PKOPERTY. 
 
 551 
 
 Southern Slavs, mostly in course of dissolution, M. de 
 Laveleye says — 
 
 “ The family-group was far more capable of defending itself against the 
 severity of Turkish rule than were isolated individuals. Accordingly, 
 it is in this part of the southern Slav district that family-communities 
 are best preserved, and still form the basis of social order.” 
 
 The influence of commercial activity as conducing to dis- 
 integration, is shown by the fact that these family-commu- 
 nities ordinarily hold together only in rural districts. 
 
 “ In the neighbourhood of the towns the more varied life has weakened 
 the ancient family-sentiment. Many communities have been dissolved, 
 their property divided and sold, and their members have degenerated 
 into mere tenants and proletarians.” 
 
 And then the effect of a desire, alike for personal independ- 
 ence and for the exclusive enjoyment of benefits consequent 
 on superiority, is recognized in the remark that these family- 
 communities— 
 
 u cannot easily withstand the conditions of a society in which men are 
 striving to improve their own lot, as well as the political and social 
 organization under which they live. . . . Once the desire of self -aggran- 
 disement awakened, man can no longer support the yoke of the zadruga. 
 ... To live according to his own will, to work for himself alone, to 
 drink from his own cup, is now the end preeminently sought.” 
 
 That this cause of disintegration is general, is implied by 
 passages concerning similar communities still existing in the 
 hill-districts of Lombardy — that is, away from the centres of 
 mercantile activity. Growing averse to the control of the 
 house-fathers, the members of these communities say — 
 
 “ ‘ Why should we and all our belongings remain in subjection to a 
 master ? It were far the best for each to work and think for himself. 
 As the profits derived from any handicraft form a sort of private 
 peculium , the associates are tempted to enlarge this at the expense of 
 the common revenue.” And then “ the craving to live independently 
 carries him away, and he quits the community.” 
 
 All which evidence shows that the progress of industrialism 
 is the general cause of this growing individualization of pro- 
 perty ; for such progress is pre-supposed alike by the greater 
 security which makes it safe to live separately, by the in- 
 
552 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 creased opportunity for those sales which further the accu- 
 mulation of a peculium , and by the use of measures of 
 quantity and value : these being implied primarily by such 
 sales, and secondarily by the sale and division of all that has 
 been held in common. 
 
 Spread of private ownership, which thus goes along with 
 decay of the system of status and growth of the system 
 of contract, naturally passes on from movable property to 
 fixed property. For when the multiplication of trading 
 transactions has made it possible for each member of a 
 family-community to accumulate a peculium ; and when the 
 strengthening desire for individual domestic life has im- 
 pelled the majority of the community to sell the land which 
 they have jointly inherited ; the several portions of it, 
 whether sold to separate members of the body or to strangers, 
 are thus reduced by definite agreement to the form of indi- 
 vidual properties; and private ownership of land thereby 
 acquires a character apparently like that of other private 
 ownership. In other ways, too, this result is furthered 
 
 by developing industrialism. If, omitting as not relevant 
 the cases in which the absolute ruler allows no rights of pro- 
 perty, landed or other, to his subjects, we pass to the cases in 
 which a conqueror recognizes a partial ownership of land by 
 those to whom he has parcelled it out on condition of render- 
 ing services and paying dues, we see that the private land- 
 ownership established by militancy is an incomplete one. It 
 has various incompletenesses. The ownership by the suzerain 
 is qualified by the rights he has made over to his vassals ; 
 the rights of the vassals are qualified by the conditions of 
 their tenure ; and they are further qualified by the claims of 
 serfs and other dependents, who, while bound to specified 
 services, have specified shares of produce. But with the 
 decline of militancy and concomitant disappearance of vassal- 
 age, the obligations of the tenure diminish and finally almost 
 lapse out of recognition ; while, simultaneously, abolition of 
 serfdom destroys or obscures the other claims which qualified 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 553 
 
 private land-ownership.* As both changes are accompani- 
 ments of a developing industrialism, it follows that in these 
 ways also, the individualization of property in land is 
 furthered by it. 
 
 At first sight it seems fairly inferable that the absolute 
 ownership of land by private persons, must be the ultimate 
 state which industrialism brings about. But though indus- 
 trialism has thus far tended to individualize possession of 
 land, while individualizing all other possession, it may be 
 doubted whether the final stage is at present reached. 
 Ownership established by force does not stand on the same 
 footing as ownership established by contract ; and though 
 multiplied sales and purchases, treating the two ownerships 
 in the same way, have tacitly assimilated them, the assimi- 
 lation may eventually be denied. The analogy furnished 
 by assumed rights of possession over human beings, helps 
 us to recognize this possibility. For while prisoners of war, 
 taken by force and held as property in a vague way (being at 
 first much on a footing with other members of a household), 
 -were reduced more definitely to the form of property when 
 the buying and selling of slaves became general ; and while 
 it might, centuries ago, have been thence inferred that the 
 ownership of man by man was an ownership in course of 
 being permanently established ; yet we see that a later stage 
 of civilization, reversing this process, has destroyed owner- 
 ship of man by man. Similarly, at a stage still more advanced 
 it may be that private ownership of land will disappear. As 
 that primitive freedom of the individual which existed before 
 war established coercive institutions and personal slavery, 
 comes to be re-established as militancy declines ; so it seems 
 possible that the primitive ownership of land by the com- 
 munity, which, with the development of coercive institutions, 
 lapsed in large measure or wholly into private ownership, will 
 
 * In our own case the definite ending of these tenures took place in 1660 ; 
 when, for feudal obligations (a burden on landowners) was substituted a 
 beer-excise (a burden on the community). 
 
554 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 be revived as industrialism further develops. The regime of 
 contract, at present so far extended that the right of property 
 in movables is recognized only as having arisen by exchange 
 of services or products under agreements, or by gift from those 
 who had acquired it under such agreements, may be further 
 extended so far that the products of the soil will be recog- 
 nized as property only by virtue of agreements between indi- 
 viduals as tenants and the community as landowner. Even 
 now, among ourselves, private ownership of land is not abso- 
 lute. In legal theory landowners are directly or indirectly 
 tenants of the Crown (which in our day is equivalent to the 
 State, or, in other words, the Community); and the Community 
 from time to time resumes possession after making due com- 
 pensation. Perhaps the right of the Community to the 
 land, thus tacitly asserted, will in time to come be overtly 
 asserted ; and acted upon after making full allowance for the 
 accumulated value artificially given. 
 
 § 541. The rise and development of arrangements which 
 fix and regulate private possession, thus admit of tolerably 
 clear delineation. 
 
 The desire to appropriate, and to keep that which has been 
 appropriated, lies deep, not in human nature only, but in 
 animal nature : being, indeed, a condition to survival. The 
 consciousness that conflict, and consequent injury, may pro- 
 bably result from the endeavour to take that which is held 
 by another, ever tends to establish and strengthen the custom 
 of leaving each in possession of whatever he has obtained by 
 labour ; and this custom takes among primitive men the shape 
 of an overtly-admitted claim. 
 
 This claim to private ownership, fully recognized in respect 
 of movables made by the possessor, and fully or partially 
 recognized in respect of game killed on the territory over 
 which members of the community wander, is not recognized 
 in respect of this territory itself, or tracts of it. Property is 
 individualized as far as circumstances allow individual claims 
 
PROPERTY. 
 
 555 
 
 to be marked off with some definiteness ; but it is not indi- 
 vidualized in respect of land, because, under the conditions, 
 no individual claims can be shown, or could be effectually 
 marked off were they shown. 
 
 With the passage from a nomadic to a settled state, owner- 
 ship of land by the community becomes qualified by indi- 
 vidual ownership; but only to the extent that those who 
 clear and cultivate portions of the surface have undisturbed 
 enjoyment of its produce. Habitually the public claim sur- 
 vives ; and either when, after a few crops, the cleared tract 
 is abandoned, or when, after transmission to descendants, it 
 has ceased to be used by them, it reverts to the community. 
 And this system of temporary ownership, congruous with 
 the sentiments and usages inherited from ancestral nomads, 
 is associated also with an undeveloped agriculture : land 
 becoming exhausted after a few years. 
 
 Where the patriarchal form of organization has been 
 carried from the pastoral state into the settled state, and, 
 sanctified by tradition, is also maintained for purposes of 
 mutual protection, possession of land partly by the clan and 
 partly by the family, long continues ; at the same time that 
 there is separate possession of things produced by separate 
 labour. And while in some cases the communal land- 
 ownership, or family land-ownership, survives, it in other 
 cases yields in various modes and degrees to qualified forms 
 of private ownership, mostly temporary, and subject to 
 supreme ownership by the public. 
 
 But war, both by producing class-differentiations within 
 each society, and by effecting the subjugation of one society 
 by another, undermines or destroys communal proprietorship 
 of land ; and partly or wholly substitutes for it, either the 
 unqualified proprietorship of an absolute conqueror, or pro- 
 prietorship by a conqueror qualified by the claims of vassals 
 holding it under certain conditions, while their claims are 
 in turn qualified by those of dependents attached to the soil. 
 That is to say, the system of status which militancy develops, 
 15 
 
556 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 involves a graduated ownership of land as it does a graduated 
 ownership of persons. 
 
 Complete individualization of ownership is an accompani- 
 ment of industrial progress. From the beginning, things 
 identified as products of a man's own labour are recognized 
 as his ; and throughout the course of civilization, communal 
 possession and joint household living, have not excluded the 
 recognition of a peculium obtained by individual effort. Accu- 
 mulation of movables privately possessed, arising in this way, 
 increases as militancy is restrained by growing industrialism ; 
 because this pre-supposes greater facility for disposing of 
 industrial products ; because there come along with it 
 measures of quantity and value, furthering exchange ; and 
 because the more pacific relations implied, render it safer 
 for men to detach themselves from the groups in which they 
 previously kept together for mutual protection. The indi- 
 vidualization of ownership, extended and made more definite 
 by trading transactions under contract, eventually affects 
 the ownership of land. Bought and sold by measure and for 
 money, land is assimilated in this respect to the personal 
 property produced by labour ; and thus becomes, in the 
 general apprehension, confounded with it. But there is 
 reason to suspect that while private possession of things pro- 
 duced by labour, will grow even more definite and sacred than 
 at present ; the inhabited area, which cannot be produced by 
 labour, will eventually be distinguished as something which 
 may not be privately possessed. As the individual, primitively 
 owner of himself, partially or wholly loses ownership of him- 
 self during the militant regime , but gradually resumes it as 
 the industrial regime develops ; so, possibly, the communal 
 proprietorship of land, partially or wholly merged in the 
 ownership of dominant men during evolution of the militant 
 type, will be resumed as the industrial type becomes fully- 
 evolved. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 EEYENUE. 
 
 § 542. P>roadly dividing the products of men’s labours into 
 the part which remains with them for private purposes and 
 the part taken from them for public purposes ; and recog- 
 nizing the truism that the revenue constituted by this last 
 part must increase with the development of the public organi- 
 zation supported by it ; we may be prepared for the fact that 
 in early stages of social evolution, nothing answering to 
 revenue exists. 
 
 The political head being at first distinguished from other 
 members of the community merely by some personal supe- 
 riority, his power, often recognized only during war, is, 
 if recognized at other times, so slight as to bring him no mate- 
 rial advantage. Habitually in rude tribes he provides for 
 himself as a private man. Sometimes, indeed, instead of 
 gaining by his distinction he loses by it. Among the Dako- 
 tas “ the civil-chiefs and war-chiefs are distinguished from 
 the rest by their poverty. They generally are poorer clad 
 than any of the rest.” A statement concerning the Abipones 
 shows us why this occasionally happens. 
 
 “ The cacique has nothing, either in his arms or his clothes, to distin- 
 guish him from a common man, except the peculiar oldness and shabbi- 
 ness of them ; for if he appears in the streets with new and handsome 
 apparel, . . . the first person he meets will boldly cry, Give me that 
 dress . . . and unless he immediately parts with it, he becomes the 
 scoff and the scorn of all, and hears himself called covetous.” 
 
 Among the Patagonians the burdens entailed by relieving 
 and protecting inferiors, lead to abdication. Many “bora 
 
558 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Caciques refuse to have any vassals ; as they cost them dear, 
 and yield but little profit.” 
 
 Generally, however, and always where war increases his 
 predominance, the leading warrior begins to be distinguished 
 by wealth accruing to him in sundry ways. The superiority 
 which gains him supremacy, implying as it mostly does 
 greater skill and energy, conduces to accumulation : not 
 uncommonly, as we have seen, (§ 472) the primitive chief is 
 also the rich man. And this possession of much private 
 property grows into a conspicuous attribute when, in the 
 settled state, land held by the community begins to be appro- 
 priated by its more powerful members. Eulers habitually 
 become large landowners. In ancient Egypt there were royal 
 lands. Of the primitive Greek king we read that “ an ample 
 domain is assigned to him [? taken by him] as an appur- 
 tenance of his lofty position.” And among other peoples in 
 later times, we find the monarch owning great estates. The 
 income hence derived, continues to the last to represent that 
 revenue which the political head originally had, when he 
 began to be marked off from the rest only by some personal 
 merit. 
 
 Such larger amount of private means as thus usually dis- 
 tinguishes the head man at the outset, augments as successful 
 war, increasing his predominance, brings him an increasing 
 portion of the spoils of conquered peoples. In early stages it 
 is the custom for each warrior to keep whatever he personally 
 takes in battle; while that which is taken jointly is in some 
 cases equally divided. But of course the chief is apt to get 
 an extra share ; either by actual capture, or by the willing 
 award of his comrades, or, it may be, by forcible appropriation. 
 And as his power grows, this forcible appropriation is yielded 
 to, sometimes tacitly, sometimes under protest; as we are 
 shown by the central incident in the Iliad . Through later 
 stages his portion of plunder, reserved before division of the 
 remainder among followers, continues to be a source of 
 revenue. And where he becomes absolute, the property taken 
 
REVENUE. 
 
 559 
 
 from tlie vanquished, lessened only by such portions as he 
 gives in reward for services, augments his means of sup- 
 porting his dependents and maintaining his supremacy. 
 
 To these sources of income which may be classed as inci- 
 dental, is simultaneously added a source which is constant. 
 When predominance of the chief has become so decided that 
 he is feared, he begins to receive propitiatory presents; 
 at first occasionally and afterwards periodically. Already in 
 §§ 369-71, when treating of presents under their .ceremo- 
 nial aspects, I have given illustrations ; and many more 
 may be added. Describing the king among the Homeric 
 Greeks, Grote writes — “ Moreover he receives frequent pre- 
 sents, to avert his enmity, to conciliate his favour, or to 
 buy olf his exactions.” So, too, of the primitive Germans, 
 we are told by Tacitus that “ it is the custom of the 
 states to bestow by voluntary and individual contribution 
 on the chiefs, a present of cattle or of grain, which, while 
 accepted as a compliment, supplies their wants.” And gifts 
 to the ruler voluntarily made to obtain good will, or prevent 
 ill will, continue to be a source of revenue until quite late 
 stages. Among ourselves “ during the reign of Elizabeth, 
 the custom of presenting Hew Year's gifts to the sovereign 
 was carried to an extravagant height ;” and even “ in the 
 reign of James I. the money gifts seem to have been con- 
 tinued for some time.” 
 
 Along with offerings of money and goods there go offerings 
 of labour. Hot unfrequently in primitive communities, it is the 
 custom for all to join in building a new house or clearing a plot 
 of ground for one of their number : such benefits being recipro- 
 cated. Of course the growing predominance of a political 
 head, results in a more extensive yielding of gratuitous labour 
 for his benefit, in these and other ways. The same motives 
 which prompt gifts to the ruler prompt offers of help to him 
 more than to other persons ; and thus the custom of working 
 for him grows into a usage. We read of the village chief 
 among the Guaranis that “his subjects cultivated for him 
 
560 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 his plantation, and he enjoyed certain privileges on divi- 
 sion of the spoils of the chase. Otherwise he possessed no 
 marks of distinction/ 7 And the like practice was followed 
 by some historic races during early stages. In ancient Rome 
 it was “ the privilege of the king to have his fields tilled by 
 taskwork of the burgesses/' 
 
 § 543. Growth of the regular and definite out of the irre- 
 gular and indefinite, variously exemplified in the loregoing 
 chapters, is here again exemplified very clearly, Tor, as 
 already said, it is from propitiatory presents and services, at 
 first spontaneous and incidental, that there eventually come 
 taxes specified in their amounts and times of payment. 
 
 It needs but to observe how such a custom as that of 
 making wedding-presents has acquired a partially coercive 
 character, to understand how, when once there begins the 
 practice of seeking the good will of the headman by a gift, 
 this practice is apt to be established. One having gained by 
 it, another follows his example. The more generally the 
 example is followed the greater becomes the disadvantage to 
 those w T ho do not follow it. Until at length all give because 
 none dare stand conspicuous as exceptions. Of course if 
 some repeat the presents upon such occasions as first prompted 
 them, others have to do the like ; and at length the periodic 
 obligation becomes so peremptory, that the gift is demanded 
 when it is not offered. In Loango, where presents are expected 
 from all free subjects, “ if the king thinks they do not give 
 enough, he sends slaves to their places to take what they 
 have/ 7 Among the Tongans, who from time to time give their 
 king or chief “ yams, mats, gnatoo, dried fish, live birds, &c.,” 
 the quantity is determined “ generally by the will of each 
 individual, who will always take care to send as much as he 
 can well afford, lest the superior chief should be offended 
 with him, and deprive him of all that he has.” At the 
 present time in Cashmere, at the spring festival, “ it is the 
 custom ... for the Maharajah's servants to bring him a 
 
REVENUE. 
 
 561 
 
 nazar, a present. . . . This has now become so regulated that 
 every one is on these days [festivals] obliged to give from a 
 10th to a 12th of his monthly pay. . . . The name of each is 
 read from a list, and the amount of his nazar is marked 
 down : those that are absent will have the sum deducted 
 from their pay.” Traces of a like transition are seen in the 
 fact that in ancient times crowns of gold, beginning as 
 gifts made by dependent states to Eastern rulers, and by 
 Boman provinces to generals or pro-consuls, became sums of 
 money demanded as of right ; and again in the fact that in 
 our own early history, we read of “exactions called benevo- 
 lences.” 
 
 Similarly with the labour which, at first voluntarily given 
 to the chief, comes, as his power grows, to be compulsory. 
 Here are some illustrations showing stages in the transition. 
 A Kafir chief “ summons the people to cultivate his gardens, reap his 
 crops, and make his fences ; but in this, as in other respects, he has to 
 consult the popular will, and hence the manual labour required by 
 the chiefs has always been of very limited duration.” 
 
 In the Sandwich Islands, “ when a chief wants a house, he requires 
 the labour of all who hold lands under him. . . . Each division of the 
 people has a part of the house allotted by the chief in proportion to its 
 number.” 
 
 In ancient Mexico “ the personal and common service which fur- 
 nished the water and wood required every day in the houses of the 
 chiefs, was distributed from day to day among the villages and quar- 
 ters.” 
 
 It was the same in Yucatan : “ the whole community did the sowing 
 for the lord, looked after the seed, and harvested what was required 
 for him and his house.” 
 
 So in the adjacent regions of Guatemala and San Salvador, 
 “ the tribute was paid by means of the cultivation of estates.” 
 And in Madagascar “ the whole population is liable to be 
 employed on government work, without remuneration, and 
 for any length of time.” 
 
 Occurring among peoples unallied in blood and unlike in 
 their stages of civilization, these facts show the natural 
 growing up of a forced labour system such as that which 
 existed during feudal times throughout Europe, when labour 
 
562 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 was exacted from dependents by local rulers, and became 
 also a form of tribute to the central ruler ; as instance the 
 specified numbers of days’ work which, before the Revolution, 
 had to be given by French peasants to the State under the 
 name of corvfo. 
 
 After presents freely given have passed into presents 
 expected and finally demanded, and volunteered help has 
 passed into exacted service, the way is open for a further 
 step. Change from the voluntary to the compulsory, accom- 
 panied as it necessarily is by specification of the amounts 
 of commodities and work required, is apt to be followed 
 eventually by substitution of money payments. Daring 
 stages in which there has not arisen a circulating medium, 
 the ruler, local or general, is paid his revenue in kind. In 
 Fiji a chiefs house is supplied with daily food by his depen- 
 dents ; and tribute is paid by the chiefs to the king “in yams, 
 taro, pigs, fowls, native cloth, &c In Tahiti, where besides 
 supplies derived from “ the hereditary districts of the reigning 
 family,” there were “ requisitions made upon the people;” the 
 food was generally brought cooked. In early European 
 societies, too, the expected donations to the ruler continued to 
 be made partly in goods, animals, clothes, and valuables of 
 all kinds, long after money was in use. But the convenience 
 both of giver and receiver prompts commutation, when the 
 values of the presents looked for have become settled. And 
 from kindred causes there also comes, as we have seen in a 
 previous chapter, commutation of military services and com- 
 mutation of labour services. No matter what its nature, that 
 which was at first spontaneously offered, eventually becomes 
 a definite sum taken, if need be, by force — a tax. 
 
 § 544. At the same time his growing power enables the 
 political head to enforce demands of many other kinds. 
 European histories furnish ample proofs. 
 
 Besides more settled sources of revenue, there had, in the 
 early feudal period, been established such others as are typi- 
 
REVENUE. 
 
 563 
 
 cally illustrated by a statement concerning the Dukes of 
 Normandy in the 12th century. They profited by escheats 
 (lands reverting to the monarch in default of posterity of the 
 first baron) ; by guardianships and reliefs ; by seizure of the 
 property of deceased prelates, usurers, excommunicated per- 
 sons, suicides, and certain criminals; and by treasure-trove. 
 They were paid for conceded privileges ; and for confirmations 
 of previous concessions. They received bribes when desired 
 to do justice ; and were paid fines by those who wished to be 
 maintained in possession of property, or to get liberty to 
 exercise certain rights. In England, under the Norman 
 kings, there were such other sources of revenue as composi- 
 tions paid by heirs before taking possession ; sales of ward- 
 ships ; sales to male heirs of rights to choose their wives ; 
 sales of charters to towns, and subsequent re-sales of such 
 charters ; sales of permissions to trade ; and there was also 
 what was called “ moneyage ” — a shilling paid every three 
 years by each hearth to induce the king not to debase the 
 coinage. Advantage was taken of every favourable oppor- 
 tunity for making and enforcing a demand ; as we see in such 
 facts as that it was customary to mulct a discharged official, 
 and that Eichard I. “ compelled his father’s servants to re- 
 purchase their offices.” 
 
 Showing us, as such illustrations do, that these arbitrary 
 seizures and exactions are numerous and heavy in proportion 
 as the power of the ruler is little restrained, the implication is 
 that they reach their extreme where the social organization is 
 typically militant. Evidence that this is so, was given in 
 § 443 ; and in the next chapter, under another head, we shall 
 meet with more of it. 
 
 § 545. While, in the ways named in the foregoing sections, 
 there arise direct taxes, there simultaneously arise, and 
 insensibly diverge, the taxes eventually distinguished as 
 indirect. These begin as demands made on those who have 
 got considerable quantities of commodities exposed in transit, 
 
564 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS* 
 
 or on sale ; and of which parts, originally offered as presents, 
 are subsequently seized as dues. 
 
 Under other heads I have referred to the familiar fact that 
 travellers among rude peoples make propitiatory gifts ; and 
 by frequent recurrence the reception of these generates a 
 claim. Narratives of recent African explorers confirm the 
 statements of Livingstone, who describes the Portuguese traders 
 among the Quanga people as giving largely, because “ if they 
 did not secure the friendship of these petty chiefs, many 
 slaves might be stolen with their loads while passing through 
 the forests ; ” and who says of a Balonda chief that “ he 
 seemed to regard these presents as his proper dues, and as a 
 cargo of goods had come by Senhor Pascoal,he entered the house 
 for the purpose of receiving his share.” Various cases show 
 that instead of attempting to take all at the risk of a fight, the 
 head man enters into a compromise under which part is given 
 without a fight ; as instance the habitual arrangement with 
 Bedouin tribes, which compound for robbery of travellers by 
 amounts agreed upon ; or as instance the mountain Bhils of 
 India, whose chiefs have “ seldom much revenue except 
 plunder,” w T ho have officers “ to obtain information of unpro- 
 tected villagers and travellers,” and who claim “ a duty on 
 goods passing their hills : ” apparently a composition accepted 
 when those who carry the goods are too strong to be robbed 
 without danger. Where the protection of individuals depends 
 mainly on family-organizations and clan-organizations, the 
 subject as well as the stranger, undefended when away from 
 his home, similarly becomes liable to this qualified black 
 mail. Now to the local ruler, now to the central ruler, 
 according to their respective powers, he yields up part of his 
 goods, that possession of the rest may be guaranteed him, 
 and his claims on buyers enforced. This state of things was 
 illustrated in ancient Mexico, where — 
 
 “ Of all the goods which were brought into the market, a certain portion 
 was paid in tribute to the king, who was on his part obliged to do justice 
 to the merchants, and to protect their property and their persons.” 
 
REVENUE. 
 
 565 
 
 We trace tlie like in the records of early European peoples. 
 Part of the revenue of the primitive Greek king, consisted of 
 “ the presents paid for licences to trade ” — presents which 
 in all probability were at first portions of the commodities 
 to be sold. At a later period in Greece there obtained a 
 practice that had doubtless descended from this. “To these 
 men [magistrates of markets] a certain toll or tribute was 
 paid by all those who brought anything to sell in the market.” 
 In western Europe indirect taxation had a kindred origin. 
 The trader, at the mercy of the ruler whose territory he 
 entered, had to surrender part of his merchandise in con- 
 sideration of being allowed to pass. As feudal lords, swoop- 
 ing down from their castles on merchants passing along 
 neighbouring roads or navigable rivers, took by force portions 
 of what they had, when they did not take all; so their 
 suzerains laid hands on what they pleased of cargoes enter- 
 ing their ports or passing their frontiers: their shares 
 gradually becoming defined by precedent. In England, 
 though there is no clear proof that the two tuns which the 
 king took from wine-laden ships (wine being then the chief 
 import) was originally an unqualified seizure ; yet, since this 
 quantity was called “the king’s prisage” we have good 
 reason for suspecting that it was so ; and that though, after- 
 wards, the king’s officer gave something in return, this, being 
 at his option, was but nominal. The very name “ customs,” 
 eventually applied to commuted payments on imports, points 
 back to a preceding time when this yielding up of portions 
 of cargoes had become established by usage. Confirmation 
 of this inference is furnished by the fact that internal traders 
 were thus dealt with. So late as 1309 it was complained 
 “ that the officers appointed to take articles for the king’s use 
 in fairs and markets, took more than they ought, and made 
 a profit of the surplus.” 
 
 Speaking generally of indirect taxes, we may say that 
 arising when the power of the ruler becomes sufficient to 
 change gifts into exactions, they at first differ from other 
 
566 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 exactions simply in this, that they are enforced on occasions 
 when the subject is more than usually at the ruler's mercy ; 
 either because he is exposing commodities for sale where 
 they can be easily found and a share taken ; or because he is 
 transferring them from one part of the territory to another, 
 and can be readily stopped and a portion demanded ; or 
 because he is bringing commodities into the territory, and 
 can have them laid hands on at one of the few places of 
 convenient entrance. The shares appropriated by the ruler, 
 originally in kind, are early commuted into money where 
 the commodities are such as, by reason of quantity or dis- 
 tance, he cannot consume : instance the load-penny payable 
 at the pit's mouth on each waggon-load to the old-English 
 kings. And the claim comes to be similarly commuted in 
 other cases, as fast as increasing trade brings a more abundant 
 circulating medium, and a greater quantity of produced and 
 imported commodities ; the demanded portions of which it 
 becomes more difficult to transport and to utilize. 
 
 § 546. No great advantage would be gained by here going 
 into details. The foregoing general facts appear to be all that 
 it is needful for us to note. 
 
 From the outset the growth of revenue has, like that growth 
 of the political headship which it accompanies, been directly 
 or indirectly a result of war. The property of conquered 
 enemies, at first goods, cattle, prisoners, and at a later 
 stage, land, coming in larger share to the leading warrior, 
 increases his predominance. To secure his good will, which 
 it is now important to do, propitiatory presents and help in 
 labour are given; and these, as his power further grows, 
 become periodic and compulsory. Making him more despotic 
 at the same time that it augments his kingdom, continuance 
 of this process increases his ability to enforce contribu- 
 tions, alike from his original subjects and from tributaries ; 
 while the necessity for supplies, now to defend his kingdom, 
 now to invade adjacent kingdoms, is ever made the plea for 
 
REVENUE. 
 
 567 
 
 increasing his demands of established kinds and for making 
 new ones. Under stress of the alleged needs, portions of 
 their goods are taken from subjects whenever they are ex- 
 posed to view for purposes of exchange. And as the primitive 
 presents of property and labour, once voluntary and variable, 
 but becoming compulsory and periodic, are eventually com- 
 muted into direct taxes ; so these portions of the trader’s 
 goods which were originally given for permission to trade and 
 then seized as of right, come eventually to be transformed 
 into percentages of value paid as tolls and duties. 
 
 But to the last as at first, and under free governments as 
 under despotic ones, war continues to be the usual reason for 
 imposing new taxes or increasing old ones ; at the same time 
 that the coercive organization in past times developed by 
 war, continues to be the means of exacting them. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 § 547. Preceding chapters have prepared the way for 
 framing conceptions of the two fundamentally-unlike kinds 
 of political organization, proper to the militant life and the 
 industrial life, respectively. It will be instructive here to 
 arrange in coherent order, those traits of the militant type 
 already incidentally marked, and to join with them various 
 dependent traits; and in the next chapter to deal in like 
 manner with the traits of the industrial type. 
 
 During social evolution there has habitually been a min- 
 gling of the two. But we shall find that, alike in theory and 
 in fact, it is possible to trace with due clearness those oppo- 
 site characters which distinguish them in their respective 
 complete developments. Especially is the nature of the 
 organization which accompanies chronic militancy, capable of 
 being inferred a priori and proved a posteriori to exist in 
 numerous cases. While the nature of the organization 
 accompanying pure industrialism, of which at present we 
 have little experience, will be made clear by contrast ; and 
 such illustrations as exist of progress towards it will become 
 recognizable. 
 
 Two liabilities to error must be guarded against. We have 
 to deal with societies compounded and re-compounded in 
 various degrees ; and we have to deal with societies which, 
 differing in their stages of culture, have their structures 
 elaborated to different extents. We shall be misled, there- 
 fore, unless our comparisons are such as take account of un- 
 likenesses in size and in civilization. Clearly, characteristics 
 of the militant type which admit of being displayed by a vast 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 569 
 
 nation, may not admit of being displayed by a horde of 
 savages, though this is equally militant. Moreover, as insti- 
 tutions take long to acquire their finished forms, it is not to 
 be expected that all militant societies will display the 
 organization appropriate to them in its completeness. Eather 
 may we expect that in most cases it will be incompletely 
 displayed. 
 
 In face of these difficulties the best course will be to con- 
 sider, first, what are the several traits which of necessity mili- 
 tancy tends to produce; and then to observe how far these traits 
 are conjointly shown in past and present nations distinguished 
 by militancy. Having contemplated the society ideally 
 organized for war, we shall be prepared to recognize in real 
 societies the characters which war has brought about. 
 
 § 548. For preserving its corporate life, a society is im- 
 pelled to corporate action ; and the preservation of its cor- 
 porate life is the more probable in proportion as its corporate 
 action is the more complete. For purposes of offence and 
 defence, the forces of individuals have to be combined ; and 
 where every individual contributes his force, the probability 
 of success is greatest. Numbers, natures, and circumstances 
 being equal, it is clear that of two tribes or two larger 
 societies, one of which unites the actions of all its capable 
 members while the other does not, the first will ordinarily be 
 the victor. There must be an habitual survival of commu- 
 nities in which militant cooperation is universal. 
 
 This proposition is almost a truism. But it is needful here, 
 as a preliminary, consciously to recognize the truth that the 
 social structure evolved by chronic militancy, is one in which 
 all men fit for fighting act in concert against other societies. 
 Such further actions as they carry on they can carry on 
 separately ; but this action they must carry on jointly. 
 
 § 549. A society’s power of self-preservation will be great 
 in proportion as, besides the direct aid of all who can fight, 
 
570 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 there is given the indirect aid of all who cannot fight. Sup- 
 posing them otherwise similar, those communities will sur- 
 vive in which the efforts of combatants are in the greatest 
 degree seconded by those of non-combatants. In a purely 
 militant society, therefore, individuals who do not bear arms 
 have to spend their lives in furthering the maintenance of 
 those who do. Whether, as happens at first, the non-com- 
 batants are exclusively the women ; or whether, as happens 
 later, the class includes enslaved captives; or whether, as 
 happens later still, it includes serfs; the implication is the 
 same. For if, of two societies equal in other respects, the 
 first wholly subordinates its workers in this way, while the 
 workers in the second are allowed to retain for themselves 
 the produce of their labour, or more of it than is needful for 
 maintaining them ; then, in the second, the warriors, not 
 otherwise supported, or supported less fully than they might 
 else be, will have partially to support themselves, and will be 
 so much the less available for war purposes. Hence in the 
 struggle for existence between such societies, it must usually 
 happen that the first will vanquish the second. The social 
 type produced by survival of the fittest, will be one in which 
 the fighting part includes all who can bear arms and be 
 trusted with arms, while the remaining part serves simply as 
 a permanent commissariat. 
 
 An obvious implication, of a significance to be hereafter 
 pointed out, is that the non-combatant part, occupied in sup- 
 porting the combatant part, cannot with advantage to the 
 self-preserving power of the society increase beyond the limit 
 at which it efficiently fulfils its purpose. For, otherwise, 
 some who might be fighters are superfluous workers ; and the 
 fighting power of the society is made less than it might be. 
 Hence, in the militant type, the tendency is for the body of 
 warriors to bear the largest practicable ratio to the body of 
 workers. 
 
 § 550. Given two societies of which the members are all 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 571 
 
 either warriors or those who supply the needs of warriors, 
 and, other things equal, supremacy will he gained by that in 
 which the efforts of all are most effectually combined. In 
 open warfare joint action triumphs over individual action. 
 Military history is a history of the successes of men trained 
 to move and fight in concert. 
 
 Not only must there be in the fighting part a combination 
 such that the powers of its units may be concentrated, but 
 there must be a combination of the subservient part with it. 
 If the two are so separated that they can act independently, 
 the needs of the fighting part will not be adequately met. If 
 to be cut off from a temporary base of operations is danger- 
 ous, still more dangerous is it to be cut off from the per- 
 manent base of operations ; namely, that constituted by the 
 body of non-combatants. This has to be so connected with the 
 body of combatants that its services may be fully available. Evi- 
 dently, therefore, development of the militant type involves a 
 close binding of the society into a whole. As the loose group 
 of savages yields to the solid phalanx, so, other things equal, 
 must the society of which the parts are but feebly held 
 together, yield to one in which they are held together by 
 strong bonds. 
 
 § 551. But in proportion as men are compelled to co- 
 operate, their self-prompted actions are restrained. By as 
 much as the unit becomes merged in the mass, by so much 
 does he lose his individuality as a unit. And this leads us 
 to note the several ways in which evolution of the militant 
 type entails subordination of the citizen. 
 
 His life is not his own, but is at the disposal of his society. 
 So long as he remains capable of bearing arms lie has no 
 alternative but to fight when called on ; and, where militancy 
 is extreme, he cannot return as a vanquished man under 
 penalty of death. 
 
 Of course, with this there goes possession of such liberty 
 only as military obligations allow. He is free to pursue his 
 
572 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 private ends only when the tribe or nation has no need of 
 him ; and when it has need of him, his actions from hour to 
 hour must conform, not to his own will but to the public 
 will. 
 
 So, too, with his property. Whether, as in many cases, 
 what he holds as private he so holds by permission only, or 
 whether private ownership is recognized, it remains true that 
 in the last resort he is obliged to surrender whatever is 
 demanded for the community’s use. 
 
 Briefly, then, under the militant type the individual is 
 owned by the State. While preservation of the society is the 
 primary end, preservation of each member is a secondary end 
 —an end cared for chiefly as subserving the primary end. 
 
 § 552. Fulfilment of these requirements, that there shall 
 be complete corporate action, that to this end the non-com- 
 batant part shall be occupied in providing for the combatant 
 part, that the entire aggregate shall be strongly bound 
 together, and that the units composing it must have their 
 individualities in life, liberty, and property, thereby sub- 
 ordinated, presupposes a coercive instrumentality. No such 
 union for corporate action can be achieved without a power- 
 ful controlling agency. On remembering the fatal results 
 caused by division of counsels in war, or by separation into 
 factions in face of an enemy, we see that chronic militancy 
 tends to develop a despotism ; since, other things equal, those 
 societies will habitually survive in which, by its aid, the 
 corporate action is made complete. 
 
 And this involves a system of centralization. The trait 
 made familiar to us by an army, in which, under a com- 
 mander-in-chief there are secondary commanders over large 
 masses, and under these tertiary ones over smaller masses, 
 and so on down to the ultimate divisions, must characterize 
 the social organization at large. A militant society requires 
 a regulative structure of this kind, since, otherwise, its 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 573 
 
 corporate action cannot be made most effectual. Without 
 such grades of governing centres diffused throughout the non- 
 combatant part as well as the combatant part, the entire 
 forces of the aggregate cannot be promptly put forth. Unless 
 the workers are under a control akin to that which the 
 fighters are under, their indirect aid cannot be insured in full 
 amount and with due quickness. 
 
 And this is the form of a society characterized by status — 
 a society, the members of which stand one towards another in 
 successive grades of subordination. From the despot down 
 to the slave, all are masters of those below and subjects of 
 those above. The relation of the child to the father, of the 
 father to some superior, and so on up to the absolute head, is 
 one in which the individual of lower status is at the mercy 
 of one of higher status. 
 
 § 553. Otherwise described, the process of militant organi- 
 zation is a process of regimentation, which, primarily taking 
 place in the army, secondarily affects the whole com- 
 munity. 
 
 The first indication of this we trace in the fact everywhere 
 visible, that the military head grows into a civil head — 
 usually at once, and, in exceptional cases, at last, if militancy 
 continues. Beginning as leader in war he becomes ruler in 
 peace ; and such regulative policy as he pursues in the one 
 sphere, he pursues, so far as conditions permit, in the other. 
 Being, as the non-combatant part is, a permanent commis- 
 sariat, the principle of graduated subordination is extended 
 to it. Its members come to be directed in a way like that in 
 which the warriors are directed — not literally, since by dis- 
 persion of the one and concentration of the other exact paral- 
 lelism is prevented ; but, nevertheless, similarly in principle. 
 Labour is carried on under coercion ; and supervision spreads 
 everywhere. 
 
 To suppose that a despotic military head, daily maintain- 
 
574 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ing regimental control in conformity with inherited traditions, 
 will not impose on the producing classes a kindred control, is 
 to suppose in him sentiments and ideas entirely foreign to his 
 circumstances. 
 
 § 554. The nature of the militant form of government will 
 be further elucidated on observing that it is both positively 
 regulative and negatively regulative. It does not simply 
 restrain ; it also enforces. Besides telling the individual 
 what he shall not do, it tells him what he shall do. 
 
 That the government of an army is thus characterised 
 needs no showing. Indeed, commands of the positive kind 
 given to the soldier are more important than those of the 
 negative kind : fighting is done under the one, while order is 
 maintained under the other. But here it chiefly concerns us 
 to note that not only the control of military life but also the 
 control of civil life, is, under the militant type of govern- 
 ment, thus characterized. There are two ways in which the 
 ruling power may deal with the private individual. It may 
 simply limit his activities to those which he can carry on 
 without aggression, direct or indirect, upon others ; in which 
 case its action is negatively regulative. Or, besides doing 
 this, it may prescribe the how, and the where, and the when, 
 of his activities — may force him to do things which he would 
 not spontaneously do — may direct in greater or less detail his 
 mode of living ; in which case its action is positively regula- 
 tive. Under the militant type this positively regulative 
 action is widespread and peremptory. The civilian is in a 
 condition as much like that of the soldier as difference of 
 occupation permits. 
 
 And this is another way of expressing the truth that the 
 fundamental principle of the militant type is compulsory co- 
 operation. While this is obviously the principle on which 
 the members of the combatant body act, it no less certainly 
 must be the principle acted on throughout the non-combatant 
 body, if military efficiency is to be great; since, otherwise. 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 575 
 
 the aid which the non-combatant body has to furnish cannot 
 be insured. 
 
 § 555. That binding together by which the units of a 
 militant society are made into an efficient fighting structure, 
 tends to fix the position of each in rank, in occupation, and 
 in locality. 
 
 In a graduated regulative organization there is resistance 
 to change from a lower to a higher grade. Such change is 
 made difficult by lack of the possessions needed for filling 
 superior positions ; and it is made difficult by the opposition 
 of those who already fill them, and can hold inferiors down. 
 Preventing intrusion from below, these transmit their respec- 
 tive places and ranks to their descendants ; and as the 
 principle of inheritance becomes settled, the rigidity of the 
 social structure becomes decided. Only where an “egali- 
 tarian despotism ” reduces all subjects to the same political 
 status — a condition of decay rather than of development — 
 does the converse state arise. 
 
 The principle of inheritance, becoming established in 
 respect of the classes which militancy originates, and fixing 
 the general functions of their members from generation to 
 generation, tends eventually to fix also their special functions. 
 Not only do men of the slave-classes and the artizan-classes 
 succeed to their respective ranks, but they succeed to the 
 particular occupations carried on in them. This, which is a 
 result of the tendency towards regimentation, is ascribable 
 primarily to the fact that a superior, requiring from each kind 
 of worker his particular product, has an interest in replacing 
 him at death by a capable successor ; while the worker, 
 prompted to get aid in executing his tasks, has an interest 
 in bringing up a son to his own occupation : the will of the 
 son being powerless against these conspiring interests. Under 
 the system of compulsory cooperation, therefore, the prin- 
 ciple of inheritance, spreading through the producing organi- 
 zation, causes a relative rigidity in this also. 
 
576 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 A kindred effect is shown in the entailed restraints on 
 movement from place to place. In proportion as the indi- 
 vidual is subordinated in life, liberty, and property, to his 
 society, it is needful that his whereabouts shall be constantly 
 known. Obviously the relation of the soldier to his officer, 
 and of this officer to his superior, is such that each must be 
 ever at hand ; and where the militant type is fully developed 
 the like holds throughout the society. The slave cannot 
 leave his appointed abode ; the serf is tied to his allotment ; 
 the master is not allowed to absent himself from his locality 
 without leave. 
 
 So that the corporate action, the combination, the cohesion, 
 the regimentation, which efficient militancy necessitates, 
 imply a structure which strongly resists change. 
 
 § 556. A further trait of the militant type, naturally 
 accompanying the last, is that organizations other than those 
 forming parts of the State-organization, are wholly or par- 
 tially repressed. The public combination occupying all fields, 
 excludes private combinations. 
 
 For the achievement of complete corporate action there 
 must, as we have seen, be a centralized administration, not 
 only throughout the combatant part but throughout the non- 
 combatant part ; and if there exist unions of citizens which 
 act independently, they in so far diminish the range of this 
 centralized administration. Any structures which are not 
 portions of the State-structure, serve more or less as limita- 
 tions to it, and stand in the way of the required unlimited 
 subordination. If private combinations are allowed to exist, 
 it will be on condition of submitting to an official regulation 
 such as greatly restrains independent action ; and since 
 private combinations officially regulated are inevitably hin- 
 dered from doing things not conforming to established 
 routine, and are thus debarred from improvement, they cannot 
 habitually thrive and grow. Obviously, indeed, such com- 
 binations, based on the principle of voluntary cooperation, 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 577 
 
 are incongruous with social arrangements based on the prin- 
 ciple of compulsory cooperation. Hence the militant type 
 is characterized by the absence, or comparative rarity, of 
 bodies of citizens associated for commercial purposes, for 
 propagating special religious views, for achieving philan- 
 thropic ends, &c. 
 
 Private combinations of one kind, however, are congruous 
 with the militant type — the combinations, namely, which are 
 formed for minor defensive or offensive purposes. We have, 
 as examples, those which constitute factions, very general in 
 militant societies ; those which belong to the same class as 
 primitive guilds, serving for mutual protection ; and those 
 which take the shape of secret societies. Of such bodies it 
 may be noted that they fulfil on a small scale ends like those 
 which the whole society fulfils on a large scale — the ends of 
 self-preservation, or aggression, or both. And it may be 
 further noted that these small included societies are organized 
 on the same principle as the large including society — the 
 principle of compulsory cooperation. Their governments are 
 coercive : in some cases even to the extent of killing those of 
 their members who are disobedient. 
 
 § 557. A remaining fact to be set down is that a society 
 of the militant type tends to evolve a self-sufficient sustain- 
 ing organization. With its political autonomy there goes 
 what we may call an economic autonomy. Evidently if it 
 carries on frequent wars against surrounding societies, its 
 commercial intercourse with them must be hindered or pre- 
 vented : exchange of commodities can go on to but a small 
 extent between those who are continually fighting. A mili- 
 tant society must, therefore, to the greatest degree practicable, 
 provide internally the supplies of all articles needful for 
 carrying on the lives of its members. Such an economic 
 state as that which existed during early feudal times, when, 
 as in France, “ the castles made almost all the articles used 
 in them,” is a state evidently entailed on groups, small or 
 
578 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 large, wliicli are in constant antagonism with surrounding 
 groups. If there does not already exist within any group so 
 circumstanced, an agency for producing some necessary 
 article, inability to obtain it from without will lead to the 
 establishment of an agency for obtaining it within. 
 
 Whence it follows that the desire “ not to be dependent on 
 foreigners ” is one appropriate to the militant type of society. 
 So long as there is constant danger that the supplies of 
 needful things derived from other countries will be cut off by 
 the breaking out of hostilities, it is imperative that there 
 shall be maintained a power of producing these supplies at 
 home, and that to this end the required structures shall be 
 maintained. Hence there is a manifest direct relation 
 between militant activities and a protectionist policy. 
 
 § 558. And now having observed the traits which may be 
 expected to establish themselves by survival of the fittest 
 during the struggle for existence among societies, let us 
 observe how these traits are displayed in actual societies, 
 similar in respect of their militancy but otherwise dissimilar. 
 
 Of course in small primitive groups, however warlike they 
 may be, we must not look for more than rude outlines of the 
 structure proper to the militant type. Being loosely aggre- 
 gated, definite arrangement of their parts can be carried but 
 to a small extent. Still, so far as it goes, the evidence is to 
 the point. The fact that habitually the fighting body is co- 
 extensive with the adult male population, is so familiar that 
 no illustrations are needed. An equally familiar fact is that 
 the women, occupying a servile position, do all the unskilled 
 labour and bear the burdens ; with which may be joined the 
 fact that not unfrequently during war they carry the supplies, 
 as in Asia among the Bhils and Khonds, as in Polynesia 
 among the New Caledonians and Sandwich Islanders, as in 
 America among the Comanches, Mundrucus, Patagonians : 
 their office as forming the permanent commissariat being thus 
 clearly shown. We see, too, that where the enslaving of 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 579 
 
 captives has arisen, these also serve to support and aid the 
 combatant class ; acting during peace as producers and during 
 war joining the women in attendance on the army, as among 
 the New Zealanders, or, as among the Malagasy, being then 
 exclusively the carriers of provisions, &c. Again, in these 
 first stages, as in later stages, we are shown that private 
 claims are, in the militant type, over-ridden by public claims. 
 The life of each man is held subject to the needs of the 
 group ; and, by implication, his freedom of action is similarly 
 held. So, too, with his goods ; as instance the remark made 
 of the Brazilian Indians, that personal property, recognized 
 but to a limited extent during peace, is scarcely at all recog- 
 nized during war ; and as instance Hearne’s statement con- 
 cerning certain hyperborean tribes of North America when 
 about to make war, that “ property of every kind that could 
 be of general use now ceased to be private.” To which add 
 the cardinal truth, once more to be repeated, that where no 
 political subordination exists war initiates it. Tacitly or 
 overtly a chief is temporarily acknowledged ; and he gains 
 permanent power if war continues. From these beginnings 
 of the militant type which small groups show us, let us pass 
 to its developed forms as shown in larger groups. 
 
 “ The army, or what is nearly synonymous, the nation of 
 Dahome,” to quote Burton’s words, furnishes us with a good 
 example : the excessive militancy being indicated by the fact 
 that the royal bedroom is paved with skulls of enemies. 
 Here the king is absolute, and is regarded as supernatural in 
 character — he is the “ spirit and of course he is the religious 
 head — he ordains the priests. He absorbs in himself all 
 powers and all rights : “ by the state-law of Dahome ... all 
 men are slaves to the king.” He “ is heir to all his subjects;” 
 and he takes from living subjects whatever he likes. When 
 we add that there is a frequent killing of victims to carry 
 messages to the other world, as well as occasions on which 
 numbers are sacrificed to supply deceased kings with attend- 
 ants, we are shown that life, liberty, and property, are at the 
 
580 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 entire disposal of the State as represented by its head. In 
 both the civil and military organizations, the centres and sub- 
 centres of control are numerous. Names, very generally 
 given by the king and replacing surnames, change “with 
 every rank of the holder;” and so detailed is the regimenta- 
 tion that “the dignities seem interminable.” There are 
 numerous sumptuary laws ; and, according to Waitz, no one 
 wears any other clothing or weapons than what the king gives 
 him or allows him. Under penalty of slavery or death, “ no 
 man must alter the construction of his house, sit upon a chair, 
 or be carried on a hammock, or drink out of a glass,” without 
 permission of the king. 
 
 The ancient Peruvian empire, gradually established by the 
 conquering Yncas, may next be instanced. Here the ruler, 
 divinely descended, sacred, absolute, was the centre of a 
 system which minutely controlled all life. His headship was 
 at once military, political, ecclesiastical, judicial; and the 
 entire nation was composed of those who, in the capacity of 
 soldiers, labourers, and officials, were slaves to him and his 
 deified ancestors. Military service was obligatory on all 
 taxable Indians who were capable ; and those of them who 
 had served their prescribed terms, formed into reserves, had 
 then to work under State-superintendence. The army having 
 heads over groups of ten, fifty, a hundred, five hundred, a 
 thousand, ten thousand, had, besides these, its superior com- 
 manders of Ynca blood. The community at large was subject 
 to a parallel regimentation : the inhabitants registered in 
 groups, being under the control of officers over tens, fifties, 
 hundreds, and so on. And through these successive grades 
 of centres, reports ascended to the Ynca-governors of great 
 divisions, passing on from them to the Ynca; while his orders 
 descended “ from rank to rank till they reached the lowest.” 
 There was an ecclesiastical organization similarly elaborate, 
 having, for example, five classes of diviners ; and there was 
 an organization of spies to examine and report upon the 
 doings of the other officers. Everything was under public 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 581 
 
 inspection. There were village-officers who overlooked the 
 ploughing, sowing, and harvesting. When there was a defi- 
 ciency of rain, measured quantities of water were supplied 
 by the State. All who travelled without authority were 
 punished as vagabonds ; but for those who were authorized 
 to travel for public purposes, there were establishments sup- 
 plying lodging and necessaries. “ It was the duty of the 
 decurions to see that the people were clothed and the kinds 
 of cloth, decorations, badges, &c., to be worn by the different 
 ranks were prescribed. Besides this regulation of external 
 life there was regulation of domestic life. The people were 
 required to “ dine and sup with open doors, that the judges 
 might be able to enter freely;” and these judges had to see 
 that the house, clothes, furniture, &c., were kept clean and in 
 order, and the children properly disciplined : those who mis- 
 managed their houses being flogged. Subject to this minute 
 control, the people laboured to support this elaborate State- 
 organization. The political, religious, and military classes 
 were exempt from tribute ; while the labouring classes when 
 not serving in the army, had to yield up all produce beyond 
 that required for their bare sustenance. Of the whole empire, 
 one-third was allotted for supporting the State, one-third for 
 supporting the priesthood who ministered to the manes of 
 ancestors, and the remaining third had to support the workers. 
 Besides giving tribute by tilling the lands of the Sun and the 
 King, the workers had to till the lands of the soldiers on duty, 
 as well as those of incapables. And they also had to pay 
 tribute of clothes, shoes, and arms. Of the lands on which the 
 people maintained themselves, a tract was apportioned to 
 each man according to the size of his family. Similarly with 
 the produce of the flocks. Such moiety of this in each dis- 
 trict as was not required for supplying public needs, was 
 periodically shorn, and the wool divided by officials. These 
 arrangements were in pursuance of the principle that “ the 
 private property of each man was held by favour of the Ynca, 
 and according to their laws he had no other title to it.” Thus 
 
582 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the people, completely possessed by the State in person, pro- 
 perty, and labour, transplanted to this or that locality as the 
 Ynca directed, and, when not serving as soldiers, living under 
 a discipline like that within the army, were units in a cen- 
 tralized regimented machine, moved throughout life to the 
 greatest practicable extent by the Ynca’s will, and to the 
 least practicable extent by their own wills. And, naturally, 
 along with militant organization thus carried to its ideal 
 limit, there went an almost entire absence of any other 
 organization. They had no money; “they neither sold 
 clothes, nor houses, nor estates and trade was represented 
 among them by scarcely anything more than some bartering 
 of articles of food. 
 
 So far as accounts of it show, ancient Egypt presented 
 phenomena allied in their general, if not in their special, cha- 
 racters. Its predominant militancy during remote unrecorded 
 times, is sufficiently implied by the vast population of slaves 
 who toiled to build the pyramids ; and its subsequent con- 
 tinued militancy we are shown alike by the boasting records 
 of its kings, and the delineations of their triumphs on its 
 temple-walls. Along with this form of activity we have, as 
 before, the god-descended ruler, limited in his powers only by 
 the usages transmitted from his divine ancestors, who was at 
 once political head, high-priest, and commander-in-chief. 
 Under him was a centralized organization, of which the civil 
 part was arranged in classes and sub-classes as definite as 
 were those of the militant part. Of the four great social divi- 
 sions — priests, soldiers, traders, and common people, beneath 
 whom came the slaves — the first contained more than a score 
 different orders ; the second, some half-dozen beyond those 
 constituted by military grades ; the third, nearly a dozen ; and 
 the fourth, a still greater number. Though within the ruling 
 classes the castes were not so rigorously defined as to prevent 
 change of function in successive generations, yet Herodotus 
 and Diodorus state that industrial occupations descended 
 from father to son : “ every particular trade and manufacture 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 583 
 
 was carried on by its own craftsmen, and none changed from 
 one trade to another.” How elaborate was the regimentation 
 may be judged from the detailed account of the staff of 
 officers and workers engaged in one of their vast quarries : 
 the numbers and kinds of functionaries paralleling those of 
 an army. To support this highly-developed regulative organi- 
 zation, civil, military, and sacerdotal (an organization which 
 held exclusive possession of the land) the lower classes 
 laboured. “ Overseers were set over the wretched people, 
 who were urged to hard work more by the punishment of the 
 stick than words of warning.” And whether or not official 
 oversight included domiciliary visits, it at any rate went to 
 the extent of taking note of each family. “ Every man was 
 required under pain of death to give an account to the magis- 
 trate of how he earned his livelihood.” 
 
 Take, now, another ancient society, which, strongly con- 
 trasted in sundry respects, shows us, along with habitual mili- 
 tancy, the assumption of structural traits allied in their 
 fundamental characters to those thus far observed. I refer 
 to Sparta. That warfare did not among the Spartans evolve 
 a single despotic head, while in part due to causes which, as 
 before shown, favour the development of compound political 
 heads, was largely due to the accident of their double king- 
 ship : the presence of two divinely-descended chiefs pre- 
 vented the concentration of power. But though from this 
 cause there continued an imperfectly centralized government, 
 the relation of this government to members of the community 
 was substantially like that of militant governments in general. 
 Not withstanding the serfdom, and in towns the slavery, of 
 the Helots, and notwithstanding the political subordination 
 of the Periceki, they all, in common with the Spartans proper, 
 were under obligation to military service : the working func- 
 tion of the first, and the trading function, so far as it existed, 
 which was carried on by the second, were subordinate to the 
 militant function, with which the third was exclusively occu- 
 pied. And the civil divisions thus marked re-appeared in 
 
584 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the military divisions : “ at the battle of Platea every Spartan 
 hoplite had seven Helots, and every Perioeki hoplite one Helot 
 to attend him.” The extent to which, by the daily military 
 discipline, prescribed military mess, and fixed contributions of 
 food, the individual life of the Spartan was subordinated to 
 public demands, from seven years upwards, needs mention 
 only to show the rigidity of the restraints which here, as 
 elsewhere, the militant type imposes — restraints which were 
 further shown in the prescribed age for marriage, the preven- 
 tion of domestic life, the forbidding of industry or any money- 
 seeking occupation, the interdict on going abroad without 
 leave, and the authorized censorship under which his days 
 and nights were passed. There was fully carried out in Sparta 
 the Greek theory of society, that “ the citizen belongs neither 
 to himself nor to his family, but to his city.” So that though 
 in this exceptional case, chronic militancy was prevented 
 from developing a supreme head, owning the individual citizen 
 in body and estate, yet it developed an essentially identical 
 relation between the community as a whole and its units. 
 The community, exercising its power through a compound 
 head instead of through a simple head, completely enslaved 
 the individual. While the lives and labours of the Helots 
 were devoted exclusively to the support of those who formed 
 the military organization, the lives and labours of those who 
 formed the military organization were exclusively devoted to 
 the service of the State : they were slaves with a difference. 
 
 Of modern illustrations, that furnished by Eussia will 
 suffice. Here, again, with the wars which effected conquests 
 and consolidations, came the development of the victorious 
 commander into the absolute ruler, who, if not divine by 
 alleged origin, yet acquired something like divine 'prestige. 
 “ All men are equal before God, and the Prussians’ God is the 
 Emperor,” says De Custine: “the supreme governor is so raised 
 above earth, that he sees no difference between the serf and the 
 lord.” Under the stress of Peter the Great's wars, which, as 
 the nobles complained, took them away from their homes, “not. 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 585 
 
 as formerly, for a single campaign, but for long years,” they 
 became “ servants of the State, without privileges, without 
 dignity, subjected to corporal punishment, and burdened with 
 onerous duties from which there was no escape.” “Any 
 noble who refused to serve ['the State in the Army, the 
 Fleet, or the Civil Administration, from boyhood to old age/] 
 was not only deprived of his estate, as in the old times, but 
 was declared to be a traitor, and might be condemned to 
 capital punishment.” “ Under Peter,” says Wallace, “ all 
 offices, civil and military,” were “ arranged in fourteen classes 
 or ranks and he “ defined the obligations of each with 
 microscopic minuteness. After his death the work was 
 carried on in the same spirit, and the tendency reached its 
 climax in the reign of Nicholas.” In the words of De Custine, 
 “ the tchinn [the name for this organization] is a nation 
 formed into a regiment ; it is the military system applied to 
 all classes of society, even to those who never go to war.” 
 With this universal regimentation in structure went a regi- 
 mental discipline. The conduct of life was dictated to the 
 citizens at large in the same way as to soldiers. In the reign 
 of Peter and his successors, domestic entertainments were 
 appointed and regulated ; the people were compelled to change 
 their costumes ; the clergy to cut off their beards ; and even 
 the harnessing of horses was according to pattern. Occupa- 
 tions were controlled to the extent that “ no boyard could 
 enter any profession, or forsake it when embraced, or retire 
 from public to private life, or dispose of his property, or travel 
 into any foreign country, without the permission of the Czar.” 
 This omnipresent rule is well expressed in the close of 
 certain rhymes, for which a military officer was sent to 
 Siberia : — 
 
 “ Tout se fait par ukase ici ; 
 
 C’est par ukase que 1’on voyage, 
 
 C’est par ukase que l’on rit.” 
 
 Taking thus the existing barbarous society of Dahomey, 
 formed of negroes, the extinct semi-civilized empire of the 
 
586 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Yncas, whose subjects were remote in blood from these, the 
 ancient Egyptian empire peopled by yet other races, the 
 community of the Spartans, again unlike in the type of its 
 men, and the existing Russian nation made up of Slavs and 
 Tatars, we have before us cases in which such similarities of 
 social structure as exist, cannot be ascribed to inheritance of 
 a common character by the social units. The immense 
 contrasts between the populations of these several societies, 
 too, varying from millions at the one extreme to thousands at 
 the other, negative the supposition that their common struc- 
 tural traits are consequent on size. Nor can it be supposed 
 that likenesses of conditions in respect of climate, surface, 
 soil, flora, fauna, or likenesses of habits caused by such con- 
 ditions, can have had anything to do with the likenesses of 
 organization in these societies ; for their respective habitats 
 present numerous marked unlikenesses. Such traits as they 
 one and all exhibit, not ascribable to any other cause, must 
 thus be ascribed to the habitual militancy characteristic of 
 them all. The results of induction alone would go far to 
 warrant this ascription ; and it is fully warranted by their 
 correspondence with the results of deduction, as set forth 
 above. 
 
 § 559. Any remaining doubts must disappear on observing 
 how continued militancy is followed by further development 
 of the militant organization. Three illustrations will suffice. 
 
 When, during Roman conquests, the tendency for the suc- 
 cessful general to become despot, repeatedly displayed, finally 
 took effect — when the title imperator , military in its primary 
 meaning, became the title for the civil ruler, showing us on a 
 higher platform that genesis of political headship out of mili- 
 tary headship visible from the beginning — when, as usually 
 happens, an increasingly divine character was acquired by 
 the civil ruler, as shown in the assumption of the sacred 
 name Augustus, as well as in the growth of an actual worship 
 of him ; there simultaneously became more pronounced those 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 587 
 
 further traits which characterize the militant type in its 
 developed form. Practically, if not nominally, the other 
 powers of the State were absorbed by him. In the words of 
 Duruy, he had — 
 
 “ The right of proposing, that is, of making laws ; of receiving and 
 trying appeals, i.e. the supreme jurisdiction ; of arresting by the tribu- 
 nitian veto every measure and every sentence, i.e. of putting his will in 
 opposition to the laws and magistrates ; of summoning the senate or the 
 people and presiding over it, i.e. of directing the electoral assemblies as 
 he thought fit. And these prerogatives he will have not for a single 
 year but for life ; not in Rome only . . . but throughout the empire ; 
 not shared with ten colleagues, but exercised by himself alone ; lastly, 
 without any account to render, since he never resigns his office.” 
 
 Along with these changes went an increase in the number 
 and definiteness of social divisions. The Emperor — 
 
 “ Placed between himself and the masses a multitude of people regu- 
 larly classed by categories, and piled one above the other in such a way 
 that this hierarchy, pressing with all its weight upon the masses under- 
 neath, held the people and factious individuals powerless. What 
 remained of the old patrician nobility had the foremost rank in the city; 
 
 . . . below it came the senatorial nobility, half hereditary ; below that 
 the moneyed nobility or equestrian order — three aristocracies super- 
 posed. . . . The sons of senators formed a class intermediate between 
 the senatorial and the equestrian order. ... In the 2nd century the 
 senatorial families formed an hereditary nobility with privileges.” 
 
 At the same time the administrative organization was greatly 
 extended and complicated. 
 
 “ Augustus created a large number of new offices, as the superintend- 
 ence of public works, roads, aqueducts, the Tiber-bed, distribution of 
 corn to the people. . . . He also created numerous offices of procurators 
 for the financial administration of the empire, and in Rome there were 
 1,060 municipal officers.” 
 
 The structural character proper to an army spread in a double 
 way : military officers acquired civil functions and function- 
 aries of a civil kind became partially military. The magis- 
 trates appointed by the Emperor, tending to replace those 
 appointed by the people, had, along with their civil authority, 
 military authority ; and while “ under Augustus the prefects 
 of the pretorium were only military chiefs, . . . they gradually 
 possessed themselves of the whole civil authority, and finally 
 
588 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 became, after tlie Emperor, the first personages in the empire.” 
 Moreover, the governmental structures grew by incorporating 
 bodies of functionaries who were before independent. “ In 
 his ardour to organize everything, he aimed at regimenting 
 the law itself, and made an official magistracy of that which 
 had always been a free profession” To enforce the rule of 
 this extended administration, the army was made permanent, 
 and subjected to severe discipline. With the continued 
 growth of the regulating and coercing organization, the drafts 
 on producers increased ; and, as shown by extracts in a pre- 
 vious chapter concerning the Roman regime in Egypt and in 
 Gaul, the working part of the community was reduced more 
 and more to the form of a permanent commissariat. In Italy 
 the condition eventually arrived at was one in which vast 
 tracts were “ intrusted to freedmen, whose only consideration 
 was . . . how to extract from their labourers the greatest 
 amount of work with the smallest quantity of food.” 
 
 An example under our immediate observation may next be 
 taken — that of the German Empire. Such traits of the 
 militant type in Germany as were before manifest, have, 
 since the late war, become still more manifest. The army, 
 active and passive, including officers and attached function- 
 aries, has been increased by about 100,000 men; and changes 
 in 1875 and 1880, making certain reserves more available, 
 have practically caused a further increase of like amount. 
 Moreover, the smaller German States, having in great part 
 surrendered the administration of their several contingents, 
 the German army has become more consolidated ; and even 
 the armies of Saxony, Wiirtemberg, and Bavaria, being sub- 
 ject to Imperial supervision, have in so far ceased to be in- 
 dependent. Instead of each year granting military supplies, 
 as had been the practice in Prussia before the formation of 
 the North German Confederation, the Parliament of the 
 Empire was, in 1871 , induced to vote the required annual 
 sum for three years thereafter ; in 1874 it did the like for the 
 succeeding seven years ; and again in 1880 the greatly 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 589 
 
 increased amount for the augmented army was authorized for 
 the seven years then following : steps obviously surrendering 
 popular checks on Imperial power. Simultaneously, military 
 officialism has been in two w 7 ays replacing civil officialism. 
 Subaltern officers are rewarded for long services by appoint- 
 ments to civil posts — local communes being forced to give 
 them the preference to civilians ; and not a few members of 
 the higher civil service, and of the universities, as well as 
 teachers in the public schools, having served as “ volunteers 
 of one year/’ become commissioned officers of the Landwehr. 
 During the struggles of the so-called Kulturkampf, the eccle- 
 siastical organization became more subordinated by the 
 political. Priests suspended by bishops were maintained in 
 their offices ; it was made penal for a clergyman publicly to 
 take part against the government ; a recalcitrant bishop had 
 his salary stopped ; the curriculum for ecclesiastics was pre- 
 scribed by the State, and examination by State-officials re- 
 quired ; church discipline was subjected to State-approval ; 
 and a power of expelling rebellious clergy from the country 
 was established. Passing to the industrial activities we may 
 note, first, that through sundry steps, from 1873 onwards, 
 there has been a progressive transfer of railways into the 
 hands of the State ; so that, partly by original construction 
 (mainly of lines for military purposes), and partly by pur- 
 chase, three-fourths of ail Prussian railways have been made 
 government property ; and the same percentage holds in the 
 other German States : the aim being eventually to make 
 them all Imperial. Trade interferences have been extended 
 in various ways — by protectionist tariffs, by revival of the 
 usury laws, by restrictions on Sunday labour. Through its 
 postal service the State has assumed industrial functions — 
 presents acceptances, receives money on bills of exchange 
 that are due, as also on ordinary bills, which it gets receipted; 
 and until stopped by shopkeepers’ protests, undertook to pro- 
 cure books from publishers. Lastly there come the measures 
 for extending, directly and indirectly, the control over popular 
 
590 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 life. On the one hand there are the laws under which, up 
 to the middle of last year, 224 socialist societies have been 
 closed, 180 periodicals suppressed, 317 books, &c., forbidden; 
 and under which sundry places have been reduced to a 
 partial state of siege. On the other hand may be named 
 Prince Bismarck’s scheme for re-establishing guilds (bodies 
 which by their regulations coerce their members), and his 
 scheme of State-insurance, by the help of which the artizan 
 would, in a considerable degree, have his hands tied. Though 
 these measures have not been carried in the forms proposed, 
 yet the proposal of them sufficiently shows the general ten- 
 dency. In all which changes we see progress towards a more 
 integrated structure, towards increase of the militant part as 
 compared with the industrial part, towards the replacing of 
 civil organization by military organization, towards the 
 strengthening of restraints over the individual and regulation 
 of his life in greater detail.* 
 
 The remaining example to be named is that furnished by 
 our own society since the revival of military activity — a 
 revival which has of late been so marked that our illustrated 
 papers are, week after week, occupied with little else than 
 scenes of warfare. Already in the first volume of The Prin- 
 ciples of Sociology , I have pointed out many ways in which 
 the system of compulsory cooperation characterizing the 
 militant type, has been trenching on the system of voluntary 
 cooperation characterizing the industrial type ; and since 
 those passages appeared (July, 1876), other changes in the 
 same direction have taken place. Within the military 
 organization itself, we may note the increasing assimilation 
 of the volunteer forces to the regular army, now going to the 
 extent of proposing to make them available abroad, so that 
 instead of defensive action for which they were created, they 
 
 # Tliis chapter was originally published in the Contemporary Review for 
 Sept., 1881. Since that date a further movement of German society in the 
 same general direction has been shown by the pronounced absolutism of the 
 imperial rescript of Jan., 1882, endorsing Prince Bismarck’s scheme of State- 
 socialism. 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OP SOCIETY. 
 
 591 
 
 can be used for offensive action; and we may also note 
 that the tendency shown in the army during the past genera- 
 tion to sink the military character whenever possible, by 
 putting on civilian dresses, is now checked by an order to 
 officers in garrison towns to wear their uniforms when off 
 duty, as they do in more militant countries. Whether, since 
 the date named, usurpations of civil functions by military 
 men (which had in 1873-4 gone to the extent that there 
 were 97 colonels, majors, captains, and lieutenants employed 
 from time to time as inspectors of science and art classes) 
 have gone further, I cannot say ; but there has been a mani- 
 fest extension of the militant spirit and discipline among the 
 police, who, wearing helmet-shaped hats, beginning to carry 
 revolvers, and looking upon themselves as half soldiers, have 
 come to speak of the people as “ civilians.” To an increasing 
 extent the executive has been over-riding the other govern- 
 mental agencies ; as in the Cyprus business, and as in the 
 doings of the Indian Viceroy under secret instructions from 
 home. In various minor ways are shown endeavours to free 
 officialism from popular checks ; as in the desire expressed in 
 the House of Lords that the hanging of convicts in prisons, 
 entrusted entirely to the authorities, should have no other 
 witnesses; and as in the advice given by the late Home 
 Secretary (on 11th May, 1878) to the Derby Town Council, 
 that it should not interfere with the chief constable (a mili- 
 tary man) in his government of the force under him — a step 
 towards centralizing local police control in the Home Office. 
 Simultaneously we see various actual or prospective exten- 
 sions of public agency, replacing or restraining private agency. 
 There is the “ endowment of research,” which, already par- 
 tially carried out by a government fund, many wish to carry 
 further ; there is the proposed act for establishing a registra- 
 tion of authorized teachers ; there is the bill which provides 
 central inspection for local public libraries; there is the 
 scheme for compulsory insurance — a scheme showing us in 
 an instructive manner the way in which the regulating policy 
 
592 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 extends itself : compulsory charity having generated impro- 
 vidence, there comes compulsory insurance as a remedy for 
 the improvidence. Other proclivities towards institutions 
 belonging to the militant type, are seen in the increasing 
 demand for some form of protection, and in the lamentations 
 uttered by the “ society papers ” that duelling has gone out. 
 Nay, even through the party which by position and function 
 is antagonistic to militancy, we see that militant discipline is 
 spreading ; for the caucus-system, established for the better 
 organization of liberalism, is one which necessarily, in a 
 greater or less degree, centralizes authority and controls 
 individual action. 
 
 Besides seeing, then, that the traits to be inferred a priori 
 as characterizing the militant type, constantly exist in 
 societies which are permanently militant in high degrees, we 
 also see that in other societies increase of militant activity is 
 followed by development of such traits. 
 
 § 560. In some places I have stated, and in other places 
 implied, that a necessary relation exists between the structure 
 of a society and the natures of its citizens. Here it will be 
 well to observe in detail the characters proper to, and 
 habitually exemplified by, the members of a typically militant 
 society. 
 
 Other things equal, a society will be successful in war in 
 proportion as its members are endowed with bodily vigour 
 and courage. And, on the average, among conflicting societies 
 there will be a survival and spread of those in which the 
 physical and mental powers called for in battle, are not only 
 most marked but also most honoured. Egyptian and Assyrian 
 sculptures and inscriptions, show us that prowess was the 
 thing above all others thought most worthy of record. Of 
 the words good, just, &c., as used by 'the ancient Greeks, 
 Grote remarks that they “ signify the man of birth, wealth, 
 influence and daring, whose arm is strong to destroy or to 
 protect, whatever may be the turn of his moral sentiments ; 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 593 
 
 while the opposite epithet, bad, designates the poor, lowly, 
 and weak, from whose dispositions, be they ever so virtuous 
 society has little to hope or to fear.” In the identification of 
 virtue with bravery among the Eomans, we have a like im- 
 plication. During early turbulent times throughout Europe, 
 the knightly character, which was the honourable character, 
 primarily included fearlessness : lacking this, good qualities 
 were of no account ; but with this, sins of many kinds, great 
 though they might be, were condoned. 
 
 If, among antagonist groups of primitive men, some tole- 
 rated more than others the killing of their members— if, 
 while some always retaliated others did not ; those which did 
 not retaliate, continually aggressed on with impunity, would 
 either gradually disappear or have to take refuge in unde- 
 sirable habitats. Hence there is a survival of the unfor- 
 giving. Further, the lex tcdionis , primarily arising between 
 antagonist groups, becomes the law within the group ; and 
 chronic feuds between component families and clans, every- 
 where proceed upon the general principle of life for life. 
 Under the militant regime revenge becomes a virtue, and 
 failure to revenge a disgrace. Among the Fijians, who foster 
 anger in their children, it is not infrequent for a man to 
 commit suicide rather than live under an insult; and in other 
 cases the dying Fijian bequeathes the duty of inflicting 
 vengeance to his children. This sentiment and the resulting 
 practices we trace among peoples otherwise wholly alien, who 
 are, or have been, actively militant. In the remote East may 
 be instanced the Japanese. They are taught that “with the 
 slayer of his father a man may not live under the same 
 heaven ; against the slayer of his brother a man must never 
 have to go home to fetch a weapon ; with the slayer of his 
 friend a man may not live in the same State.” And in the 
 West may be instanced France during feudal days, when the 
 relations of one killed or injured were required by custom to 
 retaliate on any relations of the offender — even those living 
 at a distance and knowing nothing of the matter. Down to 
 
594 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the time of the Abbe Brantome, the spirit was such that that 
 ecclesiastic, enjoining on his nephews by his will to avenge 
 any unredressed wrongs done to him in his old age, says of 
 himself — “ I may boast, and I thank God for it, that I never 
 received an injury without being revenged on the author of 
 it. 9 ' That where militancy is active, revenge, private as well 
 as public, becomes a duty, is well shown at the present time 
 among the Montenegrins — a people who have been at war 
 with the Turks for centuries. “ Dans le Montenegro,’ 9 says 
 Boue, “ on dira d’un homme d’une natrie [clan] ayant tue un 
 individu d 9 une autre : Cette natrie nous doit une tete, et il 
 faut que cette dette soit acquittee, car qui ne se venge pas ne 
 se sancitie pas.” 
 
 Where activity in destroying enemies is chronic, destruc- 
 tion will become a source of pleasure ; where success in sub- 
 duing fellow-men is above all things honoured, there will 
 arise delight in the forcible exercise of mastery; and with 
 pride in spoiling the vanquished, will go disregard for the 
 rights of property at large. As it is incredible that men 
 should be courageous in face of foes and cowardly in face of 
 friends, so it is incredible that the other feelings fostered 
 by perpetual conflicts abroad should not come into play 
 at home. We have just seen that with the pursuit of 
 vengeance outside the society, there goes the pursuit of ven- 
 geance inside the society; and whatever other habits of 
 thought and action constant war necessitates, must show 
 their effects on the social life at large. Facts from various 
 places and times prove that in militant communities the 
 claims to life, liberty, and property, are little regarded. The 
 Dahomans, warlike to the extent that both sexes are warriors, 
 and by whom slave-hunting invasions are, or were, annually 
 undertaken “ to furnish funds for the royal exchequer, 99 show 
 their bloodthirstiness by their annual “ customs, 99 at which 
 multitudinous victims are publicly slaughtered for the popu- 
 lar gratification. The Fijians, again, highly militant in their 
 activities and type of organization, who display their reckless- 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 595 
 
 ness of life not only by killing their own people for cannibal 
 feasts, but by destroying immense numbers of their infants 
 and by sacrificing victims on such trivial occasions as launch- 
 ing a new canoe, so much applaud ferocity that to commit a 
 murder is a glory. Early records of Asiatics and Europeans 
 show us the like relation. What accounts there are of the 
 primitive Mongols, who, when united, massacred western 
 peoples wholesale, show us a chronic reign of violence, both 
 within and without their tribes ; while domestic assassina- 
 tions, which from the beginning have characterized the mili- 
 tant Turks, continue to characterize them down to our own 
 day. In proof that it was so with the Greek and Latin races 
 it suffices to instance the slaughter of the two thousand helots 
 by the Spartans, whose brutality was habitual, and the 
 murder of large numbers of suspected citizens by jealous 
 Eoman emperors, who also, like their subjects, manifested 
 their love of bloodshed in their arenas. That where 
 
 life is little regarded there can be but little regard for liberty, 
 follows necessarily. Those who do not hesitate to end another’s 
 activities by killing him, will still less hesitate to restrain his 
 activities by holding him in bondage. Militant savages, 
 wdiose captives, when not eaten, are enslaved, habitually show 
 us this absence of regard for fellow-men’s freedom, which 
 characterizes the members of militant societies in general. 
 How little, under the regime of war, more or less markedly 
 displayed in all early historic societies, there was any sen- 
 timent against depriving men of their liberties, is suffi- 
 ciently shown by the fact that even in the teachings of 
 primitive Christianity there was no express condemnation of 
 slavery. Naturally the like holds with the right of 
 
 property. Where mastery established by force is honourable, 
 claims to possession by the weaker are likely to be little 
 respected by the stronger. In Fiji it is considered chief-like 
 to seize a subject’s goods; and theft is virtuous if undis- 
 covered. Among the Spartans “ the ingenious and success- 
 ful pilferer gained applause with his booty.” In mediaeval 
 
596 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Europe, with perpetual robberies of one society by another 
 there went perpetual robberies within each society. Under 
 the Merovingians “the murders and crimes it [The Ecclesias- 
 tical History of the Franks ] relates, have almost all for their 
 object the possession of the treasure of the murdered per- 
 sons.’' And under Charlemagne plunder by officials was 
 chronic : the moment his back was turned, “ the provosts of 
 the king appropriated the funds intended to furnish food and 
 clothing for the artisans." 
 
 ( Where warfare is habitual, and the required qualities most 
 needful and therefore most honoured, those whose lives do not 
 display them are treated with contempt, and their occupations 
 regarded as dishonourable. In early stages labour is the 
 business of women and of slaves — conquered men and the 
 descendants of conquered men ; and trade of every kind, 
 carried on by subject classes, long continues to be identified 
 with lowness of origin and nature. In Dahomey, “ agricul- 
 ture is despised because slaves are employed in it." “ The 
 Japanese nobles and placemen, even of secondary rank, 
 entertain a sovereign contempt for traffic." Of the ancient 
 Egyptians Wilkinson says, “ their prejudices against mecha- 
 nical employments, as far as regarded the soldier, were equally 
 strong as in the rigid Sparta." “ For trade and commerce 
 the [ancient] Persians were wont to express extreme con- 
 tempt," writes Rawlinson. That progress of class-differentia- 
 tion which accompanied the conquering wars of the Romans, 
 was furthered by establishment of the rule that it was dis- 
 graceful to take money for work, as also by the law forbid- 
 ding senators and senators’ sons from engaging in speculation. 
 And how great has been the scorn expressed by the militant 
 classes for the trading classes throughout Europe, down to 
 quite recent times, needs no showing. 
 
 That there may be willingness to risk life for the benefit of 
 the society, there must be much of the feeling called patriot- 
 ism. Though the belief that it is glorious to die for one’s 
 country cannot be regarded as essential, since mercenaries 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 597 
 
 figlit without it ; yet it is obvious that such a belief conduces 
 greatly to success in war ; and that entire absence of it is so 
 unfavourable to offensive and defensive action that failure 
 and subjugation will, other things equal, be likely to result. 
 Hence the sentiment of patriotism is habitually established 
 by the survival of societies the members of which are most 
 characterized by it. 
 
 With this has to be united the sentiment of obedience. The 
 possibility of that united action by which, other things equal, 
 war is made successful, depends on the readiness of indivi- 
 duals to subordinate their wills to the will of a commander 
 or ruler. Loyalty is essential. In early stages the manifes- 
 tation of it is but temporary ; as among the Araucanians who, 
 ordinarily showing themselves “ repugnant to all subordina- 
 tion, are then [when war is impending] prompt to obey, and 
 submissive to the will of their military sovereign ” appointed 
 for the occasion. And with development of the militant type 
 this sentiment becomes permanent. Erskine tells us that the 
 Fijians are intensely loyal: men buried alive in the founda- 
 tions of a king's house, considered themselves honoured by 
 being so sacrificed ; and the people of a slave district “ said it 
 was their duty to become food and sacrifice for the chiefs." So 
 in Dahomey, there is felt for the king “ a mixture of love 
 and fear, little short of adoration." In ancient Egypt again, 
 where “ blind obedience was the oil which caused the harmo- 
 nious working of the machinery ” of social life, the monu- 
 ments on every side show with wearisome iteration the daily 
 acts of subordination — of slaves and others to the dead man, 
 of captives to the king, of the king to the gods. Though for 
 reasons already pointed out, chronic war did not generate in 
 Sparta* a supreme political head, to whom there could be 
 shown implicit obedience, yet the obedience shown to the 
 political agency which grew up was profound : individual 
 wills were in all things subordinate to the public will ex- 
 pressed by the established authorities. Primitive Rome, too, 
 though without a divinely-deseended king to whom submis- 
 
598 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 sion could be shown, displayed great submission to an ap- 
 pointed king, qualified only by expressions of opinion on 
 special occasions ; and the principle of absolute obedience, 
 slightly mitigated in the relations of the community as a 
 whole to its ruling agency, was unmitigated within its com- 
 ponent groups. That throughout European history, alike on 
 small and on large scales, we see the sentiment of loyalty 
 dominant where the militant type of structure is pronounced, 
 is a truth that will be admitted without detailed proof. 
 
 From these conspicuous traits of nature, let us turn to 
 certain consequent traits which are less conspicuous, and 
 which have results of less manifest kinds. Along with 
 loyalty naturally goes faith — the two being, indeed, scarcely 
 separable. Eeadiness to obey the commander in war, implies 
 belief in his military abilities ; and readiness to obey him 
 during peace, implies belief that his abilities extend to civil 
 affairs also. Imposing on men’s imaginations, each new con- 
 quest augments his authority. There come more frequent 
 and more decided evidences of his regulative action over 
 men’s lives ; and these generate the idea that his power is 
 boundless. Unlimited confidence in governmental agency is 
 fostered. Generations brought up under a system which con- 
 trols all affairs, private and public, tacitly assume that affairs 
 can only thus be controlled. Those who have experience of 
 no other regime are unable to imagine any other regime . 
 In such societies as that of ancient Peru, for example, wdiere, 
 as we have seen, regimental rule was universal, there were no 
 materials for framing the thought of an industrial life spon- 
 taneously carried on and spontaneously regulated. 
 
 By implication there results repression of individual initia- 
 tive, and consequent lack of private enterprise. In propor- 
 tion as an army becomes organized, it is reduced to a state in 
 which the independent action of its members is forbidden. 
 And in proportion as regimentation pervades the society at 
 large, each member of it, directed or restrained at every turn, 
 has little or no power of conducting his business otherwise 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 599 
 
 than by established routine. Slaves can do only what they 
 are told by their masters ; their masters cannot do anything 
 that is unusual without official permission ; and no permission 
 is to be obtained from the local authority until superior autlio- 
 . rities through their ascending grades have been consulted. 
 
 { Hence the mental state generated is that of passive accept- 
 ance and expectancy. Where the militant type is fully 
 developed, everything must be done by public agencies ; not 
 only for the reason that these occupy all spheres, but for the 
 further reason that did they not occupy them, there would 
 arise no other agencies : the prompting ideas and sentiments 
 having been obliterated. 
 
 ( There must be added a concomitant influence on the intel- 
 lectual nature, which cooperates with the moral influences 
 just named. Personal causation is alone recognized, and the 
 conception of impersonal causation is prevented from develop- 
 ing. The primitive man has no idea of cause in the modern 
 sense. The only agents included in his theory of things are 
 living persons and the ghosts of dead persons. All unusual 
 occurrences, together with those usual ones liable to variation, 
 he ascribes to supernatural beings. And this system of inter- 
 pretation survives through early stages of civilization ; as we 
 see, for example, among the Homeric Greeks, by whom wounds, 
 deaths, and escapes in battle, were ascribed to the enmity or 
 the aid of the gods, and by whom good and bad acts were held 
 to be divinely prompted. Continuance and development of 
 militant forms and activities maintain this way of thinking. 
 
 ( In the first place, it indirectly hinders the discovery of 
 causal relations. The sciences grow out of the arts — begin 
 as generalizations of truths which practice of the arts makes 
 manifest. In proportion as processes of production multiply 
 in their kinds and increase in their complexities, more 
 numerous uniformities come to be recognized ; and the ideas 
 of necessary relation and physical cause arise and develop. 
 Consequently, by discouraging industrial progress, militancy 
 checks the replacing of ideas of personal agency by ideas of 
 
600 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 impersonal agency. In the second place, it does the like by 
 direct repression of intellectual culture. Naturally a life 
 occupied in acquiring knowledge, like a life occupied in 
 industry, is regarded with contempt by a people devoted to 
 arms, j The Spartans clearly exemplified this relation in ancient 
 times ; and it was again exemplified during feudal ages in 
 Europe, when learning w 7 as scorned as proper only for clerks 
 and the children of mean people. And obviously, in propor- 
 tion as warlike activities are antagonistic to study and the 
 spread of knowledge, they further retard that emancipation 
 from primitive ideas which ends in recognition of natural 
 uniformities. In the third place, and chiefly, the effect in 
 question is produced by the conspicuous and perpetual expe- 
 rience of personal agency which the militant regime yields. 
 In the army, from the commander-in-chief down to the 
 private undergoing drill, every movement is directed by a 
 superior; and throughout the society, in proportion as its 
 regimentation is elaborate, things are hourly seen to go thus 
 or thus according to the regulating wills of the ruler and his 
 subordinates. In the interpretation of social affairs, personal 
 causation is consequently alone recognized. History comes 
 to be made up of the doings of remarkable men ; and it is 
 tacitly assumed that societies have been formed by them. 
 Wholly foreign to the habit of mind as is the thought of 
 impersonal causation, the course of social evolution is unper- 
 ceived. The natural genesis of social structures and functions 
 is an utterly alien conception, and appears absurd when 
 alleged. The notion of a self-regulating social process is 
 unintelligible. So that militancy moulds the citizen into a. 
 form not only morally adapted but intellectually adapted— a 
 form which cannot think away from the entailed system. 
 
 § 561. In three ways, then, we are shown the character of 
 the militant type of social organization. Observe the con- 
 gruities which comparison of results discloses. 
 
 Certain conditions, manifest a priori, have to be fulfilled by 
 
THE MILITANT TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 601 
 
 a society fitted for preserving itself in presence of anta- 
 gonist societies. To be in the highest degree efficient, the 
 corporate action needed for preserving the corporate life must 
 be joined in by every one. Other things equal, the fighting 
 power will be greatest where those who cannot fight, labour 
 exclusively to support and help those who can : an evident 
 implication being that the working part shall be no larger 
 than is required for these ends. The efforts of all being 
 utilized directly or indirectly for war, will be most effectual 
 when they are most combined ; and, besides union among the 
 combatants, there must be such union of the non-combatants 
 with them as renders the aid of these fully and promptly 
 available. To satisfy these requirements, the life, the actions, 
 and the possessions, of each individual must be held at the 
 service of the society. This universal service, this combina- 
 tion, and this merging of individual claims, pre-suppose a 
 despotic controlling agency. That the will of the soldier- 
 chief may be operative when the aggregate is large, there 
 must be sub-centres and sub-sub-centres in descending grades, 
 through whom orders may be conveyed and enforced, both 
 throughout the combatant part and the non-combatant part. 
 As the commander tells the soldier both what he shall not do 
 and what he shall do ; so, throughout the militant community 
 at large, the rule is both negatively regulative and positively 
 regulative : it not only restrains, but it directs : the citizen 
 as well as the soldier lives under a system of compulsory 
 cooperation. Development of the militant type involves 
 increasing rigidity, since the cohesion, the combination, the 
 subordination, and the regulation, to which the units of a 
 society are subjected by it, inevitably decrease their ability 
 to change their social positions, their occupations, their locali- 
 ties. 
 
 On inspecting sundry societies, past and present, large and 
 small, which are, or have been, characterized in high degrees 
 by militancy, we are shown, a posteriori , that amid the dif- 
 ferences due to race, to circumstances, and to degrees of 
 
602 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 development, there are fundamental similarities of the kinds 
 above inferred a priori. Modern Dahomey and Russia, as 
 well as ancient Peru, Egypt, and Sparta, exemplify that 
 owning of the individual by the State in life, liberty, and 
 goods, which is proper to a social system adapted for war. 
 And that with changes further fitting a society for warlike 
 activities, there spread throughout it an officialism, a dictation, 
 and a superintendence, akin to those under which soldiers 
 live, we are shown by imperial Rome, by imperial Germany, 
 and by England since its late aggressive activities. 
 
 Lastly comes the evidence furnished by the adapted cha- 
 racters of the men who compose militant societies. Making 
 success in war the highest glory, they are led to identify good- 
 ness with bravery and strength. Revenge becomes a sacred 
 duty with them ; and acting at home on the law of retaliation 
 which they act on abroad, they similarly, at home as abroad, 
 are ready to sacrifice others to self : their sympathies, con- 
 tinually deadened during war, cannot be active during peace. 
 They must have a patriotism which regards the triumph of 
 their society as the supreme end of action ; they must pos- 
 sess the loyalty whence flows obedience to authority; and 
 that they may be obedient they must have abundant faith. 
 With faith in authority and consequent readiness to be 
 directed, naturally goes # relatively little power of initiation. 
 The habit of seeing everything officially controlled fosters the 
 belief that official control is everywhere needful; while a course 
 of life which makes personal causation familiar and negatives 
 experience of impersonal causation, produces an inability to 
 conceive of any social processes as carried on under self- 
 regulating arrangements. And these traits of individual 
 nature, needful concomitants as we see of the militant type, 
 are those which we observe in the members of actual militant 
 societies. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 § 562. Having nearly always to defend themselves against 
 external enemies, while they have to carry on internally the 
 processes of sustentation, societies, as remarked in the last 
 chapter, habitually present us with mixtures of the structures 
 adapted to these diverse ends. Disentanglement is not easy. 
 According as either structure predominates it ramifies through 
 the other : instance the fact that where the militant type is 
 much developed, the worker, ordinarily a slave, is no more 
 free than the soldier; while, where the industrial type is 
 much developed, the soldier, volunteering on specified terms, 
 acquires in so far the position of a free worker. In the one 
 case the system of status, proper to the fighting part, pervades 
 the working part ; while in the other the system of contract, 
 proper to the working part, affects the fighting part. Especi- 
 ally does the organization adapted for war obscure that 
 adapted for industry. While, as we have seen, the militant 
 type as theoretically constructed, is so far displayed in many 
 societies as to leave no doubt about its essential nature, the 
 industrial type has its traits so hidden by those of the still- 
 dominant militant type, th^t its nature is nowhere more than 
 very partially exemplified.) Saying thus much to exclude 
 expectations which cannot be fulfilled, it will be well also to 
 exclude certain probable misconceptions. 
 
 In the first place, industrialism must not be confounded 
 with industriousness. Though the members of an industrially- 
 
 organized society are habitually industrious, and are, indeed, 
 17 
 
604 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 when the society is a developed one, obliged to be so ; yet it 
 must not be assumed that the industrially-organized society 
 is one in which, of necessity, much work is done. Where 
 the society is small, and its habitat so favourable that life 
 may be comfortably maintained with but little exertion, the 
 social relations which characterize the industrial type may co- 
 exist with but very moderate productive activities. It is 
 not the diligence of its members which constitutes the 
 society an industrial one in the sense here intended, but the 
 form of cooperation under which their labours, small or great 
 in amount, are carried on. This distinction will be best under- 
 stood on observing that, conversely, there may be, and often 
 is, great industry in societies framed on the militant type. 
 In ancient Egypt there was an immense labouring population 
 and a large supply of commodities, numerous in their kinds, 
 produced by it. Still more did ancient Peru exhibit a vast 
 community purely militant in its structure, the members of 
 which worked unceasingly. We are here concerned, then, not 
 with the quantity of labour but with the mode of organi- 
 zation of the labourers. A regiment of soldiers can be set 
 to construct earth- works; another to cut down wood; another 
 to bring in water ; but they are not thereby reduced for the 
 time being to an industrial society. The united individuals 
 do these several things under command; and having no 
 private claims to the products, are, though industrially oc- 
 cupied, not industrially organized. And the same holds 
 throughout the militant society as a whole, in proportion as 
 the regimentation of it approaches completeness. 
 
 The industrial type of society, properly so called, must 
 also be distinguished from a type very likely to be con- 
 founded with it — the type, namely, in which the component 
 individuals, while exclusively occupied in production and 
 distribution, are under a regulation such as that advocated 
 by socialists and communists. For this, too, involves in 
 another form the principle of compulsory cooperation. 
 Directly or indirectly, individuals are to be prevented from 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 605 
 
 severally and independently occupying themselves as they 
 please ; are to be prevented from competing with one another 
 in supplying goods for money; are to be prevented from 
 hiring themselves out on such terms as they think fit. There 
 can be no artificial system for regulating labour which does 
 not interfere with the natural system. To such extent as 
 men are debarred from making whatever engagements they 
 like, they are to that extent working under dictation. No 
 matter in what way the controlling agency is constituted, it 
 stands towards those controlled in the same relation as does 
 the controlling agency of a militant society. And how truly 
 the regime which those who declaim against competition 
 would establish, is thus characterized, we see both in the fact 
 that communistic forms of organization existed in early 
 societies which were predominantly warlike, and in the fact 
 that at the present time communistic projects chiefly originate 
 among, and are most favoured by, the more warlike societies. 
 
 A further preliminary explanation may be needful. The 
 structures proper to the industrial type of society must not 
 be looked for in distinct forms when they first appear. Con- 
 trariwise, we must expect them to begin in vague unsettled 
 forms. Arising, as they do, by modification of pre-existing 
 structures, they are necessarily long in losing all trace of 
 these. For example, transition from the state in which the 
 labourer, owned like a beast, is maintained that he may work 
 exclusively for his master's benefit, to the condition in which 
 he is completely detached from master, soil, and locality, and 
 free to work anywhere and for anyone, is through gradations. 
 Again, the change from the arrangement proper to militancy, 
 under which subject-persons receive, in addition to main- 
 tenance, occasional presents, to the arrangement under which, 
 in place of both, they received fixed wages, or salaries, or 
 fees, goes on slowly and unobtrusively. Once more it is 
 observable that the process of exchange, originally indefinite, 
 has become definite only where industrialism is considerably 
 developed. Barter began, not with a distinct intention of 
 
606 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 giving one thing for another thing equivalent in value, but it 
 began by making a present and receiving a present in return; 
 and even now in the East there continue traces of this 
 primitive transaction. In Cairo the purchase of articles from 
 a shopkeeper is preceded by his offer of coffee and cigarettes; 
 and during the negotiation which ends in the engagement of 
 a dahabeah , the dragoman brings gifts and expects to receive 
 them. Add to which that there exists under such conditions 
 none of that definite equivalence which characterizes ex- 
 change among ourselves : prices are not fixed, but vary 
 widely with every fresh transaction. So that throughout our 
 interpretations we must keep in view the truth, that the 
 structures and functions proper to the industrial type dis- 
 tinguish themselves but gradually from those proper to the 
 militant type. 
 
 Having thus prepared the way, let us now consider what 
 are, a priori , the traits of that social organization wdiich, 
 entirely unfitted for carrying on defence against external 
 enemies, is exclusively fitted for maintaining the life of the 
 society by subserving the lives of its units. As before in 
 treating of the militant type, so here in treating of the indus- 
 trial type, we will consider first its ideal form. 
 
 § 563. While corporate action is the primary requirement 
 in a society which has to preserve itself in presence of hostile 
 societies, conversely, in the absence of hostile societies, 
 corporate action is no longer the primary requirement. 
 
 The continued existence of a society implies, first, that it 
 shall not be destroyed bodily by foreign foes, and implies, 
 second, that it shall not be destroyed in detail by failure of 
 its members to support and propagate themselves. If danger 
 of destruction from the first cause ceases, there remains only 
 danger of destruction from the second cause. Sustentation 
 of the society will now 7 be achieved by the self-sustentation 
 and multiplication of its units. If his own welfare and the 
 welfare of his offspring is fully achieved by each, the welfare 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 607 
 
 of the society is by implication achieved. Comparatively 
 little corporate activity is now required. Each man may 
 maintain himself by labour, may exchange his products for 
 the products of others, may give aid and receive payment, 
 may enter into this or that combination for carrying on an 
 undertaking, small or great, without the direction of the 
 society as a whole. The remaining end to be achieved by 
 public action is to keep private actions within due bounds ; 
 and the amount of public action needed for this becomes 
 small in proportion as private actions become duly self- 
 bounded. 
 
 So that whereas in the militant type the demand for cor- 
 porate action is intrinsic, such demand for corporate action 
 as continues in the industrial type is mainly extrinsic — is 
 called for by those aggressive traits of human nature which 
 chronic warfare has fostered, and may gradually diminish as, 
 under enduring peaceful life, these decrease. 
 
 § 564. In a society organized for militant action, the indi- 
 viduality of each member has to be so subordinated in life, 
 liberty, and property, that he is largely, or completely, owned 
 by the State ; but in a society industrially organized, no such 
 subordination of the individual is called for. There remain 
 no occasions on which he is required to risk his life 
 while destroying the lives of others ; he is not forced to 
 leave his occupation and submit to a commanding officer; 
 and it ceases to be needful that he should surrender for public 
 purposes whatever property is demanded of him. 
 
 Under the industrial regime the citizen’s individuality, 
 instead of being sacrificed by the society, has to be defended 
 by the society. Defence of his individuality becomes the 
 society’s essential duty. That after external protection is no 
 longer called for, internal protection must become the cardinal 
 function of the State, and that effectual discharge of this 
 function must be a predominant trait of the industrial type, 
 may be readily shown. 
 
608 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 For it is clear that, other things equal, a society in which 
 life, liberty, and property, are secure, and all interests justly 
 regarded, must prosper more than one in which they are not ; 
 and, consequently, among competing industrial societies, 
 there must be a gradual replacing of those in which personal 
 rights are imperfectly maintained, by those in which they are 
 perfectly maintained. So that by survival of the fittest must 
 be produced a social type in which individual claims, con- 
 sidered as sacred, are trenched on by the State no further 
 than is requisite to pay the cost of maintaining them, or 
 rather, of arbitrating among them. For the aggressiveness of 
 nature fostered by militancy having died out, the corporate 
 function becomes that of deciding between those conflicting 
 claims, the equitable adjustment of which is not obvious to 
 the persons concerned. 
 
 § 565. With the absence of need for that corporate action 
 by which the efforts of the whole society may be utilized for 
 war, there goes the absence of need for a despotic controlling 
 agency. 
 
 Not only is such an agency unnecessary, but it cannot 
 exist. For since, as we see, it is an essential requirement of 
 the industrial type, that the individuality of each man shall 
 have the fullest play compatible with the like play of other 
 men’s individualities, despotic control, showing itself as it 
 must by otherwise restricting men’s individualities, is neces- 
 sarily excluded. Indeed, by his mere presence an autocratic 
 ruler is an aggressor on citizens. Actually or potentially 
 exercising power not given by them, he in so far restrains 
 their wills more than they would be restrained by mutual 
 limitation merely. 
 
 § 566. Such control as is required under the industrial 
 type, can be exercised only by an appointed agency for ascer- 
 taining and executing the average will; and a representative 
 agency is the one best fitted for doing this. 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 609 
 
 Unless tlie activities of all are homogeneous in kind, which 
 they cannot be in a developed society with its elaborate divi- 
 sion of labour, there arises a need for conciliation of diver- 
 gent interests; and to the end of insuring an equitable 
 adjustment, each interest must be enabled duly to express 
 itself. It is, indeed, supposable that the appointed agency 
 should be a single individual. But no such single individual 
 could arbitrate justly among numerous classes variously occu- 
 pied, without hearing evidence : each would have to send 
 representatives setting forth its claims. Hence the choice 
 would lie between two systems, under one of which the 
 representatives privately and separately stated their cases to 
 an arbitrator on whose single judgment decisions depended ; 
 and under the other of which these representatives stated 
 their cases in one another’s presence, while judgments were 
 openly determined by the general consensus. Without insist- 
 ing on the fact that a fair balancing of class -interests is more 
 likely to be effected by this last form of representation than 
 by the first, it is sufficient to remark that it is more congruous 
 with the nature of the industrial type ; since men’s indi- 
 vidualities are in the smallest degree trenched upon. Citizens 
 who, appointing a single ruler for a prescribed time, may 
 have a majority of their wills traversed by his during this 
 time, surrender their individualities in a greater degree than 
 do those who, from their local groups, depute a number of 
 rulers ; since these, speaking and acting under public inspec- 
 tion and mutually restrained, habitually conform their deci- 
 sions to the wills of the majority. 
 
 § 567. The corporate life of the society being no longer in 
 danger, and the remaining business of government being that 
 of maintaining the conditions requisite for the highest indi- 
 vidual life, there comes the question — What are these condi- 
 tions ? 
 
 Already they have been implied as comprehended under 
 the administration of justice ; but so vaguely is the meaning 
 
610 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 of this phrase commonly conceived, that a more specific state- 
 ment must be made. J ustice then, as here to be understood, 
 means preservation of the normal connexions between acts 
 and results — the obtainment by each of as much benefit as 
 his efforts are equivalent to — no more and no less. Living 
 and working within the restraints imposed by one another’s 
 presence, justice requires that individuals shall severally 
 take the consequences of their conduct, neither increased nor 
 decreased. The superior shall have the good of his superiority ; 
 and the inferior the evil of his inferiority. A veto is there- 
 fore put on all public action which abstracts from some men 
 part of the advantages they have earned, and awards to other 
 men advantages they have not earned. 
 
 That from the developed industrial type of society there 
 are excluded all forms of communistic distribution, the inevi- 
 table trait of which is that they tend to equalize the lives of 
 good and bad, idle and diligent, is readily proved, F or when, 
 the struggle for existence between societies by war having 
 ceased, there remains only the industrial struggle for existence, 
 the final survival and spread must be on the part of those 
 societies which produce the largest number of the best indi- 
 viduals — individuals best adapted for life in the industrial state. 
 Suppose two societies, otherwise equal, in one of which the supe- 
 rior are allowed to retain, for their own benefit and the benefit 
 of their offspring, the entire proceeds of their labour ; but in 
 the other of which the superior have taken from them part of 
 these proceeds for the benefit of the inferior and their offspring. 
 Evidently the superior will thrive and multiply more in the 
 first than in the second. A greater number of the best 
 children will be reared in the first ; and eventually it will 
 outgrow the second. It must not be inferred that private and 
 voluntary aid to the inferior is negatived, but only public 
 and enforced aid. Whatever effects the sympathies of the 
 better for the worse spontaneously produce, cannot, of course, 
 be interfered with ; and will, on the whole, be beneficial. For 
 while, on the average, the better will not carry such efforts so 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 611 
 
 far as to impede their own multiplication, they will carry 
 them far enough to mitigate the ill-fortunes of the worse with- 
 out helping them to multiply. 
 
 § 568. Otherwise regarded, this system under which the 
 efforts of each bring neither more nor less than their natural 
 returns, is the system of contract. 
 
 We have seen that the regime of status is in all ways 
 proper to the militant type. It is the concomitant of that 
 graduated subordination by which the combined action of a 
 fighting body is achieved, and which must pervade the fighting 
 society at large to insure its corporate action. Under this 
 regime , the relation between labour and produce is traversed 
 by authority. As in the army, the food, clothing, &c., received 
 by each soldier are not direct returns for work done, but are 
 arbitrarily apportioned, while duties are arbitrarily enforced ; 
 so throughout the rest of the militant society, the superior 
 dictates the labour and assigns such share of the returns as 
 he pleases. But as, with declining militancy and growing 
 industrialism, the power and range . of authority decrease 
 while uncontrolled action increases, the relation of contract 
 becomes general ; and in the fully-developed industrial type 
 it becomes universal. 
 
 Under this universal relation of contract when equitably 
 administered, there arises that adjustment of benefit to effort 
 which the arrangements of the industrial society have to 
 achieve. If each as producer, distributor, manager, adviser, 
 teacher, or aider of other kind, obtains from his fellows such 
 payment for his service as its value, determined by the 
 demand, warrants; then there results that correct appor- 
 tioning of reward to merit which ensures the prosperity of 
 the superior. 
 
 § 569. Again changing the point of view, we see that 
 whereas public control in the militant type is both positively 
 regulative and negatively regulative, in the industrial type it 
 
612 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 is negatively regulative only. To the slave, to the soldier, or 
 to other member of a community organized for war, authority 
 says — “ Thou shalt do this ; thou shalt not do that/’ But to 
 the member of the industrial community, authority gives 
 only one of these orders — “ Thou shalt not do that.” 
 
 Bor people who, carrying on their private transactions by 
 voluntary cooperation, also voluntarily cooperate to form and 
 support a governmental agency, are, by implication, people 
 who authorize it to impose on their respective activities, only 
 those restraints which they are all interested in maintaining — 
 the restraints which check aggressions. Omitting criminals 
 (who under the assumed conditions must be very few, if not 
 a vanishing quantity), each citizen will wish to preserve unin- 
 vaded his sphere of action, while not invading others’ spheres, 
 and to retain whatever benefits are achieved within it. The 
 very motive which prompts all to unite in upholding a public 
 protector of their individualities, will also prompt them to 
 unite in preventing any interference with their individuali- 
 ties beyond that required for this end. 
 
 Hence it follows that while, in the militant type, regi- 
 mentation in the army is paralleled by centralized adminis- 
 tration throughout the society at large ; in the industrial type, 
 administration, becoming decentralized, is at the same time 
 narrowed in its range. Nearly all public organizations save 
 that for administering justice, necessarily disappear; since 
 they have the common character that they either aggress on 
 the citizen by dictating his actions, or by taking from him 
 more property than is needful for protecting him, or by both. 
 Those who are forced to send their children to this or that 
 school, those who have, directly or indirectly, to help in sup- 
 porting a State priesthood, those from whom rates are demanded 
 that parish officers may administer public charity, those who 
 are taxed to provide gratis reading for people who will not 
 save money for library subscriptions, those whose businesses 
 aie carried on under regulation by inspectors, those who have 
 to pay the costs of State science-and-art-teaching. State 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 613 
 
 emigration, &c., all have their individualities trenched upon, 
 either by compelling them to do what they would not spon- 
 taneously do, or by taking away money which else would have 
 furthered their private ends. Coercive arrangements of such 
 kinds, consistent with the militant type, are inconsistent with 
 the industrial type. 
 
 § 570. With the relatively narrow range of public organi- 
 zations, there goes, in the industrial type, a relatively wide 
 range of private organizations. The spheres left vacant by the 
 one are filled by the other. 
 
 Several influences conspire to produce this trait. Those 
 motives which, in the absence of that subordination necessi- 
 tated by war, make citizens unite in asserting their indi- 
 vidualities subject only to mutual limitations, are motives 
 which make them unite in resisting any interference with 
 their freedom to form such private combinations as do not 
 involve aggression. Moreover, beginning with exchanges of 
 goods and services under agreements between individuals, the 
 principle of voluntary cooperation is simply carried out in a 
 larger way by individuals who, incorporating themselves, 
 contract with one another for jointly pursuing this or that 
 business or function. And yet again, there is entire con- 
 gruity between the representative constitutions of such private 
 combinations, and that representative constitution of the 
 public combination which we see is proper to the industrial 
 type. The same law of organization pervades the society in 
 general and in detail. So that an inevitable trait of the 
 industrial type is the multiplicity and heterogeneity of asso- 
 ciations, political, religious, commercial, professional, philan- 
 thropic, and social, of all sizes. 
 
 § 571. Two indirectly resulting traits of the industrial type 
 must be added. The first is its relative plasticity. 
 
 So long as corporate action is necessitated for national self- 
 preservation — so long as, to effect combined defence or offence, 
 
614 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 there is maintained that graduated subordination which ties 
 all inferiors to superiors, as the soldier is tied to his officer — 
 so long as there is maintained the relation of status, which 
 tends to fix men in the positions they are severally bom to ; 
 there is insured a comparative rigidity of social organization. 
 But with the cessation of those needs that initiate and pre- 
 serve the militant type of structure, and with the establish- 
 ment of contract as the universal relation under which efforts 
 are combined for mutual advantage, social organization loses 
 its rigidity. No longer determined by the principle of inheri- 
 tance, places and occupations are now determined by the 
 principle of efficiency ; and changes of structure follow when 
 men, not bound to prescribed functions, acquire the functions 
 for which they have proved themselves most fit. Easily modi- 
 fied in its arrangements, the industrial type of society is 
 therefore one which adapts itself with facility to new require- 
 ments. 
 
 § 572. The other incidental result to be named is a ten- 
 dency towards loss of economic autonomy. 
 
 While hostile relations with adjacent societies continue, 
 each society has to be productively self-sufficing ; but with 
 the establishment of peaceful relations, this need for self- 
 sufficingness ceases. As the local divisions composing one 
 of our great nations, had, while they were at feud, to produce 
 each for itself almost everything it required, but now per- 
 manently at peace with one another, have become so far 
 mutually dependent that no one of them can satisfy its wants 
 without aid from the rest; so the great nations themselves, at 
 present forced in large measure to maintain their economic 
 autonomies, will become less forced to do this as war de- 
 creases, and will gradually become necessary to one another. 
 While, on the one hand, the facilities possessed by each for 
 certain kinds of production, will render exchange mutually 
 advantageous ; on the other hand, the citizens of each will, 
 under the industrial regime , tolerate no such restraints on 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 615 
 
 their individualities as are implied by interdicts on exchange 
 or impediments to exchange. 
 
 With the spread of industrialism, therefore, the tendency 
 is towards the breaking down of the divisions between 
 nationalities, and the running through them of a common 
 organization : if not under a single government, then under 
 a federation of governments. 
 
 § 573. Such being the constitution of the industrial type 
 of society to be inferred from its requirements, we have now 
 to inquire what evidence is furnished by actual societies 
 that approach towards this constitution accompanies the 
 progress of industrialism. 
 
 As, during the peopling of the Earth, the struggle for ex- 
 istence among societies, from small hordes up to great 
 nations, has been nearly everywhere going on ; it is, as before 
 said, not to be expected that we should readily find examples 
 of the social type appropriate to an exclusively industrial 
 life. Ancient records join the journals of the day in proving 
 that thus far no civilized or semi-civilized nation has fallen 
 into circumstances making needless all social structures for 
 resisting aggression; and from every region travellers’ ac- 
 counts bring evidence that almost universally among the 
 uncivilized, hostilities between tribes are chronic. Still, a 
 few examples exist which show, with tolerable clearness, the 
 outline of the industrial type in its rudimentary form — the 
 form which it assumes where culture has made but little pro- 
 gress. We will consider these first; and then proceed to 
 disentangle the traits distinctive of the industrial type as 
 exhibited by large nations which have become predominantly 
 industrial in their activities. 
 
 Among the Indian hills there are many tribes belonging to 
 different races, but alike in their ‘partially-nomadic habits. 
 Mostly agricultural, their common practice is to cultivate a 
 patch of ground while it yields average crops, and when it is 
 exhausted to go elsewhere and repeat the process. They have 
 
616 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 fled before invading peoples, and have here and there found 
 localities in which they are able to carry on their peaceful 
 occupations unmolested : the absence of molestation being, in 
 somes cases, due to their ability to live in a malarious atmo- 
 sphere which is fatal to the Aryan races. Already, under 
 other heads, I have referred to the Bodo and to the Dhimals 
 as wholly unmilitary, as lacking political organization, as 
 being without slaves or social grades, and as aiding one 
 another in their heavier undertakings ; to the Todas, who, 
 leading tranquil lives, are “ without any of those bonds of 
 union which man in general is induced to form from a sense 
 of danger/’ and who settle their disputes by arbitration or by 
 a council of five ; to the Mishmies as being unwarlike, as 
 having but nominal chiefs, and as administering justice by 
 an assembly ; and I have joined with these the case of a 
 people remote in locality and race — the ancient Pueblos of 
 North America — who, sheltering in their walled villages and 
 fighting only when invaded, similarly united with their 
 habitually industrial life a free form of government : “ the 
 governor and his council are [were] annually elected by the 
 people.” Here I may add sundry kindred examples. 
 
 As described in the Indian Government Report for 1869 — 
 70, “the ‘ white Karens’ are of a mild and peaceful disposi- 
 tion, . . . their chiefs are regarded as patriarchs, who have 
 little more than a nominal authority ; ” or, as said of them by 
 Lieut. McMahon, “ they possess neither laws nor dominant 
 authority.” Instance, again, the “ fascinating ” Lepchas ; 
 not industrious, but yet industrial in the sense that their 
 social relations are of the non-militant type. Though I find 
 nothing specific said about the system under which they live 
 in their temporary villages ; yet the facts told us sufficiently 
 imply its uncoercive character. They have no castes ; “ family 
 and political feuds are alike unheard of amongst them;” 
 “ they are averse to soldiering ; ” they prefer taking refuge in 
 the jungle and living on wild food “ to enduring any injustice 
 or harsh treatment ” — traits winch negative ordinary political 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 617 
 
 control. Take next the “ quiet, unoffensive ” Santals, who, 
 while they fight if need be with infatuated bravery to resist 
 aggression, are essentially unaggressive. These people “ are 
 industrious cultivators, and enjoy their existence unfettered 
 by caste.” Though, having become tributaries, there habi- 
 tually exists in each village a head appointed by the Indian 
 Government to be responsible for the tribute, &c. ; yet the 
 nature of their indigenous government remains sufficiently 
 clear. While there is a patriarch who is honoured, but who 
 rarely interferes, “ every village has its council place, . . . 
 where the committee assemble and discuss the affairs of the 
 village and its inhabitants. All petty disputes, both of a 
 civil and criminal nature, are settled there.” What little is 
 told us of tribes living in the Shervaroy Hills is, so far as it 
 goes, to like effect. Speaking generally of them, Shortt says 
 they “ are essentially a timid and harmless people, addicted 
 chiefly to pastoral and agricultural pursuits ; ” and more 
 specifically describing one division of them, he says “ they 
 lead peaceable lives among themselves, and any dispute that 
 may arise is usually settled by arbitration.” Then, to show 
 that these social traits are not peculiar to any one variety of 
 man, but are dependent on conditions, I may recall the 
 before-named instance of the Papuan Arafuras, who, without 
 any divisions of rank or hereditary chieftainships, live in 
 harmony, controlled only by the decisions of their assembled 
 elders. In all which cases we may discern the leading traits 
 above indicated as proper to societies not impelled to corpo- 
 rate action by war. Strong centralized control not being 
 required, such government as exists is exercised by a council, 
 informally approved— a rude representative government ; 
 class-distinctions do not exist, or are but faintly indicated — 
 the relation of status is absent ; whatever transactions take 
 place between individuals are by agreement ; and the func- 
 tion which the ruling body has to perform, becomes substan- 
 tially limited to protecting private life by settling such disputes 
 as arise, and inflicting mild punishments for small offences. 
 
618 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Difficulties meet us when, turning to civilized societies, we 
 seek in them for traits of the industrial type. Consoli- 
 dated and organized as they have all been by wars actively 
 carried on throughout the earlier periods of their existence, 
 and mostly continued down to recent times ; and having 
 simultaneously been developing within themselves organiza- 
 tions for producing and distributing commodities, which have 
 little by little become contrasted with those proper to mili- 
 tant activities ; the two are everywhere presented so mingled 
 that clear separation of the first from the last is, as said at 
 the outset, scarcely practicable. Radically opposed, however, 
 as is compulsory cooperation, the organizing principle of the 
 militant type, to voluntary cooperation, the organizing prin- 
 ciple of the industrial type, we may, by observing the decline 
 of institutions exhibiting the one, recognize, by implication, 
 the growth of institutions exhibiting the other. Hence if, in 
 passing from the first states of civilized nations in which war 
 is the business of life, to states in which hostilities are but 
 occasional, we simultaneously pass to states in which the 
 ownership of the individual by his society is not so con- 
 stantly and strenuously enforced, in which the subjection of 
 rank to rank is mitigated, in which political rule is no longer 
 autocratic, in which the regulation of citizens’ lives is dimi- 
 nished in range and rigour, while the protection of them is 
 increased ; we are, by implication, shown the traits of a de- 
 veloping industrial type. Comparisons of several kinds 
 disclose results which unite in verifying this truth. 
 
 Take, first, the broad contrast between the early condition 
 of the more civilized European nations at large, and their 
 later condition. Setting out from the dissolution of the 
 Roman empire, we observe that for many centuries during 
 which conflicts were effecting consolidations, and dissolutions, 
 and re-consolidations in endless variety, such energies as 
 were not directly devoted to war were devoted to little else 
 than supporting the organizations which carried on war : the 
 working part of each community did not exist for its own 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 619 
 
 sake, but for the sake of the fighting part. While militancy 
 was thus high and industrialism undeveloped, the reign of 
 superior strength, continually being established by societies 
 one over another, was equally displayed within each society. 
 From slaves and serfs, through vassals of different grades up 
 to dukes and kings, there was an enforced subordination by 
 which the individualities of all were greatly restricted. And 
 at the same time that, to carry on external aggression or 
 resistance, the ruling power in each group sacrificed the 
 personal claims of its members, the function of defending its 
 members from one another was in but small degree discharged 
 by it : they were left to defend themselves. If with 
 
 these traits of European societies in mediaeval times, we com- 
 pare their traits in modern times, we see the following 
 essential differences. First, with the formation of nations 
 covering large areas, the perpetual wars within each area 
 have ceased ; and though the wars between nations which 
 from time to time occur are on larger scales, they are less 
 frequent, and they are no longer the business of all freemen. 
 Second, there has grown up in each country a relatively large 
 population which carries on production and distribution for 
 its own maintenance ; so that whereas of old, the working 
 part existed for the benefit of the fighting part, now the 
 fighting part exists mainly for the benefit of the working 
 part — exists ostensibly to protect it in the quiet pursuit of 
 its ends. Third, the system of status, having under some of 
 its forms disappeared and under others become greatly miti- 
 gated, has been almost universally replaced by the system of 
 contract. Only among those who, by choice or by conscrip- 
 tion, are incorporated in the military organization, does the 
 system of status in its primitive rigour still hold so long 
 as they remain in this organization. Fourth, with this de- 
 crease of compulsory cooperation and increase of voluntary 
 cooperation, there have diminished or ceased many minor 
 restraints over individual actions. Men are less tied to their 
 localities than they were ; they are not obliged to profess 
 
620 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 certain religious opinions ; they are less debarred from ex- 
 pressing their political views; they no longer have their 
 dresses and modes of living dictated to them; they are 
 comparatively little restrained from forming private com- 
 binations and holding meetings for one or other purpose — 
 political, religious, social. Fifth, while the individualities of 
 citizens are less aggressed upon by public agency, they are 
 more protected by public agency against aggression. Instead 
 of a regime under which individuals rectified their private 
 wrongs by force as well as they could, or else bribed the ruler, 
 general or local, to use his power in their behalf, there has 
 come a regime under which, while much less self-protection 
 is required, a chief function of the ruling power and its 
 agents is to administer justice. In all ways, then, we are 
 shown that with this relative decrease of militancy and 
 relative increase of industrialism, there has been a change 
 from a social order in which individuals exist for the benefit 
 of the State, to a social order in which the State exists for 
 the benefit of individuals. 
 
 When, instead of contrasting early European communities 
 at large with European communities at large as they now 
 exist, we contrast the one in which industrial development 
 has been less impeded by militancy with those in which it 
 has been more impeded by militancy, parallel results are 
 apparent. Between our own society and continental societies, 
 as for example, France, the differences which have gradually 
 arisen may be cited in illustration. After the con- 
 
 quering Normans had spread over England, there was esta- 
 blished here a much greater subordination of local rulers to 
 the general ruler than existed in France ; and, as a result, 
 there was not nearly so much internal dissension. Says 
 Hallam, speaking of this period, “ we read very little of 
 private wars in England.” Though from time to time, as 
 under Stephen, there were rebellions, and though there were 
 occasional fights between nobles, yet for some hundred and 
 fifty years, up to the time of King John, the subjection main- 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 621 
 
 tained secured comparative order. Further, it is to be noted 
 that such general wars as occurred were mostly carried on 
 abroad. Descents on our coasts were few and unimportant, 
 and conflicts with Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, entailed but 
 few intrusions on English soil. Consequently, there was a 
 relatively small hindrance to industrial life and the growth 
 of social forms appropriate to it. Meanwhile, the condition 
 of France was widely different. During this period and long 
 after, besides wars with England (mostly fought out on 
 French soil) and wars with other countries, there were going 
 on everywhere local wars. From the 10th to the 14th century 
 perpetual fights between suzerains and their vassals occurred, 
 as well as fights of vassals with one another. Not until 
 towards the middle of the 14th century did the king begin 
 greatly to predominate over the nobles ; and only in the 
 15th century was there established a supreme ruler strong 
 enough to prevent the quarrels of local rulers. How great 
 was the repression of industrial development caused by 
 internal conflicts, may be inferred from the exaggerated 
 language of an old writer, who says of this period, during 
 which the final struggle of monarchy with feudalism was 
 going on, that “ agriculture, traffic, and all the mechanical 
 arts ceased/’ Such being the contrast between the 
 
 small degree in which industrial life was impeded by war in 
 England, and the great degree in which it was impeded by 
 war in France, let us ask — what were the political contrasts 
 which arose. The first fact to be noted is that in the middle 
 of the 13th century there began in England a mitigation of 
 villeinage, by limitation of labour-services and commutation 
 of them for money, and that in the 14th century the trans- 
 formation of a servile into a free population had in great 
 measure taken place ; while in France, as in other continental 
 countries, the old condition survived and became worse. As 
 Mr. Freeman says of this period — “in England villeinage 
 was on the whole dying out, while in many other countries it 
 was getting harder and harder.” Besides this spreading sub- 
 
622 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 stitution of contract for status, which, taking place first in 
 the industrial centres, the towns, afterwards went on in the 
 rural districts, there was going on an analogous enfranchise- 
 ment of the noble class. The enforced military obligations of 
 vassals were more and more replaced by money payments or 
 scutages ; so that by King John’s time, the fighting services 
 of the upper class had been to a great extent compounded 
 for, like the labour services of the lower class. After dimi- 
 nished restraints over persons, there came diminished invasions 
 of property. By the Charter, arbitrary tallages on towns and 
 non-military king’s tenants were checked ; and while the 
 aggressive actions of the State were thus decreased, its pro- 
 tective actions were extended : provisions were made that 
 justice should be neither sold, delayed, nor denied. All 
 which changes were towards those social arrangements which 
 we see characterize the industrial type. Then, in the next 
 place, we have the subsequently-occurring rise of a represen- 
 tative government ; which, as shown in a preceding chapter 
 by another line of inquiry, is at once the product of industrial 
 growth and the form proper to the industrial type. But in 
 France none of these changes took place. Villeinage remain- 
 ing unmitigated continued to comparatively late times ; com- 
 pounding for military obligation of vassal to suzerain was less 
 general ; and when there arose tendencies towards the esta- 
 blishment of an assembly expressing the popular will, they 
 proved abortive. Detailed comparisons of subsequent 
 
 periods and their changes would detain us too long : it must 
 suffice to indicate the leading facts. Beginning with the date 
 at which, under the influences just indicated, parliamentary 
 government was finally established in England, we find that 
 for a century and a half, down to the Wars of the Boses, the 
 internal disturbances were few and unimportant compared 
 with those which took place in France ; and at the same 
 time (remembering that the wars between England and 
 France, habitually taking place on French soil, affected the 
 state of France more than that of England) we note that 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 623 
 
 France carried on serious wars with Flanders, Castille and 
 Navarre besides the struggle with Burgundy: the result 
 being that while in England popular power as expressed by 
 the House of Commons became settled and increased, such 
 power as the States General had acquired in France, dwindled 
 away. Not forgetting that by the Wars of the Boses, lasting 
 over thirty years, there was initiated a return towards 
 absolutism; let us contemplate the contrasts which subse- 
 quently arose. For a century and a half after these civil con- 
 flicts ended, there were but few and trivial breaches of internal 
 peace ; while such wars as went on with foreign powers, not 
 numerous, took place as usual out of England. During this 
 period the retrograde movement which the Wars of the 
 Boses set up, was reversed, and popular power greatly in- 
 creased ; so that in the words of Mr. Bagehot, “ the slavish 
 parliament of Henry VIII. grew into the murmuring parlia- 
 ment of Queen Elizabeth, the mutinous Parliament of 
 James I., and the rebellious parliament of Charles I." Mean- 
 while France, during the first third of this period, had been 
 engaged in almost continuous external wars with Itaty, 
 Spain, and Austria ; while during the remaining two-thirds, 
 it suffered from almost continuous internal wars, religious 
 and political : the accompanying result being that, notwith- 
 standing resistances from time to time made, the monarchy 
 became increasingly despotic. Fully to make manifest 
 
 the different social types which had been evolved under these 
 different conditions, we have to compare not only the respec- 
 tive political constitutions but also the respective systems of 
 social control. Observe what these were at the time when 
 there commenced that reaction which ended in the French 
 revolution. In harmony with the theory of the militant type, 
 that the individual is in life, liberty, and property, owned by 
 the State, the monarch was by some held to be the universal 
 proprietor. The burdens he imposed upon landowners were 
 so grievous that a part of them preferred abandoning their 
 estates to paying. Then besides the taking of property by 
 
624 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the State, there was the taking of labour. One-fourth of the 
 working days in the year went to the corvees , due now to the 
 king and now to the feudal lord. Such liberties as were 
 allowed, had to be paid for and again paid for : the municipal 
 privileges of towns being seven times in twenty-eight years 
 withdrawn and re-sold to them. Military services of nobles 
 and people were imperative to whatever extent the king 
 demanded ; and conscripts were drilled under the lash. At 
 the same time that the subjection of the individual to the 
 State was pushed to such an extreme by exactions of money 
 and services that the impoverished people cut the grain while 
 it was green, ate grass, and died of starvation in multitudes, 
 the State did little to guard their persons and homes. Con- 
 temporary writers enlarge on the immense numbers of high- 
 way robberies, burglaries, assassinations, and torturings of 
 people to discover their hoards. Herds of Vagabonds, levying 
 blackmail, roamed about ; and when, as a remedy, penalties 
 were imposed, innocent persons denounced as vagabonds were 
 sent to prison without evidence. No personal security could 
 be had either against the ruler or against powerful enemies. 
 In Paris there were some thirty prisons where untried and 
 unsentenced people might be incarcerated ; and the “ brigand- 
 age of justice *’ annually cost suitors forty to sixty millions 
 of francs. While the State, aggressing on citizens to such 
 extremes, thus failed to protect them against one another, it 
 was active in regulating their private lives and labours. 
 Eeligion was dictated to the extent that Protestants were im- 
 prisoned, sent to the galleys, or whipped, and their ministers 
 hanged. The quantity of salt (on which there was a heavy 
 tax) to be consumed by each person was prescribed ; as were 
 also the modes of its use. Industry of every kind was super- 
 vised. Certain crops were prohibited ; and vines destroyed 
 that were on soils considered unfit. The wheat that might 
 be bought at market was limited to two bushels ; and sales 
 took place in presence of dragoons. Manufacturers were 
 regulated in their processes and products to the extent that 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 625 
 
 there was destruction of improved appliances and of goods 
 not made according to law, as well as penalties upon in- 
 ventors. Eegulations succeeded one another so rapidly that 
 amid their multiplicity, government agents found it difficult 
 to carry them out ; and with increasing official orders there 
 came increasing swarms of public functionaries. Turning 
 now to England .at the same period, we see that along with 
 progress towards the industrial type of political structure, 
 carried to the extent that the House of Commons had become 
 the predominant power, there had gone a progress towards 
 the accompanying social system. Though the subjection of 
 the individual to the State was considerably greater than now, 
 it was far less than in France. His private rights w^ere not 
 sacrificed in the same unscrupulous way ; and he was not in 
 danger of a lettre de cachet. Though justice was very imper- 
 fectly administered, still it was not administered so wretchedly: 
 there was a fair amount of personal security, and aggressions 
 on property were kept within bounds. The disabilities of 
 Protestant dissenters were diminished early in the century ; 
 and, later on, those of Catholics. Considerable freedom of 
 the press was acquired, showing itself in the discussion of 
 political questions, as well as in the publication of par- 
 liamentary debates ; and, about the same time, there came 
 free speech in public meetings. While thus the State 
 aggressed on the individual less and protected him more, it 
 interfered to a smaller extent with his daily transactions. 
 Though there was much regulation of commerce and industry, 
 yet it was pushed to no such extreme as that which in France 
 subjected agriculturists, manufacturers, and merchants, to an 
 army of officials who directed their acts at every turn. In 
 brief, the contrast between our state and that of France was 
 such as to excite the surprise and admiration of various French 
 writers of the time ; from whom Mr. Buckle quotes numerous 
 passages showing this. 
 
 Most significant of all, however, are the changes in England 
 itself, first retrogressive and then progressive, that occurred 
 
626 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 during the war-period which extended from 1775 to 1815, 
 and during the subsequent period of peace. At the end of 
 the last century and the beginning of this, reversion towards 
 ownership of the individual by the society had gone a long 
 way. “ To statesmen, the State, as a unit, was all in all, and 
 it is really difficult to find any evidence that the people were 
 thought of at all, except in the relation of obedience.” “ The 
 Government regarded the people with little other view than 
 as a taxable and soldier-yielding mass.” While the militant 
 part of the community had greatly developed, the industrial 
 part had approached towards the condition of a permanent 
 commissariat. By conscription and by press-gangs, was 
 carried to a relatively vast extent that sacrifice of the citizen 
 in life and liberty which war entails ; and the claims to 
 property were trenched on by merciless taxation, weighing 
 down the middle classes so grievously that they had greatly 
 to lower their rate of living, while the people at large were 
 so distressed (partly no doubt by bad harvests) that “ hun- 
 dreds ate nettles and other weeds.” With these major aggres- 
 sions upon the individual by the State, went numerous 
 minor aggressions. Irresponsible agents of the executive 
 were empowered to suppress public meetings and seize their 
 leaders : death being the punishment for those who did not 
 disperse when ordered. Libraries and news-rooms could not 
 be opened without licence ; and it was penal to lend books 
 without permission. There were “ strenuous attempts made 
 to silence the press and booksellers dared not publish works 
 by obnoxious authors. “ Spies were paid, witnesses were 
 suborned, juries were packed, and the habeas corpus Act being 
 constantly suspended, the Crown had the power of imprison- 
 ing without inquiry and without limitation.” While the 
 Government taxed and coerced and restrained the citizen to 
 this extent, its protection of him was inefficient. It is true 
 that the penal code was made more extensive and more severe. 
 The definition of treason was enlarged, and numerous offences 
 were made capital which were not capital before ; so that 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 627 
 
 there was “ a vast and absurd variety of offences for which 
 men and women were sentenced to death by the score there 
 was “ a devilish levity in dealing with human life.” But at 
 the same time there was not an increase, but rather a decrease, 
 of security. As says Mr. Pike in his History of Crime in 
 England , “ it became apparent that the greater the strain of 
 the conflict the greater is the danger of a reaction towards 
 violence and lawlessness.” Turn now to the opposite 
 
 picture. After recovery from the prostration which prolonged 
 wars had left, and after the dying away of those social per- 
 turbations caused by impoverishment, there began a revival of 
 traits proper to the industrial type. Coercion of the citizen 
 by the State decreased in various ways. Voluntary enlist- 
 ment replaced compulsory military service ; and there dis 
 appeared some minor restraints over personal freedom, as 
 instance the repeal of laws which forbade artizans to travel 
 where they pleased, and which interdicted trades-unions. 
 With these manifestations of greater respect for personal 
 freedom, may be joined those shown in the amelioration of the 
 penal code: the public whipping of females being first 
 abolished ; then the long list of capital offences being reduced 
 until there finally remained but one ; and, eventually, the pillory 
 and imprisonment for debt being abolished. Such penalties 
 on religious independence as remained disappeared ; first by 
 removal of those directed against Protestant Dissenters, and 
 then of those which weighed on Catholics, and then of 
 some which told specially against Quakers and Jews. By 
 the Parliamentary Eeform Bill and the Municipal Reform 
 Bill, vast numbers were removed from the subject classes 
 to the governing classes. Interferences with the business- 
 transactions of citizens were diminished by allowing free 
 trade in bullion, by permitting joint-stock banks, by abolish- 
 ing multitudinous restrictions on the importation of com- 
 modities — leaving eventually but few which pay duty. More- 
 over while these and kindred changes, such as the removal 
 of restraining burdens on the press, decreased the impedi- 
 
628 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ments to free actions of citizens, the protective action of 
 the State was increased. By a greatly-improved police system, 
 by county courts, and so forth, personal safety and claims 
 to property were better secured. 
 
 Not to elaborate the argument further by adding the case 
 of the United States, which repeats with minor differences 
 the same relations of phenomena, the evidence given ade- 
 quately supports the proposition laid down. Amid all the 
 complexities and perturbations, comparisons show us with 
 sufficient clearness that in actually-existing societies those 
 attributes which we inferred must distinguish the industrial 
 type, show themselves clearly in proportion as the social 
 activities are predominantly characterized by exchange of 
 services under agreement. 
 
 § 574. As, in the last chapter, we noted the traits of cha- 
 racter proper to the members of a society which is habitually 
 at war; so here, w T e have to note the traits of character 
 proper to the members of a society occupied exclusively in 
 peaceful pursuits. Already in delineating above, the rudi- 
 ments of the industrial type of social structure as exhibited 
 in certain small groups of unwarlike peoples, some indications 
 of the accompanying personal qualities have been given ; but 
 it will be well now to emphasize these and add to them, 
 before observing the kindred personal qualities in more 
 advanced industrial communities. 
 
 Absence of a centralized coercive rule, implying as it does 
 feeble political restraints exercised by the society over its 
 units, is accompanied by a strong sense of individual freedom, 
 and a determination to maintain it. The amiable Bodo and 
 Dhimals, as we have seen, resist “ injunctions injudiciously 
 urged with dogged obstinacy.” The peaceful Lepchas “ un- 
 dergo great privations rather than submit to oppression or 
 injustice.” The “ simple-minded Santal ” has a “ strong 
 natural sense of justice, and should any attempt be made to 
 coerce him, he flies the country.” Similarly of a tribe not 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 629 
 
 before mentioned, tbe Jakuns of the South Malayan Peninsula, 
 who, described as “ entirely inoffensive,” personally brave 
 but peaceful, and as under no control but that of popularly- 
 appointed heads who settle their disputes, are also described 
 as “ extremely proud the so-called pride being exemplified 
 by the statement that their remarkably good qualities “ induced 
 several persons to make attempts to domesticate them, but 
 such essays have generally ended in the J akuns’ disappearance 
 on the slightest coercion.” 
 
 "With a strong sense of their own claims, these uii warlike 
 men display unusual respect for the claims of others. This is 
 shown in the first place by the rarity of personal collisions 
 among them. Hodgson says that the Bodo and the Dhimals 
 “ are void of all violence towards their own people or towards 
 their neighbours.” Of the peaceful tribes of the Neilgherry 
 Hills, Colonel Ouchterlony writes : — “ drunkenness and 
 violence are unknown amongst them.” Campbell remarks of 
 the Lepchas, that “ they rarely quarrel among themselves.” The 
 Jakuns, too, “ have very seldom quarrels among themselves;” 
 and such disputes as arise are settled by their popularly-chosen 
 heads “without fighting or malice.” In like manner the 
 Arafuras “ live in peace and brotherly love with one another.” 
 Further, in the accounts of these peoples we read nothing 
 about the lex talionis. In the absence of hostilities with adja- 
 cent groups there does not exist within each group that 
 “ sacred duty of blood-revenge ” universally recognized in 
 military tribes and nations. Still more significantly, we 
 find evidence of the opposite doctrine and practice. Says 
 Campbell of the Lepchas — “ they are singularly forgiving of 
 injuries . . . making mutual amends and concessions.” 
 
 Naturally, with respect for others’ individualities thus 
 shown, goes respect for their claims to property. Already in 
 the preliminary chapter I have quoted testimonies to the 
 great honesty of the Bodo and the Dhimals, the Lepchas, the 
 Santals, the Todas, and other peoples kindred in their form of 
 social life ; and here I may add further ones. Of the Lepchas, 
 
630 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Hooker remarks : — “ in all my dealings with these people, they 
 proved scrupulously honest.” “ Among the pure Santals,” 
 writes Hunter, “ crime and criminal officers are unknown 
 while of the Hos, belonging to the same group as the Santals, 
 Dalton says, “ a reflection on a man’s honesty or veracity 
 may be sufficient to send him to self-destruction.” Shortt 
 testifies that “ the Todas, as a body, have never been convicted 
 of heinous crimes of any kind and concerning other tribes 
 of the Shervaroy Hills, he states that “ crime of a serious 
 nature is unknown amongst them.” Again of the Jakuns we 
 read that “ they are never known to steal anything, not even 
 the most insignificant trifle.” And so of certain natives of 
 Malacca who “ are naturally of a commercial tarn,” Jukes 
 writes : — “ no part of the world is freer from crime than the 
 district of Malacca ;” “ a few petty cases of assault, or of 
 disputes about property . . . are all that occur.” 
 
 Thus free from the coercive rule which warlike activities 
 necessitate, and without the sentiment which makes the 
 needful subordination possible — thus maintaining their own 
 claims while respecting the like claims of others — thus 
 devoid of the vengeful feelings which aggressions without 
 and within the tribe generate ; these peoples, instead of the 
 bloodthirstiness, the cruelty, the selfish trampling upon in- 
 feriors, characterizing militant tribes and societies, display, in 
 unusual degrees, the humane sentiments. Insisting on their 
 amiable qualities, Hodgson describes the Bodo and the 
 Dhimals as being “ almost entirely free from such as are 
 unamiable.” Bemarking that “ while courteous and hos- 
 pitable he is firm and free from cringing,” Hunter tells us 
 of the Santal that he thinks “ uncharitable men” will suffer 
 after death. Saying that the Lepchas are “ ever foremost in 
 the forest or on the bleak mountain, and ever ready to help, 
 to carry, to encamp, collect, or cook,” Hooker adds — “ they 
 cheer on the traveller by their unostentatious zeal in his 
 service ; ” and he also adds that, “ a present is divided equally 
 amongst many, without a syllable of discontent or grudging 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 631 
 
 look or word” Of the Jakuns, too, Favre tells us that 
 “ they are generally kind, affable, inclined to gratitude and to 
 beneficence : ” their tendency being not to ask favours but to 
 confer them. And then of the peaceful Arafuras we learn 
 from Kolff that — 
 
 “ They have a very excusable ambition to gain the name of rich men, 
 by paying the debts of their poorer villagers. The officer [M. Bik], 
 whom I quoted above, related to me a very striking instance of this. 
 At Affara he was present at the election of the village chiefs, two indi- 
 viduals aspiring to the station of Orang Tua. The people chose the 
 elder of the two, which greatly afflicted the other, but he soon after- 
 wards expressed himself satisfied with the choice the people had made, 
 and said to M. Bik, who had been sent there on a commission, ‘ What 
 reason have I to grieve ; whether I am Orang Tua or not, I still have 
 it in my power to assist my fellow villagers.’ Several old men agreed 
 to this, apparently to comfort him. Thus the only use they make of 
 their riches is to employ it in settling differences.” 
 
 With these superiorities of the social relations in perma- 
 nently peaceful tribes, go superiorities of the domestic rela- 
 tions. As I have before pointed out (§ 327), while the status 
 of women is habitually very low in tribes given to war and 
 in more advanced militant societies, it is habitually very high 
 in these primitive peaceful societies. The Bodo and the 
 Dhimals, the Kocch, the Santals, the Lepchas, are monogamie, 
 as were also the Pueblos ; and along with their monogamy 
 habitually goes a superior sexual morality. Of the Lepchas 
 Hooker says — “ the females are generally chaste, and the 
 marriage tie is strictly kept.” Among the Santals “ unchas- 
 tity is almost unknown,” and "divorce is rare.” By the 
 Bodo and the Dhimals, “ polygamy, concubinage and adultery 
 are not tolerated ; ” “ chastity is prized in man and woman, 
 married and unmarried.” Further it is to be noted that the 
 behaviour to women is extremely good. “ The Santal treats 
 the female members of his family with respect ; ” the Bodo 
 and the Dhimals “ treat their wives and daughters with con- 
 fidence and kindness ; they are free from all out-door work 
 whatever.” And even among the Todas, low as are the forms 
 of their sexual relations, "the wives are treated by their 
 
632 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 husbands with marked respect and attention.” Moreover, we 
 are told concerning sundry of these unwarlike peoples that 
 the status of children is also high ; and there is none of that 
 distinction of treatment between boys and girls which 
 characterizes militant peoples. 
 
 Of course on turning to the civilized to observe the form 
 of individual character which accompanies the industrial 
 form of society, we encounter the difficulty that the per- 
 sonal traits proper to industrialism, are, like the social 
 traits, mingled with those proper to militancy. It is mani- 
 festly thus with ourselves. A nation which, besides its 
 occasional serious wars, is continually carrying on small wars 
 with uncivilized tribes — a nation which is mainly ruled in 
 Parliament and through the press by men whose school- 
 discipline led them during six days in the w r eek to take 
 Achilles for their hero, and on the seventh to admire Christ 
 — a nation wffiich, at its public dinners, habitually toasts its 
 army and navy before toasting its legislative bodies ; has not 
 so far emerged out of militancy that we can expect either the 
 institutions or the characteristics proper to industrialism 
 to be shown with clearness. In independence, in honesty, in 
 truthfulness, in humanity, its citizens are not likely to be the 
 equals of the uncultured but peaceful peoples above de- 
 scribed. All we may anticipate is an approach to those 
 moral qualities appropriate to a state undisturbed by inter- 
 national hostilities ; and this we find. 
 
 In the first place, with progress of the regime of contract 
 has come growth of independence. Daily exchange of ser- 
 vices under agreement, involving at once the maintenance of 
 personal claims and respect for the claims of others, has 
 fostered a normal self-assertion and consequent resistance to 
 unauthorized power. The facts that the word “ indepen- 
 dence/’ in its modern sense, was not in use among us before 
 the middle of the last century, and that on the continent 
 independence is less markedly displayed, suggest the con- 
 nexion between this trait and a developing industrialism. 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 633 
 
 The trait is shown in the multitudinousness of religious sects, 
 in the divisions of political parties, and, in minor ways, by 
 the absence of those “ schools ” in art, philosophy, &c., which, 
 among continental peoples, are formed by the submission of 
 disciples to an adopted master. That Englishmen show, more 
 than their neighbours, a jealousy of dictation, and a determi- 
 nation to act as they think fit, will not, I think, be disputed. 
 
 The diminished subordination to authority, which is the 
 obverse of this independence, of course implies decrease of 
 loyalty. Worship of the monarch, at no time with us reach- 
 ing the height it did in France early in the last century, or 
 in Russia down to recent times, has now changed into a 
 respect depending very much on the monarch's personal 
 character. Our days witness no such extreme servilities of 
 expression as were used by ecclesiastics in the dedication of 
 the Bible to King J ames, nor any such exaggerated adulations 
 as those addressed to George III. by the House of Lords. 
 The doctrine of divine right has long since died away ; belief 
 in an indwelling supernatural power (implied by the touching 
 for king’s evil, &e.) is named as a curiosity of the past ; and 
 the monarchical institution has come to be defended on grounds 
 of expediency. So great has been the decrease of this senti- 
 ment which, under the militant regime, attaches subject to 
 ruler, that now-a-days the conviction commonly expressed is 
 that, should the throne be occupied by a Charles II. or a 
 George IV., there would probably result a republic. And 
 this change of feeling is shown in the attitude towards the 
 Government as a whole. For not only are there many who 
 dispute the authority of the State in respect of sundry 
 matters besides religious beliefs, but there are some who 
 passively resist what they consider unjust exercises of its 
 authority, and pay fines or go to prison rather than submit. 
 
 As this last fact implies, along with decrease of loyalty has 
 gone decrease of faith, not in monarchs only but in govern- 
 ments. Such belief in royal omnipotence as existed in 
 ancient Egypt, where the power of the ruler was supposed to 
 
634 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 extend to tlie other world, as it is even now supposed to do 
 in China, has had no parallel in the West; but still, among 
 European peoples in past times, that confidence in the soldier- 
 king essential to the militant type, displayed itself among 
 other ways in exaggerated conceptions of his ability to rectify 
 mischiefs, achieve benefits, and arrange things as he willed. 
 If we compare present opinion among ourselves with opinion 
 in early days, we find a decline in these credulous expecta- 
 tions. Though, during the late retrograde movement towards 
 militancy, State-power has been invoked for various ends, 
 and faith in it has increased ; yet, up to the commencement 
 of this reaction, a great change had taken place in the other 
 direction. After the repudiation of a State-enforced creed, 
 there came a denial of the State’s capacity for determining 
 religious truth, and a growing movement to relieve it from 
 the function of religious teaching ; held to be alike needless 
 and injurious. Long ago it had ceased to be thought that 
 Government could do any good by regulating people’s food, 
 clothing, and domestic habits ; and over the multitudinous 
 processes carried on by producers and distributors, constitut- 
 ing immensely the larger part of our social activities, we no 
 longer believe that legislative dictation is beneficial. More- 
 over, every newspaper by its criticisms on the acts of ministers 
 and the conduct of the House of Commons, betrays the 
 diminished faith of citizens in their rulers. Nor is it only 
 by contrasts between past and present among ourselves that 
 we are shown this trait of a more developed industrial state. 
 It is shown by kindred contrasts between opinion here and 
 opinion abroad. The speculations of social reformers in 
 France and in Germany, prove that the hope for benefits to 
 be achieved by State-agency is far higher with them than 
 with us. 
 
 Along with decrease of loyalty and concomitant decrease of 
 faith in the powers of governments, has gone decrease of 
 patriotism — patriotism, that is, under its original form. To 
 fight “ for king and country ” is an ambition which now-a- 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 635 
 
 days occupies but a small space in men’s minds ; and though 
 there is among us a majority whose sentiment is represented 
 by the exclamation — “ Our country, right or wrong ! ” yet 
 there are large numbers whose desire for human welfare at 
 large, so far overrides their desire for national prestige, that 
 they object to sacrificing the first to the last. The spirit of 
 self-criticism, which in sundry respects leads us to make un- 
 favourable comparisons between ourselves and our continental 
 neighbours, leads us more than heretofore to blame ourselves 
 for wrong conduct to weaker peoples. The many and strong 
 reprobations of our dealings with the Afghans, the Zulus, and 
 the Boers, show that there is a large amount of the feeling- 
 reprobated by the “ Jingo ’’-class as unpatriotic. 
 
 That adaptation of individual nature to social needs, which, 
 in the militant state, makes men glory in war and despise 
 peaceful pursuits, has partially brought about among us a 
 converse adjustment of the sentiments. The occupation of 
 the soldier has ceased to be so much honoured, and that of 
 the civilian is more honoured. During the forty years’ peace, 
 the popular sentiment became such that “ soldiering ” was 
 spoken of contemptuously; and those who enlisted, habitually 
 the idle and the dissolute, were commonly regarded as having 
 completed their disgrace. Similarly in America before the 
 late civil war, such small military gatherings and exercises as 
 from time to time occurred, excited general ridicule. Mean- 
 while we see that labours, bodily and mental, useful to self 
 and others, have come to be not only honourable but in a 
 considerable degree imperative. In America the adverse 
 comments on a man who does nothing, almost force him into 
 some active pursuit; and among ourselves the respect for 
 industrial life has become such that men of high rank put 
 their sons into business. 
 
 While, as we saw, the compulsory cooperation proper to 
 militancy, forbids, or greatly discourages, individual initiative, 
 the voluntary cooperation which distinguishes industrialism, 
 gives free scope to individual initiative, and develops it by 
 
636 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 letting enterprise bring its normal advantages. Those who 
 are successfully original in idea and act, prospering and 
 multiplying in a greater degree than others, produce, in course 
 of time, a general type of nature ready to undertake new 
 things. The speculative tendencies of English and American 
 capitalists, and the extent to which large undertakings, both 
 at home and abroad, are carried out by them, sufficiently 
 indicate this trait of character. Though, along with consider- 
 able qualifications of militancy by industrialism on the con- 
 tinent, there has occurred there, too, an extension of private 
 enterprise; yet the fact that while many towns in France and 
 Germany have been supplied with gas and water by English 
 companies, there is in England but little of kindred achieve- 
 ment by foreign companies, shows that among the more 
 industrially-modified English, individual initiative is more 
 decided. 
 
 There is evidence that the decline of international hostili- 
 ties, associated as it is with the decline of hostilities between 
 families and between individuals, is followed by a weakening 
 of revengeful sentiments. This is implied by the fact that in 
 our own country the more serious of these private wars early 
 ceased, leaving only the less serious in the form of duels, 
 which also have at length ceased : their cessation coinciding 
 with the recent great development of industrial life — a fact 
 with which may be joined the fact that in the more militant 
 societies, France and Germany, they have not ceased. So 
 much among ourselves has the authority of the lex talionis 
 waned, that a man whose actions are known to be prompted 
 by the wish for vengeance on one who has injured him, is 
 reprobated rather than applauded. 
 
 With decrease of the aggressiveness shown in acts of 
 violence and consequent acts of retaliation, has gone decrease 
 of the aggressiveness shown in criminal acts at large. That 
 this change has been a concomitant of the change from a 
 more militant to a more industrial state, cannot be doubted 
 by one who studies the history of crime in England. Says 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 637 
 
 Mr. Pike in his work on that subject, “ the close connexion 
 between the military spirit and those actions which are now 
 legally defined to be crimes, has been pointed out, again and 
 again, in the course of this history.” If we compare a past 
 age in which the effects of hostile activities had been less 
 qualified by the effects of peaceful activities than they are in 
 our own age, we see a marked contrast in respect of the 
 numbers and kinds of offences against person and property. 
 We have no longer any English buccaneers ; wreckers have 
 ceased to be heard of; and travellers do not now prepare 
 themselves to meet highwaymen. Moreover, that flagitious- 
 ness of the governing agencies themselves, which was shown 
 by the venality of ministers and members of Parliament, and 
 by the corrupt administration of justice, has disappeared. 
 With decreasing amount of crime has come increasing repro- 
 bation of crime. Biographies of pirate captains, suffused 
 with admiration of their courage, no longer find a place in 
 our literature ; and the sneaking kindness for “ gentlemen of 
 the road,” is, in our days, but rarely displayed. Many as are 
 the transgressions which our journals report, they have greatly 
 diminished ; and though in trading transactions there is much 
 dishonesty (chiefly of the indirect sort) it needs but to read 
 Defoe's English Tradesman , to see how marked has been the 
 improvement since his time. Nor must we forget that the 
 change of character which has brought a decrease of unjust 
 actions, has brought an increase of beneficent actions ; as seen 
 in paying for slave-emancipation, in nursing the wounded 
 soldiers of our fighting neighbours, in philanthropic efforts of 
 countless kinds. 
 
 § 575. As with the militant type then, so with the indus- 
 trial type, three lines of evidence converge to show us its 
 essential nature. Let us set down briefly the several results, 
 that we may observe the correspondences among them. 
 
 On considering what must be the traits of a society 
 organized exclusively for carrying on internal activities, so as 
 
638 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 most efficiently to subserve the lives of citizens, we find them 
 to be these. A corporate action subordinating individual 
 actions by uniting them in joint effort, is no longer requisite. 
 Contrariwise, such corporate action as remains has for its 
 end to guard individual actions against all interferences not 
 necessarily entailed by mutual limitation : the type of society 
 in which this function is best discharged, being that which 
 must survive, since it is that of which the members will most 
 prosper. Excluding, as the requirements of the industrial 
 type do, a despotic controlling agency, they imply, as the 
 only congruous agency for achieving such corporate action as 
 is needed, one formed of representatives who serve to express 
 the aggregate will. The function of this controlling agency, 
 generally defined as that of administering justice, is more 
 specially defined as that of seeing that each citizen gains 
 neither more nor less of benefit than his activities normally 
 bring ; and there is thus excluded all public action involving 
 any artificial distribution of benefits. Tire regime of status 
 proper to militancy having disappeared, the regime of contract 
 which replaces it has to be universally enforced; and this 
 negatives interferences between efforts and results by arbitrary 
 apportionment. Otherwise regarded, the industrial type is 
 distinguished from the militant type as being not both posi- 
 tively regulative and negatively regulative, but as being 
 negatively regulative only. With this restricted sphere for 
 corporate action comes an increased sphere for individual 
 action ; and from that voluntary cooperation which is the 
 fundamental principle of the type, arise multitudinous private 
 combinations, akin in their structures to the public com- 
 bination of the society which includes them. Indirectly it 
 results that a society of the industrial type is distinguished 
 by plasticity ; and also that it tends to lose its economic 
 autonomy, and to coalesce with adjacent societies. 
 
 The question next considered was, whether these traits of 
 the industrial type as arrived at by deduction are inductively 
 verified ; and we found that in actual societies they are visible 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 639 
 
 more or less clearly in proportion as industrialism is more or 
 less developed. Glancing at those small groups of uncultured 
 people who, wholly unwarlike, display the industrial type in 
 its rudimentary form, we went on to compare the structures 
 of European nations at large in early days of chronic mili- 
 tancy, with their structures in modem days characterized by 
 progressing industrialism ; and we saw the differences to be 
 of the kind implied. We next compared two of these 
 societies, France and England, which were once in kindred 
 states, but of which the one has had its industrial life much 
 more repressed by its militant life than the other ; and it 
 became manifest that the contrasts wdrich, age after age, arose 
 between their institutions, were such as answer to the hypo- 
 thesis. Lastly, limiting ourselves to England itself, and first 
 noting how recession from such traits of the industrial type 
 as had shown themselves, occurred during a long war-period, 
 we observed how, during the subsequent long period of peace 
 beginning in 1815, there were numerous and decided ap- 
 proaches to that social structure which we concluded must 
 accompany developed industrialism. 
 
 We then inquired what type of individual nature accom- 
 panies the industrial type of society ; with the view of seeing 
 whether, from the character of the unit as well as from the 
 character of the aggregate, confirmation is to be derived. 
 Certain uncultured peoples whose lives are passed in peaceful 
 occupations, proved to be distinguished by independence, 
 resistance to coercion, honesty, truthfulness, forgivingness, 
 kindness. On contrasting the characters of our ancestors 
 during more warlike periods with our own characters, we see 
 that, with an increasing ratio of industrialism to militancy, 
 have come a growing independence, a less-marked loyalty, a 
 smaller faith in governments, and a more qualified patriotism ; 
 and while, by enterprising action, by diminished faith in 
 authority, by resistance to irresponsible power, there has been 
 shown a strengthening assertion of individuality, there has 
 accompanied it a growing respect for the individualities of 
 
640 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 others, as is implied by the diminution of aggressions upon 
 them and the multiplication of efforts for their welfare. 
 
 To prevent misapprehension it seems needful, before closing, 
 to explain that these traits are to be regarded less as the 
 immediate results of industrialism than as the remote results 
 of non-militancy. It is not so much that a social life passed 
 in peaceful occupations is positively moralizing, as that a 
 social life passed in war is positively demoralizing. Sacrifice 
 of others to self is in the one incidental only ; while in the 
 other it is necessary. Such aggressive egoism as accom- 
 panies the industrial life is extrinsic ; whereas the aggressive 
 egoism of the militant life is intrinsic. Though generally 
 unsympathetic, the exchange of services under agreement is 
 now, to a considerable extent, and may be wholly, carried on 
 with a due regard to the claims of others — may be constantly 
 accompanied by a sense of benefit given as well as benefit 
 received; but the slaying of antagonists, the burning of their 
 houses, the appropriation of their territory, cannot but be 
 accompanied by vivid consciousness of injury done them, 
 and a consequent brutalizing effect on the feelings — an effect 
 wrought, not on soldiers only, but on those who employ them 
 and contemplate their deeds with pleasure. The last form of 
 social life, therefore, inevitably deadens the sympathies and 
 generates a state of mind which prompts crimes of trespass ; 
 while the first form, allowing the sympathies free play if it 
 does not directly exercise them, favours the growth of altru- 
 istic sentiments and the resulting virtues. 
 
 Note. — This reference to the natural genesis of a higher moral nature, 
 recalls a controversy some time since carried on. In a “Symposium” pub- 
 lished in the 'Nineteenth Century for April and May, 1877, was discussed 
 “ the influence upon morality of a decline in religious belief : ” the question 
 eventually raised being whether morality can exist without religion. Not 
 much difficulty in answering this question will be felt by those who, from 
 the conduct of the rude tribes described in this chapter, turn to that of 
 Europeans during a great part of the Christian era ; with its innumerable and 
 immeasurable public and private atrocities, its bloody aggressive wars, its 
 ceaseless family-vendettas, its bandit barons and fighting bishops, its massa- 
 cres, political and religious, its torturings and burnings, its all-pervading crime 
 
THE INDUSTRIAL TYPE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 641 
 
 from the assassinations of and by kings down to the lyings and petty thefts of 
 slaves and serfs. Nor do the contrasts between our own conduct at the 
 present time and the conduct of these so-called savages, leave us in doubt con- 
 cerning the right answer. When, after reading police reports, criminal assize 
 proceedings, accounts of fraudulent bankruptcies, &c., which in our journals 
 accompany advertisements of sermons and reports of religious meetings, 
 we learn that the “ amiable ” Bodo and Dhimals, who are so “ honest and 
 truthful,” “ have no word for God, for soul, for heaven, for hell ” (though 
 they have ancestor-worship and some derivative beliefs), we find ourselves 
 unable to recognize the alleged connexion. If, side by side with narratives of 
 bank-frauds, rail way -jobbings, turf-chicaneries, &e., among people who are 
 anxious that the House of Commons should preserve its theism untainted, wo 
 place descriptions of the “ fascinating ” Lepchas, who are so “ wonderfully 
 honest,” but who “ profess no religion, though acknowledging the existence 
 of good and bad spirits ” (to the last of whom only they pay any attention), 
 we do not see our way to accepting the dogma which our theologians think so 
 obviously true ; nor will acceptance of it be made easier when we add the 
 description of the conscientious Santal, who “ never thinks of making money 
 by a stranger,” and “ feels pained if payment is pressed upon him ” for food 
 offered j but concerning whom we are told that “ of a supreme and beneficent 
 God the Santal has no conception.” Admission of the doctrine that right 
 conduct depends on theological conviction, becomes difficult on reading that 
 the Yeddahs who are “ almost devoid of any sentiment of religion ” and have 
 no idea “ of a Supreme Being,” nevertheless “ think it perfectly inconceivable 
 that any person should ever take that which does not belong to him, or 
 strike his fellow, or say anything that is untrue.” After finding that among 
 the select of the select who profess our established creed, the standard of 
 truthfulness is such that the statement of a minister concerning cabinet 
 transactions is distinctly falsified by the statement of a seceding minister ; 
 and after then recalling the marvellous veracity of these godless Bodo and 
 Dhimals, Lepchas, and other peaceful tribes having kindred beliefs, going to 
 such extent that an imputation of falsehood is enough to make one of the 
 Hos destroy himself ; we fail to see that in the absence of a tlieistic belief 
 there can be no regard for truth. When, in a weekly journal specially repre- 
 senting the university culture shared in by our priests, we find a lament over 
 the moral degradation shown by our treatment of the Boers — when we are 
 held degraded because we have not slaughtered them for successfully resist- 
 ing our trespasses — when we see that the “ sacred duty of blood revenge,” 
 which the cannibal savage insists upon, is insisted upon by those to whom 
 the Christian religion was daily taught throughout their education ; and 
 when, from contemplating this fact, we pass to the fact that the unreligious 
 Lepchas “ are singularly forgiving of injuries,” the assumed relation between 
 humanity and theism appears anything but congruous with the evidence. If, 
 with the ambitions of our church-going citizens, who (not always in very 
 honourable ways) strive to get fortunes that they may make great displays, 
 and gratify themselves by thinking that at death they will “ cut up well,” we 
 compare the ambitions of the Arafuras, among whom wealth is desired that 
 
642 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 its possessor may pay tlie debts of poorer men and settle differences, we are 
 obliged to reject the assumption that “ brotherly love ” can exist only as a 
 consequence of divine injunctions, with promised rewards and threatened 
 punishments ; for of these Araf uras we read that — 
 
 “ Of the immortality of the soul they have not the least conception. To 
 all my enquiries on the subject they answered, ‘No Arafura has ever returned 
 to us after death, therefore we know nothing of a future state, and this is 
 the first time we have heard of it.* Their idea was, when you are dead 
 there is an end of you. Neither have they any notion of the creation of the 
 world. They only answered, ‘ None of us were aware of this, we have never 
 heard anything about it, and therefore do not know who has done it all.’ ” 
 The truth disclosed by the facts is that, so far as men’s moral states are con- 
 cerned, theory is almost nothing and practice is almost everything. No 
 matter how high their nominal creed, nations given to political burglaries to 
 get “ scientific frontiers,” and the like, will have among their members many 
 who “ annex ” others’ goods for their own convenience ; and with the orga- 
 nized crime of aggressive war, will go criminality in the behaviour of one 
 citizen to another. Conversely, as these uncultivated tribes prove, no matter 
 how devoid they are of religious beliefs, those who, generation after genera- 
 tion remaining unmolested, inflict no injuries upon others, have their altru- 
 istic sentiments fostered by the sympathetic intercourse of a peaceful daily 
 life, and display the resulting virtues. We need teaching that it is impossible 
 to join injustice and brutality abroad with justice and humanity at home. 
 What a pity these Heathens cannot be induced to send missionaries among 
 the Christians ! 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 § 576. In the foregoing chapters little has been said 
 concerning the doctrine of Evolution at large, as re-illus- 
 trated by political evolution ; though doubtless the observant 
 reader has occasionally noted how the transformations de- 
 scribed conform to the general law of transformation. Here, 
 in summing up, it will be convenient briefly to indicate their 
 conformity. Already in Part II, when treating of Social 
 Growth, Social Structures, and Social Functions, the outlines 
 of this correspondence were exhibited ; but the materials for 
 exemplifying it in a more special way, which have been brought 
 together in this Part, may fitly be utilized to emphasize afresh 
 a truth not yet commonly admitted. 
 
 That under its primary aspect political development is a 
 process of integration, is clear. By it individuals originally 
 separate are united into a whole ; and the union of them into 
 a whole is variously shown. In the earliest stages the groups 
 of men are small, they are loose, they are not unified by 
 subordination to a centre. But with political progress comes 
 the compounding, re-compounding, and re-re-compounding of 
 groups until great nations are produced. Moreover, with that 
 settled life and agricultural development accompanying poli- 
 tical progress, there is not only a formation of societies 
 covering wider areas, but an increasing density of their popu- 
 lations. Further, the loose aggregation of savages passes into 
 
644 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the coherent connexion of citizens ; at one stage coercively 
 bound to one another and to their localities by family-ties and 
 class-ties, and at a later stage voluntarily bound together by 
 their mutually-dependent occupations. Once more, there is 
 that merging of individual wills in a governmental will, which 
 reduces a society, as it reduces an army, to a consolidated 
 body. 
 
 An increase of heterogeneity at the same time goes on in 
 many ways. Everywhere the horde, when its members co- 
 operate for defence or offence, begins to differentiate into a 
 predominant man, a superior few, and an inferior many. 
 With that massing of groups which war effects, there grow 
 out of these, head chief, subordinate chiefs, and warriors; 
 and at higher stages of integration, kings, nobles, and people : 
 each of the two great social strata presently becoming dif- 
 ferentiated within itself. When small societies have been 
 united, the respective triune governing agencies of them grow 
 unlike : the local political assemblies falling into subordina- 
 tion to a central political assembly. Though, for a time, the 
 central one continues to be constituted after the same manner 
 as the local ones, it gradually diverges in character by loss 
 of its popular element. While these local and central bodies 
 are becoming contrasted in their powers and structures, they 
 are severally becoming differentiated in another way. Origi- 
 nally each is at once military, political, and judicial; but 
 by and by the assembly for judicial business, no longer armed, 
 ceases to be like the politico-military assembly; and the 
 politico-military assembly eventually gives origin to a con- 
 sultative body, the members of which, when meeting for 
 political deliberation, come unarmed. Within each of these 
 divisions, again, kindred changes subsequently occur. While 
 themselves assuming more specialized forms, local judicial 
 agencies fall under the control of a central judicial agency ; 
 and the central judicial agency, which has separated from the 
 original consultative body, subdivides into parts or courts 
 which take unlike kinds of business. The central political 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 645 
 
 body, too, where its powers do not disappear by absorption in 
 those of the supreme head, tends to complicate; as in our 
 own case by the differentiation of a privy council from the 
 original consultative body, and again by the differentiation of 
 a cabinet from the privy council : accompanied, in the other 
 direction, by division of the consultative body into elective and 
 non-elective parts. While these metamorphoses are going on, 
 the separation of the three organizations, legislative, judicial, 
 and executive, progresses. Moreover, with progress in these 
 major political changes goes that progress in minor political 
 changes which, out of family-governments and clan-govern- 
 ments, evolves such governments as those of the tything, the 
 gild, and the municipality. Thus in all directions from 
 primitive simplicity there is produced ultimate complexity, 
 through modifications upon modifications. 
 
 With this advance from small incoherent social aggre- 
 gates to great coherent ones, which, while becoming integrated 
 pass from uniformity to multiformity, there goes an advance 
 from indefiniteness of political organization to definiteness 
 of political organization. Save inherited ideas and usages, 
 nothing is fixed in the primitive horde. But the dif- 
 ferentiations above described, severally beginning vaguely, 
 grow in their turns gradually more marked. Class-divisions, 
 absent at first and afterwards undecided, eventually acquire 
 great distinctness : slaves, serfs, freemen, nobles, king, become 
 separated, often by impassable barriers, and their positions 
 shown by mutilations, badges, dresses, &c. Powers and obli- 
 gations which were once diffused are parted off and rigorously 
 maintained. The various parts of the political machinery come 
 to be severally more and more restricted in their ranges of 
 duties ; and usage, age by age accumulating precedents, brings 
 every kind of official action within prescribed bounds. This 
 increase of definiteness is everywhere well shown by the 
 development of laws. Beginning as inherited sacred injunc- 
 tions briefly expressed, these have to be applied after some 
 prescribed method, and their meanings in relation to par- 
 
646 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 ticular cases made clear. Rules of procedure become step 
 by step detailed and formal, while interpretations change 
 the general command into specialized commands to meet 
 incidental circumstances; and gradually there grows up a 
 legal system everywhere precise and fixed. How pronounced 
 is this tendency is interestingly shown in our system of 
 Equity, which, arising to qualify the unduly defined and 
 rigid applications of Law, itself slowly multiplied its tech- 
 nicalities until it grew equally defined and rigid. 
 
 To meet an obvious criticism it must be added that these 
 changes from societies which are small, loose, uniform, and 
 vague in structure, to societies which are large, compact, 
 multiform, and distinct in structure, present varieties of 
 characters under varieties of conditions, and alter as the 
 conditions alter. Different parts of a society display the 
 transformation, according as the society’s activities are of 
 one or other kind. Chronic war generates a compulsory 
 cohesion, and produces an ever-greater heterogeneity and defi- 
 niteness in that controlling organization by which unity of 
 action is secured ; while that part of the organization which 
 carries on production and distribution, exhibits these traits of 
 evolution in a relatively small degree. Conversely, when 
 joint action of the society against other societies decreases, 
 the traits of the structure developed for carrying it on begin 
 to fade ; while the traits of the structure for carrying on pro- 
 duction and distribution become more decided : the increasing 
 cohesion, heterogeneity, and definiteness, begin now to be 
 shown throughout the industrial organization. Hence the 
 phenomena become complicated by a simultaneous evolution 
 of one part of the social organization and dissolution of 
 another part — a mingling of changes well illustrated in our 
 own society. 
 
 § 577. With this general conception before us, which, 
 without more detailed recapitulation of the conclusions 
 reached, will sufficiently recall them, we may turn from 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 647 
 
 retrospect to prospect ; and ask through what phases political 
 evolution is likely hereafter to pass. 
 
 Such speculations concerning higher political types as we 
 may allow ourselves, must be taken with the understanding 
 that such types are not likely to become universal. As in the 
 past so in the future, local circumstances must be influential 
 in determining governmental arrangements; since these 
 depend in large measure on the modes of life which the 
 climate, soil, flora, and fauna, necessitate. In regions like 
 those of Central Asia, incapable of supporting considerable 
 populations, there are likely to survive wandering hordes 
 under simple forms of control. Large areas such as parts of 
 Africa present, which prove fatal to the higher races of men, 
 and the steaming atmospheres of which cause enervation, 
 may continue to be inhabited by lower races of men, subject 
 to political arrangements adapted to them. And in con- 
 ditions such as those furnished by small Pacific Islands, mere 
 deficiency of numbers must negative the forms of government 
 which become alike needful and possible in large nations. 
 Recognizing the fact that with social organisms as with indi- 
 vidual organisms, the evolution of superior types does not 
 entail the extinction of all inferior ones, but leaves many of 
 these to survive in habitats not available by the superior, we 
 may here restrict ourselves to the inquiry — What are likely to 
 be the forms of political organization and action in societies 
 that are favourably circumstanced for carrying social evolu- 
 tion to its highest stage ? 
 
 Of course deductions respecting the future must be drawn 
 from inductions furnished by the past. We must assume 
 that hereafter social evolution will conform to the same 
 principles as heretofore. Causes which have everywhere 
 produced certain effects must, if they continue at work, be 
 expected to produce further effects of like kinds. If we see 
 that political transformations which have arisen under cer- 
 tain conditions, admit of being carried further in the same 
 directions, we must conclude that they will be carried further 
 
648 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 if the conditions are maintained ; and that they will go on 
 until they reach limits beyond which there is no scope for 
 them. 
 
 Not indeed that any trustworthy forecast can be made 
 concerning proximate changes. All that has gone before 
 unites to prove that political institutions, fundamentally 
 determined in their forms by the predominance of one or 
 other of the antagonist modes of social action, the militant 
 and the industrial, will be moulded in this way or in that way 
 according as there is frequent w T ar or habitual peace. Hence 
 we must infer that throughout approaching periods, every- 
 thing will depend on the courses which societies happen to 
 take in their behaviour to one another — courses w T hich cannot 
 be predicted. On the one hand, in the present state of armed 
 preparation throughout Europe, an untoward accident may 
 bring about wars which, lasting perhaps for a generation, will 
 re-develop the coercive forms of political control. On the 
 other hand, a long peace is likely to be accompanied by so 
 vast an increase of manufacturing and commercial activity, 
 with accompanying growth of the appropriate political struc- 
 tures within each nation, and strengthening of those ties 
 between nations which mutual dependence generates, that 
 hostilities will be more and more resisted and the organization 
 adapted for the carrying them on will decay. 
 
 Leaving, however, the question — What are likely to be the 
 proximate political changes in the most advanced nations ? 
 and inferring from the changes which civilization has thus far 
 wrought out, that at some time, more or less distant, the 
 industrial type will become permanently established, let us 
 now ask — What is to be the ultimate political regime ? 
 
 § 578. Having so recently contemplated at length the 
 political traits of the industrial type as inferable a priori , and 
 as partially exemplified a posteriori in societies most favour- 
 ably circumstanced for evolving them, there remains only to 
 present these under a united and more concrete form, wfith 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 649 
 
 some dependent ones which have not been indicated. We 
 will glance first at the implied political structures, and next 
 at the implied political functions. 
 
 What forms of governmental organization must be the out- 
 come of voluntary cooperation carried to its limit ? We have 
 already seen that in the absence of those appliances for 
 coercion which accompany the militant type, whatever legis- 
 lative and administrative structures exist, must be, in general 
 and in detail, of directly or indirectly representative origin. 
 The presence in them of functionaries not deriving their 
 powers from the aggregate will, and not changeable by the 
 aggregate will, would imply partial continuance of that regime 
 of status which the regime of contract has, by the hypothesis, 
 entirely replaced. But assuming the exclusion of all irre- 
 sponsible agents, what particular structures will best serve 
 to manifest and execute the aggregate will ? This is a 
 question to which only approximate answers can be given. 
 There are various possible organizations through which the 
 general consensus of feeling and opinion may display itself 
 and issue in action ; and it is very much a question of con- 
 venience, rather than of principle, which of these shall be 
 adopted. Let us consider some of their varieties. 
 
 The representatives constituting the central legislature 
 may form one body or they may form two. If there is but 
 one, it may consist of men directly elected by all qualified 
 citizens; or its members may be elected by local bodies which 
 have themselves arisen by direct election ; or it may include 
 members some of whom are elected in the one way and some 
 in the other. If there are two chambers, the lower one may 
 arise in the first of the three ways named ; while the second 
 arises in one of several ways. It may consist of members 
 chosen by local representative bodies ; or it may be chosen 
 by the lower chamber out of its own number. Its members 
 may either have no test of eligibility, or they may be required 
 to have special qualifications : experience in administration, 
 for example. Then besides these various forms of the 
 
650 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 legislature, there are the various modes in which it may be 
 partially or wholly replaced. Entire dissolution and re- 
 election of one body or of both bodies may occur at intervals, 
 either the same for the two or different for the two, and either 
 simultaneously or otherwise ; or the higher body, though 
 representative, may be permanent, while the lower is change- 
 able; or the changing of one or both, at given intervals, 
 may be partial instead of complete — a third or a fourth 
 may vacate their seats annually or biennially, and may or 
 may not be eligible for re-election. So, too, there are 
 
 various modes by which the executive may originate con- 
 sistently with the representative principle. It may be simple 
 or it may be compound ; and if compound, the members of it 
 may be changeable separately or altogether. The political 
 head may be elected directly by the whole community, or by 
 its local governing bodies, or by one or by both of its central 
 representative bodies ; and may be so elected for a term or 
 for life. His assistants or ministers may be chosen by him- 
 self ; or he may choose one who chooses the rest ; or they 
 may be chosen separately or bodily by one or other legis- 
 lature, or by the two united. And the members of the 
 ministry may compose a group apart from both chambers, or 
 may be members of one or the other. 
 
 Concerning these, and many other possible arrangements 
 which may be conceived as arising by modification and com- 
 plication of them (all apparently congruous with the require- 
 ment that the making and administration of laws shall con- 
 form to public opinion) the choice is to be guided mainly by 
 regard for simplicity and facility of working. But it seems 
 likely that hereafter, as heretofore, the details of constitutional 
 forms in each society, will not be determined on d 'priori 
 grounds, or will be but partially so determined. We may 
 conclude that they will be determined in large measure by 
 the antecedents of the society ; and that between societies of 
 the industrial type, there will be differences of political 
 organization consequent on genealogical differences. Recog- 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 G51 
 
 nizing tlie analogies furnished by individual organizations, 
 which everywhere show us that structures evolved during 
 the earlier stages of a type for functions then requisite, 
 usually do not disappear at later stages, but become re- 
 moulded in adaptation to functions more or less different; 
 we may suspect that the political institutions appropriate to 
 the industrial type, will, in each society, continue to bear 
 traces of the earlier political institutions evolved for other 
 purposes ; as we see that even now the new societies growing 
 up in colonies, tend thus to preserve marks of earlier stages 
 passed through by ancestral societies. Hence we may infer 
 that societies which, in the future, have alike become com- 
 pletely industrial, will not present identical political forms ; 
 but that to the various possible forms appropriate to the type, 
 they will present approximations determined partly by their 
 own structures in the past and partly by the structures of 
 the societies from which they have been derived. Eecognizing 
 this probability, let us now ask by what changes our own 
 political constitution may be brought into congruity with 
 the requirements. 
 
 Though there are some who contend that a single body of 
 representatives is sufficient for the legislative needs of a 
 free nation, yet the reasons above given warrant the suspicion 
 that the habitual duality of legislatures, of which the rudi- 
 ments are traceable in the earliest political differentiation, is 
 not likely to be entirely lost in the future. That spontaneous 
 division of the primitive group into the distinguished few and 
 the undistinguished many, both of which take part in deter- 
 mining the actions of the group — that division which, with 
 reviving power of the undistinguished many, reappears when 
 there is formed a body representing it, which cooperates with 
 the body formed of the distinguished few in deciding on 
 national affairs, appears likely to continue. Assuming that 
 as a matter of course two legislative bodies, if they exist 
 hereafter, must both arise by representation, direct or indirect, 
 it seems probable that an upper and a lqwer chamber may 
 19 
 
652 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 continue to display a contrast in some degree analogous to 
 that which they have displayed thus far. For however great 
 the degree of evolution reached by an industrial society, it 
 cannot abolish the distinction between the superior and the 
 inferior —the regulators and the regulated. Whatever ar- 
 rangements for carrying on industry may in times to come be 
 established, must leave outstanding the difference between 
 those whose characters and abilities raise them to the higher 
 positions, and those who remain in the lower. Even should 
 all kinds of production and distribution be eventually carried 
 on by bodies of cooperators, as a few are now to some extent, 
 such bodies must still have their appointed heads and com- 
 mittees of managers. Either from an electorate constituted 
 not, of course, of a permanently-privileged class, but of a 
 class including all heads of industrial organizations, or from 
 an electorate otherwise composed of all persons occupied in 
 administration, a senate may perhaps eventually be formed 
 consisting of the representatives of directing persons as dis- 
 tinguished from the representatives of persons directed. Of 
 course in the general government, as in the government of 
 each industrial body, the representatives of the class regu- 
 lated must be ultimately supreme ; but there is reason for 
 thinking that the representatives of the regulating class 
 might with advantage exercise a restraining power. Evidently 
 the aspect of any law' differs according as it is looked at from 
 above or from below — by those accustomed to rule or by 
 those accustomed to be ruled. The two aspects require to be 
 coordinated. Without assuming that differences between the 
 interests of these bodies will, to the last, make needful dif- 
 ferent representations of them, it may reasonably be con- 
 cluded that the higher, experienced in administration, may 
 with advantage bring its judgments to bear in qualifying the 
 judgments of the lower, less conversant with affairs ; and that 
 social needs are likely to be most effectually met by laws 
 issuing from their joint deliberations. Far from suggesting 
 an ultimate unification of the two legislative bodies, the facts 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 653 
 
 of evolution, everywhere showing advance in specialization, 
 suggest rather that one or both of such two bodies, now 
 characterizing developed political organizations, will further 
 differentiate. Indeed we have at the present moment indi- 
 cations that such a change is likely to take place in our 
 own House of Commons. To the objection that the duality 
 of a legislative body impedes the making of laws, the reply 
 is that a considerable amount of hindrance to change is 
 desirable. Even as it is now among ourselves, immense mis- 
 chiefs are done by ill-considered legislation ; and any change 
 which should further facilitate legislation would increase 
 such mischiefs. 
 
 Concerning the ultimate executive agency, it appears to be! 
 an unavoidable inference that it must become, in some way 
 or other, elective ; since hereditary political headship is a 
 trait of the developed militant type, and forms a part of that 
 regime of status which is excluded by the hypothesis. 
 Guided by such evidence as existing advanced societies 
 afford us, we may infer that the highest State-office, in what- 
 ever way filled, will continue to decline in importance ; and 
 that the functions to be discharged by its occupant will 
 become more and more automatic. There requires an instru- 
 mentality having certain traits which we see in our own 
 executive, joined with certain traits which we see in the 
 executive of the United States. On the one hand, it is need- 
 ful that the men who have to carry out the will of the 
 majority as expressed through the legislature, should be 
 removable at pleasure ; so that there may be maintained the 
 needful subordination of their policy to public opinion. On 
 the other hand, it is needful that displacement of them shall 
 leave intact all that part of the executive organization re- 
 quired for current administrative purposes. In our own case 
 these requirements, fulfilled to a considerable extent, fall short 
 of complete fulfilment in the respect that the political head 
 is not elective, and still exercises, especially over the foreign 
 policy of the nation, a considerable amount of power, In 
 
654 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 the United States, while these requirements are fulfilled in 
 the respect that the political head is elective, and cannot 
 compromize the nation in its actions towards other nations, 
 they are not fulfilled in the respect that far from being an 
 automatic centre, having actions restrained by a ministry 
 responsive to public opinion, he exercises, during his term of 
 office, much independent control. Possibly in the future, the 
 benefits of these two systems may be united and their evils 
 avoided. The strong party antagonisms which accompany 
 our state of transition having died away, and the place of 
 supreme State-officer having become one of honour rather 
 than one of power, it may happen that appointment to this 
 place, made during the closing years of a great career to 
 mark the nation’s approbation, will be made without any 
 social perturbation, because without any effect on policy; 
 and that, meanwhile, such changes in the executive agency 
 as are needful to harmonize its actions with public opinion, 
 will be, as at present among ourselves, changes of minis- 
 tries. 
 
 Rightly to conceive the natures and workings of the central 
 political institutions appropriate to the industrial type, we 
 must assume that along with the establishment of them there 
 has gone that change just named in passing — the decline of 
 party antagonisms. Looked at broadly, political parties are 
 seen to arise directly or indirectly out of the conflict between 
 militancy and industrialism. Either they stand respectively for 
 the coercive government of the one and the free government 
 of the other, or for particular institutions and laws belonging 
 to the one or the other, or for religious opinions and organiza- 
 tions congruous with the one or the other, or for principles 
 and practices that have been bequeathed by the one or the 
 other, and survived under alien conditions. Habitually if we 
 trace party feeling to its sources, we find on the one side 
 maintenance of, and on the other opposition to, some form of 
 inequity. Wrong is habitually alleged by this side against 
 that ; and there must be injustice either in the thing done or 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 655 
 
 in the allegation concerning it. Hence as fast as the regime 
 of voluntary cooperation with its appropriate ideas, senti- 
 ments, and usages, pervades the whole society — as fast as 
 there disappear all those arrangements which in any way 
 trench upon the equal freedom of these or those citizens, 
 party warfare must practically die away. Such differences 
 of opinion only can remain as concern matters of detail and 
 minor questions of administration. Evidently there is 
 approach to such a state in proportion as the graver injus- 
 tices descending from the militant type disappear. Evidently, 
 too, one concomitant is that increasing subdivision of parties 
 commonly lamented, which promises to bring about the 
 result that no course can be taken at the dictation of any one 
 moiety in power ; but every course taken, having the assent of 
 the average of parties, will be thereby proved in harmony 
 witli the aggregate will of the community. And clearly, with 
 this breaking up of parties consequent on growing indivi- 
 duality of nature, all such party-antagonisms as we now 
 know must cease. 
 
 Concerning local government we may conclude that as 
 centralization is an essential trait of the militant type, de- 
 centralization is an essential trait of the industrial type. 
 With that independence which the regime of voluntary 
 cooperation generates, there arises resistance not only to 
 dictation by one man, and to dictation by a class, but even to 
 dictation by a majority, when it restrains individual action 
 in ways not necessary for maintaining harmonious social 
 relations. One result must be that the inhabitants of each 
 locality will object to be controlled by the inhabitants of 
 other localities, in matters of purely local concern. In respect 
 of such laws as equally apply to all individuals, and such 
 laws as affect the inhabitants of each locality in their 
 intercourse with those of other localities, the will of the 
 majority of the community will be recognized as authorita- 
 tive; but in respect of arrangements not affecting the com- 
 munity at large, but affecting only the members forming one 
 
656 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 part, we may infer that there will arise such tendency to 
 resist dictation by members of other parts, as will involve 
 the carrying of local rule to the greatest practicable limit. 
 Municipal and kindred governments may be expected to 
 exercise legislative and administrative powers, subject to no 
 greater control by the central government than is needful for 
 the concord of the whole community. 
 
 Neither these nor any other speculations concerning ulti- 
 mate political forms can, however, be regarded as anything 
 more than tentative. They are ventured here simply as 
 foreshadowing the general nature of the changes to be anti- 
 cipated ; and in so far as they are specific, can be at the best 
 but partially right. We may be sure that the future will 
 bring unforeseen political arrangements along with many 
 other unforeseen things. As already implied, there will pro- 
 bably be considerable variety in the special forms of the 
 political institutions of industrial societies : all of them 
 bearing traces of past institutions which have been brought 
 into congruity with the representative principle. And here 
 I may add that little stress need be laid on one or other 
 speciality of form ; since, given citizens having the pre- 
 supposed appropriate natures, and but small differences in 
 the ultimate effects will result from differences in the 
 machinery used. 
 
 § 579. Somewhat more definitely, and with somewhat 
 greater positiveness, may we, I think, infer the political 
 functions carried on by those political structures proper to 
 the developed industrial type. Already these have been 
 generally indicated ; but here they must be indicated some- 
 what more specifically. 
 
 We have seen that when corporate action is no longer 
 needed for preserving the society as a whole from destruction 
 or injury by other societies, the end which remains for it is 
 that of preserving the component members of the society 
 from destruction or injury by one another: injury, as here 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 657 
 
 interpreted, including not only immediate, but also remote, 
 breaches of equity. Citizens whose natures have through 
 many generations of voluntary cooperation and accompanying 
 regard for one another’s claims, been moulded into the appro- 
 priate form, will entirely agree to maintain such political 
 institutions as may continue needful for insuring to each that 
 the activities he carries on within limits imposed by the 
 activities of others, shall bring to him all the directly-resulting 
 benefits, or such benefits as indirectly result under voluntary 
 agreements ; and each will be ready to yield up such small 
 portion of the proceeds of his labour, as may be required to 
 maintain the agency for adjudicating in complex cases where 
 the equitable course is not manifest, and for such legislative 
 and administrative purposes as may prove needful for 
 effecting an equitable division of all natural advantages. 
 Resistance to extension of government beyond the sphere 
 thus indicated, must eventually have a two-fold origin — 
 egoistic and altruistic. 
 
 In the first place, it cannot be supposed that citizens 
 having the characters indicated, w T ill, in their corporate 
 capacity, agree to impose on themselves individually, other 
 restraints than those necessitated by regard for one another’s 
 spheres of action. Each has had fostered in him by the dis- 
 cipline of daily life carried on under contract, a sentiment 
 prompting assertion of his claim to free action within the 
 implied limits ; and there cannot therefore arise in an aggre- 
 gate of such, any sentiment which would tolerate further 
 limits. And that any part should impose such further limits 
 on the rest, is also contrary to the hypothesis ; since it pre- 
 supposes that political inequality, or status, which is excluded 
 by the industrial type. Moreover, it is manifest that the 
 taking from citizens of funds for public purposes other than 
 those above specified, is negatived. For while there will 
 ever be a unanimous desire to maintain for each and all the 
 conditions needful for severally carrying on their private 
 activities and enjoying the products, the probabilities are 
 
658 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 immense against agreement for any other public end. And 
 in the absence of such agreement, there must arise resistance 
 by the dissentients to the costs and administrative restraints 
 required for achieving such other end. There must be dis- 
 satisfaction and opposition on the part of the minority from 
 whom certain returns of their labours are taken, not for 
 fulfilling their own desires, but for fulfilling the desires of 
 others. There must be an inequality of treatment which 
 does not consist with the rigime of voluntary cooperation 
 fully carried out. 
 
 At the same time that the employment of political agencies 
 for other ends than that of maintaining equitable relations 
 among citizens, will meet with egoistic resistance from a 
 minority who do not desire such other ends, it will also meet 
 with altruistic resistance from the rest. In other words, 
 the altruism of the rest wull prevent them from achieving 
 such further ends for their own satisfaction, at the cost of 
 dissatisfaction to those who do not agree with them. To one 
 who is ruled by a predominant sentiment of justice, the 
 thought of profiting in any w T ay, direct or indirect, at the 
 expense of another, is repugnant ; and in a community of 
 such, none will desire to achieve by public agency at the cost 
 of all, benefits which a part do not participate in, or do not 
 wish for. Given in all citizens a quick sense of equity, and 
 it must happen, for example, that while those who have no 
 children will protest against the taking away of their pro- 
 perty to educate the children of others, the others will no 
 less protest against having the education of their children 
 partially paid for by forced exactions from the childless, 
 from the unmarried, and from those whose means are in 
 many cases less than their own. So that the eventual limi- 
 tation of State-action to the fundamental one described, is 
 insured by a simultaneous increase of opposition to other 
 actions and a decrease of desire for them. 
 
 § 580. The restricted sphere for political institutions thus 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 659 
 
 inferred as characterizing the developed industrial type, may 
 also be otherwise inferred. 
 
 Tor this limitation of State-functions is one outcome of 
 that process of specialization of functions which accompanies 
 organic and super-organic evolution at large. Be it in an 
 animal or be it in a society, the progress of organization is 
 constantly shown by the multiplication of particular struc- 
 tures adapted to particular ends. Everywhere we see the 
 law to be that a part which originally served several pur- 
 poses and achieved none of them well, becomes divided into 
 parts each of which performs one of the purposes, and, 
 acquiring specially-adapted structures, performs it better. 
 Throughout the foregoing chapters we have seen this truth 
 variously illustrated by the evolution of the governmental 
 organization itself. It remains here to point out that it is 
 further illustrated in a larger way, by the division which has 
 arisen, and will grow ever more decided, between the func- 
 tions of the governmental organization as a whole, and the 
 functions of the other organizations which the society in- 
 cludes. 
 
 Already we have seen that in the militant type, political 
 control extends over all parts of the lives of the citizens. 
 Already we have seen that as industrial development brings 
 the associated political changes, the range of this control 
 decreases : ways of living are no longer dictated ; dress ceases 
 to be prescribed ; the rules of class-subordination lose their 
 peremptoriness; religious beliefs and observances are not 
 insisted upon ; modes of cultivating the land and carrying on 
 manufactures are no longer fixed by law ; and the exchange 
 of commodities, both within the community and with other 
 communities, becomes gradually unshackled. That is to 
 say, as industrialism has progressed, the State has re- 
 treated from the greater part of those regulative actions it 
 once undertook. This change has gone along with an in- 
 creasing opposition of citizens to these various kinds of con- 
 trol, and a decreasing tendency on the part of the State to 
 
660 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 exercise them. Unless we assume that the end has now been 
 reached, the implication is that with future progress of in- 
 dustrialism, these correlative changes will continue. Citizens 
 will carry still further their resistance to State-dictation ; 
 while the tendency to State-dictation will diminish. Though 
 recently, along with re-invigoration of militancy, there have 
 gone extensions of governmental interference, yet this is in- 
 terpretable as a temporary wave of reaction. We may expect 
 that with the ending of the present retrograde movement and 
 resumption of unchecked industrial development, that in- 
 creasing restriction of State-functions which has unquestion- 
 ably gone on during the later stages of civilization, will be 
 resumed ; and, for anything that appears to the contrary, 
 will continue until there is reached the limit above indi- 
 cated. 
 
 Along with this progressing limitation of political functions, 
 has gone increasing adaptation of political agencies to the 
 protecting function, and better discharge of it. During 
 unqualified militancy, while the preservation of the society as 
 a whole against other societies was the dominant need, the 
 preservation of the individuals forming the society from 
 destruction or injury by one another, was little cared for ; and 
 in so far as it was cared for, was cared for mainly out of re- 
 gard for the strength of the whole society, and its efficiency v 
 for war. But those same changes which have cut off so 
 many political functions at that time exercised, have greatly 
 developed this essential and permanent political function. 
 There has been a growing efficiency of the organization for 
 guarding life and property ; due to an increasing demand on 
 the part of citizens that their safety shall be insured, and an 
 increasing readiness on the part of the State to respond. 
 Evidently our own time, with its extended arrangements 
 for administering justice, and its growing wish for codifi- 
 cation of the law, exhibits a progress in this direction ; which 
 will end only when the State undertakes to administer 
 civil justice to the citizen free of cost, as it now undertakes. 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 661 
 
 free of cost, to protect his person and punish criminal aggres- 
 sion on him. 
 
 And the accompanying conclusion is that there will be 
 simultaneously carried further that trait which already 
 characterizes the most industrially-organized societies — the 
 performance of increasingly-numerous and increasingly-im- 
 portant functions by other organizations than those which 
 form departments of the government. Already in our own 
 case private enterprise, working through incorporated bodies 
 of citizens, achieves ends undreamed of as so achievable in 
 primitive societies ; and in the future, other ends undreamed 
 of now as so achievable, will be achieved. 
 
 § 581. A corollary having important practical bearings 
 may be drawn. The several changes making up the trans- 
 formation above indicated, are normally connected in their 
 amounts ; and mischief must occur if the due proportions 
 among them are not maintained. There is a certain right 
 relation to one another, and a right relation to the natures of 
 citizens, which may not be disregarded with impunity. 
 
 The days when “ paper constitutions ” were believed in 
 have gone by — if not with all, still with instructed people. 
 The general truth that the characters of the units determine 
 the character of the aggregate, though not admitted overtly 
 and fully, is yet admitted to some extent — to the extent that 
 most politically-educated persons do not expect forthwith 
 completely to change the state of a society by this or that 
 kind of legislation. But when fully admitted, this truth 
 carries with it the conclusion that political institutions can- 
 not be effectually modified faster than the characters of 
 citizens are modified ; and that if greater modifications are by 
 any accident produced, the excess of change is sure to be 
 undone by some counter-change. When, as in France, people 
 undisciplined in freedom are suddenly made politically free, 
 they show by some plebiscite that they willingly deliver over 
 their power to an autocrat, or they work their parliamentary 
 
662 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 system in such way as to make a popular statesman into a 
 dictator. When, as in the United States, republican insti- 
 tutions, instead of being slowly evolved, are all at once 
 created, there grows up within them an agency of wire- 
 pulling politicians, exercising a real rule which overrides the 
 nominal rule of the people at large. When, as at home, an 
 extended franchise, very soon re-extended, vastly augments 
 the mass of those who, having before been controlled are 
 made controllers, they presently fall under the rule of an 
 organized body that chooses their candidates and arranges 
 for them a political programme, which they must either 
 accept or be powerless. So that in the absence of a duly- 
 adapted character, liberty given in one direction is lost in 
 another. 
 
 Allied to the normal relation between character and in- 
 stitutions, are the normal relations among institutions them- 
 selves ; and the evils which arise from disregard of the second 
 relations are allied to those which arise from disregard of the 
 first. Substantially there is produced the same general 
 effect. The slavery mitigated in one direction is intensified in 
 another. Coercion over the individual, relaxed here is tightened 
 there. For, as we have seen, that change which accompanies 
 development of the industrial type, and is involved by the 
 progress towards those purely equitable relations which the 
 regime of voluntary cooperation brings, implies that the 
 political structures simultaneously become popular in their 
 origin and restricted in their functions. But if they become 
 more popular in their origin without becoming more restricted 
 in their functions, the effect is to foster arrangements which 
 benefit the inferior at the expense of the superior ; and by so 
 doing work towards degradation. Swayed as individuals are 
 on the average by an egoism which dominates over their 
 altruism, it must happen that even when they become so far 
 equitable in their sentiments that they will not commit direct 
 injustices, they will remain liable to commit injustices of 
 indirect kinds. And since the majority must ever be formed 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 663 
 
 of the inferior, legislation, if unrestricted in its range, will 
 inevitably be moulded by them in such way as more or 
 less remotely to work out to their own advantage, and to the 
 disadvantage of the superior. The politics of trades’-unions 
 exemplify the tendency. Their usages have become such 
 that the more energetic and skilful workmen are not allowed 
 to profit to the full extent of their capacities ; because, if 
 they did so, they would discredit and disadvantage those of 
 lower capacities, who, forming the majority, establish and 
 enforce the usages. In multitudinous ways a like tendency 
 must act through a political organization, if, while all citizens 
 have equal powers, the organization can be used for other 
 purposes than administering justice. State-machineries 
 worked by taxes falling in more than due proportion on those 
 whose greater powers have brought them greater means, will 
 give to citizens of smaller powers more benefits than they 
 have earned. And this burdening of the better for the benefit 
 of the worse, must check the evolution of a higher and more 
 adapted nature : the ultimate result being that a community 
 by which this policy is pursued, will, other things equal, fail 
 in competition with a community which pursues the purely 
 equitable policy, and will eventually disappear in the race of 
 civilization. 
 
 In brief, the diffusion of political power unaccompanied by 
 the limitation of political functions, issues in communism. 
 Tor the direct defrauding of the many by the few, it sub- 
 stitutes the indirect defrauding of the few by the many : evil 
 proportionate to the inequity, being the result in the one case 
 as in the other. 
 
 § 582. But the conclusion of profoundest moment to which 
 all lines of argument converge, is that the possibility of a high 
 social state, political as well as general, fundamentally de- 
 pends on the cessation of war. After all that has been said 
 it is needless to emphasize afresh the truth that persistent 
 militancy, maintaining adapted institutions, must inevitably 
 
664 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 prevent, or else neutralize, changes in the direction of more 
 equitable institutions and laws ; while permanent peace will of 
 necessity be followed by social ameliorations of every kind. 
 
 From war has been gained all that it had to give. The 
 peopling of the Earth by the more powerful and intelligent 
 races, is a benefit in great measure achieved ; and what 
 remains to be done, calls for no other agency than the 
 quiet pressure of a spreading industrial civilization on a 
 barbarism which slowly dwindles. That integration of simple 
 groups into compound ones, and of these into doubly com- 
 pound ones, which war has effected, until at length great 
 nations have been produced, is a process already carried as 
 far as seems either practicable or desirable. Empires formed 
 of alien peoples habitually fall to pieces when the coercive 
 power which holds them together fails ; and even could they 
 be held together, would not form harmoniously-w~orking 
 wholes : peaceful federation is the only further consolidation 
 to be looked for. Such large advantage as war has yielded 
 by developing that political organization which, beginning 
 with the leadership of the best warrior has ended in complex 
 governments and systems of administration, has been fully 
 obtained ; and there only remains for the future to preserve 
 and re-mould its useful parts while getting rid of those no 
 longer required. So, too, that organization of labour initiated 
 by war — an organization which, setting out with the relation 
 of owner and slave and developing into that of master and 
 servant, has, by elaboration, given us industrial structures 
 having numerous grades of officials, from head-directors down 
 to foremen — has been developed quite as far as is requisite 
 for combined action ; and has to be hereafter modified, not 
 in the direction of greater military subordination, but rather in 
 the opposition direction. Again, the power of continuous 
 application, lacking in the savage and to be gained only under 
 that coercive discipline which the militant type of society 
 establishes, has been already in large measure acquired by 
 the civilized man; and such further degree of it as is needed. 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 
 
 665 
 
 will be produced under the stress of industrial competition in 
 free communities. Nor is it otherwise with great public 
 'works and developed industrial arts. Though, in the canal 
 cut by the Persians across the isthmus of Athos, and again 
 in a canal of two miles long made by the Fijians, we see 
 both that war is the first prompter to such undertakings and 
 that the despotic rule established by it is the needful agency 
 for carrying them out ; yet we also see that industrial evolu- 
 tion has now reached a stage at which commercial advantage 
 supplies a sufficient stimulus, and private trading corporations 
 a sufficient power, to execute works far larger and more 
 numerous. And though from early days when flint arrow- 
 heads were chipped and clubs carved, down to present days 
 when armour-plates a foot thick are rolled, the needs of 
 defence and offence have urged on invention and mechanical 
 skill ; yet in our own generation steam-hammers, hydraulic 
 rams, and multitudinous new appliances from locomotives to 
 telephones, prove that industrial needs alone have come to 
 furnish abundant pressure whereby, hereafter, the industrial 
 arts will be further advanced. Thus, that social evolution 
 which had to be achieved through the conflicts of societies 
 with one another, has already been achieved ; and no further 
 benefits are to be looked for. J 
 
 Only further evils are to be looked for from the conti- 
 nuance of militancy in civilized nations. The general lesson 
 taught by all the foregoing chapters is that, indispensable as 
 has been this process by which nations have been conso- 
 lidated, organized, and disciplined, and requisite as has been 
 the implied coercion to develop certain traits of individual 
 human nature, yet that, beyond the unimaginable amount of 
 suffering directly involved by the process, there has been an 
 unimaginable amount of suffering indirectly involved ; alike 
 by the forms of political institutions necessitated, and by the 
 accompanying type of individual nature fostered. And they 
 show by implication that for the diminution of this suffering, 
 not only of the direct kind but of the indirect kind, the one 
 
666 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 thing needful is the checking of international antagonisms 
 and the diminution of those armaments which are at once 
 cause and consequence of them. With the repression of 
 militant activities and decay of militant organizations, will 
 come amelioration of political institutions as of all other insti- 
 tutions. Without them, no such ameliorations are permanently 
 possible. Liberty overtly gained in name and form will be 
 unobtrusively taken aw T ay in fact. 
 
 It is not to be expected, however, that any very marked 
 effects are to be produced by the clearest demonstration 
 of this truth — even by a demonstration beyond all question. 
 A general congruity has to be maintained between the social 
 state at any time necessitated by circumstances, and the 
 accepted theories of conduct, political and individual. Such 
 acceptance as there may be of doctrines at variance with the 
 temporary needs, can never be more than nominal in degree, 
 or limited in range, or both. The acceptance which guides 
 conduct will always be of such theories, no matter how 
 logically indefensible, as are consistent with the average 
 modes of action, public and private. All that can be done 
 by diffusing a doctrine much in advance of the time, is to 
 facilitate the action of forces tending to cause advance. The 
 forces themselves can be but in small degrees increased; 
 but something may be done by preventing mis-direction of 
 them. Of the sentiment at any time enlisted on behalf of a 
 higher social state, there is always some (and at the present 
 time a great deal) which, having the broad vague form of 
 sympathy with the masses, spends itself in efforts for their 
 welfare by multiplication of political agencies of one or other 
 kind. Led by the prospect of immediate beneficial results, 
 those swayed by this sympathy are unconscious that they 
 are helping further to elaborate a social organization at 
 variance with that required for a higher form of social life, 
 and are, by so doing, increasing the obstacles to attainment 
 of that higher form. On a portion of such the foregoing 
 chapters may have some effect by leading them to con- 
 
POLITICAL RETROSPECT AND PROSPECT. 667 
 
 sider whether the arrangements they are advocating involve 
 increase of that public regulation characterizing the militant 
 type, or whether they tend to produce that greater indi- 
 viduality and more extended voluntary cooperation, charac- 
 terizing the industrial type. To deter here and there one 
 from doing mischief by imprudent zeal, is the chief proxi- 
 mate effect to be hoped for. 
 
 END OF VOL. IL 
 
REFERENCES. 
 
 To find tlie authority for any statement in the text, the reader is to 
 proceed as follows : — Observing the number of the section in which 
 the statement occurs, he will first look out, in the following pages, 
 the corresponding number, which is printed in conspicuous type. 
 Among the references succeeding this number, he will then look 
 for the name of the tribe, people, or nation concerning which the 
 statement is made (the names in the references standing in the 
 same order as that which they have in the text) ; and that it may 
 more readily catch the eye, each such name is printed in Italics. In 
 the parenthesis following the name, will be found the volume and page 
 of the work referred to, preceded by the first three or four letters of 
 the author’s name ; and where more than one of his works has been 
 used, the first three or four letters of the title of the one containing the 
 particular statement. The meanings of these abbreviations, employed 
 to save the space that would be occupied by frequent repetitions of 
 full titles, is shown at the end of the references ; where will be found 
 arranged in alphabetical order, these initial syllables of authors’ 
 names, &c., and opposite to them the full titles of the works 
 referred to. 
 
 § 343. Australians (Mit. ii, 68 ; i, 87 ; i, 84 ; Aug. i, 59) — Tasmanians 
 (Bon. pp. 3,37, 226) — Esquimaux (reference lost)— Comanches (Banc, i, 519) — 
 Araucanians (Smith, 195) — Bedouins (Bur. iii, 43) — Arabs (Lyon, 53) — Abys- 
 sinians (Duf. 172) — Balonda (Liv. “Mis. Tra.” 276) — Malagasy (Ell. “Hist, of 
 Mad.” i, 258) — Samoans (Tur. 289). § 344. Chinese (Wil. S. W. ii, 68) — 
 
 Tahitians (Ell. “Pol. Res.” i, 319 ; ii, 369) — Tongans (Mar. ii, 78,100) — Ancient 
 Mexicans (Dur. i, ch. 26) — Peru (Gar. bk. ii, ch. 12) — Japanese (Ale. i, 63) — 
 England (Whar. 469) — Sandwich Islanders ( Ell. “Hawaii,” 365-67) — Tahitians 
 (Ell. “Pol. Res.” ii, ch. 7) — Nicaraguans (Ovi. bk. xlii, ch. 2 & 3) — Hebrews 
 (Kue. i, 292-3). § 345. Tongans (Mar. i, 146, note) — Fijians (Wil. Rev. 
 
 J. — ) — Siamese (Loub. i, 353) — Chinese (Wil. S. W. i, 313) — * Japanese 
 ( Stein. 348). § 346. Mongol (Timk.i, 19 6) —Philippines (Jag. 161) — Chita - 
 
 gong Hill Tribes (Lew. 46) — Burmese (Fyt. ii, 69) — Samoans (Tur. 346) — 
 Esquimaux (Beech, i, 345) — New Zealanders (Cook, “Last Voy.” 49) — Snake 
 Indians (Lew. & Cl. 266) — Comanches (Mar. 29) — Fuegians (Snow, i, 263 ; 
 Loango (Bat. in “Pink. Voy.” xvi, 331) — Batoka (Liv. “Miss. Tra.” 551) — 
 Balonda (Liv. “ Miss. Tra.” 296) — Loango (Ast. iii, 238) — Fiji (Wil. Rev. J. 
 i, 37) — Australians (Mit. i, 247) — New Zealanders (Ang. ii, 32-75) — Central 
 
REFERENCES, 
 
 669 
 
 South Africa (Liv. “Miss. Tra.” 448 )— Shoshones (Banc, vi, 438 ) — Australians 
 (Ang. i, 59) — Vate (Ersk. 334) — Samoan (Tur. 194) — Africa (Liv. “ Miss. 
 Tra.” ii, 49) — Peruvians (Cie. ch. 44) — Egyptians (Wilk. plates) — Moslem 
 (Klunz. 106) — Tahitians (Wal. “ Hawk. Voy.” i, 447) — Kaffirs (Bar. i, 75) — 
 Tasmanians (West, ii, 7 ) — Arabs (Bak. “Nile Trib.” 125). § 347. Pata- 
 
 gonians (Falk. 121-2) — Madagascar (Ell. “ Hist. Mad.” ii, 258) — Samoans 
 (Tur. 348 ) — Fijians (Ersk. 254 ) — Ashantees (Dup. 43 ) — Yorubas (Lan. i, 125) 
 Madagascar (Drur. 218 ) — China (Staun. 345 ) — Samoa (Tur. 314 ) — Madagascar 
 (Ell. “ Visits,” 127 ) — Japanese (Stein. 69) — Chinese (Mil. 94) — Borne (Beck. 
 213) — Assyrians (Raw. i, 503-4) — Mexico (Her. iii, 202-3 ; Torq. bk. ix, ch. 20; 
 — Nicaragua (Squ. ii, 340 ) — Peru (Piz. 225 ; Xer. 48 ) — Chibchas (Pied. bk. i, 
 ch. 5 ) — Uganda (Speke 294 ) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 294) — Abyssinians (Duf. 71 ; 
 Bru. iv, 454, 417 ) — Japanese (Koem. 55-6) — Egypt (Eb. i, 352) — New Zealand 
 (Thom, i, 114) — China (Hue. “Trav. in Tar.” ii, 261 ; Gutz. ii, 311 ; Will. 
 
 5. W., i, 331-2 ; ii, 68-9)— Japanese (Dick. 283; Mit. ii, 43) — France (Vul. pas- 
 
 sim ; Cher. Diet. 536-7) — England (Nob. passim) — Peru (Acos. bk. v, ch. 6) 
 — Madagascar (Ell. “ Hist. Mad.” i, 356) — England (Nob. 96 & passim) — France 
 (Vul. passim). § 349. Vate (Tur. 393) — Shoshones (Banc, i, 438) — Mish- 
 mis (Coop. 190) — Santals (Sher. “ Jour. As. Soc. Bengal,” xx, 582) — Kooseas 
 (Lich. i, 288) — Ashanti (Beech. — ) — Ceris and Opatas (Banc, i, 581) — Chi- 
 cliimecs (Banc, i, 629). § 350. Hebrews (Judges, vii, 25; 1 Samuel xvii, 
 
 54) — Chichimecs (Banc, i, 629) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 408) — Mundrucus (Hen. 
 475) — New Zealanders (Thom, i, 130) — Congo (Tuck. 101) — Ashantee (Dup. 
 227) — Persia (Mor. “ Sec. Jour.” 186) — Timour (Gib. 1131)— Dahomey (Bur. i, 
 218 ; Dal. 76) — Northern Celebes (reference lost) — Dyaks (Boyle, 170) Kukis 
 (Fisher, Jour. As. Soc. Ben. ix, 836) — Borneo (St. John “ Far East,” ii, 28). 
 § 351. Ashantee (Ram. & Kiih. 130)— Tahitians (Cook, “ Hawk. Voy.” ii, 161) 
 — Vate (Tur. 393) — Boigu (Geog. Soc. 1876, letter from Mr. Stone of Sept. 7, 
 1875) — Tupis (South, i, 222) — Caribs (Edw. i, 45) — Moxos (Hutch. “ The Pa- 
 rana,” 34) — Central Americans (Fan. 314-5) — Poland (Gib. 1116) — Constantine 
 (Gib. 811) — Montenegro (The Times, Dec. 14, 1876). § 352. Mexicans 
 
 (Cam. iii, 134 ; Sah. bk. ix, c. 15) — Yucatan (Her. iv. 174) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 
 408) — Shoshones (Lew. & Cl. 309) — Nagas (Grange, Jour. As. Soc. Ben. ix, 
 959) — Mandans (Cat. i, 136) — Cochimis (Banc, i, 567). § 353. Mexicans 
 
 (Banc, i, 581) — Californians (Banc, i, 380) — Khonds (Macph. 57) — Egyptians 
 (Dun. i, 131) — Abyssinians (Bruce vi, 116-17 ; d’Heri. 188-9)— Hebrews (l Sam. 
 xviii, 25). § 354. Osages (Tylor “ Prim. Cult.” 2nd ed. i, 416) — Ojibways 
 
 (Hind ii, 123). § 355. Salic (Salic Law, lxiv, 9; Lehuerou, ii, 370 )—Jeivs, 
 
 2 Mac. xv, 30 ; 2 Sam. iv, 12). § 356. Gauls (Diod. v, 2) — Timour (Gib. 
 
 1130)— Khonds (Macph. 57) — Tahitians (Ell. “Pol. Res.”i, 488)— Greeks (Pot. 
 ii, 109-10)— Fijians (U.S. Ex. Ex. iii, 79) — Flemish (Cher. 358) — French (Leb. 
 vi, 127). §357. Scotland (Bur. i, 398) — Khonds (Macph. 46) — Athenians 
 
 (Grote iv, 222) — Fiji (Wil. i, 31 ; Ersk. 454) — Panthay (Baber) — Fiji (Ersk. 
 454) — Shoshones (Banc, i, 433) — Chichimecs (Banc, i, 629) — Hebreivs (1 Sam. xi, 
 1-3) — Bulgarians (Gib. 975). § 358. Araucanians (Thomp. i, 406) — Bac- 
 
 trians (Dun. i, 174) — Hebrews (Judges i, 6-7)— Fiji (Wil. i, 30; i, 197-8; i, 177) 
 — Charruas (Hutch. 48 et seq.) — Mandans (Lew. & Cl. 86) — Tonga (Mar. ii, 
 210) — Australians (Mit.ii, 345) — Hottentot (Pink. Voy. xvi, 141 ) — Egypt (Wilk. 
 i, 307) — Japanese (Busk, 241) — Europe (Lex Gomb, xxvi, 4 ; Lex Wisig. viii. 
 
 6, 2) — England (“Leges Gul.” i, cap. 7). § 359. Central Americans (Her. 
 
 iv, 135) — Ashantees (Ram. & Kuh. 216) — Anc. Mexico (Clav. bk. vii, c. 17) — 
 Honduras (Her. iv, 140) — Miztecas (Her. iii, 262-3) — Zapotecas (Her. vii. 269) 
 Hebrews (Knobel ex. w. Lev. 214) — Burmese (Sang. 124) — Gond (For. 164) — 
 Astrachan (Bell i, 43 )— Hebreivs (2 Kings xix; Lay. ii, 288; Van-Len. ii, 688). 
 § 360. Sandwich Islands (Ell. “ Hawaii,” 146 ; Cook “ Sec. Voy.” ii, 69) — 
 Australians (Ang. ii, 217 ; Hay. i, 103) — Anc. Peruvians (Cieza, chs. 47, 49) 
 — Damaras (Gal. 148) — Sierra Leone (Wint. i, 104). § 361. Britain (Cox 
 
 and Jones, 88)— Kalmucks(Psi\. i, 194) — Chinese (Wil. S.W. ii, 2 2 4)— Greeks and 
 
670 
 
 CEREMONIAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 Homans (Smith, “ Sm. Die. Ant .”s.v. “Coma”) — Nootkas (Banc. i, 19 5 )— Caribs 
 (Ed. i, 53) — Nicaragua (Her. iii, 298) — Central Americans (Cog. bk. iv. ch. 4) — 
 Ancient Mexicans (Zur. 110-111 ) — Chib chas (Pied, bk. i,ch. 2)— Itzaex(Fan.3\S) 
 — Ottomans (Pax. ii, 87) — Greeks (Beck. “ Charicles” 452-55) — Franks (Guer. 
 “Polyp.” i, 300 ; Agath. ii, 49 ; Greg, iii, 18) — Japanese ( Busk, 144) — Samoans 
 (Tur. “Polynesia,” 205) — New Caledonians (Jour. Ethn. Soc. iii, 56 )— Europe 
 (Due. 87) — Clovis and Alaric (Due. 88) — Dacotahs (Lew. & Cl. 54) — Caribs 
 (Ed. i, 53) — Hebrevjs (Lev. xxi, 5 ; Jer. xvi, 6) — Greeks and Romans (Smith, 
 “Sm. Die. of Ant.” s.v. “ Coma”) — Greeks (Pot. ii, 198-9 ; Jebb. 46 ; Beck. 
 “ Charicles,” 398; Smith, “ Sm.Dic. of Ant.” s.v . “ Coma ”) — Romans (reference 
 lost) — Hebrews (Jer. xli. 5) — Arabians (Krehl, 23) — Ancient Peru (Acosta, 
 bk. y, ch. 5) — Sandwich Islanders (Ell. “Hawaii,” 29) — Tahitians (Hawk’s.Voy. 
 
 i, 468) — France (Guizot “ Col.” i). § 362 . Spoleto (Gib. 987) — Phrygian 
 
 (Dun. i, 531) — Mexicans (Brin. 147) — Hottentots (Kol. i, 112) — Phoenicians 
 (Movers) — San Salvador (Pal. 87) — il/oses(Exod. iv, 24-26)— Antiochus (Macc. i, 
 48-60) — Mattathias (Macc. ii,45-6) — Hyrcanus (Jos. Ant.xiii, 9, 1) — Aristobulus 
 (Jos. Ant. xiii, 11, 3) — Tongans (Mar. ii, 79) — Berbers (Kohl. 45). § 363 . 
 
 Kaffirs (Gard. 264) — Jews (Jerem. xli, 5) — Samoans (Tur. 187) — Central 
 Americans (Mart. 338). § 364 . Huns (Jor. 49) — Turks (Pell. 29) — Lace- 
 
 dcemonians (Pot. ii, 204) — Hebrews (Levit. xix, 28) — Scandinavians (Heims- 
 kringla Saga, caps. 4-10) — Andamans (Trans. Eth. Soc. N.S. ii, 36) — Aheokuta 
 (Bur. i, 104) — Cuebas (Banc, i, 753) — Peruvians (Cieza, cap. 88) — Sandwich 
 Islanders (Cook “Sec. Voy.” ii, 152) — Parian Indians (Banc, i, 771) — Uaupes 
 (Wal. Wl)Sandwich Islanders (Ell. “Hawaii,” 146)— Eastern (Grim. iv, 241) 
 — Hebrews (Deut. xxxii, 5 ; Rev. vii, 2-3 ; xiv, 1, 9, 10) — Arabs (Thom. 66) — 
 Christians' ( Kal. ii, 429 30) — Mexico (Torq. bk. ix, ch. 31) — Angola (Bast. 76) 
 — Tongans (Mar. ii, 2G8) — Borneo (Boyle, 223) — Panuco (Witt ii, 288) — New 
 Zealanders (Ang. i, 315) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 23). § 365 . Bechuanas (Lich. 
 
 ii, 331) — Damaras (And. 224) — Congo (Tuck. 80) — Itsaex (Pan. 313) — Abipones 
 
 (Dob. ii, 35, — Arawaks (Schom. ii, 458). § 368 . Ancient Peruvians (Gar. 
 
 bk. ii, ch. 4). § 369 . Mexico (Torq. bk. xiv, ch. 9) — Chibchas (Sim. 251) — 
 
 Yucatan (Landa, § xx) — Tahitians (Forst. 370) — Fiji (Wil. i, 28) — Tahiti (Ell. 
 “Pol. Res.” i, 319) — Fiji (Ersk. 431) — Malagasy (Drur. 220). § 370 . Tim- 
 buctoo (Cail. ii, 53) — Kaffirs (Lich. i, 286) — Koosa (Lich. i, 271) — Vera Pas 
 (Torq. bk. xi, ch. 19) — Chibchas (Pied. bk. i, ch. 5) — Mexicans (Tern, i, 404-5) 
 — Peru (Guz. 91) — Hebrews (2 Chron. ix ; 1 Sam. x, 27) — Japan (Dick. 391 ; 
 Koem. 49) — China (Chin. Rep. iii, 110-11) — Burmah (Yule, 76) — Merovingians 
 (Gall, ii, 647) — England (Rob. 20). § 371 . Persia (Mai. ii, 478-9) — Tonga 
 
 (Mar. i, 231) — Mexicans (Dur. i, ch. 25) — Meztillan (Tern, ii, 289) — Montezuma 
 (Gal. i, 116 ; Tern, i, 404-5) — Merovingians and Carolingians (Waitz ii, 557; 
 iv, 91-5-8 ; Guer. “ St. Pere,” introd. ; Leber, vii, 418 ; Guer. “ St. Pere,” in- 
 trod.) — English (Stubbs, i, 278). § 372 . Chibchas (Pied. bk. ii, ch. 4) — 
 
 Sumatra (Mars. 211) — India (Drew, 15) — Anglo-Saxons (Broom, 26) — Normans 
 (Mozley, s. v. “ Orig. Writ.”)— Kir gliis (Mitch. 248) — France (Guizot, iii, 260; 
 Chtr. voce “ Epices”) — English (Rob. 1 ; Scob. ii, 148-394 ; Stubbs, i, 384) — 
 Russia (Cust. 53) — Spain (Rose, i, 79) — Bechuanas ( Bur. i, 544) — Dahomey (For. 
 i, 34)— East (VanLen.ii, 592). § 373 * Congo (Tuck. 115) —Tonquin (Tav.) 
 — New Caledonians (Tur. 88) — Veddah (Trans. Eth. S.L. N.S. ii, 301) — Dyaks 
 (Brooke, i, 73) — Greeks (Guhl, 283) — Zulu (Gard. 96) — Hebrews (Levit. i) — 
 Greeks (Pot. i, 239) — Hebrews (l Sam. xxi, 6) — England (Hook, 541). § 374 . 
 Ancient Mexico (Saha. bk. iii, ch. 1, § 3-4) — Kukis (Stewart, Jour. R.A.S. Ben. 
 xxiv, 630) — Battas (Mars. 386) — Bustars (His. 17) — Dahomey (Bur. ii, 151, et 
 seq . ; For. i, 174)— Ashantees (Beech. 188)— Tahitians (Ell. “Pol. Res.” ii, 271) 
 — Central America (Ovi. bk. xlii, ch. 2) — Greeks (Pot. i, 172, 247) — Early 
 Christians ( Hook, 540) — Mediceval (Guer. “N. Dame,” xiv). § 375 . China 
 (Staun. 351) — Kukis (But. 94) — Dahomey (For. ii, 243) — Germans (Tac. xiv.) 
 — French (Due. 20 ; Mons. i, ch. 59). § 376 . Australians (Cook “Hawk. 
 
 Voy.” iii, 634) — Osbyaks (Bell ii, 189) — Julijunda (Park, l GO) — North American 
 
REFERENCES. 
 
 671 
 
 Indians (Cat. i, 2*22, note) — Yucatanese (Landa, § xxiii) — Japanese (Mifc. i, 
 112 ; i, 142) — Himalayas (Mark. 108) — Bootan (Tur. 73, 233) — Rome (Cor. 
 120) — France (Meril, 115). § 379. Jolojfs (Mol. 31, 42) — Kaffirs (Shooter, 
 
 99) — Ancient Peruvians (Cieza, ch. 74 ; Xer. Reports, 68) — Mexico (Tem.- 
 Comp. ii, 332, &c.) — Asliantee (Beech. 94-6) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 296) — Mada- 
 gascar (Ell. “ Visits,' ” 127) — Siam (Bowr. ii, 108) — Mogul (Tav. “Hist.” 67) — 
 Jummoo (Drew, “ North. Bar.” 47) — Japan (Koem. 49, 66, 11) — France (de 
 Tocq. bk. ii, ch. xii). § 380. Spain (Rose i, 119) — Japan (Koem. 51 ; 
 46). § 381. Wahhabees (Pal. ii, 110) — Persia (Tav. “Travels,” bk. v, ch. 
 
 xvi, 235) — Africa (Grant, 48) — French (Rules of Civility (1685). § 383. 
 
 Shoshones (Lew. & Cl. 265) — BatoJca (Liv. “ Miss. Tra.” 551) — Tonga (For.st. 
 361)— Africa (Laird i, 192) — East Peru (Gar. bk. iii, ch. 2; Est. 94). § 384. 
 
 Chibcha (Sim. 264) — Borghoo (Lan. ii, 183)— Asia (Camp. 147; Bowr.ii, 270) — 
 Polynesia (Cook, 304)— Jews (2 Sam. ix, 6) — Bithynia (Mom. ii, 31 1) — Bootan 
 (Tur. 80) — Coast Negroes (Bos, 317) — Brass (Laird i, 97) — Congo (Tuck. 125) 
 — Niger (All. & T. i, 391) — Russia (Sel. iii, 279) — China (Will. S. W. ii, 68) 
 — Hebrews (1 Kings i, 23 ; Gen. xxxiii, 3; Gen. xvii, 17; Dan. ii, 46) — Mon- 
 gols (Pall, ii, 170) — Japanese (Koem. 50). § 385. Dahomey (Bur. i, 261) — 
 
 Mexicans (Dur. i, 207)— New Caledonians (Ersk. 356) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 261) 
 — Siam (Bowr. i, 128) — Cambodia (Bowr. ii, 31) — Zulu (Gard. 203) — Loango 
 (Ast. iii, 221) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 250; ii, 45) — Japan (Dick. 30) — China 
 (“Pink. Voy.” vii, 238) — Europe (Alie. 197-8) — Japanese (Chin. Rep. iii, 
 260) — China (Will. S. W. ii, 68 — Soosoos (Wint. i, 122)— Samoa (Tur. 332) — 
 Ancient Mexicans (Cam. ii, 200) — Chinese (Will, ii, 68) — Congoese (Bas. 143). 
 § 386. Loango (Ast. iii, 238, in “ Pink. Voy.” xvi) — Uganda (Speke, 331) — 
 Balonda (Liv. “Miss. Tra.” 276-96) — Karague (Grant, 140)— Fiji (Will, i, 35) 
 — Eboe (Laird i, 388) — Ancient Mexicans (Diaz, ch. 71) — Abyssinians (Har. 
 iii, 170)— Malagasy (Dru. 415-67) — Ancient Peru (Xer. 68) — Persia (Por. i, 
 464) — Tonga (Mar. i, 227)— Arabian (Pax. ii, 43) — Mexico (Clav. bk. vi, ch. 8) 
 — Peru (Acos. bk. v, ch. 4; Gar. bk. ii, ch. 8) — Greeks (Smith’s “ Sm. Die. of 
 Ant.” s.v. “ Saltatio.”)— Pepin (Gall, v, 433). § 387. Africa (Bur. i, 259- 
 
 60 ; All. & T. i, 345 ; Liv. “Miss. Tra.” 276, 296 ; All. & T. i, 391) — Jews 
 (Jos. “ Wars,” ii, 15) — Turkey (White ii, 239 ; i, 232) — Jews (1 Kings xx, 
 32 ; Josh, vii, 6). § 388. Uganda (Grant, 224) — Chinese (Doo. 86-7) — 
 
 Mongol (Hue i, 54) — Malagasy (Drur. 78) — Siamese (Loub. i, 179) — Unyan- 
 yembe (Grant, 52) — Sumatra (Mars. 281) — Greeks (reference lost) — Siamese 
 (Bowr. ii, 128) — China (Will. S. W. ii. 68). § 389. Fijians (Ersk. 297) — 
 
 Otaheitans (Cook, Hawk. Voy. ii, 84) — Soudan (Tylor, “Early Hist.” 50 — 
 Uganda (Speke, 374) — Abyssinia (Har. iii, 171) — Tahitians (Ell. “Pol. Res.” 
 ii, 352 ; Eorst. 361) — Gold Coast (Oruic. ii, 282 ; Bur. i, 337) — Spain (Ford 
 “ Gatherings,” 249) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 49) — Gold Coast (Cruic. ii, 282) — 
 Ancient America (And. 58; Tern, i, 113 — Burmah (Yule, 79) — Persia (Mor. 
 i, 241) — Ancient Mexico (Diaz, ch. 91) — Peru (And. 58 ) — Dahomey (Dal. 
 
 Intro, vii)— France (Com. ii, 3; St. Sim. xi, 378) — Hebrews (Isa. xxxii, 11) — 
 East (Pax. ii, 136) — Peru (Gar. bk. vi, ch. 21) — Damaras (And. 231) — Turks 
 (White ii, 96). § 390. Toorkee (Grant, 333) — Slave Coast (Bos. 317). § 391. 
 China (Gray i, 211) — Mosquitos (Banc, i, 741) — Arabs (Mai. 8 ; Nieb. ii. 247) 
 — Uganda (Grant, 228). § 392. Poles (Spen. “Germany,” i, 156-7) — Turkish 
 
 (White ii, 303) — Siam (Bowr. i, 127; Loub. vi, 178) — Russia (reference lost). 
 § 393. Tupis (Stade, 59 & 151) — Africa (Mol. 288) — Delhi (Wils. letter) — 
 Sandwich Is. (Ell. “Hawaii,” 357) — France (Sain. ch. 69) — Spain (Ford 
 “ Handbook,” § 17, 53). § 394. France (Cher. Diet, ii, 1131) — Hebrews 
 
 (2 Sam. xiv, 22 ; Isaiah xlviii, 20 ; 2 Kings xvi, 7) — Europe (Luc. 90) — India 
 (Wils. letter)— Samoan (Tur. 348). § 395. Siam (Bowr. i, 127) — Turkey 
 
 (White ii, 52) — Bulgarians (Times, 12 Dec. 1876) — French (Sully ii, 78) — 
 Delhi (Tav. “Hist.” 84-5) — France (Mon. iii, 152) — Chinese (Gray i, 211) — 
 India (Pax. ii , 74 ; Wils. letter) — Persians (Tav. bk. v, ch. iii, 205). § 396. 
 
 Snakes (Lew. & Cl. 266) — Araucanians (Smith, 195) — Arabs (Lyon, 53) — 
 
672 
 
 CEREMONIAL INSTITUTIONS, 
 
 Chinese (Halde ii, 185) — France (Mon. ii, 165-6). § 397. Abipones (Dob. 
 
 ii, 204) — Samoa (Ersk. “ West Pac.” 107) — Javans (Raf. i, 366 ) — Mexican 
 (Gal. i, 28) — Kaffirs (Shooter, 221) — Samoa (Ersk. “ West Pac.” 43) — Siam 
 (Bowr. i, 276) — China (Chin. Rep. iv, 157) — Siam (Bowr. i, 127-8) — Chinese 
 (Halde ii, 177) — Siamese (Loub. i, 168) — Japanese (Stein. 209) — Germany 
 (Ger. 124 ; May. i, 394) — France (Chal. ii, 31) — Samoa (Tur. “Poly.” 340). 
 § 398. Dacotahs (Bur. 144) — Veddahs (Bailey, Transactions Ethnological 
 Society, London, N. S., ii, 298) — China (Chin. Rep. iv, 157). § 400. 
 
 Tupis (South, i, 222) — Creeks (reference lost) — Nicaragua (Ovi. bk. xxix, 
 ch. 12) — Fiji ( Wil. i, 55) — Mexico (Dur. i, 102-3) — Fiji (Ersk. 443). § 401. 
 
 Twpis (South, i, 239) — Guatemala (Xim. 163) — Dahomey (Bur. ii, Ap. iv.) — 
 Usambara (Krapf, 395) — Zulu (Gard. 91 ; Shooter, 290) — Kaffir (Shooter, 98) — 
 Samoa (Ersk. 43) — Burmah ( Daily News , 24 Mar. 1879). § 402. Tartars 
 
 (Pink.Yoy.vii, 591) — Madagascar (Ellis “Hist.” i, 261 ) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 262) — 
 Ancient Mexicans (Mot. 31) — Kasias (Jour. A. S.B. xiii, 620). § 403. China 
 
 and Japan (Ale. ii, 343) — Dahomey (Bur. i, 273)— Asia (Tav. ‘‘Hist.” 24) — Zulus 
 (Gard. 91) — Japanese (Mit. i, 202) — Siam (Bowr. i, 275) — China (Hue. i, 268) 
 — Siam (Pink. Yoy. ix, 586) — Russia (Wahl, 35) — Dyaks (St. John ii, 103) — 
 Kasias (Jour, xiii, 620) — Becliuana (Thomp. i, 174). § 404. Teutonic (Mul. 
 
 ii. 280). § 405. King (Mul. ii, 284— Abyssinia ( Bruce iv, 4 5 2)— France (Cher. 
 
 66-7 ) — Merovingian ( Mich. i, 69). § 406. Samoa (Tur. “ Poly.” 281 ) — Siam 
 ( Turpin “Pink. Yoy.” ix, 584 ; Loub. i, 238) — Chinese (Will. S.W. ii, 71 ; and i, 
 521) — Rome (Mom. ii, 347-8) — Mecklenburgh (Spen. “Ger.” i, 44) — Spain (Ford 
 “ Handbook,” §xvii, 52). § 407. Dahomey (Bur. i, 52) — Burman (Yule, 194) 
 
 — China (Wil. S.W. i, 317) — Europe (Ger. 9i) — Russia (Sala, 252). § 408. 
 Kami (Grant. 92) — Uganda (Speke, 290) — Chichimecs (Church. Yoy.iv, 513 — 
 Yucatanese (Lan. § xxix). § 409. Japan (Busk, 21) — Madagascar (Ell. 
 “ Visits,” 178) — Uganda (Speke, 375) — Japan (Dick. 49) — Hebreivs (Ew. iii, 
 73) — Zeus (Pau. Grsec. Des. ix, c. 40, §6) — Franks (Waitz. ii, 130; Greg, vii, 
 33; Bullet in Leber xiii, 259-65) — Araucanians (Thom, i, 404) — Uganda (Speke, 
 429) — France (Quich. ref. lost). § 410. Peruvians (Gar. bk. vii, c. 6 ; Mark. 
 “ Reports,” 53) — Sandwich Is. (Ell. “ Hawaii,” 126) — Fijians (U. S. Ex. Ex. 
 
 iii, 79) — Chibchas (Sim. 269) — Mexicans (Clav. bk. vii, chs. 22 & 24). § 411. 
 
 Thlinlceets (Banc, i, 109) — China (Halde, i, 278). § 412. Africa (Speke, ref. 
 
 lost; Heug. 92) — Greeks (Guhl, 232) — Sandwich Is. (Cook “Hawk. Yoy.” ii, 
 192) — Tonga (Cook “ Hawk. Yoy.” i, 87 ) — Fundah (Laird i, 202) — Arabs (Pal. 
 153, new ed.) — Gaul (Quich. 25-31 ; 57-66) — Rome (Guhl, 485) — Madagascar 
 (Ell. “Hist.” i, 279 — Siam (Loub. i, 75) — Mongol (Bell “ Pink. Voy.” vii; 357) — 
 France (Legrand D’Aussy, Fab. ii, 231*2) — China (Staun. 244) — Japan (Koem. 
 43). § 413. Guatemala (Urrutia, Athenceum, 1856, p. 1537) — Chibchas 
 
 (Pied. bk. i, ch. 2) — Cimbri (Aikin, 17) — Ashantee (Dup. 71) — Malagasy (Ell. 
 “ Hist.” i, 283) — Dakotas (Lew & Cl. 44) — Kukis (Jour. As. Soc. Bengal, xxiv, 
 646) — Dyaks (Boyle, 95) — New Zealand (Thom, i, 164) — Mandans( Cat. i, 100) — 
 Nagas (Jour. As. Soc. Ben. viii, 464) — Hottentots (Kol. i, 198) — Snakes (Lew. 
 & Cl. 315) — Congo (Tuck. 362) — Chibchas (Acos. 219) — Mexicans (Clav. bk. 
 vii, ch. 22) — Ava (Syme in “Pink. Yoy.” ix, 495) — Chibchas (Sim. 253) — Peru 
 (Gar. bk. iv, ch. 11) — France (reference lost) — New Zealanders (Cook “ Hawk. 
 Voy.” iii, 457) — Astrachan (Bell, i, 43). § 414. Rome (Mom. ii, 316-17 ; 
 
 Guhl, 497-8) — France (reference lost). § 415. Tahitians (Ell. “Pol. Res.” 
 ii, 354) — Rome (Mom. i, 69) — Mexicans (Torq. bk. xiv, ch. 4 ) — Peru (Gar. bk. 
 
 i, ch. 213) — Rome (Guhl, 480) — Russia (Cust. 163; Wag. ii, 21) — Germany (Spen. 
 
 ii, 176). § 416. Lombock (Wal. i, 344) — Burma (Yule, 163) — Siam (Bowr. 
 
 125 ) — Dacotahs (School, iv, 69) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 106) — Mislimis (Jour. As. 
 Soc. Ben. v, 195) — Bambarans (Cail. i, 377) — Gold Coast (Bos. 112). § 417. 
 
 Guatemala (Juar. 194-5) — Tanna (Tur. “Poly.” 77) — Mexicans (Dur. i, 55; 
 Her. iii, 198) — Hottentot (Kol. i, 50-51) — Egyptians ( Wilk. v, 279-82). § 418. 
 
 Mexico (Clav. bk. vii, ch. 20) — Dahomey (Dal. 98; Bur. i, 217) — Japan (Stein. 
 53 ) — Burmah (Yule, 139; Sang. 127 ; Sj me i, 112 & 218-19). § 419. Chib - 
 
REFERENCES. 
 
 673 
 
 chas (Sim. 253) —Madagascar (Ell. “Hist.” i, 283) — Homans (Guhl, 513) — - 
 Japan (Koem. 70) — China (Will. S.W. i, 401) — Turkey (White, i, 43) — Siam 
 (Bowr. 117) — Congo (Bas. “Af. R.” 57) — Assyrians (Raw. i, 495) — India 
 (Bur. iii, 141) — Siam (Bowr. i, 425) — China (Gutz. ii, 278) — Java (Raf. i, 
 312) — Ancient America (Torq. bk. xi, ch. 18) — Dahomey (Waitz, ii, 87) — 
 Siamese (Bowr. i, 116) — Jololoffs (Bas. “ Af. R.” 57). § 420 . Tasma- 
 
 nians (Bon. 64) — Australia (Sturt ii, 54) — Khoncl (Macph. 56) — Tahiti (Ell. 
 “Poly.” i, 221) — Fijians (U. S. Ex. iii, 332) — Fiji (See. 179) — Chibchas 
 (Sim. 253) — San Salvador (Her. iv, 149) — Peru (Acos. bk. iv, ch. 22). 
 § 421 . Society Islands (Forst. 27l) — Fijian (Ersk. “ West Pac.” 430) — 
 'Sumatra (Mars. 47 ) — Tahiti (Ell. “Poly.” i, 173) — Karague (Speke 210 & 
 231) — Tahiti (Cham. s.v. “Ava”) — Guatemala (Xim. 157). § 424 . Fiji 
 
 (Will, i, 39) — Darfur (reference lost) — Burgundy (Quich. 298-9) — France 
 (Le Roi, see Ste. Beuve). § 425 . Hew Zealand (Ang. i, 319; Thom, i, 
 190). § 428 . Abyssinia (Bruce vi, 16) — Mexicans (Clay. bk. yi, ch. 20). 
 
 § 429 . Fiji (Ersk. “West Pac.” 462; Wil. i, 39; i, 37) — Uganda (Speke 
 298; Stan, i, 369 ; Speke 256 & 258) - Siamese (Bowr. i, 435) — Fiji (U. S. 
 Ex. Ex. iii, 326) — Loango (Ast. iii, 226) — Ashantee (Cruic. i, 109) — Siamese 
 (Loub. i, 186 & 172) — China (Nieulioffi in yii, “Pink. Voy.” 265; Hue 
 “Chin. Empire,” i, 212) — Japan (Dick. 45) — Russia (Cust. 93) — Siamese 
 (Loub. i, 172; Bowr. i, 435) — Burma (Syme, i, 282-3) — China (Will. S.W. 
 i, 509; Hue, Chin, ii, 289). § 431 . Russia (Cust. 160). § 432 . 
 
 China (Will. S.W. i, 509). § 437 . Santals (Hunt, i, 248) — Sowrahs 
 
 (Shortt, Pt. iii, 38) — Todas (Hark. 18; Metz, 13; Hark. 17) — Tipperahs 
 (Hunt. “ Stat.” yi, 53) — Marias [ Goads'] (Glas. No. xxxix, 41) — Khonds 
 (Macph. yii, 196) — Santals (Hunt, i, 215-6) — Lepchas (Camp. “ J. E. S. L.” 
 July, 1869) — Bodo Sf Dhimals (Hodg. xyiii, 745) — Carnatics (Hunt. “Die.” 
 9-10) — Chakmas (Hunt. “ Stat.” yi, 48) — Santals (Hunt, i, 215-6 ; Dalt. 217) 
 — Bodo Sf Dhimals (Hodg. xyiii, 745) — Lepchas (Hook, i, 175; Camp. “ J. E. 
 S. L.” July, 1869) — New Guinea (D’Alb. in “Trans. Col. Inst.” Dec. 17, 
 1878) — Fijians (Ersk. i. 272) — Dahomey (Burt, i, 195, note ; ibid, ii, 190, 
 note) — Mexicans (Tern. Comp, i, 212 ; Clay. bk. yi, ch. 18; Diaz. ch. 28; 
 Her. iii, 208-9 ; ibid, iv, 213) — Cent. Americans (Land. § xxiv; Gall, i, 104; 
 Her. iii, 223; Pres. bk. i, ch. 4; Her. iv, 174) — Veddahs (Bail, ii, 228; 
 Ten. ii, 444; Prid. 460). § 442 . Digger Indians (Kel. i, 252) — Chaco 
 
 Indians (Hutch. 280) — Bedouins (Pal. 15) — Unyoro (Bak. “ Eth. Trans.” 
 1867) — New Zealand (Hawk, iii, 470) — Beluchees (“ Jour. Eth. Soc.” i, 
 109) — Greeks (Cur. i, 115-6) — Carolingians (Dun. i, 101). § 443 . 
 
 'Egyptians (Wilk. i, 330-336) — Roman (Lact. cc. 7, 23, Salv. bk. v) —France 
 (Guiz. iii, 251-2; Clam, i, 355-438 ; ii, 160-230 ; i, pp. xxv-vi) — Gwalior 
 (“ The Statesman,” Aug. 1880, 218-19) — Byzantium (Gib. ch. Iii). 
 § 446 . Rome (Dur. iii, 126-7). § 448 . Bechuanas (Burch, ii, 532) — 
 
 Greeks (Horn. “Iliad,” bk. i )— Khonds (Macph. 43). § 449 . Semi - 
 
 notes and Snakes (School, v, 260) — Peruvians (Squ. Peru, 18, 19; Cie. 
 ch. xiii) — Abors (Dal. “ Jour. As. Soc. Bengal,” xiv, 426) — Damaras 
 (Gal. 232-3) — Rookies (Stew. “ Jour. As. Soc. Bengal,” xxiv, 633) — 
 Mishmees (Coop. 228) — Bachassins (Burch, ii, 512). § 450 . Bushmen 
 
 (Lich. ii, 194) — Rock Veddahs (Ten. ii, 440) — S. Americans (Humb. ii, 
 412) — Athenians (Gro. iii, 88) — Romans (Mom. i, 65) — Greeks (Gro. iii, 
 77) — Rome (Coul. 135-8; Mom. i, 67) — India (Maine, 106-7) — Greeks 
 (Gro. ii, 312-3). § 451 . Karens (Mason, “ J. A. S. B.” xxxvii, Pt. ii, 
 
 152) — Hottentots (Kol. i, 287) — New Cal. (Tur. 84) — Samoa (Tur. 290) — 
 Israelites (Dun. ii, 99) — Greece (Gro. iv, 431; ii, 359) — Fulbe (Bar. ii, 
 509) — Damaras (Gal. “ Jour. Roy. Geo. Soc.,” 1852, 159) — Peru (Onde. 
 Narratives, 152-3) — Greece (Gro. ii, 393). § 452 . Patagonians (Falk. 
 
 121 2) — Chinooks (Kane, 214) — Kalmucks , Spc. (Pallas, i, 188) — Abipones 
 
674 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 (Dob. ii, 105 ) — Balonda (Liv. 208 ) — Kukis (M’Cull. Selecs. xxvii, 58) — 
 American Indians { Mor. 341 ) — Britain (Bur. ii, 152-3; Mart, i, 343) — - 
 Mexicans (Zurita, 240 ) — Peru (Garc. bk. iy, ch. 8, and bk. v, ch. 9 ) — Japanese 
 (Dickson 305). § 454. Fuegians ([Cook] “ Hawkesworth’s Voyages, ” ii, 
 
 p. 58 ) — Coroados (Spix and Martius ii, 244). § 455. Podo and Dhimals 
 
 (Ilodg. 157 )—Lepchas (Camp. “ J. E. S. L.,” July, 1869). §456. 
 
 1 V.A. Indians (Kane, 214 ) — NootJcas (Banc, i, 195) — Vera Paz (Xim. 202-3) 
 — Honduras (Her. iv, 135 ) — Dyaks (St. J. i, 104). § 457. Few 
 
 Zealanders (Thom.i, 148 ) — Sandwich Islands (Ellis, 397 ) — Fiji (Ersk. W.Pac. 
 461) — Scot. (Maine, E. I., 133 ) — British (Pear. 1-12 ) — Fnglish (Stubbs ii, 
 493 ) — Scotland (Innes, Mid. Ages 141-2). § 458. Fgypt (Shar. I, 66 ; 
 
 Ken. II, 42 ) — Borne (Mom. i, 95 ) — Germans (Stubbs 30-31, note ) — Fnglish 
 (Kem. i, 69 ; Hall, M.A. ch. yiii ) — Egyptians (Wilk. [S.B. in new ed.] I, 
 150 ) — Roman (Coul., K. d. D. M., xcix, 246 ) — England (Hall, M. A. ch. ii, 
 pt. i; Bee. i, 34-6). § 459. Banish (Maine, E. 1.84-5) — Med. Fur . (Free, 
 
 H.C. i, 96-7). § 460. Fijians (See. 179 ; U. S. Ex. Ex. iii, 73) — Sand- 
 
 wich Islanders (Ellis, 7 ) — Tahitians (Ellis’s “Pol. Res.” ii, 16 ) — Africa 
 (Rea. 241). § 461. Sandwich Islanders (Ell. “ Haw.” 392). § 462. 
 
 China (Gutz. ii, 305 ) — France (Cher. “ Hist.” ii, 116-8; Warn, i, 549-50) 
 — Hottentots (Thomp. ii, 30 ) — Bechuanas (Burch, ii, 347 ) — ChinooJcs (Wai. 
 iii, 338 ) — Albania (Boue. iii, 254) — Maine, E. H. of I. 134 ) — France 
 (A. L. F. ii, 645). § 464. Australians (Sm. i, 103) — Chippewas , &c. 
 
 (School. C. P. 137, et seq .) — Cent. Amer. (Banc, i, 702 ) — Khonds (Macph. 
 32 and 27) — New. Zea. (Thom. 95 ) — Tahitians (Ell. P. R. ii, 363) — 
 Madag. (Ell. M. i, 378 ) — Phoenicians (Mov. ii, 540 — 1 ) — Greeks (Gro. ii, 
 92) — Pr. Ger. (Tac. Ger. xi in Free. “Eng. Const.” 17 ) — Iceland (Mall. 
 N. A. 291-5 ) — Swiss (Free. E. C. pp. 1-7 ) — Old Fng. (Free. E. C. 60). 
 § 466. Greenlanders (Crantz i, 164-5 ) — Australians (Sturt ii, 117, 276) — 
 Salish (Hale in U. S. Ex. Ex. vi, 207-8; Domenech’s Deserts, ii, 343-4) — 
 Bodo and Dhimals (Hodg. 157 ) — Australians (Grey ii, 240 ) — Snakes (L. 
 and C. 306) — Chinooks (L. and C. 443 ) — Dakotas (School, ii, 182) — Creeks 
 (School, i, 275 ) — Khirgiz (Wood, 338 ) — Ostyaks (“ Rev. Sib.” ii, 269 ) — Nag as 
 (But. 146) — For. Hottentots (Thomp. ii, 30 ) — Kaffirs (Lich. i, 286). 
 § 467. Tupis (Sou. i, 250 ) — Juangs (Dalt. 156) — Kor. Hottentots (Thomp. 
 ii, 30 ) — Kaffirs (Shoo. 102 ) — Damaras (“Jour. Eth. Soc.” iii, 2) — Arauca - 
 nians (Smi. 243 ) — Dyalcs (Broo. i, 129 ) — Malagasy (Ell. H. M. i, 146) — 
 Savages (Lubb. “ Orig. of Civil.,” 303) . § 468. Arafuras (Kolf. 161) — 
 
 Khirgiz (Mich. 248 ) — Sumatrans (Mars. 217) — Madag. (Ell. “ Hist. 
 Madag.” i, 377 ) — Fast Africans (Bur. C. A. ii, 360 ) — Javans (Raff, i, 274) 
 - — Sumatra (Mars. 217 ) — Ashantee (Beech. 90, et seq.). § 469. Congo 
 (Proy. Pink, xvi, 577) — Dahomans (Bur. i, 263). § 471. Nicobarians 
 
 (Bast, ii, 384 ) — Haidahs (Banc, i, 168 ) — Californians (Banc, i, 348) — 
 Navajos (Banc, i, 508 ) — Angamies (Stew. “ J. A. S. B.” xxiv, 650 ) — Loiver 
 Californians (Banc, i, 365 ) — Flatheads (Banc, i, 275 ) — Sound Indians (Banc. 
 
 i, 217) — Loiver Californians (Banc, i, 565) — Chippewayans (Frank. 159) — 
 
 Coroados (Spix, ii, 244) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 102) — Bedouins (“Rambles in 
 Syria,” p. 9) — African (Bur. “Ab.” i, 276). § 472. Khonds (Camp. 50) 
 
 — Cent. India (Fcrs. 9) — Bushmen (Burch, i, 458) — Fuegians (Fitz. ii, 178) 
 - — Rock Veddahs (Ten. ii, 440) — Dyalcs (St. J. i, 375) — Caribs (Edw. i, 48) 
 Bushmen (Lich. ii, 194) — Tasmanians (Lloyd, 56 ; [Dove] Tas. J. i, 253) — 
 Tapajos (Bates, 271) — Bedouins (Bur. iii, 44) — Greece (Gro. ii, 87)— 
 Scot. (Martin, 101) — Snake Indians (L. and C. 306) — Creeks (School, v, 279) 
 — Comanches (School, ii, 130) — Coroados (Spix, ii, 234) — Ostyaks (“ Rev. Sib.’* 
 
 ii, 269) — Tacullies (Banc, i, 123) — Tolewas (Banc, i, 348) — Spokanes (Wilkes’ 
 
 Xar. in U. S. Ex. Ex. iv, 475-6 ) — Navajos (Banc, i, 50S ) — Dors (Heuglin, 
 395 ) — Arabs (Burck. i, 300 ) — Sumatra (Mars. 211). § 473. Austra • 
 
REFERENCES. 
 
 675 
 
 lians (“Trans. Eth. Soc.,” New Ser. iii, 256) — Comanches (School, i, 231) — 
 Flatheads (Banc, i, 275) — Dyalcs (Low, 209; St. J. i, 223) — Caribs (Edw. 
 i, 48) — Abipones (Dob. ii, 103) — Egypt (Tay. 16) — Rome (Mom. i, 79) — 
 Germans (Sohm. i, 9) — French (Ranke, i, 75). § 474. ThlinJceets (Banc, 
 
 iii, 148) — Fuegians (Fitz. ii, 178) — Tasmanians (Bon. 175) — Haidahs (Banc, 
 iii, 150) — Dakotas (School, iv, 495) — Obbo (Baker, i, 317-9) — Mexicans 
 (Banc, iii, 295; Clay. bk. vii, ch. 7) — Chibchas (Pied. bk. ii, ch. 17) — Egypt 
 (Brug. i, 406) — Jews (“Supernatural Religion,” i, 117) — Amazulu (Call. 
 310, note 86). § 475. Egypt (Shar. ii, 2) — Coroados (Spix, ii, 244) — 
 
 Santals (Hunt, i, 216) — Khonds (Macph. 47). § 476. Raida hs (Banc, 
 
 i, 187) — Fiji (See. 232) — Tahitians (Ell. P. R. ii, 346; Hawk, ii, 121) — - 
 Madagascar (Ell. H. M. i, 342) — Reru (Grom. ch. 124; Garc. bk. iv, ch. 9) — 
 Egypt (Bru. 44 in Wilk. i, 160 -2) — Ceglon (Ten. i, 479; ii, 459) — New 
 Caledonia (Zur. 426) — Madagascar (Ell. i, 342) — Abyssinia (Bruce iv, 
 488) — Timmanees (Wint. i, 124) — Kaffir (Arb. 149) — Aragon (Hall, ii, 
 43-4). §477. Amazulu (Call. 208; 390)— KuJcis (Stew. “ J.A.S.B.” 
 
 xxiv, 625) — Tahitians (Ell. P.R. ii, 341) — Tonga (Mar. ii, 76) — Reru, 
 (Grarc. bk. i, ch. 23) — Egyptians (Wilk. i, 321-2; Brug. ii, 35-36) — 
 Siam (Turp. 591) — Aryans (Giro, i, 618) — Chibchas (P. Simon, 261-2). 
 §478. Chinooks (L. and C. 443; Wai. iii, 338) — Ratagonians (Falk. 
 121) — Borneo (Low, 183) — Sabines (Seel. 71) — Germans (Dunh. i, 17) — 
 Dyaks (Boy. 183) — Kalmucks (Pall, i, 188) — Araucanians (Thomp. i, 
 4 5) — Kaffirs (Lich. i, 286) — Greeks (Gtlad. iii, 11) — Karens (Mason, 
 “ J.A.S.B.” xxxvii, Pt. ii, 131) — Congo (Bast. Af. R. 58) — Yariba 
 (Lan. Clap, ii, 223) — Ibu (All. and T. i, 234) — Kukis (But. 91) — Greeks 
 (Glad. iii, 51) — Rome (Seel. 55-6) — Germany (Hall, ii, 67-68) — French 
 (Hall. ch. i) — Merovingians (Wai. [Geo.] 45-6, 102) — France (Meray 
 Trouv. 45-6; Boss. bk. iv, art. 1; St. Sim. iii, 69). § 479. Zulus (Mann 
 
 “ T.E.S.” New Series, v, 291) — Bheels (Mai. “ C.I.” i, 551) — Loango (Ast. 
 iii, 223; Proy. Pink, xvi, 557) — Wasoro (Bur. C.A, ii, 360) — Msamhara 
 (Krapf 384, note ) — Dahome (Bur. i, 226) — Malagasi (Ell. H.M. i, 341) — - 
 Sandwich Islands (Ell. Haw. 401) — Siam (Bowr. i, 423) — Burmah (Sang. 
 58)— China (Gutz. ii, 252) — Japan (Ad. i, 11). § 480. Tonga (Ersk. 
 
 126) — Gondar (Harr, iii, 10, 34) — Bhotan (Ren. 15-16) — Japan (Ad. i, 74, 
 17; Tits. 223. Ad. i, 11, 70) — Merovingian (Egin. 123-4). §483. 
 
 Arafuras (Kolf. 161) — Todas (Shortt “ T.E.S.L.,” N.S., vii, 241) — Bodo 
 and Dhimdls (“T.A.S.B.,” xviii, 708) — Papuans (Kolf. 6) — Lepchas (Camp. 
 “ J.E.S.L.” July 1869) — Nagas (Stew. “J.A.S.B.” xxiv, 608; Grange 
 “J.A.S.B.” ix, 950) — Comanches (School, ii, 130; Banc, i, 509) — Central 
 America (Squi. ii, 340-1) — Nagas (Stew. “ J.A.S.B.” xxiv, 607) — Africa 
 (Bur. “ Abeo.” i, 276). §485. Greece (Toz. 284-5; Her. 14; Gro. ii, 
 
 104) — Scotland (Ske. iii, 323-4) — Crete (Cur. ii, 182; ii, 178-9) — Corinth 
 (Gro. iii, 2) — Sparta (Gro. ii, 612) — Latins (Mom. i, 30; 80; 87; 84). 
 § 486. Venice (Sis. i, 300-313)— Netherlands (Gra. 10, 11, 20; Mot. i, 34) 
 — Switz. (Vieus. 39) — Grisons (May’s “ Democ.” i, 355) — San. Mar. (Bent, 
 in “ Fraser’s Mag.” for Dec. 1880). § 487. Ital. Repub. (Sis. [Lard.] 
 
 21; Sis. i, 374; Sis. [Lard.] 22; 83). §488. Sparta (Gro. ii, 467; 
 
 485) — Rome (Mom. ii, 326) — Ital. Repub. (Hall, i, 368; Sis. [Lard.] 280) — 
 Holland (May, ii, 17-18) — Berne (May’s “Democ.” i, 373) — Venice (Sis. 
 [Lard.] 121) — Greece (Gro. iv, 25; Cur. i, 250) — Romans (Macch. iii, 428-9) 
 — Ital. Repub. (Sis. [Lard.] 80) — Athens (Gro. iii, 182-3-4) — Rome (Mom. 
 i, 98; i, 53) — Italian Repub. (May’s “ Democ.” i, 281-2). § 490. 
 
 Samoa (Tur. 284) — Fulahs (L. and O. ii, 85) — Mandingo St. (Park i, 18). 
 § 491. Italian Rep. (Sis. [Lard.] 22) — Roles (Dunh. 278-9; 285) — Hun- 
 garians (Levy, 165) — Germans (Stubbs, i, 55) — Merov. (Rich. 119-20) — - 
 Appenzell (Lav. 65) — Uri (Free. 5) — Scandinavia (C. and W., i, 258 and 
 20 
 
676 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 101) — Tatars (Gib. ii, 16) — Sparta (Gro. iii, 7). § 492. Kaffirs (Licli. i, 
 
 286) — Bechuanas (Moff. 248) — Wanyamwezi (Bur. C. A. ii, 360) — Ashantee 
 (Beech. 90) — Mexico (Zur. 106; Clay. bk. yiii, ch. 13) — Vera Paz (Tor. bk. 
 xi, ch. 20) — Poland (Dunh. 278-9; 282) — Germans (Hall, ii, 92) — Madag. 
 (Ell. M. ii, 252) — Hebrews (I Samuel, ch. XV)— Tahitians (Ell. P.K. ii, 
 486) — Mexicans (Sah. bk. yiii, ch. 24) — Egypt (Wilk. i, 159) — France 
 (Both. F., 317-20 ; Gui.iii, 249). § 493. Denmark (C. and W. i, 262- 3) 
 
 — France (Bich. 119-20) — Madag. (Ell. H. M., i, 378) — England (Free. 60). 
 § 494. Egypt (Wilk. i, 160) — Persia (Mai. i, 549-50 ; ii, 303 ; Baw. iii, 
 223) — China (Will, i, 324) — France (Boss. Pol. bk. iy, art. 1; y, 4; Sey. 
 Pul. i, 8-9; St-Sim. iii, 69) — Pome (Mom. i, 71-2; ii, 361; iii, 361) — ■ 
 Poland (Dunh. 2S2). § 496. Scandinavia (O. and W., i, 158) — Hun - 
 
 gary (Patfc. i, 66 ; i, 253-4) — Pome (Dur. iii, 376-8). § 498. Greece 
 
 (Gro. iii, 126, 129) — Italy (Sis. [L.] 23-4; 291) — Spain (Dun. iv, 158) — 
 England (Hume, chap. xii). § 499. Spain (Hall. [4th Ed.] 251) — 
 France (Hall. [4th] 143 — Scotland (Burt, ii, 168). § 500. Scandinavia 
 
 (Mall. 291-5) — France (Guiz. i, 355; Mor. (2) 379-80) — England (Stubbs, 
 i, 397) — Holland (Mot. i, 32) — Anglo- Sax. (Stubbs, i, cont. of ch. vii) — 
 Spain (Dun. iv, 158) — England (Stubbs, i, 398). § 501. England 
 
 (Hume, appen. ii ; Stubbs, i, 117)— -France (Hall. [4th Ed.] 121) — Spain 
 (Hall. 4, 262 ; 263 ; 265) — France (Dar. [2] ii, 57-8 ; Clam, ii, 3-4 ; Dar. i, 
 7 8) — Scotland (Innes, “Leg. An.,” 116). § 502. France (Ord. ii, 201) 
 
 — Hungary (Levy, 165) — Scotland (Innes, “Leg. An.,” 119)— England 
 (Hume, chap. xvih). § 504. Egypt (Wilk. i, 324-5; v, 295-6) — Assyria 
 (Baw. iv, 175) — England (Kem. ii, 105-11) — Hebrews (Ew. iii, 266-7) — 
 Pome (Dur. iii, 175) — France (Gon. 322) — Eggarahs (All. and T. i, 327) — 
 Mizteca (Her. iii, 261). § 505. Carolingian (Stubbs, i, 344) — Normans 
 
 and Old English (Stubbs, i, 344) — Scot. (Innes, 120 — 1) — Pussia (Fowler, 
 i, 379) — France (Jer. ii. ch. 2, 158-9; Kit. iii, 210) — England (Turn, vi, 
 132). § 508. Tahiti (Ell. P. B. ii, 267) — England (Kem. ii, 142) — France 
 
 (Gui. iii, 233) — Mexico , fyc. (Zur. 66-7) — Chibchas (Acos. 188-90) — Med . 
 Europe (Maine, V. C. [3rd Ed.] 235-6). § 509. England (Free, i, 80; 
 
 Fis. 301; Hall. M.A. ch. viii). § 510. Feudal (Maine, E. 1.77) — France 
 (Mau. cvii, 585) — Persians (Baw. iy, 418; 427-8) — Pome (Dur. v, 83-4) — 
 France (Thie. T. C. i, 365-6; Cher. Hist, ii, 138-9) — England (Hall. C. H. 
 ch. xii). § 511. Bedouins (Burck. 5; Pal. “ Ency. Brit.” ii, 249) — Irish 
 (Maine, E. I. 105-7) — Albania (Boue, ii, 86; iii, 359) — England (You. 
 147). § 512. Mexico (Zur. 50 -62) — Pussia (Lav. 8, 1) — Teutons (Stubbs, 
 
 i, 49; Caesar, vi, 22; Kem. i, 56-7) — Bakwains (Liv. S.A. 14) — Japan (Ale. 
 
 ii, 241-2) — Franks (Kem. i, 238) — England (Thor, i, 274; 386; 450) — 
 
 Pussia (Kou. 228-9). § 513. England (Kem. i, 240-3; Stu. 68) — Peru 
 
 (Pres, i, 143) — Mexico (Clav. bk. vii, ch. 5 ; Gom. 438) — Egypt (Heer. ii, 
 139) — Greece (Her. § 5) — China (Will. M. K. i, 388) — India (Gho. in Cal. 
 Pev. for 1880) — Scandinavia (Aug. Thierry, quoted by Mazaroz, 85 ; Bren, 
 lxviii) — England (Bren, cxxix). § 516. Siam (Loub. 237-8) — Ashantee 
 (Beech. 129) — Fulahs (L. ar.d O. 86) — Pome (Mom. i, 99-100). § 517. 
 Suevi (Stubbs, i, 14). § 518. Guaranis (Waitz, iii, 422) — Nicaragua 
 
 (Squ. ii, 341) — Bedouins (Burck. i, 296-7) — Tahiti (Forst. 377) — Hebrews 
 (2 Sam. xxi, 17) — Carolingian (Waitz, iv, 522-3) — Japan (Adam, i, 15- 
 16) — Peru (Pres. Peru, bk. i, ch. 2). § 519. Hottentots (Kol. i, 815) — 
 
 Malagasy (Ell. H. M. ii, 253) — Chibchas (Sim. 269) — Pome (Coul. C. A. 148) 
 
 * — Germans (Stubbs, i, 30) — Old England (Kem. i, 69) — France (Kitchin, i, 
 399 ; Froiss. i, 168) — Sparta (Gro. ii, 614) — i2owe(Mom. i, 98-9). § 520. 
 
 France (Banke, i, 83). § 522. Chinooks (Waitz, iii, 338) — Arabs (Bur. 
 
 iii, 47) — Italy (Sis [L.] 90) — France (Maine, Fort. Pev. Nov., 1881, p. 614) 
 
 England (Bee, i, 153-4) — France (Gui. iii, 180). § 523. Hot ten- 
 
REFERENCES* 
 
 677 
 
 tots (Kol. i, 294-9 ) — Greece (Giro, ii, 99-100 ) — Rome (Mom. i, 159) — Ger • 
 mans ( Tac. Germ. xii ) — Danes (C. and W. i, 230 ) — Irish (Les. in “ Fort. Rev.” 
 March 1875). § 524 . Hebrews (Deut. xxi, 19 ) — Romans (Mom. i, 158) 
 
 — France (Join. ch. xii ) — Carolingian (Mor. C. C. E. [2] 379-80; Sohm, i, 
 § 16). § 525 . Zulus (Arb. 140 )—Fggarahs (All. and T. i, 326) — Ger- 
 
 mans (Tac. Germ. c. 7 ) — Scandinavia (Grim, i, 93-4). § 526 . Rent 
 
 (Her. iv, 337 ) — Germany (Dunh. i, 120 ) — France (Bay. i, 70-1 ) — Scotland 
 (Innes, “ L. A.” 221 ) — Fngland (Stubbs, i, 391; i, 600 ).— France (Hall, 
 126-7). § 527 . Bedouins (“ Ram. in Syria,” p. 9 ) — Mexicans (Dur. i, 
 
 216 ) — Athens (Cur. ii, 450 ) — France and Germany (Black, iii, 41 ) — France 
 (Due. 11-12; A. L., F., v. 346-7; Dar. (2) i, 273 ) — Fngland (Fis. 238; 
 Stubbs, ii, 268). § 528 . (Maine, “ E, 1.” 288-9). § 529 . Sand- 
 
 wich I, (Ell. 399 ) — Bechuanas (Burck. i, 544-5 )- — Karens (Mason, “ J. A. S. B.” 
 xxxvii, pt. ii, 131 ) — France (Koenigs. 185-6). § 530 . Scandinavia (Mall. 
 
 117 ) — Egypt (Rec. ii, 11; xii, 47-8 ) — Bern (Santa Cr. 107; Gar. bk. i, 
 ch. 23 ) — Tahitians (Ell. P. ii, 235 ) — Todas (Metz, 17 ) — Hebrews (2 Sam. v. 
 22-25 ) — India (Maine, “A. L.” 18 ) — Greece (Gro. ii, 111; Her. 48) — 
 France (Hinc. D. O. P. ii, 201). § 531 . Assyrians (Lay. ii, 473 -4) — 
 
 Greeks (Tie. 217-8; Coul. 221 )—Fgypt (Wilk. i, 164). § 532 . Zulus 
 
 (Arb. p. 16, note ) — Peru (Pres. bk. i, ch. 2 ) — Mexicans (Tern. Comp, i, 78) 
 — Japan (Pemb. Yoy. vi, 624-5 ) — France (Greg, vii, 21 ) — Peruvians (Garc. 
 bk. ii, ch. 12 ) — Japan (Ale. 63 ) — Rome (Mom. i, 159 ) — Salic (Gui. i, 
 463-4 ) — Scotland (Innes, 197 ) — Fngland (Stubbs, i, 183). § 533 . 
 
 Chippewayans (School, v, 177 ) — Shoshones (Banc, i, 435 ) — Haidahs (Bams, 
 i, 168 )— Sandwich I. (Ell. H. A00)— Greece (Gro. ii, 108, 110-11, 130)— 
 Rome (Maine, “ A. L.” 372; Mom. ii, 130 ) — Basutos (Arb. 37 ) — Abyssinia 
 (Par. ii, 204 ) — Sumatra (Mars. 249, 220 ) — Dakotas (School, ii, 185) — 
 2V". Americans (Kane, 115 ) — Dakotas (Mor. 331 ) — Araucanians (Thomp. i, 
 405). § 536 . Bushmen (Lich. ii, 194 ) — Chippeivayans (Banc, i, 118) — 
 
 Arawaks (J. R. G. S. ii, 231). § 537 . Ahts (Banc, i, 191 ) — Comanches 
 
 (School, i, 232 ) — Brazilians (Yon Martius in “ J. R. G. S.” ii, 195) — Chip- 
 pewayans (School, v, 177 ) — Bedouins (Burck. i, 228). § 538 . Recha - 
 
 bites, d^c. (Ew. iv, 79-80; Kue. i, 181-2 ) — Dakotas (School, ii, 185) — 
 Comanches (School, ii, 131 ) — Iroquois (Mor. 326 ) — Bechuanas (Burck. ii, 
 531 ) — Damaras (And. 114) —Kafirs (Shoot. 16 ) — Koosas (Lich. i, 271 ) — Few 
 Zealanders (Thom. 96 ) — Sumatrans (Mars. 244 ) — Mexicans (Sart. 6 7-8) — 
 Damaras (And. 147 ) — Todas (Marsh. 206)— Congo (Pink, xvi, 168 ) — Slavs 
 (Lav. 185 ) — Swiss (Lav. 82 ) — Hebrews (May, i, 362 ) — Rome (Mom. i, 160, 
 193) — Teutons (Stubbs i, 49-50). § 539 . Drentlie (Lav. 282) — Ar- 
 
 dennes (Lav. 301 ) — Lombardy (Lav. 214 ) — France (Lav. 212 ) — Abyssinia 
 (Bruce iv, 462 ) — Kongo (Art. iii, 258 ) — Mexico (Tern. Comp, i, 254) —Iceland 
 (Mall. 289 ) — Swiss (Lav. 83). § 540 . Slavs (Lav. 189 ; i, 194-5) — 
 
 Lombardy (Lav. 216). § 542 . Dakotas (School, iv, 69 ) — Abipones 
 
 (Dob. ii, 106 ) — Patagonians (Falk. 121-2 ) — Greece (Gro. ii, 84; 85) — 
 Germans (Tac. xv ) — Fngland (Dyer 3 ) — Guaranis (Wai. iii, 442 ) — Rome 
 (Mom. i, 275). § 543 . Loango (Proy. Pink, xvi, 577 ) — Tongans (Mars. 
 
 i, 231) — Cashmere (Drew 68-70) — Kaffirs (Shoot. 104) — Sandwich Islands 
 (Ell. H. 292) — Mexico (Zur. 251) — Yucatan (Landa § xx) — Guatemala, Sfc. 
 (Zur. 407 )— Madagascar (Ell. M. i, 316)— Fiji (See. 232 )— Tahiti (Ell. P.R. 
 
 ii, 361). § 544 . Fngland (Stubbs ii, 562-3). § 545 . Quanga and 
 
 Balonda (Liv. S. A. 296, 307 )—Bhils (Mai. i, 551-2) ; 185)— Mexico (Clav. 
 bk. vii, ch. 37) — Greece (Glad, iii, 62 ; Pot. i, 97) — Fngland (Ling, iii, 7). 
 § 557 . France (Dar. 537). § 558 . Americans (Hearne,151) — Dahomey 
 
 (Bur. i, 220-5; 226 ; Dalz. 175 ; Bur. i, 248 ; i, 52, note) — Peru (Gar. bk. 
 ii, chap, xv ; bk. vi, chap, viii ; Bias, v, 3) — Fgypt (Shar. i, 123 ; Brug. i, 
 51 ; Shar. i, 182) — Sparta (Gro. ii, 506; ii, 527) — Russia (Cust. ii, 2; Wal. 
 
678 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
 I, 419-21; I, 419; i, 305, 440; Oust, ii, 142; Bell, ii, 237). § 559 . 
 
 Rome (Dur. iii, 155-60; iii, 183-7,9; iii, 173-4; iii, 172-3; iii, 176) — 
 Italy (Sis. 8-9). § 560. Greeks (Gro. ii, 88) — Jajpan (Mit. i, 32) — France 
 
 (Corn, xxvii (1873) 72) — Montenegro (Boue ii, 86) — Dahomey (For. i, 20) — 
 Sparta (Thirl, i, 329) — Merovingian (Amp. ii, 305 ; Martin ii, 448) — 
 Dahomey (Bur. ii, 248) — Japan (M. and C., 34) — Egypt (Wilk. i, 189)— 
 Persia (Raw. iv, 202) — Araucanians (Thomp. i, 406) — Fiji (Ersk. 464) — • 
 Dahomey (Dalz. 69) — Egypt (Brug. i, 53). § 573 . Tenae (Dalt. 35)— 
 
 Todas (Shortt pt. i, 9) — Pueblos (Banc, i, 546) — Karens (Gov. Stat. p.64; 
 McM. 81) — Lepchas (Hook, i, 129-30; Camp. J.E. S. L. 1869, 150-1) — 
 Santdls (Hunt, i, 214; ditto Stat. xiv, 330) — Shervaroy (Shortt, pt. ii, 7) — 
 Todas (Shortt, pt. i, 7-9; Hark. 16-17) — Arafuras (Kolff 161-3) — England 
 (Hall., chap, viii) — France (L6v. ii, 47-8) — England (Free. Sk. 232; Bage. 
 Eng. Const.) — France (Taine’3 “ Ancien Regime”) — England (Mart. Intro. 
 21-2-3; Buck, i, 445-50; Pike, ii, 574). § 574 . Dodo and D. (Hodg. 
 
 J. A.S.B., xviii, 745) — Lepchas (Camp. J.E.S., July 1869) — Santa l (Hunt, i, 
 209 ; Sher. J.A.S.B xx, 554) — JaJcuns (Favre in J.I.A. ii) — Podo and D. 
 (Hodg. J.A.S.B. xviii, 745) — Neilgherry H. (Ouch. 69) — Lepchas (Camp. 
 J.E.S. (1869) 150-1) — Arafuras (Kolf. 161-3) — Lepchas (Camp. J.E.S. 
 July 1869; Hook, i, 175-6) — Santdls (Hunt, i, 217) — Hos (Dalt. 206) — 
 Todas (Shortt, pt, i, 1) — Shervaroy H. (Shortt, ii, 78) — JaJcuns (Favre 
 J.I.A. ii) — Malacca (Jukes, 219-20)— Podo and D. (Hodg. J.A.S.B. xviii, 
 745) — Santdl (Hunt, i, 209-10) — Lepchas (Hook, i, 175-6; 129-30) — ■ 
 Arafuras (Kolf. 163-4) — Lepchas (Hook, i, 134) — Santdls (Hunt. 208) — 
 Podo and Dhimals (Hodg. J.A.S.B. xviii, 707) — Santdl (Hunt, i, 217) — ■ 
 Podo and Dhimals (Hodg. i, 150) — Todas (T.E.S. vii, 254). Note to Chap. 
 XVIII. Poda and Dhimals (Hodg. “ Kocch,” 162) — Lepchas (Hook, i, 135) 
 — Santdl (Hunt, i, 215-6 ; i, 181) — Lepchas (Camp. J.E.S. July 1869)— 
 Arafuras (Kolf. 159-60). 
 
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 „ n The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia . London, 
 
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 v 
 
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6S0 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
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 „ ,, „ La Russie en 1839. 
 
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 „ „ History of Roland „ „ 
 
 „ „ History of Spain ,, „ 
 
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 Prid. — Pridliam (Chas.) Historical, Political, and Statistical Account of 
 Ceylon. 2 vols. 8vo. 1849. 
 
 Pot. — Potter (J., d.d.) Archcelogica Grceca, or the Antiquities of Greece . 
 Edinburgh, 1827. 
 
 Pres. — Prescott (VY. H.) Conquest of Peru. London, 1847. 
 
 Proy (Pink). — Proyart in Pinkerton's Travels. 
 
 Raf. — Raffles (Sir T. S.) History of Java. 2 vols. 4to. 1817. 
 
 Ram. — Rambles in Syria. 
 
 Ranke. — Ranke, The Civil Wars and Monarchy in France. Trans. 2 vols* 
 London, 1852. 
 
 Raw. — Rawlmson (G-.) Five Ancient Monarchies. 4 vols. 1862-7. 
 
 Rea. — Reade (W. Winwood) Savage Africa. 8vo. 1S63. 
 
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 Egyptian Monuments. London. 
 
 Ree. — Reeves (J.) History of the English Law. 
 
 Ren. — Rennie (Dr. D. F.) Rhotan and the Story of the Dooar War. 
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 Rev. Sib. — Revelations of Siberia. London, 1853. 
 
 Rich. — Richter (Gr.) Annalen der deutsche Geschichte im Mittelalter. Halle, 
 1873. 
 
 Roth. — Roth (P.) Feudalitat und Tint erthanenverb and. Weimar, 1863. 
 
 Saha. — Sahagun (Fr. Bernardino de) Historia General de las Cosas de Nueva 
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 Sang. — Sangermano (Father) Description of the Rurmese Empire. Roy. 4to. 
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REFERENCES. 
 
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 Santa C. — Santa Cruz in Narratives of the Rites and Laws of the Yncas . 
 
 Translated by Cl. R. Markham. London, 1873 (Hakluyt Society). 
 
 Sart. — Sartorius (C.) Mexico. Edited by Dr. Gaspey. London, 1858. 
 School. — Schoolcraft (H. R.) Expedition to the Sources of the Mississippi 
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 „ „ „ Travels in the Central Portions of the Missis • 
 
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 See. — Seeman (B.) Vita; an Account of a Mission to the Vitian or Fijian 
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 Seel. — Seeley (J. R.) Lectures and Essays. 8vo. London, 1870. 
 
 Sex. — Sevigne (Madam de) Her Correspondents and Contemporaries . By the 
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 Sim. — Simon (P.). Tercera ( y Cuartd) Noticia de la Segunda Parte de las 
 Noticias His toriales de las Conquistas de Tierra Firme en el Nuevo Reyno 
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 „ „ „ Ceylon ; an Account of the Island , 8pc. 
 
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686 
 
 POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS, 
 
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 1841. 
 
 Xim. — Ximenes (F.) Las Historias del Origin de los Indios de Guatemala „ 
 
 You. — Young (Ernest) Anglo-Saxon Family Law. 
 
 Zur. — Zurita (A.) Rapport sur les Chefs de la Nouvelle Espagne. Ternaux* 
 Compans. Paris, I84G. 
 
u The American Constitution is the most Wonderful work ever struck off 
 at a given time by the brain and purpose of man T— W 4 E, Gladstone* 
 
 HISTORY 
 
 Formation 
 
 OF THE 
 
 of the Constitution 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 By GEORGE BANCROFT. 
 
 Uniform withy and a continuation of the author's u History of the United 
 States T 
 
 2 Vols., 8vo* Cloth, $2.50 per voL 
 
 These volumes, while published separately, really form the eleventh and 
 twelfth volumes of the ” History of the United States,” being directly connected 
 with volume ten, last published. 
 
 “ This long-expected continuation of the magnum opus of Mr. Bancroft has 
 come at last, and, alike in perfection of style and fullness of contents, it abun« 
 dantly justifies the more than Horatian delay brought by the venerable author to 
 its preparation. In the grave and judicial summing up of its judgments on the 
 great men and the great events here passed in review, it does not suffer at all by 
 comparison with the immortal work of Thucydides, and it differs from the poigu- 
 ant brevity of Tacitus only because Mr. Bancroft is broader and more liberal in 
 his philosophy .”— New York Herald. 
 
 ” Mr. George Bancroft, in his eighty -second year— an age which few men reach, 
 and at which few of those who do reach it retain the disposition or the capacity 
 for protracted literary labor— sends out to the world a work which, in its clear- 
 ness and strength of diction, its breadth of scope, its wealth of fresh material, 
 and its philosophic grasp of events and their causes, would have reflected honor 
 upon his prime. His ‘ History of the Formation of the Constitution of the United 
 States of America’ may be viewed either as a continuation of his previous ‘His- 
 tory of the United States,’ or as an independent work ; and, Viewed in either 
 aspect, it is a contribution to our literature of singular value and importance.’-— 
 Boston Journal. 
 
 “ It is nearly a half-century since George Bancroft published the first volume 
 of the work by which his reputation has chiefly been made, and on which alone 
 it will rest in after-time. He now gives to the world two additional volumes of 
 his colossal undertaking, for, although possessing another title, they, in truth, 
 are but a part of the work begun so long ago. As now known, his ‘History of 
 the United States ’ ends with the peace. These volumes, therefore, take up the 
 narrative where volume ten (the last one published) leaves it off, and thus become 
 as much a continuation of the story as if they followed as volumes eleven and 
 twelve of the ‘ History of the United States.’ "—New York Times. 
 
 “ In the historical literature of the world, Bancroft’s History is a recognized 
 authority concerning the period which it covers. It is not merely a narrative, 
 but a philosophical treatise, dealing with causes and principles as well as events, 
 and tracing with remarkable skill the progress of enlightenment and liberal 
 ideas. The same plan that was followed in the first ten has been faithfully pur- 
 sued in these last two volumes, to which the student may turn with pride and 
 find stored up for his use the facts he seeks.”— Chicago Tribune. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON k CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street 
 
THE HISTORY OF EHGLAID 
 
 IN THE 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 By W. E. H. LECKY, 
 
 Author of “ History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism in 
 Europe,” etc. 
 
 Volumes III and IV, extending from the accession of George III to 1784. tlie 
 opening year of Pitt's first ministry, and covering the period of the American 
 Revolution. Published by arrangement with the author. 
 
 Large 12mo. Uniform with Vols. I and If of which new editions are 
 now ready. 
 
 The 4 vols*, cloth, $2*25 each* 
 
 44 This section of the work covers the first twenty-two years of the reign of 
 George III, a period which,, in its bearing on constitutional, political, and social 
 problems, was the most pregnant in the modern history of Great Britain, it 
 was during these momentous years that the relation of the Crown to a Ministry 
 representing the House of Commons was definitely fixed, that the necessity of 
 parliamentary reform and the expediency of abolishing Catholic disabilities were 
 distinctly recognized, and that the influence of the newspaper press acquired 
 Unprecedented weight among political agencies, and called for new guarantees 
 of freedom by changes in the law of libel. This was the period of Burke's most 
 potent and exemplary activity, of the Middlesex election in which Wilkes played 
 a part analogous to that taken by Bradlaugh in our own day, of the ministries of 
 Bute, Grenville, Rockingham, Chatham, Shelburne, and the younger Pitt. 
 
 “At home and abroad this quarter of a century was memorable for conquests 
 and revolutions. The affairs of the East India Company were administered by 
 Clive, and the vast accessions of territory in Bengal were supplemented by those 
 resulting from the war with Hyder Ali. In America the discontent of the thirteen 
 colonies had ripened into open revolt, and all the phases of the contest are ex- 
 hibited in these volumes, up to the last year of exhaustion and inaction which 
 preceded the final peace. Simultaneous with this movement on the other side of 
 the Atlantic was the growth of political discontent in Ireland, which culminated 
 in the demand for legislative independence. All of these topics are carefully 
 discussed by Mr. Lecky. and the spirit which he evinces is so candid and impartial 
 that his conclusions will be listened to with attention and respect, even where 
 they run counter to the reader’s individual opinions and predilections.”— New 
 York Sun. 
 
 “ The directness and lucidity of style, the copiousness of information, and the 
 manifest endeavor to be strictly accurate and impartial, which were strongly 
 marked characteristics of the earlier volumes, are dominant features also in these. 
 His work, so far as it has progressed, will be by common consent awarded its 
 place as the most important and impartial history of the period.” — Boston Journal. 
 
 44 The two new volumes of Lecky’s 4 History of England ’ will prove of special 
 interest to Americans, as they cover the period of the American Revolution, and 
 treat of statesmen, soldiers, authors, and philosophers, whose memories are 
 enshrined in the hearts of the American people. His history of this period will 
 present many points of interest when compared with that of the American his- 
 torian Bancroft, whose latest work, by a happy coincidence, is simultaneously 
 published with Mr. Lecky’s.”— Chicago Journal . 
 
 For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail , post-paid , on receipt of price . 
 
 New York; D. APPLETON & CO., 1 , 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
THE SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Part I.*- The Unknowable. 
 
 1 Religion and Science. 4. The Relativity of all Knowl 
 
 2. Ultimate Religious Ideas. 
 
 3. Ultimate Scientific Ideas. 
 
 edge. 
 
 The Reconciliation. 
 
 Part II.— The Knowable. 
 
 1. Philosophy defined. 
 
 2. The Data of Philosophy. 
 
 3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion, 
 
 and Force. 
 
 4 . The Indestructibility of Matter. 
 
 5. The Continuity of Motion. 
 
 6. The Persistence of Force. 
 
 7. The Persistence of Relations 
 
 among Forces. 
 
 8. The Transformation and Equiv- 
 
 alence of Forces. 
 
 9. The Direction of Motion. 
 
 10. The Rhythm of Motion. 
 
 11 . Recapitulation, Criticism, and 
 
 Recommencement. 
 
 12 . Evolution and Dissolution. 
 
 24. Summary 
 
 (con. 
 
 (con. 
 
 (con- 
 
 13. Simple and Compound Evolu- 
 
 tion. 
 
 14. The Law of Evolution. 
 
 15. The Law of Evolution 
 
 tinued). 
 
 16. The Law of Evolution 
 
 tinued). 
 
 17. The Law of Evolution 
 
 eluded). 
 
 1 8. The Interpretation of Evolution. 
 
 19. The Instability of the Homoge* 
 
 neous. 
 
 20. The Multiplication of Effects. 
 
 21. Segregation. 
 
 22. Equilibration. 
 
 23. Dissolution, 
 and Conclusion. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY, 
 
 2 vols. $4.00. 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Biology. 
 
 1. Organic Matter. 
 
 2. The Actions of Forces on Or- 
 
 ganic Matter. 
 
 8. The Reactions of Organic Mat- 
 ter on Forces. 
 
 7. The Scope of Biology. 
 
 4. Proximate Definition of Life. 
 
 5. The Correspondence between 
 
 Life and its Circumstances. 
 
 6. The Degree of Life varies as the 
 Degree of Correspondence. 
 
2 spencer’s SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY- 
 
 Part II. 
 
 1. Growth. 
 
 2. Development. 
 
 3. Function. 
 
 4. Waste and Repair. 
 
 6. Adaptation. 
 
 0 Individuality. 
 
 -The Inductions of Biology. 
 
 7. Genesis. 
 
 8. Heredity. 
 
 9. Variation. 
 
 10. Genesis, Heredity, and Varia- 
 
 tion. 
 
 11. Classification. 
 
 12. Distribution. 
 
 Part III.— The Evolution of Life. 
 
 1. Preliminary. 
 
 2. General Aspects of the Special- 
 
 Creation Hypothesis. 
 
 5. General Aspects of the Evolu- 
 
 tion Hypothesis. 
 
 4. The Arguments from Classifica- 
 tion. 
 
 6. The Arguments from Embryol- 
 
 ogy. 
 
 6. The Arguments from Morphol- 
 ogy. 
 
 7. The Arguments from Distribu- 
 
 tion. 
 
 8. How is Organic Evolution 
 
 caused ? 
 
 9. External Factors. 
 
 10. Internal Factors. 
 
 11. Direct Equilibration. 
 
 12. Indirect Equilibration. 
 
 13. The Cooperation of the Factors. 
 
 14. The Convergence of the Evi- 
 
 dences. 
 
 CONTEXTS OF VOL. II. 
 
 Part IV. — Morphological Development. 
 
 1. The Problems of Morphology. 
 
 2. The Morphological Composition 
 
 of Plants. 
 
 8. The Morphological Composition 
 of Plants (continued). 
 
 4. The Morphological Composition 
 of Animals. 
 
 6. The Morphological Composition 
 of Animals (continued). 
 
 6. Morphological Differentiation in 
 
 Plants. 
 
 7. The General Shapes of Plants. 
 
 8. The Shapes of Branches. 
 
 9. The Shapes of Leaves. 
 
 10. The Shapes of Flowers. 
 
 11. The Shapes of Vegetal Cells. 
 
 12. Changes of Shape otherwise 
 
 caused. 
 
 13. Morphological Differentiation in 
 
 Animals. 
 
 14. The General Shapes of Animals. 
 
 15. The Shapes of Vertebrate Skele- 
 
 tons. 
 
 16. The Shapes of Animal Cells. 
 
 17. Summary of Morphological De- 
 
 velopment. 
 
 Part V.— Physiological Development. 
 
 1. The Problems of Physiology. 
 
 2. Differentiations among the Out- 
 
 er and Inner Tissues of Plants. 
 
 3. Differentiations among the Out- 
 
 er Tissues of Plants. 
 
 4. Differentiations among the In- 
 
 ner Tissues of Plants. 
 
 5. Physiological Integration in 
 
 Plants. 
 
 6. Differentiations between the 
 
 Outer and Inner Tissues of 
 Animals. 
 
 7. Differentiations among the Out- 
 
 er Tissues of Animals. 
 
 8. Differentiations among the In- 
 
 ner Tissues of Animals. 
 
 9. Physiological Integration in In 
 
 imals. 
 
 10. Summary of Physiological Development. 
 
spencer’s synthetic philosophy. 
 
 3 
 
 Part VI. — Laws of Multiplication. 
 
 1. The Factors. 
 
 2. A priori Principle. 
 
 3. Obverse a priori Principle. 
 
 4. Difficulties of Inductive Verifi- 
 
 cation. 
 
 5. Antagonism between Growth 
 
 and Asexual Genesis. 
 
 6. Antagonism between Growth 
 
 and Sexual Genesis. 
 
 *J. Antagonism between Develop- 
 ment and Genesis, Asexual 
 and Sexual. 
 
 A Criticism on Professor Owen’s The- 
 ory of the Vertebrate Skeleton. 
 
 8. Antagonism between Expendi- 
 
 ture and Genesis. 
 
 9. Coincidence between High Nu- 
 
 trition and Genesis. 
 
 10. Specialties of these Rela- 
 
 tions. 
 
 11. Interpretation and Qualifica- 
 
 tion. 
 
 12. Multiplication of the Human 
 
 Race. 
 
 13. Human Evolution in the Fu- 
 ture. 
 
 On Circulation and the Formation 
 of Wood in Plants. 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY, 
 
 2 vols. $4.00. 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. /. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Psychology. 
 
 1. The Nervous System. 
 
 2. The Structure of the Nervous 
 
 System. 
 
 3. The Functions of the Nervous 
 
 System. 
 
 4. The Conditions essential to Ner- 
 
 vous Action. 
 
 5. Nervous Stimulation and Ner- 
 
 vous Discharge. 
 
 6. Aestho-Physiology. 
 
 Part II. — The Inductions of Psychology. 
 
 1. The Substance of Mind. 
 
 2. The Composition of Mind. 
 
 3. The Relativity of Feelings. 
 
 4. The Relativity of Relations be- 
 
 tween Feelings. 
 
 5. The Revivability of Feelings. 
 
 Part III. — General Synthesis. 
 
 6. The Revivability of Relations 
 
 between Feelings. 
 
 7. The Associability of Feelings. 
 
 8. The Associability of Relations 
 
 between Feelings. 
 
 9. Pleasures and Pains. 
 
 1. Life and Mind as Correspon- 
 
 dence. 
 
 2. The Correspondence as Direct 
 
 and Homogeneous. 
 
 3. The Correspondence as Direct 
 
 but Heterogeneous. 
 
 4. The Correspondence as extend- 
 
 ing in Space. 
 
 5. The Correspondence as extend- 
 
 ing in Time. 
 
 6. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 ing in Specialty. 
 
 7. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 ing in Generality. 
 
 8. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 ing in Complexity. 
 
 9. The Coordination of Correspon- 
 
 dences. 
 
 10. The Integration of Correspon- 
 dences. 
 
 11. The Correspondences in their Totality. 
 
i 
 
 spencer's synthetic philosophy. 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5 . 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5. 
 
 6 . 
 
 7. 
 
 8 . 
 9. 
 
 10 . 
 
 II. 
 
 12 . 
 
 Part IV. — Special Synthesis. 
 
 The Nature of Intelligence. 5. Instinct. 
 
 The Law of Intelligence. 6. Memory. 
 
 The Growth of Intelligence. 7. Reason. 
 
 Reflex Action. 8. The Feelings. 
 
 9. The Will. 
 
 Part V. — Physical Synthesis. 
 
 A Further Interpretation need- 
 ed. 
 
 The Genesis of Nerves. 
 
 The Genesis of Simple Nervous 
 Systems. 
 
 The Genesis of Compound Ner- 
 vous Systems. 
 
 The Genesis of Doubly Com- 
 pound Nervous Systems. 
 
 6. Functions as related to these 
 
 Structures. 
 
 7. Physical Laws as thus inter- 
 
 preted. 
 
 8. Evidence from Normal Varia- 
 
 tions. 
 
 9. Evidence from Abnormal Va- 
 
 riations. 
 
 10. Results. 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 On the Action of Anaesthetics and Narcotics. 
 
 CONTEXTS OF VOL. II. 
 
 Limitation of the Subject. 
 
 Compound Quantitative Reason- 
 ing. 
 
 Compound Quantitative Reason- 
 ing (continued). 
 
 Imperfect and Simple Quantita- 
 tive Reasoning. 
 
 Quantitative Reasoning in gen- 
 eral. 
 
 Perfect Qualitative Reasoning. 
 
 Imperfect Qualitative Reason- 
 ing. 
 
 Reasoning in general. 
 
 Classification, Naming, and Rec- 
 ognition. 
 
 The Perception of Special Ob- 
 jects. 
 
 The Perception of Body as pre- 
 senting Dynamical, Statico- 
 Dynamical, and Statical Attri- 
 butes. 
 
 The Perception of Body as pre- 25. 
 senting Statico-Dynamical and 26. 
 Statical Attributes. 27. 
 
 The Perception of Body as 
 presenting Statical Attri- 
 butes. 
 
 The Perception of Space. 
 
 The Perception of Time. 
 
 The Perception of Motion. 
 
 The Perception of Resist- 
 ance. 
 
 Perception in general. 
 
 The Relations of Similarity and 
 Dissimilarity. 
 
 The Relations of Cointension 
 and Non-Cointension. 
 
 The Relations of Coextension 
 and Non-Coextension. 
 
 The Relations of Coexistence 
 and Non-Coexistence. 
 
 The Relations of Connature and 
 Non-Connature. 
 
 The Relations of Likeness and 
 Unlikeness. 
 
 The Relation of Sequence. 
 
 Consciousness in general. 
 
 Results. 
 
 Part VI. — Special Analysis. 
 13. 
 
 14. 
 
 15. 
 
 16. 
 
 17. 
 
 18. 
 
 19. 
 
 20 . 
 21 . 
 22 . 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
spencer's synthetic philosophy. 
 
 5 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5. 
 
 6 . 
 
 7. 
 
 8 . 
 9 . 
 
 10 . 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4 
 
 1 . 
 
 2 . 
 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5. 
 
 6 . 
 
 7. 
 
 8 . 
 9. 
 
 10 . 
 
 11 . 
 
 12 . 
 
 13. 
 
 14. 
 
 Part VII.— General Analysis. 
 
 The Final Question. 
 
 The Assumption of Metaphysi- 
 cians. 
 
 The Words of Metaphysicians. 
 
 The Reasonings of Metaphysi- 
 cians. [ism. 
 
 Negative Justification of Real- 
 
 The Argument from Priority. 
 
 The Argument from Simplicity. 
 
 The Argument from Distinct- 
 
 A Criterion wanted. [ness. 
 
 Propositions qualitatively dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 11. The Universal Postulate. 
 
 12. The Test of Relative Validity. 
 
 13. Its Corollaries. 
 
 14. Positive Justification of Real- 
 
 ism. 
 
 15. The Dynamics of Consciousness. 
 
 16. Partial Differentiation of Sub- 
 
 ject and Object. 
 
 17. Completed Differentiation of 
 
 Subject and Object. 
 
 18. Developed Conception of the 
 
 Object. 
 
 19. Transfigured Realism. 
 
 6. Sociality and Sympathy. 
 
 6. Egoistic Sentiments. 
 
 7. Ego-Altruistic Sentiments. 
 
 8. Altruistic Sentiments. 
 
 Part VIII. — Corollaries. 
 
 Special Psychology. 
 
 Classification. 
 
 Development of Conceptions. 
 
 Language of the Emotions. 
 
 9. Aesthetic Sentiments. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. 
 
 Vol. I. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Sociology. 
 
 Super-Organic Evolution. 
 
 The Factors of Social Phenom- 
 ena. 
 
 Original External Factors. 
 
 Original Internal Factors. 
 
 The Primitive Man — Physical. 
 
 The Primitive Man — Emotional. 
 
 The Primitive Man — Intellec- 
 tual. 
 
 Primitive Ideas. 
 
 The Ideas of the Animate and 
 the Inanimate. 
 
 The Ideas of Sleep and Dreams. 
 
 The Ideas of Swoon, Apoplexy, 
 Catalepsy, Ecstasy, and other 
 Forms of Insensibility. 
 
 The Ideas of Death and Resur- 
 rection. 
 
 The Ideas of Souls, Ghosts, 
 Spirits, Demons. 
 
 The Ideas of Another Life. 
 
 15. The Ideas of Another World. 
 
 16. The Ideas of Supernatural 
 
 Agents. 
 
 17. Supernatural Agents as causing 
 
 Epilepsy and Convulsive Ac- 
 tions, Delirium and Insanity, 
 Disease and Death. 
 
 18. Inspiration, Divination, Exor- 
 
 cism, and Sorcery. 
 
 19. Sacred Places, Temples, and 
 
 Altars ; Sacrifice, Fasting, and 
 Propitiation; Praise, Prayer. 
 
 20. Ancestor- Worship in general. 
 
 21. Idol- Worship and Fetich- Wor- 
 
 ship. 
 
 22. Animal-Worship. 
 
 23. Plant-Worship. 
 
 24. Nature-Worship. 
 
 25. Deities. 
 
 26. The Primitive Theory of Things. 
 27\ The Scope of Sociology. 
 
6 
 
 spencer’s synthetic philosophy. 
 
 Part II. — The Inductions of Sociology. 
 
 1 . What is a Society ? 
 
 2. A Society is an Organism. 
 
 3. Social Growth. 
 
 4. Social Structures. 
 
 6. Social Functions. 
 
 6. Systems of Organs. 
 
 7. The Sustaining System. 
 
 8. The Distributing System. 
 
 9. The Regulating System. 
 
 10. Social Types and Constitutions 
 
 11. Social Metamorphoses. 
 
 12. Qualifications and Summary. 
 
 Part III.— The Domestic Relations. 
 
 1. The Maintenance of Species. 
 
 2. The Diverse Interests of the 
 
 Species, of the Parents, and 
 of the Offspring. 
 
 3. Primitive Relations of the Sexe3. 
 
 4. Exogamy and Endogamy. 
 
 5. Promiscuity. 
 
 6. Polyandry. 
 
 7. Polygyny. 
 
 ' 8. Monogamy. 
 
 9. The Family. 
 
 10. The Status of Women. 
 
 11. The Status of Children. 
 
 12. Domestic Retrospect and Pros- 
 
 pect. 
 
 Yol. II. 
 
 Part IV. — Ceremonial Institutions. $1.25. 
 
 1. Ceremony in general. 
 
 2. Trophies. 
 
 3. Mutilations. 
 
 4. Presents. 
 
 6. Visits. 
 
 6. Obeisances. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 7. Forms of Address. 
 
 8. Titles. 
 
 9. Badges and Costumes. 
 
 10. Further Class-Distinctions. 
 
 11. Fashion. 
 
 12. Ceremonial Retrospect and 
 Prospect. 
 
 Yol. II. 
 
 Part Y. — Political Institutions. $ 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. Preliminary. 
 
 2. Political Organization in gen- 
 
 eral. 
 
 3. Political Integration. 
 
 4. Political Differentiation. 
 
 5. Political Forms and Forces. 
 
 6. Political Heads — Chiefs, Kings, 
 
 etc. 
 
 7. Compound Political Heads. 
 
 8. Consultative Bodies. 
 
 9. Representative Bodies. 
 
 10. Ministries. 
 
 11. Local Governing Agencies. 
 
 12. Military Systems. 
 
 13. Judicial and Executive Systems. 
 
 14. Laws. 
 
 15. Property. 
 
 16. Revenue. 
 
 17. The Militant Type of Society. 
 
 18. The Industrial Type of Society. 
 
 19. Political Retrospect and Pros- 
 
 pect. 
 
 Yol. III. 
 
 In Reparation. 
 
spencer’s synthetic philosophy. 
 
 7 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. 
 
 Yol. I. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Ethics. $1.25. 
 
 CONTENTS \ 
 
 1. Conduct in general. 
 
 2. The Evolution of Conduct. 
 
 3. Good and Bad Conduct. 
 
 4. Ways of judging Conduct. 
 
 6. The Physical View. 
 
 6. The Biological View. 
 
 7. The Psychological View. 
 
 8. The Sociological View. 
 
 9. Criticisms and Explanations. 
 
 10. The Relativity of Pains and 
 
 Pleasures. 
 
 11. Egoism versus Altruism. 
 
 12. Altruism versus Egoism. 
 
 13. Trial and Compromise. 
 
 14. Conciliation. 
 
 15. Absolute Ethics and Relative 
 
 Ethics. 
 
 16. The Scope of Ethics. 
 
 Vol. II. 
 
 In preparation . 
 
 This philosophical system differs from all its predecessors in being 
 solidly based on the sciences of observation and induction ; in repre- 
 senting the order and course of Nature ; in bringing Nature and man, 
 life, mind, and society, under one great law of action ; and in developing 
 a method of thought which may serve for practical guidance in dealing 
 with the affairs of life. 
 
 “ The only complete and systematic statement of the doctrine of 
 evolution with which I am acquainted is that contained in Mr. Herbert 
 Spencer’s ‘System of Philosophy,’ a work which should be carefully 
 studied by all who desire to know whither scientific thought is tending.” 
 — T. H. Huxley. 
 
 “ Mr. Spencer is one of the most vigorous as well as boldest thinkers 
 that English speculation has yet produced.” — John Stuart Mill. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 
 
THE MISCELLANEOUS WORKS 
 
 or 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 EDUCATION: 
 
 INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL. 
 
 1 vol. $1.25. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 \ What Knowledge is of most 2. Intellectual Education. 
 Worth ? 3. Moral Education. 
 
 4. Physical Education. 
 
 SOCIAL STATICS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO HUMAN HAPPINESS SPEC! 
 FIED, AND THE FIRST OF THEM DEVELOPED. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 The Doctrine of Expediency. Lemma I. 
 
 The Doctrine of the Moral Sense. Lemma II. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 1. Definition of Morality. 3. The Divine Idea, and the Con- 
 
 2. The Evanescence of Evil. ditions of its Realization. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 4. Derivation of a First Principle. 
 
 5. Secondary Derivation of a First 
 
 Principle. 
 
 6. First Principle. [ciple. 
 
 *7. Application of this First Prin- 
 
 8. The Rights of Life and Per- 
 
 sonal Liberty. 
 
 9. The Right to the Use of the 
 
 Earth. 
 
 10. The Right of Property. 
 
 11. The Right of Property in Ideas. 
 
 12. The Right of Property in Char- 
 
 acter. 
 
 13. The Right of Exchange. 
 
 14. The Right of Free Speech. 
 
 15. Further Rights. 
 
 16. The Rights of Women. 
 lY. The Rights of Children. 
 
spencer's miscellaneous works. 
 
 9 
 
 Part III. 
 
 18. Political Rights. 
 
 19. The Right to ignore the State. 
 
 20. The Constitution of the State. 
 
 21. The Duty of the State. 
 
 22. The Limit of State-Duty. 
 
 23. The Regulation of Commerce. 
 
 24. Religious Establishment. 
 
 25. Poor-Laws. 
 
 26. National Education. 
 
 27. Government Colonization. 
 
 28. Sanitary Supervision. [etc. 
 
 29. Currency, Postal Arrangements, 
 
 30. General Considerations. 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 31. Summary. 
 32. Conclusion. 
 
 THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY. 
 
 1 vol. $1.50. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. Our Need of it. 
 
 2. Is there a Social Science ? 
 
 3. Nature of the Social Science. 
 
 4. Difficulties of the Social Science. 
 
 5. Objective Difficulties. 
 
 6. Subjective Difficulties — Intel- 
 
 lectual. 
 
 7. Subjective Difficulties — Emo- 
 
 tional. 
 
 8. The Educational Bias. 
 
 9. The Bias of Patriotism. 
 
 10. The Class-Bias. 
 
 11. The Political Bias. 
 
 12. The Theological Bias. 
 
 13. Discipline. 
 
 14. Preparation in Biology. 
 
 15. Preparation in Psychology. 
 
 16. Conclusion. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF UNIVERSAL PROG- 
 RESS. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. Progress: its Law and Cause. 
 
 2. Manners and Fashion. 
 
 3. The Genesis of Science. 
 
 4. The Physiology of Laughter. 
 
 5. The Origin and Function of Mu- 
 
 6. The Nebular Hypothesis, [sic. 
 
 7. Bain on the Emotions and the 
 
 Will. 
 
 8. Illogical Geology. 
 
 9. Development Hypothesis. 
 
 10. The Social Organism. 
 
 11. Use and Beauty. 
 
 12. The Sources of Architectural 
 
 Types. 
 
 13. The Use of Anthropomor- 
 
 phism. 
 
 ESSAYS: 
 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND AESTHETIC. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 t. The Philosophy of Style. 3. The Morals of Trade. 
 
 2. Our Legislation. 4. Personal Beauty. 
 
10 
 
 spencer’s miscellaneous works. 
 
 6. Representative Government. 
 
 6. Prison Ethics. 
 
 7. Railway Morals and Railway 
 
 Policies. 
 
 8. Gracefulness. 
 
 9. State Tamperings with Money 
 and Banks. 
 
 10. Parliamentary Reforms : the 
 
 Dangers and the Safeguards. 
 
 11. Mill versus Hamilton — the Test 
 
 of Truth. 
 
 RECENT DISCUSSIONS 
 
 In Science, Philosophy, and Morals. 1 vol. 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 2 . 00 . 
 
 1. Morals and Moral Sentiments. 
 
 2. Origin of Animal- Worship. 
 
 8. The Classification of the Sci- 
 ences. 
 
 4. Postscript : Replying to Criti- 
 
 cisms. 
 
 5. Reasons for dissenting from 
 
 the Philosophy of Comte. 
 
 6. Of Laws in general and the Or- 
 
 der of their Discovery. 
 
 7. The Genesis of Science. 
 
 8. Specialized Administrations. 
 
 9. What is Electricity ? 
 
 10. The Constitution of the Sun. 
 
 11. The Collective Wisdom. 
 
 12. Political Fetichism. 
 
 13. Mr. Martineau on Evolution. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY: 
 
 A Cyclopaedia of Social Facts ; representing the Constitution of Every 
 Type and Grade of Human Society. Classified and arranged by 
 Herbert Spencer. Compiled and abstracted by David Duncan, M. A., 
 Professor of Logic, etc., in the Presidency College, Madras ; Richard 
 Scheppig, Ph. D. ; and James Collier. Royal folio. Parts I to VII, 
 $4.00 each ; No. VIII (Double Number), $7.00. 
 
 No. 1 . English. Compiled and abstracted by James Collier. 
 
 No. 2. Ancient Mexicans, Central Americans, Chibchas, and An- 
 cient Peruvians. Compiled and abstracted by Richard 
 Scheppig, Ph. D. 
 
 No. 3. Types of the Lowest Races. Negrito Races. Malayo- 
 Polynesian Races. Compiled and abstracted by Professor 
 David Duncan, M. A. 
 
 No. 4. African Races. Compiled and abstracted by Professor David 
 Duncan, M. A. 
 
 No. 5. Asiatic Races. Compiled and abstracted by Professor David 
 Duncan, M. A. 
 
 No. 6. North and South American Races. Compiled and abstracted 
 by Professor David Duncan, M. A. \ 
 
 No. 7. Hebrews and Phoenicians. Compiled and abstracted by Rich- 
 ard Scheppig, Ph. D. 
 
 No. 8. French. Compiled and abstracted by James Collier. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.