in the space of nine hundred years, from Sigeberht of Wessex to James the Second, has the Great Council of the Nation thus put forth the last and greatest of its powers(50). The last exercise of this power has made its future exercise needless. All that in old times was to be gained by the deposition of a King can now be gained by a vote of censure on a Minister, or, in the extremest case, by his impeachment. But, besides that growth of the King’s power which followed naturally on the growth of the King’s dominions, another cause was busily at work which clothed him with a personal influence which was of almost greater moment than his political authority. To a large portion of his subjects, to all the men of special wealth or power, the King gradually became, not only King but _lord_; his subjects gradually became, not only his subjects but his _men_. These names may need some explanation, and I will again go back to Tacitus as our starting-point. Side by side with the political community, the King, the nobles, the popular Assembly, all of them strictly political powers, he describes another institution, a relation in itself not political but purely personal, but which gradually became of the highest political moment. This was the institution of the _comitatus_, the system of personal relation between a man and his lord, a relation of faithful service on one side, of faithful protection on the other. Let us again hear the words of the great Roman interpreter of our own earliest days(51). “It is no shame among the Germans to be seen among the companions (_comites_) of a chief. And there are degrees of rank in the companionship (_comitatus_), according to the favour of him whom they follow; and great is the rivalry among the companions which shall stand highest in the favour of his chief, and also among the chiefs which shall have the most and the most valiant companions.... When they come to battle, it is shameful for the chief to be surpassed in valour; it is shameful for his companions not to equal the valour of their chief. It is even a badge of disgrace for the remainder of life if a man comes away alive from the field on which his chief has fallen. To guard, to defend him, to assign their own valiant deeds to his credit, is their first religious duty. The chiefs fight for victory; the companions fight for their chief.” This is the description given by a Roman historian of the second century; let me set beside it the words of an English poet of the tenth. He is describing the battle of Maldon in 991, which was fought by the East-Saxons under their Ealdorman Brihtnoth against the invading Northmen. The Ealdorman has been killed; two of his followers have fled, one of them on the Ealdorman’s horse, and every word that is put into the mouth of his faithful companions turns upon the personal tie between them and their lord(52).