The Roman constitution, in the form in which we have left it at the close of the period of its growth, was the chaotic result of attempts to arrest internal revolution, and of feeble and misdirected efforts to readjust the relations of outworn powers. A state in which three popular assemblies have each the right of passing binding acts of parliament, in which twenty magistrates with clashing authority have each the right of eliciting the sovereign will of the people, possesses no organisation which can satisfy the need for which constitutions exist—the ordered arrangement of all the wants of civic life by means of a series of uniform acts possessing perpetual validity. It is true that the search for a personal authority is the object of theoretic, not of practical, inquiry. The average man, who is fortunately the power that in the long run determines the shape that politics shall assume, seeks law alone and cares nothing for its source. The vagueness of the ultimate power does not affect him, if the rules it lays down are rigid and binding; he will accept principles in place of persons, and by doing so he proves that he is more scientific than the scientists. But the fundamental principles that lie behind the personal power in a state are too vast in their scope to apply immediately to the needs of human life. They require interpretation by means of legislative and executive authorities; and if these acts of interpretation are to have the character of principles, the dictating authorities must have a fixed character and a permanent life, and there must be some guarantee that they shall submit their judgments to the accumulated experience of the past. No such character and no such guarantee were to be found in the existing elements of the Roman state which had strict legal recognition. The _comitia_ could, like a parliament in a modern state where no provision for a constituent assembly exists, go on in an endless career of constitution-making; the magistrates could interpret the laws at their own will, and by fighting out the merits of their rival interpretations amongst themselves paralyse the state or plunge it into anarchy. It was felt that a central power must reside somewhere, a power which should guide the people and control the magistrates, a power which should above all avert the terrible conflicts between rival authorities so amply encouraged by the existing law.