¹ Cf. Beard, Charles A., “The Teutonic Origins of Representative Government,” in this Review, Feb., 1932Google Scholar.

² De Republica Anglorum, 1583 (Ed. Alston, , 1906, Cambridge Press), p. 49Google Scholar.

³ Policraticus, 1159 (tr. Dickinson, , N.Y., 1927, v. 2, p. 64)Google Scholar.

⁴ Ibid., v. 4, p. 74.

⁵ Ibid., p. XLIV.

⁶ However chosen, the prince derives his authority from God. “He is placed by the divine governance at the apex of the commonwealth, and preferred above all others, sometimes through the secret ministry of God's providence, sometimes by the decision of his priests, and again it is the vote of the whole people which concur to place the ruler in authority” (ibid., v. 6, p. 83). “The place of the head in the body of the commonwealth is filled by the prince, who is subject only to God and to those who exercise his office and represent him on earth” (ibid., v. 2, p. 65).

⁷ As in John's writings, the prince is considered as representing the whole community of his subjects. Cf. especially the following passages: Princeps repraesentat illum populum et ille populus imperium etiam mortuo principe …, Baldus, 1391Google Scholar, Gierke, , Political Theories of the Middle Ages, tr. Maitland, , 1900, note 216Google Scholar. The emperor “in loco ipsorum populorum” represents the whole Christian people, “cum in eum translata sit iurisdictio et potestas universi orbis,” Zarbarella, c. 1406, Gierke, note 192; Ordinare autem aliquid in bonum commune est vel totius multitudinis vel alicuis gerentis vicem totius multitudinis; et ideo condere legem vel pertinet ad personam publicam quae totius multitudinis curam habet, Thos. Aquinas (Gierke, note 217). In like manner, the pope ia considered the representative of the universal Church and the lesser prelates the representatives of local church units (Gierke, note 213). Many writers considered this representative character of the ruler or prelate as complete or “absorptive” (cf. Gierke, notes 121, 122). Such claims to a complete representative character, and therefore unlimited authority, were confronted by the mediæval doctrine of a fundamental law binding upon ruler as well as subject (cf. Bracton, , De Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae, 1250–1267, ed. Twiss, , 1871, folio 5b, I, p. 38Google Scholar; John of Salisbury, op. cit., IV, c. 1), and by vaguely recognized rights of the communities represented. The Civilians, following certain sections of the Digest, insisted that the Roman emperor had received his power as a grant from the Roman people, and that the basis of political power was still the consent of the populus or universitas (cf. especially the famous lex regia, L.I. Dig. 1, 4: Quod principi placuit legis habet vigorem; utpote cum lege regia, quae de imperio eius lata est, populus ei et in eum omne suum imperium et potestatem conferat. This is a doctrine which could easily be taken over by the constitutional writers. “Ever since the days of the Glossators [the twelfth century], the universally accepted doctrine was that an act of alienation performed by the people in the Lex Regia was for Positive Law the basis of the modern, as well as of the ancient, Empire” (Gierke, p. 39; cf. Carlyle, A. J., A History of Medieval Political Theory, II, ch. 7)Google Scholar. A new ruler, or a new line, therefore, could be instituted only through election by the whole populus, or by delegates representing the whole populus. It was taken for granted that the rights of a community could be delegated as well to a representative assembly, which then stood in the stead of the represented community and exercised all of its powers (Gierke, p. 65). The electors in the Empire were capable of choosing the emperor because there was delegated to them as representatives a right belonging to the whole populus (Gierke, note 240). The General Council could act on behalf of all Christendom because it represented all Christendom. The cardinals, when choosing a pope, acted as representatives of the universal Christian community (Gierke, note 194). The fact that individual members of the communities represented had no voice in the choice of their representatives was of no consequence to the writers. During this controversial period, the democratic implications of the doctrine of representation seem to have been buried under this imposing series of fictions. In the radical doctrines of Marsilius, William of Occam, and Nicholas Cusanus, we begin to find some recognition of the democratic implications of representation; but these three are hardly typical of their period. They are prophets of another age which is still centuries off (cf. Emerton, , The Defensor Pacis of Marsiglio of Padua, Harv. Theol. Studies, VIII, 1920, pp. 23–32Google Scholar; Dunning, , Political Theories, I, pp. 239, 241Google Scholar; Gierke, notes 233, 215, 235, 238).

⁸ Politics, VI, 4, 4 (tr. Jowett, )Google Scholar.

⁹ Jellinek, G., Das Recht des modernen Staates, I, pp. 519–520Google Scholar.

¹⁰ Coker, F. W., Readings in Political Theory, p. 116Google Scholar.

¹¹ Gierke, op. cit., note 238.

¹² Greek Political Theory; Plato and His Predecessors, p. 33.

¹³ Ibid., pp. 34-35.

¹⁴ The witenagemot and the later commune concilium could be considered representative only in the same sense that electoral colleges and assemblies on the Continent were representative (cf. note 7 above, and Stubbs, W., Select Charters, 8thOxford ed., 1905, p. 36)Google Scholar. During the thirteenth century, there was injected into this entirely feudal assembly two new elements representative of rising economic interests. The knights, increasing in number and in influence in the local communities, were separating out of the feudal organization and being gradually transformed into the landed gentry which later acquired such a powerful vested interest in Parliament. The town burgesses, also increasing in size, affluence, and influence with the expansion of trade, were also separating out of the feudal system and increasing their independence through charter privileges and special “liberties” (cf. Adams, G. B., Const. Hist. of England, 1921, pp. 169–170)Google Scholar. To align these new economic forces with the monarchy was obviously a matter of necessity and convenience to the king in his dealings with his subjects. “It was the king who imposed upon his subjects the duty of sending him their representatives. Edward I changed an occasional expedient into a regular custom, not in order to associate the whole nation with himself in the work of government, but in order to strengthen the royal power. … If in the end he made a practice of summoning them [the Commons] almost regularly, this was because he perceived that the previous consent of the knights and burgesses greatly facilitated the collection of aides and even enabled the government to collect more than would otherwise have been possible” (Pasquet, D., Origins of the House of Commons, tr. Laffan, , Cambridge, 1925, pp. 225–226Google Scholar. Cf. also Professor Ford's thesis that representative government developed early in England because of the strength of the monarchy. Representative Government, 1924).

¹⁵ The device of representation introduced into Parliament in the thirteenth century was, of course, not novel in England. It was a device already in use in the local courts, where service was an obligation to which all were liable, but from which tenants might be excused by the attendance of their lord or another representative. “Representation was not the offspring of democratic theory, but an incident of the feudal system. Suit and service were due from all; but we are told in the Leges Henrici Primi if the lord or his steward will go to the county court, his presence will ‘acquit’ the tenant on his domain. If neither lord nor steward is present, there must come the priest and reeve, and four best men in the township on behalf of their fellows. The boon of representation is not in the election to serve, but in the license to stay away …” (Pollard, A. F., The Evolution of Parliament, 1925, p. 109Google Scholar). The representatives to the county courts, then, were not popularly elected, but attendance was an obligation of their position rather than a matter of choice. Those eligible (or, more correctly, obligated) to jury service later became electors of the delegates to Parliament. After 1430, this eligibility was determined in the shire by the possession of a forty-shilling free-hold. The “best men” of the shire were apparently those with substantial property holdings (cf. Pollard, pp. 153-154; Adams, op. cit, pp. 174-175). Only when it was finally realized that attendance at Parliament could be utilized to impose upon the king and the rest of the country a recognition of group interests did the liability of serving become a privilege (cf. Pollard, pp. 158-159). It is interesting to note that even as late as the seventeenth century Coke considered it necessary to state that the king could not exempt a knight, citizen, or burgess from attendance at Parliament, since such attendance “is for the service of the whole realme” (Institutes, 1642, ed. 1797, IV, pp. 48–49Google Scholar).

¹⁶ London, 1929.

¹⁷ The sixteenth and early seventeenth century writers seemed to feel that Parliament, however the members might have been chosen, was, in some mysterious fashion, representative of every citizen of the realm. Sir Thomas Smith speaks of “the parliament of Englande, which representeth and hath the power of the whole realme. … For everie Englishman is entended to be there present, either by person or by procuration and attornies … and the consent of the parliament is taken to be everie man's consent” (De Republica Anglorum, 1583, ed. Alston, , 1906, p. 49Google Scholar; cf. also intro., XXXVI). On the eve of the Civil War, Sir Edward Coke speaks in similar terms: “For the parliament concerning making or enacting of lawes consisteth of the king, the lords spirituall and temporall, and the commons; and it is no act of parliament, unless it be made by the king, the lords and the commons. And where it is said, by all the commonalty, all the commons of the realme are represented in parliament by the knights, citizens and burgesses. … Commons are in legal understanding taken for the frank tenants or freeholders of the counties. And whosoever is not a lord of parliament and of the lord's house, is of the house of commons either in person, or by representation …” (Institutes, IV, p. 1Google Scholar; cf. also pp. 5, 14, 26). This is the conventional point of view taken by the Puritans and expressed in the resolution of January 4, 1649, in the House of Commons (cf. Adams, op. cit., 321). But to this statement of the supremacy of Parliament as representative of the people the more radical Levellers added two further strikingly modern propositions. They contended (1) that representation in Parliament should be reapportioned on a widened franchise; (2) that all government officials (including representatives in parliament) were subject to definite limitations of power for which they might be held responsible by their electors. The Agreement of the People, drawn up in 1648 and laid before the Commons in 1649, presents the political theory as well as the immediate demands of the Levellers. Had it gone into effect, it would have set up a limited parliamentary system with manhood suffrage (cf. Gardiner, , Constitutional Documents of the Puritan Revolution, 1616–1660, 3rd ed., 1906, pp. 359–369Google Scholar). In the debate over manhood suffrage, the Levellers supported their demand by appealing to the “law of God and of Nature”— that is, to the natural right of individuals to equal privileges. The following comes from a speech from Rainborow: “I doe heare nothing att all that can convince mee why any man that is borne in England ought nott to have his voice in Election of Burgesses. … I doe nott finde anythinge in the law of God, that a lord shall chuse 20 Burgesses, and a Gentlemann butt two, or a poore man shall chuse none. I finde noe such things in the law of nature, nor in the law of nations” (Clarke Papers, I, pp. 304–306Google Scholar; cited by Shepard, , Theory of the Nature of the Suffrage, 7 Am. Pol. Science Rev., Supp., at p. 120Google Scholar). “We judge that all inhabitants who have not lost their birthright should have an equal voice in elections,” insisted another of the radicals. And to this Rainborow added that no man was bound to a government under which he had not placed himself (quoted from Pettus, , in Gooch, and Laski, , English Democratic Ideas in the Seventeenth Century, 2nd ed., 1927, pp. 130, 138Google Scholar). In answer to the demand for manhood suffrage, Cromwell replied: “The consequences of this rule tend to anarchy, must end in anarchy. For where is there any bound or limit set if men that have but the interest of breathing shall have voices in elections?” (Clarke Papers, I, pp. 309Google Scholar, Gooch and Laski, op. cit., p. 194). Ireton insisted that, in the interest of stability, the franchise had to be restricted to property holders (Clarke Papers, I, 301, 302Google Scholar, cited by Shepard, op. cit., p. 121). The opinion of Cromwell and Ireton naturally prevailed. The Instrument of Government provided that the suffrage should be restricted to those possessing property to the value of £200, providing that they were “persons of known integrity” and had not opposed the parliamentary party (Instrument of Government, 1653, secs. XVIII, XV, VII; Gardiner, pp. 401-411).

¹⁸ Rousseau maintained that sovereign power can reside only in the people themselves or a majority of them. It cannot be delegated to representatives. Legislation, being an expression of the volonté général, can come only from the sovereign people; that which has not been accepted by a majority of the people themselves cannot be considered law (cf. Social Contract, Everyman, ed., p. 83Google Scholar). Willing to admit the logical conclusions of his thesis, Rousseau finds that true democracy is possible only in a political unit small enough to permit of legislation by a primary assembly, and that very few modern nations actually have laws (ibid., p. 84). He recognizes the difficulty of applying this city-state theory to modern European countries, and speaks in one place of reconciling theory and fact by the device of federalism (ibid., p. 85 and note 1). But he does not attempt to develop this idea. The importance of Rousseau and Paine (cf. Common Sense, 1776, and Rights of Man, 1791) is amply demonstrated by a comparison of their writings with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the later revolutionary constitutions. All assert that sovereignty resides in the whole people, and that every citizen must have the right of concurring in the making of law. But, departing from Rousseau, all concede that this right may be exercised through representatives. Cf. the statement on sovereignty in the constitution of 1791, which is practically a quotation from Rousseau (Const. du 3 Sept., 1791, Tit. III, art. 1; Duguit, et Monnier, , Les constitutions de la France, 1925, p. 7Google Scholar; cf. also Declaration des Droits de L'Homme …, art. 6, ibid., p. 2; Const. 1791, Tit. III, art. 2, ibid., p. 7; Const. Girondine de 1793, arts. 26, 27, 28, ibid., p. 37; Const. du 24 Juin 1793, arts. 25, 26, 27, ibid., p. 69; Const. 5 Fructidor An III, arts. 17-20, ibid., pp. 79-80).

¹⁹ The modern movement for “professional representation” has been popularized, particularly in France, during the last quarter-century by a considerable group of writers. As early as 1896, Benoist argued the fallacy of the doctrine of national sovereignty based upon the traditional system of representation, and urged the election of deputies by voters grouped according to professions (cf. L'Organisation du Suffrage universel, 1896; Les Sophismes politiques de ce Temps, 1893). More recently, the eminent constitutional jurist Duguit has staunchly defended the doctrine of professional representation. An assembly elected by proportional representation according to numerical party strength must be supplemented, he maintains, by an assembly representing professional groups. “The establishment of proportional representation is not a sufficient electoral reform. The assembly elected according to that system represents only individuals, and all or most of the individuals in political or social parties. But it is not individuals and parties that form a nation; there are other elements that form the inner structure of the social edifice. They are groups founded upon community of interests and of occupation, the professional groups, to use that term in its widest meaning. If one wishes to approach the ideal that all political representation should tend to realize, one must insure the presence in parliament of all the elements of national life; it is necessary to find a place for an assembly elected by the professional groups in addition to the assembly elected by individuals. …” In answer to Esmein's objection that the principle of national sovereignty excludes representation of interests because it would necessitate a division of sovereignty (Droit Constitutionnel, 7th ed., I, pp. 312–313Google Scholar), Duguit replies that, far from being in contradiction to the dogma of national sovereignty, professional representation is its logical consequence. “A parliament cannot be representative of the state unless it includes the two elements which constitute the state: the individual element and the collective element. …” (Droit Constitutionnel, 2nd ed., 1911, II, pp. 596–598Google Scholar).

²⁰ The most outspoken of this group are to be found among the English guild socialists, whose general point of view and specific proposals are stated most thoroughly and consistently by G. D. H. Cole and S. G. Hobson. Society, as Cole views it, is a complex of associations, each one of which is formed by “a group pursuing a common purpose or system of purposes, by a course of cooperative action. …” Each association, therefore, expresses a particular need, and exists for the performance of a particular function. Each individual's loyalty and interests are divided among a number of such associations, since no one of them can cover the whole sphere of his activity—not even the state, whose claim to “sovereignty” the guild socialists thus attack (Social Theory, 1920, probably the most valuable contribution which the guild socialists have made to political thought). Upon this theoretical basis, Cole elaborates a program for the organization of industries into integrated, self-governing guilds (Self Government in Industry, 1919, especially pp. 205–227Google Scholar; cf. also Guild Socialism, 1920). A system of local, regional, and national communes made up of representatives from the various functional groups would take the place of present governmental structures. While the national commune in its rô1e as a “supreme coördinating body” would exercise functions of the present national Parliament, its composition would be closer to that of the Russian Congress of Soviets (Guild Socialism, p. 121). Hobson outlines a similar system of nationally organized, self-governing guilds centered in a functionally-chosen guild congress. Parliament, supposedly elected as at present, would be relieved of economic functions. Conflicts of authority between the economic guild congress and the political parliament would be settled by joint committees (National Guilds, An Inquiry into the Wage System and the Way Out, 1914; cf. the Webbs', , A Constitution for the Socialist Commonwealth of Great Britain, 1920Google Scholar). Outside the circle of the guild socialists, Professor Laski has been one of the most persuasive of the “pluralists” who have attacked, along with the doctrine of state sovereignty, the accepted view of representation. Authority, Laski insists repeatedly, must be based upon consent (Grammar of Politics, 1925, pp. 29, 62Google Scholar). And this demand for consent cannot be satisfied by the Hegelian assumption that the state embodies the “real will” of its citizens. Popular sovereignty and majority rule, both based upon a monistic view of the state and an Hegelian belief in real will, are untenable concepts (cf. ibid., pp. 29 ff.; Foundations of Sovereignty, 1921, pp. 213–214Google Scholar). The only way of securing consent from the welter of conflicting wills which exist in society is by decentralization and federalism—functionally as well as geographically (cf. Grammar, pp. 32, 34-35, 263; Foundations, p. 242). Provisions must be made for the representation of the functional or associational interests of the individual, as well as for the representation of the individual as an individual (Authority in the Modern State, 1919, p. 65Google Scholar; Grammar, p. 67). But functional representative bodies will apparently remain advisory or consultative organs (Grammar, pp. 72-73, 84, 133, 140, 488 ff., 508 ff.).

²¹ While we cannot discern with certainty the exact direction in which representation is moving at present, we can notice a distinct tendency toward the path indicated by some of the pluralists. Economic and social interests have never been content to trust to the omniscience of the representative assembly for recognition of their particular problems. And, as the tangle of conflicting interests has been further complicated in a world of highly mechanized and highly specialized activities, organizations of interest groups outside the representative assembly have become more persistent and effective in pressing their claims (cf. Herring, E. P., Group Representation Before Cogress, 1927Google Scholar; Odegard, Peter H., Pressure Politics, 1928)Google Scholar. There has been a noticeable tendency in recent years to bring the lobbyists into the chamber, or to recognize interest groups in at least a consultative capacity. In accordance with Fascist theory of the “corporate state,” members of the Italian Chamber are chosen to represent, not individuals, but functional or cultural interests (law of May 17, 1928; cf. Haider, C., Capitalism and Labor Under Fascism, 1930)Google Scholar. Representatives to the local Soviets in Russia come from functional rather than geographic units (cf. Batsell, W., Soviet Rule in Russia, 1929Google Scholar). The German Reichstag is supplemented by the National Economic Council, with advisory powers, standing at the apex of a system which, when completed, will form a hierarchy of functional councils (Weimar Const., art. 165; cf. Finer, H., Representative Government and a Parliament of Industry, 1923Google Scholar; Prelot, , La Représentation professionnelle dans l'Allemagne, 1924Google Scholar; Lorwin, L., Advisory Economic Councils, 1931Google Scholar). In France, there has been in existence since 1925 a National Economic Council similar in a general way to the German Economic Council (cf. Lautaud, C., La Représentation professionnelle, 1927Google Scholar; Lorwin, op. cit.; ibid., “A Federal Economic Council,” New Republic, April 29, 1931; Jouhaux, Léon, “The Economic Labour Council in France,” International Labour Review, February, 1921Google Scholar). There are at present fourteen countries in which economic councils have been set up or are provided for. These economic councils have assumed a new importance to American individuals and groups who have recently hit upon the idea of economic planning as a way out of industrial chaos. From such divergent sources as the New Republic and the National Chamber of Commerce have come proposals for an integration of productive forces through a central economic council representing functional groups (cf. Report of Subcommittee of the Committee on Manufactures, U. S. Senate, s. 6215—A Bill to Establish a National Economic Council, 1932; Beard, C. A., America Faces the Future, 1932Google Scholar).