from them by the want of sufficient property, political rights. The class which was raised was by law capable of acquiring them-democ- by its station above the need of daily labor, racy might be said to have begun. It was seemed to be pointed out by nature for the disadvancing, as the legal condition of their charge of all offices, and duties which required enjoyment was brought within the reach of a leisure and freedom of thought. It could only more numerous class; but it could not be con- be on extraordinary occasions that the poor sidered as complete, so long as any freeman man could be willing to leave his field, or his was debarred from them by poverty. Since, workshop, to take his place in the legislative however, the sovereignty included several attri- assembly or the court of justice; and the conbutes which might be separated, the character trol which his right, however rarely it might be of the constitution depended on the way in called into action, gave him over the public which these were distributed. It was con- officers, who were the men of his choice, was a sidered as partaking more of democracy than of sufficient safeguard against every ordinary oligarchy, when the most important of them danger to be apprehended from them. But the were shared by all freemen without distinction, principle of legal equality, which was the basis though a part was still appropriated to a num- of democracy, was gradually construed in a ber limited either by birth or fortune. Thus manner which inverted the wholesome order of where the legislative, or, as it was anciently nature, and led to a long train of pernicious termed, the deliberative branch of the sovereignty consequences. The administration of the comwas lodged in an assembly open to every free-monwealth came to be considered, not as a serman, and where no other qualification than free vice in which all were interested, but for which birth was required for judicial functions, and for some might be better qualified than others; but the election of magistrates, there the government as a property in which each was entitled to an was called democratical, though the highest equal share. The practical application of this offices of the state might be reserved to a view was the introduction of an expedient for privileged class. But a finished democracy, levelling as far as possible the inequality of that which fully satisfied the Greek notion, was nature, by enabling the poorest to devote his one in which every attribute of sovereignty time without loss, or even with profit, to public might be shared, without respect to rank or affairs. This was done by giving him wages property, by every freeman. for his attendance on all occasions of exercising his franchise; and as the sum which could be afforded for this purpose was necessarily small, it attracted precisely the persons whose attendance was least desirable. A farther application of the same principle was, as much as possible, to increase the number and abridge the duration and authority of public offices, and to transfer their power to the people in a mass. On the same ground chance was substituted for election in the creation of all magistrates whose duties did not actually demand either the security of a large fortune or peculiar ability and experience. In proportion as the popular assembly, or large portions detached from it for the exercise of judicial functions, drew all the branches of the sovereignty more and more into their sphere, the character of the proceedings became more and more subject to the influence of the lower class of the citizens, which constituted a permanent majority. And thus the democracy, instead of the equality which was its supposed basis, in fact established the ascendency of a faction, which, although greatly preponderant in numbers, no more represented the whole state than the oligarchy itself; and which, though not equally liable to fall into the mechanism of a vicious system, was more prone to yield to the impulse of the moment, more easily misled by blind or treacherous guides, and might thus as frequently, though not so deliberately and methodically, trample not only on law and custom, but on justice and humanity. This disease of a democracy was sometimes designated by the term ochlocracy, or the

"More than this was not implied in democracy; and little less than this was required, according to the views of the philosophers, to constitute the character of a citizen, which, in the opinion of Aristotle, could not exist without a voice in the legislative assembly, and such a share in the administration of justice as was necessary to secure the responsibility of the magistrates. But this equality of rights left room for a great diversity in the modes of exercising them, which determined the real nature of a democratic constitution. There were indeed certain rights, those which Aristotle considered as essential to a citizen, which, according to the received Greek notions, could in a democracy only be exercised in person. The thought of delegating them to accountable representatives scoms never to have occurred, either to practical or speculative statesmen, except in the formation of confederacies, which rendered such an expedient necessary. Where all the powers of the state were lodged in a certain number of citizens, though they were elected by the whole body of the people, the government was looked upon as an oligarchy; and in fact it seems that in all such cases, the functions so assigned were held for life, and without any responsibility. But still, even in the purest form of democracy, it was not necessary that all the citizens should take an equally active part in the transaction of public business; and the unavoidable inequality in the advantages of fortune and of personal qualities fixed a natural limit to the exercise of most

tion; receiving from every one unmeasured demonstrations of homage, which are never translated into act except within the bounds of a known law; surrounded with all the paraphernalia of power, yet acting as a passive instrument in the hands of ministers marked out for his choice by indications which he is not at liberty to resist. This remarkable combination of the fiction of superhuman grandeur and license with the reality of an invisible straight waistcoat, is what an Englishman has in his mind when he speaks of a constitutional king: the events of our history have brought it to pass in England, amidst an aristocracy the most powerful that the world has yet seen, but we have still to learn whether it can be made to exist elsewhere, or whether the occurrence of a single king at once able, aggressive, and resolute, may not suffice to break it up."—Vol. iii., pp. 15, seq.

That last sentence suggests some interesting speculations. There certainly are many supposable cases in which the real

ing first into indifference, next-after experience of the despots-into determined antipathy. To an historian like Mr. Mitford, full of English ideas respecting government, this anti-monarchical feeling appears of the nature of insanity, and the Grecian communities like madmen without a keeper; while the greatest of all benefactors is the hereditary king who conquers them from without; the second best is the home despot, who seizes the Acropolis and puts his fellow-citizens under coercion. There cannot be a more certain way of misinterpreting and distorting Grecian phenomena than to read them in this spirit, which reverses the maxims, both of prudence and morality, current in the ancient world. The hatred of kings as it stood among the Greeks (whatever may be thought about a similar feeling now) was a pre-eminent virtue, flowing directly from the noblest and wisest part of their nature: it was a consequence of their deep conviction of the necessity of universal legal restraint; it was a direct expression of that regulated sociality, which required the control of individual passion from every one without exception, and most of all, from him to whom power was confided. The conception which the Greeks form-power and influence of an English monarch ed of an irresponsible one, or of a king who could do no wrong, may be expressed in the pregnant words of Herodotus: He subverts the customs of the country; he violates women; he puts men to death without trial.' No other conception of the probable tendencies of kingship was justified either by a general knowledge of human nature, or by political experience as it stood from Solon downward: no other feeling than abhorrence could be entertained for the character so conceived: no other than a man of unprincipled ambition would ever seek to invest himself with it. Our larger political experience has taught us to modify this opinion, by showing, that under the conditions of monarchy in the best governments of modern Europe, the enormities described by Herodotus do not take place, and that it is possible by means of representative constitutions, acting under a certain force of manners, customs and historical recollection, to obviate many of the mischiefs likely to flow from proclaiming the duty of peremptory obedience to an hereditary and irresponsible king, who cannot be changed without extra-constitutional force. But such larger observation was not open to Aristotle, the wisest as well as the most cautious of ancient theorists; nor if it had been open, could he have applied with assurance its lessons to the governments of the single cities of Greece. The theory of a constitutional king, especially as it exists in England, would have appeared to him impracticable: to establish a king who will reign without governing, in whose name all government is carried on, yet whose personal will is in practice of little or no effect; exempt from all responsibility without making use of the exemp

might have been, or may be, brought to a
violent trial. If anything had happened
to Queen Victoria while she was Princess
Victoria, Ernest of Hanover would cer-
tainly have undertaken to govern England
on ultra-tory principles; but as that per-
sonage is not so
"able as "aggressive,"
he would probably have been put down
without much difficulty. Or suppose that
the present king-consort had united with
his personal advantages, intellectual en-
dowments of a high order, and an ambi-
tious spirit-that he had made himself his
wife's master, instead of her dependant-
that he had in her name taken hold of
political affairs-played off the Protec-
tionists and Free-traders against each
other-or given a head and a nucleus to
some doubtful interest," Young England,"
for instance-might not the personal influ-
ence of the crown have made itself sensi-

bly felt in British politics? Might not the
antagonist forces have stopped the ma-
chine altogether, and rendered a recon-
struction of the frame of government in-
dispensable? There is nothing very ex-
travagant in the supposition, that at some
period the sovereign of Great Britain may
be a man of great ability and energy, and—
so much do "circumstances alter cases

it is possible that the presence of these qualities in an English executive may be as productive of awkward consequences

as the absence of them sometimes is in our

own.

ander threatened his hosts and bade them shut him out. Yet he went to another house of his

Having thus far spoken of Mr. Grote's work in the highest terms, particularly for its lively and attractive style, we are now compelled to express our disappointment at the jejune and summary way in which he has narrated some of the most interesting episodes in Grecian history-the stories relating to the early princes, and especially those told by Herodotus. The substantial authenticity of these narratives he admits, and accordingly mentions their more important details, but with such rapidity that all the romance of the tale vanishes. One instance of this has struck us remarkably-the story of Periander's quarrel with his son, which, in Mr. Grote'sy to thy father? Thou, who, being my son and abridgment, reads like a scrap of an old newspaper. The original legend is so touching and poetical, that we are tempted to translate it verbatim, though well aware that no words of ours can convey a proper impression of the Ionic historian's beautiful language:

"After that Periander had slain his own wife, Melissa, upon that mishap there befel him this other he had two sons from Melissa, one seventeen, one eighteen years old; these, their mother's father, Procles, that was sovereign of Epidaurus, sent for to himself and treated lovingly, as was but natural, since they were his own daughter's sons; but when he sent them away, he said, on speeding them, 'Do ye know, my sons, who it was that slew your mother?' This word the elder of them made of no account, but the younger, Lycophron by name, was so grieved at the hearing it, that when he came to Corinth he neither saluted his father, (for that he was the slayer of his mother,) nor joined in converse with him, nor answered word to his questioning, until that Periander, possessed with wrath, drove him forth from the palace. And having driven him forth, he inquired of the elder what their grandfather had told them, whereunto the boy replied that he had received them lovingly, but the word that Procles had said, on dismissing them, he remembered not, for he had not taken it to heart. Then Periander said it might not be but that he had given them some secret counsel, and he pressed him with questions; so the other remembered it, and told the speech. Then Periander, perceiving this, and willing to yield nothing, sent a messenger to those with whom the son whom he had driven out was dwelling, and forbade them to entertain him; therefore, when he was expelled from that house and went to another, he was driven from that also, for Peri

friends, and they received him, as being the son last, Periander made proclamation that whosoof Periander, though they were in fear. At ever should admit him into his house, or speak to him, should pay a fine to Apollo, and the amount of the fine was stated; by reason of which proclamation, no one would speak to him nor receive him under his roof-nay, he himself deigned not to attempt what was fornades. But on the fourth day, Periander bebidden, but endured living in the public colonholding him bowed down with squalidness and hunger, was moved to pity, and relaxing from his wrath, approached and accosted him. My son, which is preferable for thee, to fare as thou now dost, or to inherit the sovereignty and the good things which I now enjoy, by being friendthe king of prosperous Corinth, hast chosen a wanderer's life in perversity, indulging anger against him towards whom it least befitted thee; for if there hath happened any calamity for which thou holdest me in suspicion, it hath happened to me also, and I bear the greater share thereof, forasmuch as I myself did all. But do thou, now that thou hast learned how much better it is to be envied than to be pitied, and what it is to quarrel with thy parents and betters, depart hence, home.' With these words did Periander come upon him, but he answered his father nothing more than to say that he had incurred a fine to the god by entering into conversation with him. Then Periander, finding how unmanageable and invincible his son's disorder was, fitted out a ship for Corcyra, which island he also ruled over, and sent him out of his sight. And afterward Periander made a campaign against his father-inlaw, Procles, as the chief cause of his present difficulty, and took Epidaurus and Procles himself alive. But when, in the lapse of years, Periander had passed his prime, and was conscious of being no longer able to oversee and administer the government, he sent to Corcyra and invited Lycophron to the sovereignty, (for he saw nothing in his elder son, who seemed to him witless ;) but Lycophron deigned not even to give an answer to him that brought the message. Then Periander, for he cleaved to the youth, sent to him a second, his sister, his own daughter, thinking that he would be most likely to yield to her; she came and addressed him : Wouldst thou, my brother, that the sovereignty should fall to others, and thy father's house be scattered, rather than go thyself and enjoy them? Depart home; cease being thine own tormenter. Pride is a mischievous thing; try not to cure evil with evil. Many prefer feasibility to justice; and many seeking their mother's interests have thrown away their father's. The sovereignty is a slippery possession; many are desirous of it; he is already an old man

and past his prime; give not thine own property to others.' Thus said she to him the most seductive things, as instructed by her father, but he said in answer that he would no wise come to Corinth while he knew that his father was alive. When she had reported this, Periander sent for the third time a herald, that he meant himself to come to Corcyra, and he bade his son return to Corinth, to receive the sovereignty from him. As the youth agreed to these conditions, Periander prepared to sail to Corcyra, and his son to Corinth; but the Corcyræans, on learning the change, slew the young man, that Periander might not come into their country." Clio, chap. 50-54.

Our bare and literal version will give some idea of what the story might be made, in the hands of an elegant writer. Of course it would not be possible or desirable that all the tales of Herodotus should be thus repeated at full length, but we cannot help thinking that a few of them, narrated in suitable language, would add great interest to a history of this kind, and do much to further what ought to be one of the historian's chief objects-encouraging his readers to pursue their study further, and have recourse, when it is in their power, to the original authorities which he consults.

the accoutrements and military science and experience of the Persians seem to have been no way behind those of the Greeks; nay, in some departments of warfare, such as archery, it is probable that the Persians were the more skillful. The Greeks gave the fairest proof that they were, in Highland phraseology, "the prettier men." In describing these world-renowned battles, both Thirlwall and Grote have acquitted themselves well, but neither remarkably. Their accounts suffer on comparison with those magnificent pictures of Arnold, which give to Hannibal's campaigns all the interest of a new story. But to say that they fall short of Arnold is no great censure, nor can we feel disposed to blame them much, when we remember how often a "picturesque "historian is tempted to sacrifice accuracy to effect.

With the battle of Marathon terminates Mr. Grote's fourth volume, and here our article must terminate also. We wait with impatience for his observations on later Greek politics and philosophy, the more so because the increased interest and liveliness in the corresponding parts of Dr. Thirlwall's book, induce a hope that Mr. G. will, in a similar manner, continue to And now other nations come upon the rise with his subject. We have accomstage, and particularly the people of the plished our main purpose, which was to Great King, whose previous conquests and supply, to the best of our small ability, a military reputation served so much to singular omission on the part of American heighten the renown of the gallant little reviewers. Here are two works which bands that victoriously resisted them. will be, for many years at least, the standThis glorious struggle has continually been ard Histories of Greece in the English the theme of the poet, the orator, and the language; one of them has been complepatriot, and not without good reason, for ted four years, the other is now about half it is a triumph unmatched in the pages of published; and we are not aware that the any history, except our own. In almost least notice has been taken of them by any all the cases of regular battles gained American periodical. To Mr. Grote's hisagainst great odds, (we put surprises and tory we are almost positive that there has ambuscades out of the question,) there not been the slightest allusion. We have have been some counterbalancing physical therefore made bold, in default of abler advantages on the side of the minority, scholars, to take the matter in hand, deepsome superior equipment, the result of ly regretting that so interesting and imsuperior civilization-armor, horses, fire-portant a subject has not attracted the arms, or something of the sort unknown attention of some one better qualified to to the other party, and rendering the vic- do it justice. tory less wonderful. But in this instance,