despotic.  There was indeed no legal limit; the very words could not be translated into the dialect of those times.  The notion of law as we have it—­of a rule imposed by human authority, capable of being altered by that authority, when it likes, and in fact, so altered habitually—­could not be conveyed to early nations, who regarded law half as an invincible prescription, and half as a Divine revelation.  Law “came out of the king’s mouth”; he gave it as Solomon gave judgment—­embedded in the particular case, and upon the authority of Heaven as well as his own.  A Divine limit to the Divine revealer was impossible, and there was no other source of law.  But though there was no legal limit, there was a practical limit to subjection in (what may be called) the pagan part of human nature—­the inseparable obstinacy of freemen.  They never would do exactly what they were told.

To early royalty, as Homer describes it in Greece and as we may well imagine it elsewhere, there were always two adjuncts:  one the “old men,” the men of weight, the council, the [word in Greek], of which the king asked advice, from the debates in which the king tried to learn what he could do and what he ought to do.  Besides this there was the [word in Greek], the purely listening assembly, as some have called it, but the tentative assembly, as I think it might best be called.  The king came down to his assembled people in form to announce his will, but in reality, speaking in very modern words, to “feel his way”.  He was sacred, no doubt; and popular, very likely; still he was half like a popular Premier speaking to a high-spirited chamber; there were limits to his authority and power—­limits which he would discover by trying whether eager cheers received his mandate, or only hollow murmurs and a thinking silence.

This polity is a good one for its era and its place, but there is a fatal defect in it.  The reverential associations upon which the government is built are transmitted according to one law, and the capacity needful to work the government is transmitted according to another law.  The popular homage clings to the line of god-descended kings; it is transmitted by inheritance.  But very soon that line comes to a child or an idiot, or one by some defect or other incapable.  Then we find everywhere the truth of the old saying, that liberty thrives under weak princes; then the listening assembly begins not only to murmur, but to speak; then the grave council begins not so much to suggest as to inculcate, not so much to advise as to enjoin.

Mr. Grote has told at length how out of these appendages of the original kingdom the free States of Greece derived their origin, and how they gradually grew—­the oligarchical States expanding the council, and the democratical expanding the assembly.  The history has as many varieties in detail as there were Greek cities, but the essence is the same everywhere.  The political characteristic of the early Greeks, and of the early Romans, too, is that out of the tentacula of a monarchy they developed the organs of a republic.