The Church and the boroughs, in conjunction with the royal power, therefore served to subdue the feudal spirit, and restrain and diminish the powers and privileges of its chiefs.
The effects of the Commonwealth under Cromwell must also have struck fatally at the rigors of the feudal system, in common with many other oppressions, from which they never revived. The spirit of the Commonwealth was deeply hostile to all kinds of ancient tyrrany; and as the feudal law was one of the greatest, it received a serious check. The genius of Puritanism rebelled against the feudal distinctions, as the spirit of liberty which was then triumphant overcame its oppressions. The Baron could no longer at the sound of his horn assemble his ferocious retinue of vassals and retainers, to march to the conquest of political foes, or the suppression of uprising liberty. The Knight could no more ride abroad in his panoply of steel, feared and unopposed by a rabble of villeins and serfs. The spirit of the nation was aroused to its inmost depths in the great struggle for emancipation, and statesmen and warriors arose from its lowest estates. The popular Fairfax overcame the princely Rupert; while the great Commoner—Cromwell—overthrew Royalty itself.
Chivalry had to surrender its crest at Newbury, Marston Moor, and Naseby, to popular bravery and religious zeal. The ancient order of things was entirely changed, and new institutions everywhere took its place, founded on the democratic power. Brewers and butchers now occupied the seats in the Senate formerly held by Barons and Knights; while Fleetwood and Harrison commanded the army of Manchester and Essex. No greater contrast existed than that of the Puritan captain with his skull cap, buff coat, and leather buskins, and the Cavalier with plumed hat, velvet cloak, and silk hose. Not more opposite were they in character than attire: the former a grave, stern, austere, gloomy, and religious democrat; the latter a gay, lively, free-thinking, licentious, and haughty aristocrat: the first was the impersonation of religious faith and prowess; the last of feudal pride. It was therefore inevitable, that in the course of that great struggle between the two elements which ended in the triumph of the popular cause and the establishment of the Commonwealth, feudal arrogance and oppression received a fatal shock.
The leading principle or idea embodied in the feudal system was that of a head, or chief, with dependence by the vassals and retainers. The same principle pervades our laws and institutions, and is in a great measure the fruit or effect of the feudal polity. Among other instances of its operation we may mention the law of primogeniture, the object being to create a family chief. The property qualifications necessary for parliamentary rights and representation, for the magistracy, and other stations of power and dignity, are illustrations of the same effect. The Peers sit and vote in the Upper House of Parliament as Barons of the Realm; while the Members for counties in the other House are returned as Knights of the Shire; and the Judges of the land are designated Barons of the
Exchequer, or Knights’ Justices; and the parliamentary Members for boroughs are styled Burgesses,—thus still retaining their feudal distinctions. The preponderance everywhere given to property in land, over wealth in money, trade, or other moveable goods, is a result of the same policy. Indeed it may be said, that the leading principles which govern property in this Kingdom, have their main origin and foundation in the feudal system; although the legislation of the last half century has done much to abolish the enormities with which it was theretofore disfigured.
But it may be asked, what were the effects of the system which we have briefly sketched? Were they good or evil? Did they advance or retard human society and civilization? These are difficult and important questions, in the solution of which probably few will entirely agree.
That the feudal state was rendered necessary by the circumstances of the period, we have, we think, sufficiently shown. That its influence has been in some respects beneficial is also incontestible. The predominant feature of the feudal dominion was force—physical force; and this was the only one suited and practicable for the barbarian population of Europe in the middle centuries. Reason and right were terms unknown and foreign to the masses then emerging from uncivilized life. Force was their own law, and by this must they themselves have been ruled. The Baron or Lord, in enforcing the severities of the feudal code, therefore instructed his vassals in a vocabulary which they understood; he governed them by the only suitable rod. To have addressed them as citizens, and moral and accountable beings, and to have explained to them their duties and rights from a description of the nature, condition, and destinies of man, would have been to have spoken to them in an unknown tongue—in a language they could not have understood.
Moreover the very relation in which the vassals stood to their Lord, and the services and duties which they were compelled to perform, taught them obedience—trained them to docility and submission. It induced them to reflect on others than themselves,—to regard the wants and rights of others beside their own. This was a great point gained in subduing and training the barbarian just leaving his roving life in the forest or on the mountain. This was a step to further improvement, and to a milder and more rational rule; by this he was trained for a gentler government, and better laws.
The feudal institutions gave birth to chivalry, which exercised so predominant a sway through the middle ages, and in what light soever it is regarded, was beneficial in its influences. It conjures up to our mind the brilliant scenes and magnificent achievements of the period, whether viewed in the enchanting pages of romance, or the more sober records of history. It brings before our minds the mail-clad warrior dispensing refined hospitality in his armor-hung hall, to a princely retinue of retainers and guests, or mounted on his fiery steed, pressing forward to the mortal encounters of honor. The Knight is equally interesting, whether we look at him armed to avenge in single combat the maiden’s dishonor or orphan’s wrong, or we follow him into the stately tournament, there to encounter in the perilous and sometimes fatal lists. In either case we see displayed the highest qualities of man—courage, honor, dignity, fidelity, skill, and manly strength. We find the same characteristics accompany him into the tented field, where amidst hills of carnage, and at the close of a doubtful day, the bleeding knight contends bravely under the shadow of the red-cross banner. The crusades were a magnificent effect of the religious aspiration of chivalry, whatsoever opinion may now be formed of the policy of those great contests.
No sight more glorious can be imagined than the chivalry of the West marching triumphantly through the heart of Europe to avenge the wrongs and indignities of the Cross upon the Infidel, and contend against four-fold odds under the walls of Antioch and Jerusalem, to recover the Holy Sepulchre from the pollution of Moslem hands. Whatsoever opinion the sober philosophy of history may now pronounce on these great wars, they were dictated by the highest aspirations, and ennobled by the most heroic actions, and they stand out nobly on the headlands of the past as monuments of human grandeur.